An Ode to America

We rarely get a chance to see another country's editorial about the United States.

This article - taken from a Romanian Newspaper - was written by Mr. Cornel Nistorescu and published under the title 'C'ntarea Americii ('Ode To America') in the Romanian newspaper Evenimentulzilei ('The Daily Event' or 'News of the Day').

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~ An Ode to America ~

Why are Americans so united? They would not resemble one another even if you painted them all one color! They speak all the languages of the world and form an astonishing mixture of civilizations and religious beliefs.

On 9/11, the American tragedy turned three hundred million people into a hand put on the heart. Nobody rushed to accuse the White House, the Army or the Secret Service that they are only a bunch of losers. Nobody rushed to empty their bank accounts. Nobody rushed out onto the streets nearby to gape about. Instead the Americans volunteered to donate blood and to give a helping hand.

After the first moments of panic, they raised their flag over the smoking ruins, putting on T- shirts, caps and ties in the colors of the national flag. They placed flags on buildings and cars as if in every place and on every car a government official or the president was passing. On every occasion, they started singing 'God Bless America!'

I watched the live broadcast and rerun after rerun for hours listening to the story of the guy who went down one hundred floors with a woman in a wheelchair without knowing who she was or of the Californian hockey player who gave his life fighting with the terrorists and prevented the plane from hitting a target that could have killed other hundreds or thousands of people. How on earth were they able to respond united as one human being? Imperceptibly, with every word and musical note, the memory of some turned into a modern myth of tragic heroes. And with every phone call millions and millions of dollars were put into collection aimed at rewarding not a man or a family, but a spirit, which no money can buy.

What on earth can unite the Americans in such a way? Their land? Their history? Their economic Power? Money?

I tried for hours to find an answer, humming songs and murmuring phrases with the risk of sounding commonplace, I thought things over, I reached but only one conclusion ...

Only freedom can work such miracles.

- Cornel Nistorescu

Fair Time!

Rupe was anticipating the day .....

How could I not? The prospect of meeting Barbie™ live was on the horizon. I could barely contain my giddiness.

Fair time in Southern California. Quite a few county fairs have already come and gone this year, but The Los Angeles County Fair just got its start with a rare Labor Day Weekend commencement. And we were off to see what we could see.

And, oh ... did we see it.

Part of the draw of attending the Fair was the fact it wouldn't cost us $58.00 just to get through the turnstile. All weekend long, if you arrived between the hours of 10:00 a.m. and 1:00 p.m. your admission was just a buck.

$4.00 for the whole family vs. $58.00: You tell me who's going to win that contest.

So we paid for parking, got a parking space as close as possible (always an adventure with Rupe and family at any venue or event we happen upon) and then made our way to the entrance to obtain our admission tickets.

And right off the bat, the fun began. We got a preview - and it wasn't a little one - of what we could expect for the entirety of our stay at the Fair: Lots of bad tattoos, lots of comical (and otherwise) T-shirts.

License plates abounded. (You know, those tattoos on the small of women's backs? Some call'em "tramp stamps", Rupe calls'em "license plates".) Arms filled with images of moons and rainbows and skulls and ribbons. Shoulders adorned with sunbursts and enter-connecting Africanesque symbols. Ankles encircled with ink. Knuckles with letters. The back of necks with "Pachuco" and "Chewie" and "Flaco".

There was one thing immediately evident: There were a lot of bad tattoos that would be witnessed this day. You'd think some of these folks would at least hit up a professional to have their tats done cleanly, not "Cheap Eddie" down the street. Amazing.

And the T-shirts. Oh, the T-shirts.

Mix up a mass of people and their T-shirts and you have an instant Fun Fest..

"Los Doyers". (Los Angeles Dodgers vernacular here in SoCal.) "I'm Not Grumpy - I Always Look Like This". "In Memory of Chica De Espalda, 1982 - 2007". "Pimp In Training". (This one on a baby in a stroller.) "*#&$%! You If You Don't Like The Raiders". And the guy in the "ExTenze" T-shirt? Nothing less than classic.

Once inside the doors, we thought it best for the girls to ride a few rides so that 1) they got off to a rousing start, 2) bumpy, jaunty rides are best ridden without anything in the stomach that could expel; and 3) because the lines were short enough that it made sense to do so sooner rather than later. Because those lines would swell into lengthy, sweaty, snaking time wasters, made up of kids of all ages. Add a little heat and you have the perfect recipe for crankiness.

