Yeah, I suppose tobacco really isn't that bad for you if you don't inhale. Sure, not inhaling might increase your risk of mouth cancer, but why do you think the good Lord gave so many of us such big mouths? Some of us could stand a little reduction in the size of our mouths. Especially those members of that dreadful liberal press who need to spend more of their time doing their jobs rather than promoting all that hogwash propaganda and brainwashing us.
We've come a long way baby. Where we used to argue about issues like independence, slavery and civil rights, we now are back to arguing about whether or not cigarettes are harmful to our health. There are those of us brainwashed types who thought this debate was decided a long time ago. It has been my impression that most Americans know smoking is bad for them yet are willing to accept the consequences to their own health for another cigarette. My friend likes to come over to visit and during our conversations she'll often pull out a cigarette and blow smoke rings. It is terribly entertaining watching her smoke rings float around the room. She has often tried to teach me how to blow smoke rings. Make no mistake however, she knows she shouldn't smoke, I know she shouldn't smoke but with both of us being believers in an eternal life, it isn't like we are under the impression we are going to be here forever.
To recap one of the events from this past week: Presidential candidate Bob Dole was interviewed by NBC's perky Katie Couric. She pressed him on his statements that tobacco isn't any worse than most things for people's health. Driving, drinking milk, everyday events can be equally as harmful, Dole was quoted as saying. Instead of coming clean and admitting his statement was absurd, Dole went on the offensive and attacked Couric and the liberal press for never giving him a fair shake. He went on to say that former Surgeon General C. Everett Koop had been brainwashed by the liberal media.
What's significant about this debate is that it is typical of how our current political dialogue works. Rather than be honest and straightforward, the actual issue gets buried under a cloud of double speak. The real issue isn't whether or not tobacco is harmful to one's health. The issue is whether Dole has a profitable relationship with the rather large tobacco industry. Instead of coming out and saying, "Yes, I do. They have supported me throughout the years in return for my votes in the Senate," he has to try to deny the relationship by blaming the media, perky little Katie Couric, and that funny looking guy with the beard. You don't have to look very far to see others who use the same tactic. President Clinton has basically used the same strategy while defending his actions in every scandal he's been involved in, from Whitewater to the current FBI file/privacy snafu.
There is something terribly American about using the denial strategy. Our culture teaches us to get away with as much as we can as opposed to doing as much as we can. It's like being dragged down to the principal's office and sheepishly denying any and all wrongdoing until the facts become so overwhelming that some guilt is admitted, and punishment is accepted. To accept responsibility for our actions is never as easy as trying to cloud the consequences with the smoke rings of blaming somebody else.
So if you are anything like me you are showing the first signs of Campaign '96 fever. The latest political dialogue shows we are in for a long and entertaining Presidential campaign. I've already set my VCR to record all the scintillating action of the Democrat and Republican conventions later this summer. The next President will be the one that leads us into the 21st Century which really isn't that big a deal. It's just another number created by those smoking Commie media types.
Monday, July 8, 1996
Monday, July 1, 1996
Miss Odell
One of the running "gags" of this publication is our lack of having a permanent name. This came about sort of by accident. Before we began this venture, Al sent us to a seminar on creating a newsletter and one of the things that they stressed as being vital was coming up with a good name for the publication. I was told that I needed to think of something catchy, clever, and that had some meaning for the organization. The mere suggestion that the name was almost as important as the content sparked the rebel in me and I decided since we were a music store, we should name the newsletter after a different album every week. That way each newsletter would have a slightly different identity, and could be unique in the way the cover picture of Time or Sports Illustrated gives the magazine a different feel every week.
Over time the joke may have worn out its welcome, but it's now part of who we are and I still like the idea. That we have no real name almost distinguishes us more than if we were to name ourselves something permanent and generic. It gives the newsletter some of its personality. The theory that the name of a publication is so important is based on two principles: 1) You want your readers (especially early on) to know what to expect, to know what the publication is for and about, to get used to the idea that it should become part of their routine to glance through every issue. 2) To establish the editorial tone and content of the publication. You know what to expect from an issue of Cat's Digest but might have to do a little more research on a publication called Max's Monitor.
Names help us identify but unfortunately they also help us label and form our own prejudices. I'll be the first to admit that I enjoy the sound of some people's names more than I should. This past week one of these people whose name I have had fun with in these pages over the past three years told me she wants me to help her come up with a new last name. Her current surname is that of her father's and for her own reasons she no longer wishes this to be. I greeted this challenge with great enthusiasm. About the only fun I ever got from any of my attempts at fiction writing was trying to come up with character names. My friend told me she wanted something French sounding so I suggested everything from Poisson (her mother's maiden name is "Fish") to LaFleur. We are still working on it.
