SXSW 2012-Feel The Love

If you got to this point by googling "SXSW" or something along those lines, hoping to find some live, first-hand accounts about the bands and the scene and so forth... this isn't that place. Go ahead and resume downloading choice bootleg Government Mule tracks or whatever it is you do in your spare time.

No, this isn't that place indeed. Long time Affirmers (you three know who you are) should well know how I feel about South by Southwest.  Now, brace yourself, but, shockingly, my views on the subject are negative. I think in all the years I've lived here, I've seen exactly one band during SXSW (New Orleans' own Dash Rip Rock, at Cheapo Records a couple of years ago, what up?).

But this isn't the time for me to bear that cross again. SXSW has done quite well without me, and I've done ok without it. Like most of my ex-girlfriends, I pretend it doesn't exist even as I wish that it were fundamentally different enough to enjoy.

No, caught up in the rapture of watching that merry band of future assistant coaches known as the Duke men's basketball team drop their first round game to the Lehigh Businessmen or Land Sharks or whatever the hell they are, I thought I'd update you about this year's festival from a non-participant's viewpoint.

It sucks.

Nuff said. I know the neck tattooed, nose pierced throngs may find this hard to believe, but Austin is filled with people who need to travel back and forth to their jobs every day. Even during SXSW. Oblivious to that economic fact, the rabble ooze across block after downtown block like an aimless, witless, drunken, unemployed Occupy gathering (or, an Occupy gathering), these people have pretty much succeeded in shutting down access to downtown and with it carrying on all that stuff that we do in offices every day.

So here's some observations about this year's fest versus prior years.

It seems like the pedestrians are much more aggressive and squirrel-like. For those who may not be familiar with the format, SXSW doesn't happen in just one centralized spot. Rather, bands appear in various clubs, bars, restaurants, parking lots, alleyways and open spaces all over the city. True, most of it centers in the downtown area, but the somewhat disparate locations require festival goers to spend a good part of their time getting from place to place to place. And they do so by any means necessary: walking, cabs, cars, "pedicabs," city bus, bikes, U-boats...you name it. The problem is that there's so many people on foot they can tend to spill out into the streets, and at the same time people in cars are trying to drive on said streets. I've noticed this year it seems especially like people aren't waiting for lights to change before crossing the street. They're just blithely walking in the streets like they were extensions of the sidewalk. They're darting in front of cars. You name it. Now, this is annoying as hell for people like me trying to drive to and from their offices. But the real problem here is the danger this poses for the festival goers. Its not always a certainty that every motorist will always see every pedestrian. The more chances these people take, the more likely that an accident will happen. It just seems like its getting more and more dangerous.

The complicating factor is that, thanks to the city's renowned urban planning and transportation plan, which is to say, zilch, most of downtown and the South Congress area resembles IH-10 out of Houston during the Hurricane Rita evacuation. A big sprawling line of cars idling, unable to do much of anything but inch along due to the traffic. Good job of planning for all these crowds, Austin. You people have really outdone yourself. SXSW is turning into one of those deals where its so crowded no one goes there anymore. Traffic can't move, parking is non-existent, buses are unreliable and get caught up in that mess...its just one gigantic cluster.... I'm all fine with having a big city festival that brings in lots of tourists who spend their money and have a good time, but SXSW really exposes the utter lack of any coherent local transportation infrastructure. We have a fantastically expensive train that runs, largely empty, between Cedar Park (the kind of place where you have a very full choice of taxidermists) and the Austin Convention Center (home to about 500 computer industry-related conventions a year...lots of guys in short sleeve dress shirts away from home for one weekend of the year, they like to eat BBQ and play golf, wild men). We have a huge bus fleet that runs mostly empty all day, everywhere in town. But unfortunately, much of Austin's office space and its bars and other hot spots finds itself in the same location. Austin has tried to create a kind of "livable downtown" area, promoting condo and loft development downtown. But it didn't think about how thousands of people would move in and around that area during events like SXSW, or the Republic of Texas motorcycle rally, which also brings downtown to a standstill.

It seems like there's a lot more people than previous years. So much for the recession.  The whole enterprise also seems more commercialized. Every corner has some company that's established an advertising beachhead, luring in prospective customers. One company even brought a camel. That's right, an actual camel, from the desert, for people to sit on and have their picture made. Cars entirely covered with company logos ride all through the area, advertising for Chevrolet, or this or that computer company. Its fine by me, but its interesting that Politically Sensitive Austin sees this crass commercialism influx. Surprised not to have seen beer or Red Bull girls. I guess that would have been oppressive.

Oh, and I noticed Amanda Shaw isn't playing here. How can that be? Since, she's...so...awesome and everything.

I guess that's pretty much it. You folks have a good time. Try not to get run over by a camel.

Herman Little

Last weekend we lost a very fine man, and an excellent lawyer. I hope you will join me at some point to celebrate the memory of Herman Little, and say a prayer for his family.

