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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.

Thursday, May 28, 2020

Fair is Fair

Major League Baseball made a major league mistake in its financial proposal to its players. They peeled back the rind covering their greedy fruit. The proposal was this: players with minimum salaries would keep about 47% of their original salaries this year while the multimillionaire stars would lose more than 77% under a sliding scale.

I'm going to make this very simple. This proposal is only fair if the owners (all multimillionaires) agree to reducing their net income by 77%. Unlike the players who would simply lose income, the owners would have to use the 77% to help our country during this pandemic.

And if they claim their 77% on their taxes as donations, then the players would have the equal right to claim their loss of income as a business loss.

I'm going to assume the owners of the other three major professional sports leagues will not make the same mistake baseball owners did, treating their WORKERS so shabbily.


The Last Dance    By Tom Meschery

     “We grow small trying to be great.”

             David Hockney

So what if it was the truth. I like my heroes in the sky where they belong
not down here mucking around on earth with the rest of us shmucks.
Remember Jordan lifting off behind the free-throw line, his tongue flapping,
to win the dunk contest? I swear to God, I nearly pissed myself. So do I really
give a shit if he was a martinet, or that he gambled stupidly, or that he needed
to blame teammates for his own failures as a human being? There are enough
knuckleheads in the world I don’t need another one. But, there sure as hell
are not enough heroes, already too many of them outed by the media
for their peccadilloes. I’m guessing David Hockney came to his conclusion
by looking into the universe, perhaps watching some distant star over-heating,
explode into fragments. That’s sort of the way I feel about Jordan now
after watching The Last Dance, breaking into the smaller components
of his life, becoming another same-o-same-o dude I encounter every day
crossing the street, dodging traffic, heading for the deli for a quick lunch
before back to work. You know, like the guy sitting at the desk next to me.   



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