It is odd to think of this person with a different name. Some of my feelings and thoughts about who she is are based upon the name itself. Will thinking of her with a different last name change the way I feel towards her? Hers was a name that I probably enjoyed more than I should of because of its natural lyric lilt. I do understand the appeal of changing her name however. It must be a liberating feeling, a wipe the slate clean and start over breath of fresh air type feeling.
So, I have given some thought over the past week about what we should name the new classical only store. To throw in my two cents, I prefer Cheapo Classical over Applause. I would guess (and of course I have nothing to base this on) that it is only now that people are beginning to get used to the idea of what happened to our Applause stores, and what the difference is between Cheapo Discs and Cheapo Records. To throw the old name of Applause back into the mix might only serve to confuse people more. Speaking from experience as one who is perpetually and increasingly confused, confusion causes anger and discomfort and the desire to throw in the towel, give up all hope of trying to understand.
The name Cheapo Classical is pretty self explanatory and although it may not be the most exciting or flashy, would give the new store some of our old identity. I have another idea but I would guess it would be too hard logistically to follow the newsletter's lead and come up with a new name for the store every week...
Over time the joke may have worn out its welcome, but it's now part of who we are and I still like the idea. That we have no real name almost distinguishes us more than if we were to name ourselves something permanent and generic. It gives the newsletter some of its personality. The theory that the name of a publication is so important is based on two principles: 1) You want your readers (especially early on) to know what to expect, to know what the publication is for and about, to get used to the idea that it should become part of their routine to glance through every issue. 2) To establish the editorial tone and content of the publication. You know what to expect from an issue of Cat's Digest but might have to do a little more research on a publication called Max's Monitor.
Names help us identify but unfortunately they also help us label and form our own prejudices. I'll be the first to admit that I enjoy the sound of some people's names more than I should. This past week one of these people whose name I have had fun with in these pages over the past three years told me she wants me to help her come up with a new last name. Her current surname is that of her father's and for her own reasons she no longer wishes this to be. I greeted this challenge with great enthusiasm. About the only fun I ever got from any of my attempts at fiction writing was trying to come up with character names. My friend told me she wanted something French sounding so I suggested everything from Poisson (her mother's maiden name is "Fish") to LaFleur. We are still working on it.
It is odd to think of this person with a different name. Some of my feelings and thoughts about who she is are based upon the name itself. Will thinking of her with a different last name change the way I feel towards her? Hers was a name that I probably enjoyed more than I should of because of its natural lyric lilt. I do understand the appeal of changing her name however. It must be a liberating feeling, a wipe the slate clean and start over breath of fresh air type feeling.
So, I have given some thought over the past week about what we should name the new classical only store. To throw in my two cents, I prefer Cheapo Classical over Applause. I would guess (and of course I have nothing to base this on) that it is only now that people are beginning to get used to the idea of what happened to our Applause stores, and what the difference is between Cheapo Discs and Cheapo Records. To throw the old name of Applause back into the mix might only serve to confuse people more. Speaking from experience as one who is perpetually and increasingly confused, confusion causes anger and discomfort and the desire to throw in the towel, give up all hope of trying to understand.
The name Cheapo Classical is pretty self explanatory and although it may not be the most exciting or flashy, would give the new store some of our old identity. I have another idea but I would guess it would be too hard logistically to follow the newsletter's lead and come up with a new name for the store every week...
Monday, June 24, 1996
Smoked Fish and Oreo Cookies
So Cap'n Dave, you just about finished six years of service with the State of Minnesota, you are a little bit worn out, a little bit tired, but you have met good people and had some pretty darn good times along the way. Where are you going to next? "I'M GOING TO STILLWATER!"
No kids, I haven't been sent away for five to ten in that fancy dancy high security prison, but rather I've made a slight career change and have accepted a position in the Elections Division of Washington County. It was a difficult change to make, giving up much security and the good reputation of a few accomplishments to start anew someplace else. But at age thirty one and still rather rudderless in my career waters, I decided the challenge of a new atmosphere, the potential of this particular job at this particular time in my life was too good an opportunity to pass by. I was wooed by the offer, and flattered by a counter offer from my bosses at the State. The ego inflated just a tad, but sometimes a little fella like myself needs that.
Over time this change might have some influence in these pages. Quite frankly, for the past year and a half, I haven't had much time to work on this publication other than typing, formatting your articles and writing this page of high quality tripe every week. Of course we can do things better, but I'm lucky to have a spare thought any more. Since the drive to Stillwater will be a tad lengthier than I'm used to, I'll have at least that period to and from work to think about some things (LOOK OUT!). Also, a change of scenery does tend to do wonders for anyone who has fallen into a bit of a rut. My life has become nothing if not routine of late.