Mr. Little was the type of man whom you rarely encounter any more-a true gentleman. Certainly he was an accomplished, excellent lawyer, practicing in the field of municipal corporations and municipal utility districts law. Beyond that, he was a stalwart family man, married to Molly Little for 46 years, with whom he raised two sometimes challenging but overall devoted and responsible daughters. He eventually was fortunate to have two sons-in-law and several grandchildren. He served as a Marine officer in Vietnam, and also served as an Assistant Attorney General in Texas. He also was a deeply committed Christian, and actively served our Kingwood church in many capacities. You can read his obituary here.

Mr. Little was a tremendous friend to me and my family over many years. He frequently and tirelessly helped my mother in all of her various church endeavors, such as running the Vacation Bible School, teaching Sunday School, leading the Mother's Day Out program, and coordinating the various "greeters" on Sundays. Mom frequently remarked how much she loved him and especially his sense of humor. Mr. Little gave an initial impression of a quiet, reserved, and almost severe personality, hardly consistent with a sense of humor of any kind. But with my mother and many others, he was witty, engaging, encouraging, supportive and compassionate. Mom had the utmost respect and love for him, which stood out from the love she had for so many others.

For my part, I got to know him through church and through his oldest daughter. He seemed to take interest in me for many reasons, including my mom, the fact that we were both lawyers, we both went to the University of Texas Law School, and had both worked for the Attorney General. Mr. Little was always encouraging of me and my career, which has often been quite challenging. He always took great interest in my situation and frequently offered his thoughts. Only late last year, he sought me out at an Austin seminar and asked many questions about my practice and my life. When Mom passed away, he and Molly were quite generous in their support and compassion.

I always wanted to be more like Mr. Little. A lot more. He was grounded like a rock, in his family, his faith, his devotion to friends, and to his legal practice. Though his girls could test his patience, he remained steadfast and confident in their ultimately finding their way. He was an outstanding lawyer. He could seem reserved and unemotional, yet those who knew him best expressed unlimited love and devotion for him, which is not what happens when one truly keeps oneself hidden from others. He was clever, intelligent, and true. Never the life of the party, but always the man you could count on. I'd must rather be the latter than the former.

The last time I saw him, he seemed much younger than 67. He appeared fit, energetic, and enthusiastic. He and Molly had recently built a home in Boerne, and he was transitioning into that new phase of his life. So his passing surprised me, as I think it did others.

So, another of the truly great gentlemen has gone home. We see fewer and fewer of them.  I and many others were blessed to know him.

Message From Home

The sun hasn’t set on my dream of having someone who will mow my yard for free, err, a precious angel son or daughter sent from Heaven. But while it may not be sunset, it’s still around 4:30 in the afternoon. All the super-awesome knowledge I’ve amassed through these long years, which I’ve waited patiently to impart to a loving, eager-to-learn, well-behaved child, is just going to waste at this point.  Sad. All the cool and important things I can teach the young, like how to make a playground rival cry, or how to get women to ignore you, all are in peril of dying with me.

So as an exercise, more than anything else, and prompted by the oncoming 30 year reunion of my high school class, I thought I’d instead teach my own self. My kid self, the boy who roughly 30 years ago was staring down the barrel of going to Humble High School (Go Wildcats!) every day for the next year (til we all went over to Kingwood for the next three years). Yeah, it makes no sense, but I thought I’d just write myself a letter, kind of like in the old Sinatra song, only to myself in 1979. The idiotic, naïve, angry young 8^th grader getting ready to go to high school. I realize that’s a little impractical. Still, if Dennis Quaid can get on the radio with his son in the future, surely I can write a letter to my past self. Kind of like this:

Dear Chris:

Hello from 2012. Yeah, that’s right, Future Chris needs to have a word.

Now, I haven’t exactly figured out how you'll access the internet. Especially when you can barely work a cassette deck, but I have faith. Some faith.  Let's call this an electronic message in a bottle, dropped into the time-space continuum. Actually that's the space-time continuum, according to Star Trek.

With that essentially non-relevant practicality out of the way, I shall come to the matter at hand. You, sir, are pretty much hopeless.  At least at this point. Sorry, but I feel like I can level with you. You won’t listen to anyone, you think you know it all (or no one around you can teach you anything), you think you’re better than just about anyone else but can’t grasp why no one seems to recognize that, you basically ignore people, and you pretty much can’t wait to get out of school and leave Kingwood and your family in the dust. Driving something cool, like a Trans Am. What's amazing is that anyone will have anything to do with you. At all.

Ugh.

Having now successfully ruined your confidence, I have some good news. Believe it or not, in spite of yourself, you will manage to make your way in a relatively comfortable manner to 2012. What happens beyond that, I can’t help you with. Just have a little faith.