The girls hit a couple roller coasters, a mirrored fun house and tried their luck at a few games. Riley - an excellent free throw shooter - immediately tagged an "I-only-need-one-shot" at a hoops booth for a monstrous Houston Rockets basketball prize in need of deflation in order to be carried around the remainder of the day. The prize she won appeared to be one of those ergonomic office sitting balls, not something that should be transported home as a souvenir. The little one wasn't so fortunate, but her time would come later.

So, we continued on. A giant pickle and a Coca Cola tucked contentedly in our stomachs, we meandered about oooohing and aaaahing at various sights. Dea commented how - in all our visits to the fair - we had never purchased anything other than food. (True fact.) Reed wanted to take a tour of the fairgrounds courtesy of the Sky Gondolas - a family tradition that would be quietly quashed for 2009. A giant turkey leg, hot dogs and snow cones were consumed.

The crowd slowly began to swell. It was already approaching the 90 degree mark. And it was barely 2:30 in the afternoon.

What to do .... what to do. Why ... the farm animal exhibits, of course! Wherein goats milk could be drunk! Sheep could be viewed in the process of being sheared! Stank and stank could be experienced! Cows and goats and pigs could be fondled! And so we were off to the animals .....

And, let me tell you, it was no small task getting to those animal pens. It seemed the whole of Los Angeles County was making their way to that portion of the fair just the same as we. But arrive there we did and without disappointment. We saw cows. We saw cute calves. We saw alpacas. We saw goats. We saw rabbits. We saw reclining, sleeping swine. We saw goats ripping up the displays on walls.

We saw a mustachioed gang member in a "Don't *#&$%! (expletive deleted) With Me" shirt. We saw crying kids. We saw the world’s most massive afro ever atop a teenager’s head. Fun was had by all.

And, of course, there were the obligatory photos we had to take with our heads stuck through cut-out, painted plywood dotting the fair landscape. Humiliation was never so much fun. And, speaking of humiliation, I don't know how appropriate this declaration was, right there in full view of the swine:

Plus, there was the family water trough cooling off spectacle. An Icee was a good call being we were all thirstier than thirsty from our trek through the sweaty pens.

I checked the time.

"Oh, my. Look at the time. We need to head over to the Palms Marketplace where the Barbie™ Live Meet & Greet with the ultimate princess is taking place at The Family MarketPlace Stage, presented by Farmers Insurance!" Rupe exclaimed. And we were off.

Twenty long minutes and a few wrong turns later, we found the stage. It was just past the hour when the show should have begun. Barbie™ should have been doing her thing up on the colorful platform. But what we saw when we approached was nothing of the sort. There were lots of folks sitting about, waiting for the show to begin .... but there was nothing at all going on.

I wandered around, looking for any sign of an impending act or appearance. I found nothing. I poked my head into the booth with the soundboard. No one home. I (shouldn't have) meandered down a set of stairs behind the stage to see what I could see. I saw a worker taking a nap on the grass. I saw a water cooler. I saw nothing else. No performers … no Barbie™ … no props … no outfits. Nothing.

I wandered back to our seats. We waited 10 more minutes. It appeared no one was going to appear, least of all Barbie™.

This guy, however, did come out:

Yup. Some dude dressed in an Obi-Wan Kenobi Star Wars Jedi Knight get-up with his hand shoved up a Yoda puppet.

It was disappointing. All geared up to see Barbie™ and hopes dashed like an unwanted corndog wrapper. I even later heard Barbie™ was a no-show at a few other appearances that day. What was the world coming to? When an icon can't take the time to bring a little joy to hundreds of wide-eyed girls in love with her? What a shame.

We dejectedly left our seats (okay ... Rupe dejectedly left his seat), deciding to call it a day.

As we made our way to the exit, the girls eyed bungee jumpers leaping off a crane 130' in the air. We paused to take in the spectacle. Some we saw would surely be in need of a chiropractic visit the following day.

In between jumpers, there were a few more T-shirts to read. "I Believe I'll Have Another Beer". "I Cared About What You Had To Say Yesterday". And Rupe's favorite: "Bacon Is A Vegetable". There were scads more tattooed fairgoers to ogle as well.

Finally, we headed for the exit, the fair's wares and attractions behind us. We looked at each other and smiled. We asked if everyone had fun. It had been a long, long, good day and we were all tired. Fortunately, home wasn't too distant a jaunt.

And Barbie™? Well, she would never know the photo opportunity she missed out on with yours truly .....

.......................... Ruprecht ( STOP )

The New School Year

It's the first day of school ... all over again.

"Now, students, turn around and wave to your parents ...
Send them on their way to First Coffee in the multipurpose room.
Don't worry ... they'll find their way and they'll be fine ....."