One of the deciding factors in my decision was a question I was asked at the initial interview for the position. They asked me what my career goals were for the next five years and how this job would help me meet those goals. I thought about it for a bit and replied, "I can't tell you what my goals are for five years because I have enough trouble deciding what I'm going to do next week. I do hope this job helps me begin to see what some of those goals might be." It was an honest answer to a difficult question. How many of us do think that far ahead and have a clear picture of where we will be, or want to be in five years? I was impressed they asked me that question because it was clear they were looking for a motivated and ambitious employee rather than someone merely looking for another job.
I had an enlightening talk this week with the fabulous sleekone, who despite having a difficult winter following a difficult relationship and difficult work problems, said she felt good because for the first time in her life she feels independent and free. An admirable discovery, and now she's on her merry way. It wasn't lost on everybody that I'm making this change so close to the Fourth of July. Say what you want about some of my life's choices but you'd be hard pressed to find a time when at least a feeling of independence was not a part of my life . One of the factors in my changing jobs was the difficulty in leaving all the benefits of state employment. Walking away from 500 hours of accrued sick time, or 182 hours of vacation time every year was not an easy thing to do. But I figured the longer I worked for the state, the harder walking away would become and I didn't exactly want to be a lifer. At the same time, when I think of my history with Cheapo, a company I've had the honor of working for on and off for the past nine years, a feeling of accomplishment and pride exists. If you find a place that is worth working for, it isn't a bad idea to stick around because that isn't something to take for granted. It is nice to have some stability, some continuation in your life. It's nice sometimes going from Point A to Point B rather than from Point A to Point A all the time.
So where will I be five years from now? When I asked the County Auditor (one of the people I interviewed with) what opportunities there were for promotion, he gave me a lengthy explanation of where he saw the county government headed and concluded his answer by saying that he would probably be retiring in a few years and that I could even run for his position. He said I might have a good chance of winning if only I could convince the fine people of Washington County I was a Scandinavian.
No kids, I haven't been sent away for five to ten in that fancy dancy high security prison, but rather I've made a slight career change and have accepted a position in the Elections Division of Washington County. It was a difficult change to make, giving up much security and the good reputation of a few accomplishments to start anew someplace else. But at age thirty one and still rather rudderless in my career waters, I decided the challenge of a new atmosphere, the potential of this particular job at this particular time in my life was too good an opportunity to pass by. I was wooed by the offer, and flattered by a counter offer from my bosses at the State. The ego inflated just a tad, but sometimes a little fella like myself needs that.
Over time this change might have some influence in these pages. Quite frankly, for the past year and a half, I haven't had much time to work on this publication other than typing, formatting your articles and writing this page of high quality tripe every week. Of course we can do things better, but I'm lucky to have a spare thought any more. Since the drive to Stillwater will be a tad lengthier than I'm used to, I'll have at least that period to and from work to think about some things (LOOK OUT!). Also, a change of scenery does tend to do wonders for anyone who has fallen into a bit of a rut. My life has become nothing if not routine of late.
One of the deciding factors in my decision was a question I was asked at the initial interview for the position. They asked me what my career goals were for the next five years and how this job would help me meet those goals. I thought about it for a bit and replied, "I can't tell you what my goals are for five years because I have enough trouble deciding what I'm going to do next week. I do hope this job helps me begin to see what some of those goals might be." It was an honest answer to a difficult question. How many of us do think that far ahead and have a clear picture of where we will be, or want to be in five years? I was impressed they asked me that question because it was clear they were looking for a motivated and ambitious employee rather than someone merely looking for another job.
I had an enlightening talk this week with the fabulous sleekone, who despite having a difficult winter following a difficult relationship and difficult work problems, said she felt good because for the first time in her life she feels independent and free. An admirable discovery, and now she's on her merry way. It wasn't lost on everybody that I'm making this change so close to the Fourth of July. Say what you want about some of my life's choices but you'd be hard pressed to find a time when at least a feeling of independence was not a part of my life . One of the factors in my changing jobs was the difficulty in leaving all the benefits of state employment. Walking away from 500 hours of accrued sick time, or 182 hours of vacation time every year was not an easy thing to do. But I figured the longer I worked for the state, the harder walking away would become and I didn't exactly want to be a lifer. At the same time, when I think of my history with Cheapo, a company I've had the honor of working for on and off for the past nine years, a feeling of accomplishment and pride exists. If you find a place that is worth working for, it isn't a bad idea to stick around because that isn't something to take for granted. It is nice to have some stability, some continuation in your life. It's nice sometimes going from Point A to Point B rather than from Point A to Point A all the time.
So where will I be five years from now? When I asked the County Auditor (one of the people I interviewed with) what opportunities there were for promotion, he gave me a lengthy explanation of where he saw the county government headed and concluded his answer by saying that he would probably be retiring in a few years and that I could even run for his position. He said I might have a good chance of winning if only I could convince the fine people of Washington County I was a Scandinavian.