The good news, in a sense, is that you're pretty much grown up. Oh, you've got a lot to learn. A lot. But your basic personality, tastes, and beliefs are pretty much set (God help us). From here on out, its more a matter of polishing than chiseling. Working on the presentation more than the content. Adding as much Cary Grant to the mix as you'll take, and wiping out equal amounts of Don Rickels. So hope you like the Eagles and Journey and Van Halen. Because you're going to be listening to that stuff all your life. Whether you like it or not. Cause the Baby Boomers won't ever let you get away from it. Change becomes harder and harder the older you get. Once you get caught up in acquiring stuff and supporting yourself in a manner consistent with your tastes, however questionable, it becomes difficult to pick up stakes and try something new, or become a different person. On the other hand, you do change just by becoming older. Some of those changes are welcome: you care less and less what others think about you, for example. Some aren't so great. Like finding it difficult to hear what anyone's saying. Actually that one's a plus too.

Notwithstanding that, you need to know some things that might smooth the ride just a bit. I won’t give away everything. Most of the fun in life is not knowing what happens next.

Though I will give up a few things. Take every red cent you can get your hands on, legally or otherwise, and buy as much stock in a company called “Microsoft” as you possibly can.  You’ll go a whole lot farther if you spend even a little less time concentrating on girls. The weird, dead badger-like smell at Humble between the main building and the annex, rising from that mysterious artificial creek full of brownish sludge? Yeah, you want to stay as far from that as you can. And for the love of God, the mustache? BAD idea. No one finds it hot. At least, no women find it hot. Otherwise, you'll have to live the story for yourself.

What I will do is share some hard won life lessons. Maybe if you know these things ahead of time, well, things won’t be quite as…awkward at certain times shall we say. Think on this. Oh, and I included some song allusions, cause I know you like that sort of thing.

Don’t follow leaders, watch the parking meters. Just because someone else is doing something, that’s no reason to do something you don’t want to do. Do what you want to do, and what you think is right. In the end, you’re the only person who has to live with the choices you make. Those people telling you what to do—they don’t have to live with the choice, and they probably won’t be around 20, 30, or 40 years later either.

Pretty good company. News flash: people judge. Stop the presses. One thing that stands out as they judge you is the company you keep. If you hang around with respectable people, either their respectability will rub off on you or people will assume you’re somewhat respectable. If you associate with trash, people will assume that’s who you are. Put another way, very few people have ever individually dragged all their friends to their level. Mostly its friends dragging you to their level. You want to be dragged upward, not down. Why? Read on.

Baby, talk is cheap. Talk all you like, but you say 20 times more with your actions than your words. The true test of your beliefs and your feelings is how you act (or fail to act). Ultimately no one really cares what you said. Its what you did that gets put on your tombstone.

You can take the hard way. Generally, the easy way is the wrong way. Most things worth achieving aren’t very simple or straightforward. Most things easy to master aren’t worth mastering. That’s not always true of course, but usually that’s how it works out.

Girls! Girls! Girls! I could write a whole other letter just on this. After roughly 35 years of paying attention, here’s all I know about girls. Girls are a lot like guys. The differences are of degree more than kind. Here’s some gross over-generalizations. First, they’re more emotion-driven than men. Its not that they don’t reason logically, its just that they pay as much attention to the emotional aspects of situations as to the reasoned side. If a woman ever talks to you about her problems, its usually because the process of verbalizing them helps her settle her thoughts and feelings about the problem.  Your job is not to lay out a 12 point plan for conquering said problem. Your job is to listen to what she has to say and offer encouragement. Next, the relationship is the thing. Relationships are to women like sports are to men. They’ll often eschew personal achievement or success if it interferes with a close friendship or family or romantic relationship, in many cases to the point where they’re taken advantage of. So if you want to connect with a woman, you need to focus on your relationship with her and her friends and family. Simply displaying your unrivalled coolness and being a total stud...recipe for disaster. Also, they deal with a lot more pressure than men. Women are judged mercilessly, often for doing the same things that men do routinely. Every woman has to deal with people thinking she’s not pretty, or too pretty, or a bad mother, or too bitchy, or not responsive, or uncaring, or too trampy, or too full of herself. Women get criticized when they succeed and when they fail. If they’re prettier or happier or more educated than their friends or family, then those same friends or family often subtly work to bring her down. If she spends all her time looking out for others and never focusing on herself, her friends often see her as a loser. No man trying to climb the corporate ladder or hook up on a Friday night was ever called a selfish, trampy bitch. Lesson...adding to the pressure a woman already feels will hardly ingratiate yourself with her.  Finally, they’re considerably stronger than men. CONSIDERABLY. Women take in stride things that would send lots of men off the deep end. Death, divorce, sickness, bankruptcy, infidelity, firing, failure…situations in which men crater, women take it all and still manage to accessorize perfectly. You would do well not to confuse any of these differences for weakness.  