One of the "new kids" on Drill Team .....

..................... Ruprecht ( STOP )

The Brain, Defunked

Listening to my trusty 100.3 The Sound on the way into work this morning, a familiar song came out the car speakers.

“Turkey Apple Ferris Wheel”.

Wait … that’s not the title. Wait.

Oh, yeah. It’s "Trapped Aardvark Just Working Out".

No, no, no. That’s not it either.

Okay! I remember! I got it: “Too Many Pews Facing Out”.

What in the world … ?!? How could I possibly forget the name of this tune? I know the artist, Bruce Springsteen of course. So … why can’t I get the title working in my mind?

“Tent Amy’s Are Freaking Out”?

“Test Anime Faking Kraut”?

“Tea Paring Knife Drinking Stout”?

Good Gordness! I need more coffee.

I look down at the display on my stereo. It reads “Tenth Avenue Freeze Out”, you bonehead.

Naw. That can’t be it ….

……………………………. Ruprecht ( STOP )

I Have A Shoe Problem ...

I have a shoe problem.

I also have a clothing problem … but that’s best left for a different blog entry. (Mayhap by the reading of my shoe problem, you might catch a hint of what my clothing problem is.)

Yes. I have a shoe problem.

It manifested itself over the weekend. And it became necessary for me to give in to it. Yes. I purchased a pair of shoes. (Well … technically my wife did. It was she who actually conducted the transaction. So that really wasn’t a problem.)

Here’s the situation:

We’ll have to vault back to a time ... many, many years ago when there was actually a Mervyn’s department store … before they went out of business. Because that was the last time I purchased a pair of shoes. (And, if memory serves, that too was a transaction conducted by my wife.)

I was ambling about in the shoe section while my patient spouse was failing in her attempt to get our daughter to settle on any pair of shoes to wear (an ongoing dilemma to this day).

Aimlessly wandering about, I happened upon a clearance rack. There, at eye level, was a black box. I don’t recall the name on the box, but something caught my eye. It was an oval sticker claiming “85% off”. I scanned the box for the original sticker price. Finding it, it claimed the shoes were $95.00. I quickly did the math: At 85% off, they would ring up at a mere $14.25. I decided to get them. Where else was I going to find a pair of spiffy dress shoes for $14.25?

Heading to the register, they were scanned. They came up something completely and totally different than the $14.25 figure I had come up with in my head.

Something radically different.

$2.16. Two ... Dollars ... Sixteen ... Cents.

“Are you certain?” I inquired of the sales lady assisting me. She was certain.

And, therein, lies my shoe problem: I will be hard pressed to find another pair of dress shoes - ones around $100.00 - that will ring up at $2.16.

Years went by. And the problem continued to be just that. A problem seemingly without end.

That was … until this past weekend.

The wife was tending to the girls and they're inability to decide on shoes for school. She seemed a bit frustrated, so I stayed away and let her deal with them. In this case, misery does not love company, I thought.

And then, suddenly, another black box before me.

$80.00, the box beckoned. $80.00 with a discount sticker attached to it. An 80% off sticker at that. That made’em $16.00 out the door.

Or did it?

Could my fortune of those many years ago be re-manifesting itself once more? Would I get up to the check out register and have the box scanned by a helpful associate only to find that $16.00 price was naught?

Fat chance.

They rang up at $16.00. Plus tax.

You see … I have a shoe problem.

I hunt for the elusive single-dollar pair of dress shoes …

............................. Ruprecht ( STOP )

Compatibility

Rupe received an e-mail from Wife of Rupe yesterday and it did nothing less than crack me up. Rupe got permission from her to post it with her comments attached.

And yes ... I had a note or two as well .....

5 Things You Don't Need To Have In Common

If you were to take a an in-depth look at some of the couples who've successfully weathered every relationship storm, you'd be shocked to learn how little they might (superficially) have in common.

Sure it's cute to spend weeknights quoting The Simpsons in unison or have deep literary James Joycean discussions while rooting for the same football team with matching BBQ-tinged fingers, but honestly, many wonderful relationships are built on differences. It's how we vary the gene pool, afterall. In fact, the forces of attraction are so sophisticated that one should always rely on their gut—not clever packaging—when deciding who stays and goes. Below are a list of differences you may share with your significant other, that unlike basic manners, don't have to be dealbreakers. Watch: Dating Red Flags: Do You Ignore Them?