Monday, June 17, 1996
Post 1989
How do you choose between every day steadiness and the bright lights of a bronzed tan? Melancholic deep beauty (with a cute little beer belly button) versus joyful, plucky determination, run into a wall aplomb, with those ever irresistible smiling eyes? Both have their differing appeals. So forgive me if there isn't room in my mind to distinguish Murphy the Dog from Buford the dog. With some definite choices to make this week, reflection on where I've been, what I've accomplished and where I want to be are simmering dangerously close to the surface.
What is more important, the security of three years of service and certainty versus a new opportunity to prove myself in a new challenging situation? The ups and downs from the past three years will most certainly color any decision. But to have the option and to see how others really feel has been enlightening. It was clear then, and with a certain amount of "I told you so-ness" I can say that she never knew what she wanted and the choice she was making wasn't going to get her to what she did know she wanted. But she now has the experience, the history and that knowledge is an advantage over another who might have to someday herself go down that same bumpy road of decisions.
She still takes my breath away, every time I see her. There is a connection in each conversation, in each actual experience and there is still so much to get to know. The potential intrigues. But the other melts my heart too. The defenses are down and I know the foundation for something special may lie down that path.
Funny how people looking from the outside in can often give you a different perspective. My chief competitor/comrade recently told me that although she now has her Masters degree, that she envies me because I have a garden and a softball team. This was the first time she ever admitted that there are elements of my life that exceed her own (misguided as this particular envy seems to be). I look at her life and the freedom and knowledge and all that makes her the special one she is, and my admiration still continues to grow.
Those feelings stirred inside are colored with loyalty and the desire to build on the foundation that is already there. But loyalty has to run both ways. They have let me down before, why should I trust in them now? Sometimes it would help to feel some connection, some straight line bridge between people and events. In other words sometimes it feels better to go from point A to point B rather than from point A to another point A. Perhaps that isn't realistic however. The fresh courting of another, the thrill that comes from the first flush of a new opportunity perhaps is what is needed to revitalize the old batteries. To sit down with her on a day to day basis, and really try to get to know one and other, that element of being new has certainly been lacking recently. Didn't I get off track somewhere? Isn't this the opportunity to go back and not start anew, but start from where I should have been? To deny all that was there has been a theme constant in the past three years if not the prior four. She has shown an understanding, an appreciation of that.
But that is not to say I've accomplished all I wanted to at the place I've been. The opportunity of a another option gives a different perspective on where you've been. To renew what was the first attraction to begin with is in itself a rejuvenation of the senses. What is to say if I go with the new that once I arrive I will find what it is I'm looking for? There is uncertainty there too. But it was never my intention to stay where I am the rest of my life and the longer I stay the harder it becomes to walk away.
She has in her own way expressed her regrets for what went down before. To pick up where I left off and to do it right this time appeals. But the regret isn't there with the other. To look forward to what may be and to take what I have learned elsewhere and apply it in a fresh situation intrigues. I am intrigued. They say history often repeats itself and the decisions to be made may not even influence where I eventually will end up. In the end it isn't even just a matter of what they may do for me it is also what I can do for them. The tides of a turning point. Catching my breath while chasing the wind.
What is more important, the security of three years of service and certainty versus a new opportunity to prove myself in a new challenging situation? The ups and downs from the past three years will most certainly color any decision. But to have the option and to see how others really feel has been enlightening. It was clear then, and with a certain amount of "I told you so-ness" I can say that she never knew what she wanted and the choice she was making wasn't going to get her to what she did know she wanted. But she now has the experience, the history and that knowledge is an advantage over another who might have to someday herself go down that same bumpy road of decisions.
She still takes my breath away, every time I see her. There is a connection in each conversation, in each actual experience and there is still so much to get to know. The potential intrigues. But the other melts my heart too. The defenses are down and I know the foundation for something special may lie down that path.
Funny how people looking from the outside in can often give you a different perspective. My chief competitor/comrade recently told me that although she now has her Masters degree, that she envies me because I have a garden and a softball team. This was the first time she ever admitted that there are elements of my life that exceed her own (misguided as this particular envy seems to be). I look at her life and the freedom and knowledge and all that makes her the special one she is, and my admiration still continues to grow.
Those feelings stirred inside are colored with loyalty and the desire to build on the foundation that is already there. But loyalty has to run both ways. They have let me down before, why should I trust in them now? Sometimes it would help to feel some connection, some straight line bridge between people and events. In other words sometimes it feels better to go from point A to point B rather than from point A to another point A. Perhaps that isn't realistic however. The fresh courting of another, the thrill that comes from the first flush of a new opportunity perhaps is what is needed to revitalize the old batteries. To sit down with her on a day to day basis, and really try to get to know one and other, that element of being new has certainly been lacking recently. Didn't I get off track somewhere? Isn't this the opportunity to go back and not start anew, but start from where I should have been? To deny all that was there has been a theme constant in the past three years if not the prior four. She has shown an understanding, an appreciation of that.