Pump it up. God has given you a body that does everything it needs to. More or less (spoiler alert!). You get one body, and only one. It has to last you your whole life. Still no brain transplants in 2012, Young Frankenstein notwithstanding. So you need to take care of your body. I know that's hard to fathom, being such an awesome looking guy and all and feeling great. But its not going to last unless you maintain it. You need to exercise. More than once a week. You need to watch what you eat. Garbage in, garbage out. Fewer pop tarts and chicken fried steaks. More fruit and vegetables. Well, some fruit and vegetables. Stay out of the sun. That's just skin cancer from above. And for the love of God, be careful driving, and watch who you get in the car with.

Baby take your time, do it right. There’s no quicker way to ruin your reputation than to go around half assing everything. No one will hire you, no one will want you on their team or their project, and no one will cut you slack or give you the second chances that go to those who try hard. You can’t always give yourself more talent or aptitude, but you can always control your effort.

See for miles and miles. Its best to view most issues from the long-term perspective. Short-term thinking is like walking through a darkened room-you may be fine for now, but who knows what you’re getting ready to step on. Whenever there’s an opportunity, make decisions that will help you  through your entire life, not just til next Thursday.

Stand for the things you know are right. Nothing’s worse than an unprincipled man. In your words and your deeds, you should represent something. Have opinions, but make sure they’re informed opinions (see “don’t follow leaders” above). Beyond that, be a man of your principles. Don’t just sit on the side, watching the wrongs around you. Do something. That doesn’t mean you have to spend all your time walking the earth like Caine in Kung Fu, fighting injustice. Though it would be pretty cool.

Schoolhouse rock. The time to stop learning is never. Life is a school. The end of high school and later college only ends one phase of your learning. Life changes so much that unless you keep up, and find out what’s happening around you and why and what it means, you’ll be left behind. I learned that from a guy by the name of Ferris. Check it out.

Party friends are the first to bail. There’s friends who you can count on when everything’s going well, and then there’s just friends. Look for the latter. Anyone can be a friend when times are good. You need friends who’ll stick by you when things aren’t so good.

That song isn’t about you. Believe it or not, most people really don’t care what you’ve got going on. They’re not paying much attention to you at all, and they don’t really care when you’re having a bad day, or when you get the highest grade on the English test (like that would ever happen). In other words, the planets don’t revolve around YOU.

I’m so tired of being alone. Most people seem to have lots and lots and lots and lots of friends who hang around all the time. For them, every day and every night seems like a sitcom. Or New Year’s Eve. Why, you’d think its impossible to make it through the day without the gang being around. But you know, not everyone is like that. Specifically, you’re not like that. And its ok. Being alone is ok. You can be alone and not be lonely. Its better to have one friend you makes you laugh, or cares about you, or supports you when you’re down, than to have 100 friends who are more trouble than they’re worth.

Your word is your bond. Once you’re found out as a liar, its all over. If people don’t trust you they won’t do business with you, they won’t take you into their confidence, they won’t put you on their team. Liars are unreliable. Liars will sell you out. And all it takes is one lie to ruin 30 years of telling the truth and being honest. Oh, and if you say you’re going to do something, do it. People rely on your assurances. Only if circumstances change in a way you can’t control should you promise to do something and then back off. Otherwise, you’re just a flake.

Go to the mirror boy! For various reasons, most people won’t level with you. Friends won’t tell you negative things you need to hear. Others will hesitate to intrude in your business. But self-delusion can destroy. Failing to recognize bad choices destroys more careers, more marriages, more lives than you can possibly imagine. So you need to see yourself the way others do, the way you really are. Level with yourself about shortcomings. That doesn’t mean you should set impossible or unrealistic standards (see below), but it does mean you should recognize when things aren’t working well, or that you’re not nearly as super-awesome as you think. The first rule about digging a hole for yourself? Stop digging.

Nice and easy. Its never as bad or as good as you think. That’s really true. What may seem like your most catastrophic flame-out ever almost inevitably wasn’t so bad. Likewise, your most glorious, triumphant, crowning achievement probably won’t register on most people’s radar. Why? Well, most people, yourself included, tend to over-estimate their own significance. That carries over into their actions. Whatever you do, good, bad or other, just isn’t really all that important in the grand scheme of things. And because you’re much more focused on yourself than others, you tend to over-scrutinize your actions. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t celebrate your achievements or regret your mistakes; it just means you should tamp down the highs and lows.

Finally, you have the best mom. The sooner you get that the better.

Adios, mofo…See you in a few decades.

Future Chris

The Daily Affirmations Wedding Planner

Bud and Sissy know the keys for throwing a successful wedding. (1) Make sure the groom wears a white tuxedo; (2) Have the reception at Gilley's; (3) take photos until the bride complains of leg sweat; (4) dance to an Anne Murray song; (5) get wasted and then drive drunk with all your buddies over to the bad side of Pasadena and feast your eyes upon your deluxe new double-wide; and finally (6) kick off the honeymoon on said double-wide's entryway floor with your friends watching through the open door.  It's called "class," ok people?

Honestly...some times I just don't know about you people.