1. Different Music Taste

If you're cut from a cloth where self-worth is directly tied to music taste then this one may be tough. You may wince when you find that your bedmate du jour has never heard of Aaron Copland. You may want to run away screaming when they lack much of an opinion about Morrissey (and haven't even heard of The Smiths), but we think this is foolish. Unlike innate kindness or empathy, music knowledge is something that can be taught. And shared. So go and create that mix tape already. Read: Musicians Hear Emotion In Sound

HE IS DEAD ALREADY!!! Holy crap I can't believe they chose him to reference.

(Wife of Rupe has always contended Morrissey is "dead". Yes, Rupe knows - this logic fails me as he is sure it does you reading this. He was "dead" during his solo career ... he was "dead" during his Smiths years. When a song of his comes on the radio, the comment is always "He's dead." She swears she heard a news report stating he was dead and lived by that report to this very day.)

2. Intellectual Tastes

Let's say you make a visit to Barnes and Noble and you're drawn to Nietzsche but your lover is more a trashy memoir/easy beach read type of a person. So what? At least you're both, er, reading. OK, OK, we get it. You may see reading material, education level, profession as a reflection of a person's intelligence—but this isn't always the case, my friend. What you really need to look for is breadth of knowledge in the chosen area. You might be working on a graduate degree in anthropology from a fancy pants university, but what do you know about laying bricks? The scene in My Cousin Vinny when Marisa Tomei unleashes her almost God-like knowledge of car tires and all but frees her man's clients comes to mind as a perfect example.

Are they seriously bagging on my smut books?! Unbelievable.

(Not really so unbelievable as one might think .....)

3. Friend Tastes

Yes, birds of a feather flock together and you are who you hang with and blah blah blah. We've heard it. We've heard it all. But just because your boyfriend's college buddies are a poor (very poor) man's parody of Wedding Crashers and you don't connect with her BFF's discussions about The Hills (but is it real?!) doesn't mean this new flame is a no go. Now if you notice a trend that's a bit more, er, red flag-y—say multiple friends in jails across the country—then perhaps it's something to look into. Perhaps.

FRIENDS?! What friends, we alienate them all.

(We do have the proclivity to lean in this direction, Rupe must admit .....)

4. Spending / Saving Habits

This one's dicey. You should absolutely err on the side of caution when building a future with someone who, say, gambles away their paycheck. But research suggests savers are attracted to spenders and vice versa. Professors at the Wharton School of Finance and Northwestern University say the spender/saver relationship is just another way in which opposites attract.

We BOTH suck at this so it is mute!

(Rupe rejects this statement completely. Well ........ mostly. Okay, some.)

5. Style Tastes

This one's simple: if you don't like what they're working with make sweet suggestions. No matter where you are there's a mall somewhere close by, an outfit looking for a new home and a credit card just aching to be put to use. Sometimes it is that easy.

Neither of us has style so we were screwed to begin with!

(Rupe has style. He just has no ass .....)

.................. Ruprecht ( STOP )

50 Bands

Rupe was intrigued at Clark Brooks challenge in listing 50 Artists or Bands I've seen in concert.

The Rules: List the first 50 acts that come into your head. An act you saw at a festival counts, as do opening acts count, but only if you can't think of 50 other artists. In addition, list the first concert you ever saw.

This was pretty much a breeze for me ... but I see where it could get difficult for many. I got stuck a few times after 45, but an additional couple dozen came flooding in after I went to bed .....


1. DEVO
2. The Cure
3. The Cramps
4. David Bowie
5. Depeche Mode
6. Flock Of Seagulls
7. Lyle Lovett
8. Queen
9. Lenny Kravitz
10. Frank Black
11. Tears For Fears
12. Crowded House
13. Stan Ridgway
14. Oingo Boingo
15. Annie Lennox
16. Sting
17. Peter Gabriel
18. Sweet Pea Atkinson
19. Booker T. & The MGs
20. Tones On Tail
21. The Police
22. The Clash
23. The The
24. 3 Dog Night
25. BTO
26. Wall Of Voodoo
27. The Blasters
28. The Reverand Horton Heat
29. Johnny Lang
30. Adam & The Ants
31. Thompson Twins
32. Stray Cats
33. The Fenigans
34. The Orb
35. Pet Shop Boys
36. El Vez
37. Mojo Nixon
38. The Doobie Brothers
39. The Gore Gore Girls
40. Men At Work
41. Tracy Chapman
42. Klaus Nomi
43. Grizzly Bear
44. Dick Dale
45. Haunted Garage
46. Dramarama
47. The B-52s
48. Love & Rockets
49. Graveyard Farmers
50. Andy Prieboy




First band I ever saw live? During high school years, Adam & The Ants at the Hollywood Bowl with my cousin.

........................ Ruprecht ( STOP )