But that is not to say I've accomplished all I wanted to at the place I've been. The opportunity of a another option gives a different perspective on where you've been. To renew what was the first attraction to begin with is in itself a rejuvenation of the senses. What is to say if I go with the new that once I arrive I will find what it is I'm looking for? There is uncertainty there too. But it was never my intention to stay where I am the rest of my life and the longer I stay the harder it becomes to walk away.
She has in her own way expressed her regrets for what went down before. To pick up where I left off and to do it right this time appeals. But the regret isn't there with the other. To look forward to what may be and to take what I have learned elsewhere and apply it in a fresh situation intrigues. I am intrigued. They say history often repeats itself and the decisions to be made may not even influence where I eventually will end up. In the end it isn't even just a matter of what they may do for me it is also what I can do for them. The tides of a turning point. Catching my breath while chasing the wind.
Monday, June 10, 1996
Nani Go Iri Masu Ka
Hope is one of them four letter words with so many different meanings for so many different people. It is one of them words that can be held against you and twisted into something that you never meant. It can be used for you to provide a light where no light was previously seen. Who was it that said false hope is better than no hope at all? Perhaps it was TV actress Hope Lange.
Within each of us is the kind of hope that things, no matter how set they seem can over time somehow still change. As you grow older and more set in your own ways, often this kind of hope is a self hope that no matter how set in stone things appear to be that you can still change things or that the possibility exists that you yourself still can change.
I have a friend who used to get angry with me because she said I said things I didn't mean. I tried to explain it wasn't so much a matter of saying things just to be saying them but rather that at the moment the words were spoken I did mean them, but at a later moment the words no longer represented where I was at. I'm right up there with our President in being able to take all the sides of an issue. "I seen a shooting star tonight slip away. Tomorrow's going to be another day. Guess it's too late to say the things to you that you needed to hear me say. Seen a shooting star tonight, slip away."
If there was one thing I was known for in college it was my opposition to the game of soccer. It wasn't so much that I disliked the game for I would be the first to admit I didn't understand it. Rather it was I didn't see the point. Baseball is sport. Soccer, heck who wants to watch a bunch of people kicking a spotted ball around midfield only to see it bounce off an opponent's rear for a 1-0 final. My rule of thumb was if you liked soccer you had to be a Communist. That was the only viable explanation. Granted the only complete game I ever saw was in my senior year of high school when the mighty Kellogg Chargers boys' team went to the state finals only to lose 1-0 (of course) in the driving rain. I enjoyed watching foosball more than that experience. My only other exposure to soccer was when I was a wee lad and I used to play with my bathtub toys (little multicolored pencil erasers molded in the shape of W.C. Fields provided by the fine folks of Frito Lay) a modification of a game of soccer played in my soapy bath water with a little superball.
To this day I have a friend from college who follows soccer as religiously as I follow baseball and he chides me as much as I chide him on the significance of the two games. When America fell under the spell of World Cup Soccer (har har) he was most insufferable. Thus it would shock him (and many others I'm sure) to know that for the past few days I have been happily watching highlight tapes of the Macalester women's soccer team from the past four years. And you want to know what? I've really enjoyed them.
When I was at Macalester we weren't exactly known for our athletic prowess. So when I plucked in the first tape of highlights and watched those feisty Fightin' Scots battle their way through a dramatic season (starting six first year players) on their way to a MIAC championship and a berth in the NCAA tournament, it made my lil' heart swell with pride. It has amazed me while hanging around the current MIAC player of the year, that a defender could be bestowed such an honor. No longer. Two words come to mind while watching the tapes of her tackling and marking opponents, "fearless" and "geez" as in geez I would never do that for a million bucks. Ouch.
What I have learned is soccer is a sport that requires excellent teamwork. A talented defender is as important as a quality midfielder as well as an effective striker. That's not even to mention the need for an athletic goalkeeper. Like any good team sport, it is fun to watch talented players play their own roles to a successful goal. Watching a corner kick develop with everyone knowing what they have to do, jockeying for position, it's kind of fun. While the game might still be a tad slow for us MTV attention spanned wienies, there is still hope for us all if even I can admit the errors of past ways...
Within each of us is the kind of hope that things, no matter how set they seem can over time somehow still change. As you grow older and more set in your own ways, often this kind of hope is a self hope that no matter how set in stone things appear to be that you can still change things or that the possibility exists that you yourself still can change.
I have a friend who used to get angry with me because she said I said things I didn't mean. I tried to explain it wasn't so much a matter of saying things just to be saying them but rather that at the moment the words were spoken I did mean them, but at a later moment the words no longer represented where I was at. I'm right up there with our President in being able to take all the sides of an issue. "I seen a shooting star tonight slip away. Tomorrow's going to be another day. Guess it's too late to say the things to you that you needed to hear me say. Seen a shooting star tonight, slip away."