My new word for writing a comment on someone's blog longer than the post to which you're commenting is "blogjacking." Feel free to use it in your daily conversations. Maybe its not that creative, but you think "tweeting" is? Who the hell are you, Shakespeare?

Getting back to the point, I was rude enough to blogjack my friend, the littleturkishgirl (a/k/a "Ashley #1") the other day, at She's Come Undone.  She posted a very provocative piece about her frustration with weddings, replete with interesting pictures and thoughtful insights. Unfortunately for her, she allows comments and I was in a piling-on mood. What resulted was the hack writer's equivalent of a Lost Weekend. The usual drone. 

Lacking for content, I thought I'd put it here, where it belonged originally. With just a bit of sprucing.

Now, really, this idea that I'm anti-marriage, where did it ever come from? I guess it doesn't matter. Its utterly wrong. Can't someone go 47 years and not get married without people drawing the wrong conclusions? Its not like I'm George Clooney or David Souter or something. Besides, this post isn't about marriage.

Its about weddings.

Good people, when it comes to weddings, some things just are not acceptable. I'm not talking about women wearing white, or black, to the ceremony. Or little snot-nosed kids running around shrieking and sticking their fingers all over the hors' d'oeurves trays.

Weddings often are very special events. They can give not only the couple but also their friends and family a treasured experience. Some of my most prized memories came from weddings.

Weddings can also be ghastly, Bataan Death March-style nightmares, where the few survivors endure a scarred, post-apocalyptic existence during their remaining days. I blame a couple of factors.

One is the couple's friends and family (mainly family) who know best how the couple should conduct a wedding. These people go into "full steam ahead" mode pressuring the couple to do things "their" way. Aunt Lilly HAS to sit at the main table. George HAS to be a groomsman (and not be paired with Jessica, whom he can't stand). Mom, who INSISTS on a separate, sit down "salad course" (because only "riff raff" serve fewer than three courses).  The wedding becomes an exercise in keeping certain people from pouting, instead of celebrating the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

The wedding "industry" is the other culprit. No other economic endeavor imposes so much rip off. A $50 cake goes for $2,000 because it has more curly-Q's than what you buy at Central Market. And a bride and groom figurine. Stupid flowers require a mortgage because they're "arranged." Tuxedos, caterers, rehearsal dinners, reception halls, churches, musicians/DJs, bridal salons...all at prices the Defense Department would consider gouging. The two biggest screw jobs in life are the prices of weddings and funerals. At least with the latter someone else picks up the tab. If you're lucky, you can stick one of your punk kids who never was grateful for ANYTHING you ever did with the bill. Or your loser son-in-law.

Some people cleverly manage to avoid this romance-suppressing slog through the ingenious device of the "wedding trip." You know. Rather than devoting a year's worth of mortgage payments to fill a bunch of critical, condescending freeloaders (also known as "friends and family") full of crab cakes and champagne, you invite them all to some exotic destination to attend your "dream wedding." Sort of a combination wedding/honeymoon. Everyone's free to join you on the trip (of course, you have to make sure they know once the wedding reception finishes, they need to disappear). Generally its on some remote island somewhere. Like the Falklands. Or Elba. Or Survivor Island. Or Ibiza. Hell, even a Disney theme cruise. You, your beloved, 500 Upper Peninsula Kiwanis club members and their families, and some fading, alcoholic Juilliard graduate wearing a Mickey Mouse costume out at sea ruing the day he left med school to chase his acting dream. Ah, rapture! Oh well, some people go to Disney World for their vacation. Personally, I'll just stay single for another 47 years at that rate. But, now look...this is the linchpin of the strategy...you can't cover anyone's travel expenses. Not even your worthless groomsmen. Pick up the bar and crab cakes and petit fours tab for anyone who RSVPs, but they've got to get their own bloated carcasses to where you're doing it. So Uncle Joseph, you disgusting old perv, you are more than welcome to attend our wedding. You just have to plunk down three large to do it. How does that taste? An expensive strategy, yes, but probably less painful than dropping the three tax brackets that it would take to entertain all those people in your hometown. And you avoid the repeated mental injury from planning such a wedding.

But I digress.

Oh, I left out something else intolerable about weddings: couples who write their own vows. Once out of a million weddings have I heard self-written vows that didn't prompt crazy, Loony Tunes eye-rolling. "I love you and think you're awesome" is not a vow. Nor is the poem you thought up the night before while doing shots at Hooter's with the fellas on your wild suburban bachelor party (espresso at Starbuck's, dinner at Hooter's, go to best man's house for poker, cheap cigars, and drinking from Bud Light keg til the fellas have to leave so they can take their sitters home by their curfew).

Otherwise, I totally love weddings. Cake, champagne, dancing, women looking good and in a good mood, reeling off sarcastic comments about people wearing tacky clothes and dancing ridiculously. Say no more.

Next-a letter to 1979 Chris Reeder.

Where Have You Been?

Yeah, its been awhile since I've provided a new Daily Affirmation. Sorry about that.

