Here's something I don't understand... Why can't we put pre-season NFL games on TV? I realize that there are a few on tv, but why not more? Some will say the cost is too high, and to them I say you do not know what you are talking about. Some will say it's pre-season and who gives a crap? Well, to them I would say guess what? It's been 6 FREAKING MONTHS since football was last on TV and damnit people are going to watch it! This time of year is sports purgatory. No NBA. No NFL. No college football. Just baseball and I'd rather watch grass grow than watch that garbage. Come on, NFL... Sell some sponsorships, get these games on network and/or cable tv. And not the NFL network.
Also, I hereby proclaim Pomegranate to be the new Cranberry. There was a time, when, cranberry was in everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. That cranberry salesman must have been raking in serious commissions and sales trophies. That stuff was in all your favorite juices, sodas, cream cheese, pork chops, you name it. Now that the cran-fad has faded, pomegranate has been allowed to surface, and man, is it going to be bigger than cranberry. See, the thing is, pomegranate tastes better than cranberry, and is therefore more versatile. You'll probably see it in all kinds of things you would not expect. Myself, I'm thinking of creating some kind of cranberry-pomegranate hybrid, which I will call Cranagranate. Just send the sales trophies to me now.
Alright, my last point will be about integrity. There's a simple saying in this regard: "Do what you say you're going to do" I will leave it at that. Have a good night all.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Memories
Today we honored the memory of my great-grandfather Robert Stanley Goodman. He passed away last month at the age of 89. Known to the family simply as "Grandpa G", he taught me a great deal about boating, fishing, the outdoors, and also life in general.
Grandpa G was an honorable man. He served the United States in world war II, in Germany and France. He was a family man, raising a son and a sister-in-law that he and his wife took in as their own child when her parents passed. He was one of those men who was proud, and rarely spoke about emotional matters. I suppose it's a product of that generation. He was a no-nonsense man and I had a tremendous amount of respect for him.
I was very fortunate to spend a great deal of time with Grandpa G during my early teen years; in the summertime I would call him up to go camping 2 or 3 times a summer. Unbeknownst to my mom, at the early age of 14 and 15, he would often let me drive his truck, with a boat in tow, up to the lake. We had wonderful trips to Timothy lake on Mt. Hood and to Lake Simtustus on the Deschutes river in central Oregon.
Grandpa G always had a story to tell. Most often, he loved to tell me the story of his honeymoon, when he and my grandma took a motorcycle tour of Oregon. At the time, the Mt. Hood national forest was just recovering from a devastating fire. There was not a tree on the mountain. Yet he always marveled that, not even 50 years later, the forest was thriving. A great example of mother nature's resiliency. I heard this story countless times. He had a knack for repeating himself.
At some point in our trips, I pointed this out to him, which he found to be very amusing. This then became the story that he would recall to me, or anyone else who would listen. As I grew older, and our trips ceased due to me working, or going to school, I found myself missing the story. We always made 1 camping trip during the summer with the whole family, and without fail, upon his arrival, he would immediately recount to the family how when they passed the trees on the way up, he would start to tell the story to grandma, and she would reply "I know, I know!" It was a classic Grandpa G moment.
Grandpa G taught me how to drive a boat; he was a firm believer that the best lessons were taught hands-on. I took a lot from that. I always wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle from him, as he was an avid rider, even until his time of death. I am truly sorry I never got to experience that.
Grandpa, I miss you. We're going camping in 2 days and it's not going to be the same without you. Just know that Joshua will have that story memorized by the time he is 8. Your wisdom and lessons will be your legacy to me, and my son, and his children. We all love you.
Grandpa G was an honorable man. He served the United States in world war II, in Germany and France. He was a family man, raising a son and a sister-in-law that he and his wife took in as their own child when her parents passed. He was one of those men who was proud, and rarely spoke about emotional matters. I suppose it's a product of that generation. He was a no-nonsense man and I had a tremendous amount of respect for him.
I was very fortunate to spend a great deal of time with Grandpa G during my early teen years; in the summertime I would call him up to go camping 2 or 3 times a summer. Unbeknownst to my mom, at the early age of 14 and 15, he would often let me drive his truck, with a boat in tow, up to the lake. We had wonderful trips to Timothy lake on Mt. Hood and to Lake Simtustus on the Deschutes river in central Oregon.
Grandpa G always had a story to tell. Most often, he loved to tell me the story of his honeymoon, when he and my grandma took a motorcycle tour of Oregon. At the time, the Mt. Hood national forest was just recovering from a devastating fire. There was not a tree on the mountain. Yet he always marveled that, not even 50 years later, the forest was thriving. A great example of mother nature's resiliency. I heard this story countless times. He had a knack for repeating himself.
At some point in our trips, I pointed this out to him, which he found to be very amusing. This then became the story that he would recall to me, or anyone else who would listen. As I grew older, and our trips ceased due to me working, or going to school, I found myself missing the story. We always made 1 camping trip during the summer with the whole family, and without fail, upon his arrival, he would immediately recount to the family how when they passed the trees on the way up, he would start to tell the story to grandma, and she would reply "I know, I know!" It was a classic Grandpa G moment.
Grandpa G taught me how to drive a boat; he was a firm believer that the best lessons were taught hands-on. I took a lot from that. I always wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle from him, as he was an avid rider, even until his time of death. I am truly sorry I never got to experience that.
Grandpa, I miss you. We're going camping in 2 days and it's not going to be the same without you. Just know that Joshua will have that story memorized by the time he is 8. Your wisdom and lessons will be your legacy to me, and my son, and his children. We all love you.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
The inspiration and the creation
So here we are, on day 1, and lo and behold, it's actually 2AM by the time I am getting around to posting this. So, with much credit to Michaela, and a tiny sliver of credit to Cadey, I am beignning my blog of 1AM thoughts with this: Old sayings...
"It's a crapshoot"
Where in the world does this saying come from? My feelings tell me that it has nothing to do with people actually shooting crap. What a mess that would be. I mean, think about it. Shooting... crap. Not a pretty sight. And given the context of the modern-day (and I say modern-day because I am assuming the saying is really old) usage, what the hell does it have to do with shooting crap? I don't even want to begin to try to hypothesize about it.
"The shit hit the fan"
Just imagine it. it almost makes you want to vomit.
"Like shooting fish in a barrel"
Does this really take place? Why are the fish in a barrel? And why, if they are, do you need to shoot them? Why not just grab them outta there? Who came up with this? I have serious doubts as to whether or not this ever really happened. What would be a modern-day saying? I can't even think of one. That's how crazy it is.
That should be enough to chew on until tomorrow. This blog will most likely be a friday and saturday night event only, so enjoy it!
"It's a crapshoot"
Where in the world does this saying come from? My feelings tell me that it has nothing to do with people actually shooting crap. What a mess that would be. I mean, think about it. Shooting... crap. Not a pretty sight. And given the context of the modern-day (and I say modern-day because I am assuming the saying is really old) usage, what the hell does it have to do with shooting crap? I don't even want to begin to try to hypothesize about it.
"The shit hit the fan"
Just imagine it. it almost makes you want to vomit.
"Like shooting fish in a barrel"
Does this really take place? Why are the fish in a barrel? And why, if they are, do you need to shoot them? Why not just grab them outta there? Who came up with this? I have serious doubts as to whether or not this ever really happened. What would be a modern-day saying? I can't even think of one. That's how crazy it is.
That should be enough to chew on until tomorrow. This blog will most likely be a friday and saturday night event only, so enjoy it!
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