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What my musings are all about...

Blogging might well be the 21st century's form of journaling. As a writing teacher, I have always advised my students to keep a daily journal as a way of organizing their thoughts for future writing projects, a discipline I have unfortunately never consistently practiced myself. By blogging, I might finally be able to follow my own good advice.

The difference between journaling and blogging is that the blogger opens his or her writing to the public, something journal- writers are usually reluctant to do. I am not so reticent.

The trick for me will be to avoid cluttering the internet with more blather, something none of us need more of. If I stick to subjects I know: sports and literature, I believe I can avoid that pitfall. I can't promise that I'll not stray from time to time to comment on ancillary subjects, but I will make every attempt to be interesting and perhaps even insightful.

Saturday, March 2, 2019

I gotta say

What's with sports owners these days? Kraft of the Patriots is getting below the belt massages at an exotic massage parlor, and Giant's CEO is video'd knocking his wife to the ground in a restaurant trying to grab a cell phone out of her hand. I guess Sir Charles was right back when he said, "I ain't nobody's role model." Or something to that effect.

A quick comment about 49er headline in today's Sac Bee sports: Seeking guys who can "take it to another level" at receiver. Duh! On a pro level, would you seek a player who didn't? Double Duh!

It bears repeating Sacramento sports fans are still being subjected to reading about their Kings results two days after the game happens because the paper is unwilling to pay the bucks it needs to be a first class newspaper. So lets say there's an astonishing event that happens in California (you chose the event) that happens at nine in the evening, I guess we wouldn''t hear about it the next morning, right?

The LA Clippers beat our Kings, if you want to know. A great game. Our young, refreshingly enthusiastic youngster almost pulling it off, and what do I read this morning: some stuff about Coach Joerger believing something special is happening in basketball in the River City "for many years to come."

A Kings' footnote: The young power forward Harry Giles could turn out to be special. He's got a feather touch and very smooth and quick. I'm seeing a little Scotty Pipen. Don't know if he has quite that handle, but we'll see.

Two tough losses by my Warriors on the road. No question we have the best Starting Five. Now our bench has to back the five up with some grit. I can accept losses, but not when losses are the result of lack of toughness. But, I'm sounding like a coach instead of a retired English teacher. Or maybe I'm sounding like a Saturday Morning Quarterback.

How the hell did the Rockets get Ken Faried? The "Manimal" is a LOAD on the glass - both ends, and all of a sudden, this once upon a time only energy guy is making shots. Very worrisome for all opponents in the West.

When is the league going to ban Donald Trump for life for flagrant fouls against our country? What is with this person that he feels he's got to kiss the arses of dictators? I understand Putin because Putin is blackmailing him, but those two murderers from Saudi Arabia and North Korea????? You'd think, being a bully himself, Trump would understand the only way to defeat a bully is to stand up to him. What an embarrassment Trump is. And the Republican Party, what can I say except remember the little weasels that always hung out with the school bully, those guys with no courage and no brains of their own? The Elephant Party might want to start looking in the mirror for any resemblance to weasels reflecting back to them.

Trump and Kim Going One-On-One in Hanoi     by Tom Meschery

                             Sacramento Bee February, 27, 2019

The dark letters at the top of the page,
I have no doubt, were composed
with me in mind, to spoil my breakfast,
to ruin my coffee with an image
of a basketball court: one evil president
and a fat little dictator, facing off:
uniforms made of their country’s flags,
ro-sham-bo’ing at the top of the key,
for first ups. Scissors cut paper - Kim wins.
Rock breaks scissors, Trump wins.
Tie-breaker, you decide. I’m betting
on the dictator, with the better cross-over,
step back. Trumps too slow, and can’t
pronounce defense even with a cue card.

Over coffee on a cold, wet morning,
I’m imagining a game of basketball
played in the middle of a city
rebuilt using airplane and body parts,
in the shadow of Buddhist temples,
the saffron yellow of monks’ robes,
and the insanely green rice fields
of Coppala’s war. My coffee
tastes bitter with every score,
listening to their heavy breathing,
smelling the stink of their sweat.

I have a friend who flew missions
over Hanoi and was awarded
The Airforce Cross. He told me
he could strafe a village
with the push of a button,
schools, and huts and once
a soccer field of young men
disappeared into history books.

Is there a merciful bomb left
undiscovered in Hanoi that will end
this ridiculous game of head-fakes
and jab-steps and let the rest of the world
live in peace, allow me to start my day over
with fresh coffee and a different front page
announcing, if there is any justice left,
the last two deaths of an unjust war.