Its been a busy time in Affirmationland. First of course was the holidays. As usual I spent my time soaking in the holiday spirit. I read Christmas stories to retards. Well, it wasn't so much Christmas stories as my grocery list, but in fairness, I do shop at Central Market (and I bring my own bag; does that make you happy, green snobs?). I worked on my arts and crafts A LOT. Must have made about 50 or so seasonal wreaths, which I donated to a local assisted living facility. The old guys mostly sat on them. I wound up giving the rest of them to the retards, who used them to play horseshoes. Actually, I guess it would be "washers." Then I spent some time doing volunteer marriage counseling. Naturally I can't divulge who I worked with, but let's just say that a German supermodel and a total douche singer with absolutely nothing in common can now move forward with their lives thanks to me. You're welcome. Call me, H! I was also working on a screen play for an After School Special about a family of pirate robots (actually they're robot pirates), where the youngest girl (Penelope...they're English robot pirates) learns an important lesson about good touches versus bad touches while playing in the local youth soccer league, and the oldest daughter (Ffion) steals the family Prius to meet her rock singer boyfriend (Barrett-a troubled teen robot but not a pirate, to which Ffion's family objected, with an eagle tattoo and a penchant for Luden's cough syrup who fakes Tourette's attacks to skip school). Ffion crashes the car into a pet store because she's too weak from her anorexia to focus on the road. I call it "Stay Out of the Caaaaaarrrrrggghhhhh."

What, too easy?

Then of course, there's been my catching up on naps. Which you probably know as the Republican debates. I've been working on perfecting my new macrobiotic organic vegan diet. I only eat grass clippings, dandelion leaves (sunflower leaves in a pinch) and old Hillary Clinton for President flyers. Haven't lost much weight, though about once a week I dream that I'm an Oompa Loompa and Sofia Vergara is a Homeland Security agent interrogating me with maple syrup and jumper cables.

So its been a really busy time for me. I've had a lot on my plate. Haven't had much time for crafting the profound, introspective examinations of the Human Condition you count on to find here.

I also haven't been feeling good, which has contributed to my absence. Take your pick-foot, back, stomach. And I haven't been looking great either. In fact, I look like kind of like a thinner Leonid Brezhnev these days. Uh, I guess that last bit has nothing to do with my ability to write. But now you know. So that happened.

But I did write a couple of things on Facebook worth sharing, as filler. I know. Facebook. How bourgeois....Welcome to the 2010s.

The first one was a response to someone who posted something about needing a new fake name for use in clubs. I got a little carried away with it. She deleted the post before I could provide this:

"Beatriz Ferreira. But you need a back story too. You grew up in Lisbon. Your mother was a model but later became a photographer, working freelance for various European fashion magazines. Now she's a Human Rights Ambassador for the United Nations. Your father was one of the original members of Quicksilver Messenger Service, and met your mother at an Atlantic Records reception while playing percussion and keyboards on the 1975 Rolling Stones Tour of the Americas. You work at Donna Karan in New York when not doing face and runway modeling, though you have a part-time business planning international parties. Its really more of a hobby than a business, but it lets you write off the fantastic parties you throw with your best girlfriends...Gisele, Adriana, and Minka. Your sister works for Amnesty International in London, but has a part-ownership interest in a small boutique in Mayfair. You're just in town for a few days, meeting a friend to help plan her wedding and enjoy some spa time. You were married once, just after high school, but you quickly grew apart and got divorced, even though the funny thing is you're best friends now. You live on the Upper East Side, near the Carlyle, in a little coop by the park. You like French movies, walking in the rain, Moroccan food, salsa dancing and driving Ferraris at the track."

OK, that was a little much, huh?

The other one is my description of every local newscast in America.

"Later in the broadcast, a fluffy kitty story and a local boy sells subscriptions to help pay for his grandmother's dialysis. But first, a local Iraq War veteran is suspected of a heroin-related quadruple homicide in [local poor neighborhood]. We take you now to [insert name of rookie, non-white male, recent community college graduate] with the story."

If you made it this far, there's something dreadfully wrong with you, and you should probably seek professional help or call the Psychic Hotline.

Hope to post something real next time. That is all.

Where Are All the Fun Characters In Life?

But there are tips that you pick up when the Braves were going to release me. It is a tough time for a manager, for your family, for the player to be told that you're never going to play the game again. And I can remember walking in the clubhouse that day, and Luman Harris, who was the Braves' manager, came up to me and said there were no visitors allowed. So again, I knew I might be moving on.

Paul Richards was the general manager and told me the Braves wanted to make me a coach for the following season. And that I would be coaching second base. So again, gone.

But that's when the baseball career started as a broadcaster. I remember working first with Milo Hamilton and Ernie Johnson. And I was all fired up about that, too, until I found out that my portion of the broadcast was being used to jam Radio Free Europe. And I picked up a microphone one day and my mic had no cord on it, so I was talking to nobody.

--Bob Uecker, 2003.