If there was one thing I was known for in college it was my opposition to the game of soccer. It wasn't so much that I disliked the game for I would be the first to admit I didn't understand it. Rather it was I didn't see the point. Baseball is sport. Soccer, heck who wants to watch a bunch of people kicking a spotted ball around midfield only to see it bounce off an opponent's rear for a 1-0 final. My rule of thumb was if you liked soccer you had to be a Communist. That was the only viable explanation. Granted the only complete game I ever saw was in my senior year of high school when the mighty Kellogg Chargers boys' team went to the state finals only to lose 1-0 (of course) in the driving rain. I enjoyed watching foosball more than that experience. My only other exposure to soccer was when I was a wee lad and I used to play with my bathtub toys (little multicolored pencil erasers molded in the shape of W.C. Fields provided by the fine folks of Frito Lay) a modification of a game of soccer played in my soapy bath water with a little superball.
To this day I have a friend from college who follows soccer as religiously as I follow baseball and he chides me as much as I chide him on the significance of the two games. When America fell under the spell of World Cup Soccer (har har) he was most insufferable. Thus it would shock him (and many others I'm sure) to know that for the past few days I have been happily watching highlight tapes of the Macalester women's soccer team from the past four years. And you want to know what? I've really enjoyed them.
When I was at Macalester we weren't exactly known for our athletic prowess. So when I plucked in the first tape of highlights and watched those feisty Fightin' Scots battle their way through a dramatic season (starting six first year players) on their way to a MIAC championship and a berth in the NCAA tournament, it made my lil' heart swell with pride. It has amazed me while hanging around the current MIAC player of the year, that a defender could be bestowed such an honor. No longer. Two words come to mind while watching the tapes of her tackling and marking opponents, "fearless" and "geez" as in geez I would never do that for a million bucks. Ouch.
What I have learned is soccer is a sport that requires excellent teamwork. A talented defender is as important as a quality midfielder as well as an effective striker. That's not even to mention the need for an athletic goalkeeper. Like any good team sport, it is fun to watch talented players play their own roles to a successful goal. Watching a corner kick develop with everyone knowing what they have to do, jockeying for position, it's kind of fun. While the game might still be a tad slow for us MTV attention spanned wienies, there is still hope for us all if even I can admit the errors of past ways...
Monday, June 3, 1996
Wakari Masen
The newest piece of equipment here at the newsletter offices is a 1923 Crown upright piano. If this week's issue seems to have less of a flow to it than usual, blame the many piano breaks we have taken. I may be no Alfred Brendel, Thelonious Monk, or Benmont Tench, but my lone hidden talent is the ability to play just about any Paul McCartney song. Man I tell you, there is nothing that can relieve tension and stress better than coming home from a long day at the office and banging on the piano playing what at least I consider to be music, until my heart is content (which these days, it surprisingly sometimes is). Special thanks to those who made it all possible...
Well the kids are just about done with school, graduation is over, Memorial Day weekend and Grand Old Days have come and gone, the hockey season only has another month to run, and the Twins are pretty much out of the pennant race, so that must mean summer is nearly here. Mom and dad have told me that someone is trying to develop a jalapeno pepper that is not hot. What's the point? It's just like ABC bringing back Murder One without Teddy and without the follow one case throughout the year premise.
Here is a special summer newsletter tip for all of you: Be sure and check yourself for ticks on a regular basis. You just can't be too careful. And here is another tip: It isn't exactly a secret these days that I'm not exactly seeing eye to eye with my bosses at the state. It is becoming increasingly clear that as a state employee I make a fine Cheapo newsletter editor, and as a Cheapo newsletter editor, I make a fine bureaucrat. Thus I have reverted to the philosophy that has made my private life the success that it now is. Several years ago, I was struggling a bit and listening to everyone who had an answer to all that was ailing me. Believe me, everyone had an opinion as to what was wrong with me. I finally decided what I needed to do was to stop listening so much to others and start listening to myself again. If David was going to screw up his life, he should at least do it as David. I've now decided to apply that principle to my work situation. Instead of trying to adapt myself to what I think my bosses want from me, I'm just going to do my job in my own inimitable fashion, and if I screw up, at least I go out knowing that I did it as David, not some imitation. One man's unconventional creativity is another man's flakiness. After years of supressing my own natural tendencies, it will at the very least be a liberating experience.
This is not to say I recommend to all of you that you stop listening to your boss and start doing things in strange unfamiliar ways. This is to say that I think most of you are lucky enough to have a job where you are allowed to be yourself anyway. Perhaps that has something to do with the type of person that is attracted to music retail to begin with. Our business tends to attract more creative, artistic, independent types and the companies that succeed are the companies that effectively use those talents to their advantage.
