A few random Rants before Kickoff

I noticed that it has been a while since my last rant. It really doesn't matter with the traffic here anyway, but I feel somewhat of an obligation to myself.

Although I'm a little under the weather lately, I promised myself that I will NOT fall asleep before the end of the game tonight. In all honesty, I have not made it through a Monday Night Football game this entire season. Granted, I go to work before dawn, but this game starts almost three hours before Frank Gifford and Howard Cosell come on the air. So, I have a few random thoughts, in an almost Andy Rooney style, that are not his comments. So don't copy and paste this and put his name at the top of the article. Snopes will be all over you like white on rice.

1)Regarding Superbowl XLII, I have learned that most people do not know how to read Roman Numerals. I can't tell you exactly when I was taught this simple skill, but I'm sure it was in the 70's. It was part of our school curriculum even though it never appeared on the syllabus. I think this is just another part of the constant "dumbing down" of America. It's not like we are asking you to speak fluent Latin, Geezum Crowus. The former King of England was not Henry the 8th, he was Henry the VIII. America, pull yourself up by the bootstraps and work on it. It's really not that hard. In fact, I can promise you than unless you have been in the military, 1600 hours is harder to figure out than VIII.

2) What happened to "flea markets". This used to be a fun way to go to gigantic yard sales all in the same place. You could find (like Sugar did) an orginal copy of Gone with the Wind for a dime. You could find an antique picture worth hundreds of dollars for $15 bucks (like I did). People had stuff that mattered. People had stuff that was junk to them, but treasure to others. You might have been willing to pay $20-$100 for that book, but they only wanted a dime. They didn't know what they had and they didn't care. The only thing that mattered was they wanted to get rid of it.

Oh, not anymore. Many people have junk and they won't take a dime for it. They want top price, even without the customary "haggle" that used to be so prominent. This would not seem like such a big deal except for the fact that some people (like me) know the difference between antique and "so four years ago". If you are trying to pass off a piece of furniture made out of MDF (particle board) and it is bowed in the middle, it is not an antique. Antiques are made of solid wood. If the drawers have no dove tail, but instead are glued together, I won't even offer you a dime. I can get that for half your price at the local Wal-Mart and it was probably made in China and not from Vermont.

You used to be able to go to a good old fashioned flea market and speak English. You can still do it, but Hablo Espanol is quite helpful nowadays. If you want to buy a sweatshirt thinner than the new MacBook Air with letters blazen across your chest in Spanish, you have come to the right place. If you are really into cockfighting and want to purchase a video, then here you go. I had a rare Saturday off yesterday, so Sugar and I drove to the market only to be really disappointed. Well, not entirely, since she bought VIII bras for $XX. We both agree that the only way that these $XVIII bras were so inexpensive is that they were hot. (That's stolen for some of you). I think I'm going to stick to www.craigslist.org from now on and save myself from the trouble of "carnies" bumming money from me.

3) Gated Community, MY ASS!

Now I can't blame anybody else except for myself for my living arrangements, but I shouldn't have believed the brochures. When we were looking for a rental close to both our jobs, we actually liked this "apartment complex". The apartment itself is very nice and roomy, but otherwise, we live in almost the ghetto. The complex was not allowed to tell us by law that they also participate in the Section VIII HUD program that subsidizes housing for the "less fortunate". So goes the brochure pictures of happy people swimming in the pool and using the new gym equipment. Obviously, they had models come in for these photo shoots because I can promise that I have never seen any of these people in the gym or at the pool.

We all have little clickers that open the gate to drive to our residence. However, not all of our visitors have these handy little gadgets. Apparently, some people just hover until you click your thingy and then tailgate you into the gate before it closes. I don't know if they are doing this to come and kill their ex-girlfriend or they just forgot their thingy. Either way, I instantly grew tired of this practice. I timed the gate so that I would actually stop until it was ready to close and then proceed. That way, the perps trying to sneak in would have to find another sucker to tailgate. This has been going on for almost two years. Thankfully, we are moving next month to a regular neighborhood where gates are not needed.

Now I can almost understand why the gate going in has been broken into pieces several times. I mean, think about it, these people want in and the iron gates are still open, but the yellow and black wooden bar has already come down. So, you ram the gate and you get to come in and kill your neighbor or whatever else you intended to do. What I don't understand is why the gate going out is broken so often. You don't need a clicky thing to get out of the complex. You only need to drive up to the iron gate and the bar opens automatically. Nobody will ever be able to explain to me why the outgoing gate gets broken so often. Judging by the look of some of my neighbors or some of their guests, I might as well live in South Atlanta at 1/3 the cost. I feel no safer here than if I walked downtown after midnight if I taped $XX bills to my jacket. Today is XLIII days and counting until the moving van rams the gate and gets us out of here.

4) Charities!

Let me begin by saying that Sugar and I actively participate monetarily and physically in certain charities, but we can't do them all. We don't even want to do them all, nor will we support "certain" charities because (insert reason here).

We have been a part of the Duke Children's Classic, raising money for children with cancer for years. A few years ago, I heard a PGA pro complaining about Freddy Couples (famous PGA Tour pro) complaining about the barrage of requests that he got to donate his money. In fact, he states that he heard Freddy say "There's always a fucking charity". Well, at the time, I thought it was quite rude as well, but that was then. Now that I work in the golf business, I can promise that our course gets literally about 12-18 requests per week for a donation.

Hold on, before you hang me up to dry, try and put yourself in my place. Some of these "charities" are not worthy of their phone call, fax or email request. I feel no need to donate money or free golf to help the gay and lesbian community raise awareness that they exist and need money (from me) to pay for a parade permit to march down Peachtree Street. I don't need to help kids with their baseball team. In fact, when I played baseball, we sold chocolate turtles candies in the neighborhood ourselves. Our sweat equity paid for our uniforms and umpires. The games were played in City parks. If those kids want money, then get out of your room and put down the joysticks and go knock on some doors. I did it and so can you. I have a budget and if I gave to every freaking charity that knocked on my door, I would have no revenue at all. Instead, I would have everybody on my golf course playing for free to help out the Sisters of Wanting More Azaleas in their million dollar neighborhoods.

I'm sorry, The park is closed folks, the Moose outside shoulda told ya!

This also goes for all the people hanging out in front of the BP or Shell station or the Kroger or Publix. For once, I would like to go get a few groceries without somebody asking me for a donation. When I politely say to them that I have no cash, only credit cards, (which is true) I don't want a tantrum from them. It makes my heart grow cold like Ramses to Moses.

That especially goes for parents peddling thier kid's wares. Don't come to work with Girl Scout Cookies and "expect" me to buy them. Cookies are supposed to be sold by young girls. Moms, Dads, older brothers are allowed to be supportive, but do not try to put me into a headlock if I don't buy your Indian River Oranges for your band camp kid. Please give me a break.

Freddy Couples was right, "There's always a fucking charity"!

OK, thats enough for today. Its time for kickoff and I can honestly say that I don't care who wins for the first time in a while.