Sure hope everyone managed to survive Christmas 2011 without gunplay or other incident. Around here, it was the usual ritual of celebrating the birth of our Lord and Savior by engaging in several of the Seven Deadly Sins. Sloth and gluttony topped the leaderboard, with some avarice and wrath sprinkled in. It definitely warms the heart. Now its time to take it all down, sort out your present haul, and re-hydrate before New Year's. I'm just holding on for dear life against the diabetic coma, which is no doubt about 15 minutes into my future.

But while I am, I thought I'd drop some more knowledge on you. More truth. To wit: there aren't enough "characters" in life anymore. This is what you need to know, two days after Christmas.

Look at all the stars these days, be they actors, athletes, or the new third category, people famous because they're famous (see: "Kardashian"). Other than the ones who purposely set out to be weirdos (see: "Gaga") or the trainwrecks who become criminal justice system clients (see: "Sheen"), just about all the stars these days do everything possible to prevent their adoring public from knowing what they're really like. They trot out publicity shills to speak on their behalf, hire professional web writers, twitterers and facebookers to handle their social media, all to prevent their adoring fans (whose eagerly forked over money finances their "gotta get me a second tiger" lifestyle) ever learning their true personalities.

Now, a "character" isn't necessarily some freak show. Its someone with a unique, possibly quirky but definitely entertaining personality. Sam Hurd trying to take over the Chicago cocaine market like he was Scarface isn't a character. Tiger Woods, seemingly the most boring man on the planet until you find out he's the poster child for sex addiction, isn't a character. Yogi Berra, unassuming but barely able to master the English language, is a character. Bill Walton, following the Grateful Dead and speaking in epic terms, is a character. Charles Barkley, full of opinions and hilarious observations, is a character.

The rise of TMZ and other paparazzi types obviously caused anyone with a rich personality to shut down public access to it. "Reporters" now stalk stars like lions hunting gazelles on the Serengeti, hoping to catch them doing something human, like gaining five pounds or wearing non-designer clothes. Their raison d'etre is to bring celebrities down to earth. Good goal, but they're ruthless about it. You're all to blame, of course. As much as yall complain about celebrity culture, you still watch all those shows and buy those magazines. Most of us know more about that grimace Denise Richards, for example, than our next door neighbors. Now everyone's in on the act. Even if there's no paparazzi around, everyone and their dog Sparky has a cell phone video camera who will catch you "in the act." So if you're a star or have some public persona, you always have to worry about being caught on camera doing something completely and totally normal, like dangling your baby over a balcony or doing bong rips right after setting Olympic swimming records or hitting a car in a parking lot and not leaving a note.

Which can be a real shame in some instances. You just know some of them are enormous nut jobs of Britney-esque proportions that we just haven't seen. Like Ozzy. Of course, in other instances, they're probably so boring they'd make talking to the brick wall seem exciting. Wouldn't you be a little less inclined to see the next James Bond movie if you knew the star was about as dynamic in real life as your vacuum cleaner attachments? Can you say "Gwyneth Paltrow"?

Either way, these people can't possibly afford to let you know they're something other than totally awesome. The financial stakes now have become far too great. Like Nike cutting off rape-defendant Kobe Bryant, or everyone cutting off Lindsay "Lightfingers" Lohan, ill advised personal moves can cause the loss in millions of lucrative advertising gigs, movie roles, or other "professional personality" jobs. As is true in all other walks of life, Fortune 500 companies live in mortal fear of offending anyone and suffering the resulting adverse publicity. Its bad for business. So not only do they run for cover from anyone with "problems," they won't even deal with people deemed "at risk." And "at risk" includes people who are just quirky. Charles Barkley has about the most engaging personality on TV, but you sure don't see him in a lot of McDonald's ads (which is a real shame, because a more perfect marriage couldn't possibly exist).

It doesn't help that the richer and more famous they become, the more sheltered lives they lead. Which in turn leads to escalating bizarreness requiring more concealment. How long has Paul McCartney, for example, been world famous? Like, reluctant to walk down the street famous? Maybe 50 years. Do you think Paul McCartney, no doubt living on some well secured country estate (security that George could have used, by the way), riding in limos, and being followed by security, has much of any clue about modern life? He may know his way around the Plaza or the Dorchester backwards and forwards, but I bet he wouldn't know how to use the self-checkout line at the grocery store. Which is fine, but remove someone from enough average daily life experiences, and pretty soon they start taking anaesthesia to get to sleep or collecting the Elephant Man's skeleton for fun. What, no good?