Being the cap'n of the hottest softball team in the state, I am trying to apply that lesson to the advantage of my team. Recently I recruited the MIAC soccer player of the year to be a member of Joan's Jets. She told me one of the reasons she got into soccer in the first place was that she didn't have very good hand/eye coordination. But I could see she was a damn fine athlete, and in our softball league that puts you ahead of the pack. She finally played her first game last week (literally the first game of her life) and she did swimingly well. I pitched a few to her before the game and she was able to hit just about every pitch. Her speed on the basepaths led to a couple of runs, and when the opposing pitcher chided her hitting ability, she responded by cracking a legitimate hit. I was so proud of her. My job is to find the best way to use her talents to overcome her inexperience in this foreign game. Thus I told her if all else fails she should either kick or head the ball to its proper destination.
Well the kids are just about done with school, graduation is over, Memorial Day weekend and Grand Old Days have come and gone, the hockey season only has another month to run, and the Twins are pretty much out of the pennant race, so that must mean summer is nearly here. Mom and dad have told me that someone is trying to develop a jalapeno pepper that is not hot. What's the point? It's just like ABC bringing back Murder One without Teddy and without the follow one case throughout the year premise.
Here is a special summer newsletter tip for all of you: Be sure and check yourself for ticks on a regular basis. You just can't be too careful. And here is another tip: It isn't exactly a secret these days that I'm not exactly seeing eye to eye with my bosses at the state. It is becoming increasingly clear that as a state employee I make a fine Cheapo newsletter editor, and as a Cheapo newsletter editor, I make a fine bureaucrat. Thus I have reverted to the philosophy that has made my private life the success that it now is. Several years ago, I was struggling a bit and listening to everyone who had an answer to all that was ailing me. Believe me, everyone had an opinion as to what was wrong with me. I finally decided what I needed to do was to stop listening so much to others and start listening to myself again. If David was going to screw up his life, he should at least do it as David. I've now decided to apply that principle to my work situation. Instead of trying to adapt myself to what I think my bosses want from me, I'm just going to do my job in my own inimitable fashion, and if I screw up, at least I go out knowing that I did it as David, not some imitation. One man's unconventional creativity is another man's flakiness. After years of supressing my own natural tendencies, it will at the very least be a liberating experience.
This is not to say I recommend to all of you that you stop listening to your boss and start doing things in strange unfamiliar ways. This is to say that I think most of you are lucky enough to have a job where you are allowed to be yourself anyway. Perhaps that has something to do with the type of person that is attracted to music retail to begin with. Our business tends to attract more creative, artistic, independent types and the companies that succeed are the companies that effectively use those talents to their advantage.
Being the cap'n of the hottest softball team in the state, I am trying to apply that lesson to the advantage of my team. Recently I recruited the MIAC soccer player of the year to be a member of Joan's Jets. She told me one of the reasons she got into soccer in the first place was that she didn't have very good hand/eye coordination. But I could see she was a damn fine athlete, and in our softball league that puts you ahead of the pack. She finally played her first game last week (literally the first game of her life) and she did swimingly well. I pitched a few to her before the game and she was able to hit just about every pitch. Her speed on the basepaths led to a couple of runs, and when the opposing pitcher chided her hitting ability, she responded by cracking a legitimate hit. I was so proud of her. My job is to find the best way to use her talents to overcome her inexperience in this foreign game. Thus I told her if all else fails she should either kick or head the ball to its proper destination.
Monday, May 27, 1996
Zen for Cats
This Memorial Day we cast our minds back to the days when we were the original Hootie, and we were courting the original Uma, under the stars, sipping on coffee and working a crossword puzzle together. We never quite did figure out all the answers, but we tried our best nonetheless. Hootie, Uma... Uma, Hootie...
Things continue to go along smoothly here at newsletter central. I burned my tongue on a steaming bowl of soup last week, thus all the meals since then have not been as pleasurable as they might have been. We got the garden started out back, putting to use the services of our Japanese gardener (that'd be me). The little fellow planted tomatoes, cucumbers, beans and peas. All the while Max the Cat spent his time leashed to the laundry pole, grazing on grass (which he urped up the next day).
Last Saturday as I sat sippin on my newest crutch, Thai coffee, diligently proofing the first edition of the newsletter, the Civil Defense sirens sounded at 1:30 a.m. Not knowing a storm was expected, I of course just assumed we were under nuclear attack. Thank goodness I turned on the TV to see Dave Dahl dressed in a tuxedo screaming to take cover because "gust-nadoes" were on the way. Max didn't seem too concerned so I figured his sense of the weather was certainly keener than any human's, and thus I went to bed.
The big news of the week however was my Thursday night's softball team, Joan's Jets', stunning 25-24 come from behind victory. Trailing at one point 19-2, we steadily chipped away until we were within reach, and by that point the momentum of the game was all on our side. I know none of you were at that game (you are certainly welcome to come and watch), few people were, but it was such a stirring win that I'm sure years from now thousands will claim they witnessed the event. Sports are nothing if not a metaphor for life. To see a team get so far behind, but still not give up and ultimately triumph, was an inspiration for us all.
The win raised my record as a coach to 2-1; certainly impressive for a team that has never been above .500 before. My play in the field was a bit lackluster however- blame it on the notion I may have been a bit distracted by the spunky chatter of our second baseperson, Mary (talkin about Murphy the Dog, cough cough). But the game was a model of the benefits of team work. All of us contributed. All of us picked each other up after a mistake was made. We were all pulling for each other. And when Jamie delivered a ground ball after Stuart was intentionally walked to load the bases and create a force out situation at all bases, I raced home and beat a high throw to produce the winning run. All bedlam broke loose. It was a great moment for a team that worked ever so hard. (Psssst- For whom it may concern: If you provide all of us with Cheapo hats and Cheapo T-shirts, we'll proudly do some advertising at our games.)
On related note, have all of you heard Joan Jett's cover version of the Mary Tyler Moore Show's theme song? I love it. Love it very much. Ongaku wa suteki desu (the music is excellent). Normally I'm not a big fan of novelty type songs but somehow this one rings true to its singer. Jett makes it her own, somehow managing to make the song a personal anthem while keeping her tongue planted firmly in cheek and paying tribute to the original version. It sounds much like any other Joan Jett song yet still maintains the plucky charm of the TV version. The picture of Mary exuberantly tossing her hat up in the air comes strongly to mind everytime I hear the song.
Of course hearing it made me remember the chapter of Robert Duncan's book, The Noise, a portion of which we printed on page two of this week's newsletter. Mary is a rock and roll hero. Love is all around. Congratulations all...
Things continue to go along smoothly here at newsletter central. I burned my tongue on a steaming bowl of soup last week, thus all the meals since then have not been as pleasurable as they might have been. We got the garden started out back, putting to use the services of our Japanese gardener (that'd be me). The little fellow planted tomatoes, cucumbers, beans and peas. All the while Max the Cat spent his time leashed to the laundry pole, grazing on grass (which he urped up the next day).
Last Saturday as I sat sippin on my newest crutch, Thai coffee, diligently proofing the first edition of the newsletter, the Civil Defense sirens sounded at 1:30 a.m. Not knowing a storm was expected, I of course just assumed we were under nuclear attack. Thank goodness I turned on the TV to see Dave Dahl dressed in a tuxedo screaming to take cover because "gust-nadoes" were on the way. Max didn't seem too concerned so I figured his sense of the weather was certainly keener than any human's, and thus I went to bed.
The big news of the week however was my Thursday night's softball team, Joan's Jets', stunning 25-24 come from behind victory. Trailing at one point 19-2, we steadily chipped away until we were within reach, and by that point the momentum of the game was all on our side. I know none of you were at that game (you are certainly welcome to come and watch), few people were, but it was such a stirring win that I'm sure years from now thousands will claim they witnessed the event. Sports are nothing if not a metaphor for life. To see a team get so far behind, but still not give up and ultimately triumph, was an inspiration for us all.
The win raised my record as a coach to 2-1; certainly impressive for a team that has never been above .500 before. My play in the field was a bit lackluster however- blame it on the notion I may have been a bit distracted by the spunky chatter of our second baseperson, Mary (talkin about Murphy the Dog, cough cough). But the game was a model of the benefits of team work. All of us contributed. All of us picked each other up after a mistake was made. We were all pulling for each other. And when Jamie delivered a ground ball after Stuart was intentionally walked to load the bases and create a force out situation at all bases, I raced home and beat a high throw to produce the winning run. All bedlam broke loose. It was a great moment for a team that worked ever so hard. (Psssst- For whom it may concern: If you provide all of us with Cheapo hats and Cheapo T-shirts, we'll proudly do some advertising at our games.)
On related note, have all of you heard Joan Jett's cover version of the Mary Tyler Moore Show's theme song? I love it. Love it very much. Ongaku wa suteki desu (the music is excellent). Normally I'm not a big fan of novelty type songs but somehow this one rings true to its singer. Jett makes it her own, somehow managing to make the song a personal anthem while keeping her tongue planted firmly in cheek and paying tribute to the original version. It sounds much like any other Joan Jett song yet still maintains the plucky charm of the TV version. The picture of Mary exuberantly tossing her hat up in the air comes strongly to mind everytime I hear the song.
Of course hearing it made me remember the chapter of Robert Duncan's book, The Noise, a portion of which we printed on page two of this week's newsletter. Mary is a rock and roll hero. Love is all around. Congratulations all...
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