The homogenisation of American celebrity has taken its greatest hold in sports. Remember the famous scene in Bull Durham where Crash Davis teaches the young rookie the few cliches needed to deal with the media? Listen to interviews with just about any sports star, and its painfully obvious they've taken that class. Agents mindful of the player's endorsement and marketing potential (and remembering how endorsement deals vanish at the first hint of scandal), as well as avoiding controversies that might scare away owners from paying top dollar when the players reach free agency, diligently work to mold and protect their client's public image. Teams are complicit in this, with sophisticated media and marketing operations restricting access to players so that they deliver only the "approved" message. The leagues and teams are even beginning to take over the media operations directly, with each of the pro leagues having their own TV networks and most of the teams operating a reporting department ancillary to its media operations. Their ultimate goal seems to be to channel all player/media interaction through team filters, avoiding any off-script comments. Its the same drill that the old Hollywood studios ran to prevent you from knowing what a bunch of freak shows their stars were.

Hence, the fun shenanigans from years gone by of a Don Meredith, Mickey Mantle, Joe Namath, or a John Matuszak don't happen. These guys have too much money riding on keeping clean reputations, and when they do have a human moment, you generally never see it unless the media minders approve or it channels through a governmental agency subject to open records act requirements. When someone does swim upstream, like a Dennis Rodman, he has to take it so far that its kind of like his thing. You live for moments when these robots slip up and let down their guard before the cameras (like Cameron Diaz feeding A-Rod popcorn at the Super Bowl, over which A-Rod purportedly threw a fit, or Ryan Leaf's act). As a result, these people come off as incredibly bland, focus-group tested, imitation person-like products, not actual human beings. Only when they slip up in a way that they can't control (like, hypothetically, when a spurned wife goes after her no-good cheating athlete husband and he hits a fire hydrant trying to escape) do we learn anything about their actual personalities. Hence, the sports page (or web sites) often reads like the police blotter. DWIs, domestic assaults, drug possession, positive drug tests, rampant infidelity....Hell, having multiple kids out of wedlock with multiple women seems kind of like standard procedure these days. Right up there with charging for autographs and being suspended for "violation of team policies." But true to form, once these incidents happen, everyone involved goes on media lockdown, save for the agent's obligatory issuance of a carefully crafted statement which the athlete purportedly wrote (and the team's promise to examine all the relevant facts once they are uncovered). That sort of publicly available information is just about the only non-controlled information available on these people.

The shame in this is that many of these people are quite engaging, interesting, and appealing. You can see glimpses on talk shows or non-scripted moments, when the acting stops and the personality takes over. These people would be better off just being themselves. Which is what just about everyone should do. Unless you're an asshole.

So, like many other things, the future hasn't necessarily brought progress. The world would be better served with fewer filters and more candor.

NEXT-the annotated US Constitution for the left and right. A fun and engaging look at our basic legal freedoms. I'm sorry, did I just yawn?

Great Moments in Writing-Mike Sherman's Termination Statement

Back to the “great writing” series.

Today’s entry consists of former Texas A&M football coach Mike Sherman’s opening statement at his post-termination press conference. Coach Sherman wrote this himself; he didn't rely on his agent or a PR firm. For those who don’t know, Coach Sherman is a long-time, accomplished football man. He coached on several college and pro staffs, including at A&M under Coach R.C. Slocum, A&M’s last successful football coach. He was head coach of the Green Bay Packers, and most recently had been the Houston Texans’ offensive coordinator. He’s largely succeeded in every stop along the way. Its harder to imagine many coaches possessing a finer pedigree than Coach Sherman.

I know a little about college football coaching. My uncle, Jimmy Dickey, was a college football coach for over 30 years. He coached as an assistant at Oklahoma, Houston, Oklahoma State, Florida, Southern Mississippi, North Carolina (where he coached Lawrence Taylor). Uncle Jimmy was the head coach at Kansas State and led them to their first ever bowl berth. His son and my cousin Darrell Dickey has also enjoyed a long career as a college football coach. So I know first hand that while in some respects it beats sitting at a desk all day filling out forms, its a brutal profession. No job is safe, and turnover is nearly constant. The average coach not only loses his job, but has to move every 2-3 years. A coach's success or failure depends on how a group of 100 18-22 year olds responds under pressure. What were you doing when you were 18? Exactly. The pressure to win is unrelenting. At some schools, winning 9-10 games per year is regarded as a failure. Criticism is the norm; praise is rare. Jimmy's Oklahoma teams would win 10 games, and lots of fans would regard it as a complete failure if they hadn't beaten Nebraska or Texas that year. So college football coaching is an extremely difficult profession, with constant stress and tension, and nearly unattainable expectations.

Enter our good friends at the Texas Agricultural and Mechanical College. Having suddenly, after over 100 years, had enough of being the University of Texas’ little brother, they decided in a fit of pique to answer all of Texas’ slights, real and perceived, by taking their toys and going somewhere else. The Aggies decided to switch their affiliation from the Big 12 Conference to the more intensely competitive but also more academically challenged Southeastern Conference.

It has been, to put it mildly, a circus. For a team that had legitimate Bowl Championship Series aspirations as the season began, simply put, the Aggies’ 2011 season became a colossal failure. A&M couldn’t possibly have bungled its move to the SEC more. First they’re going to stay in the Big 12, then they’re off to the SEC for “stability” less than a year later. They decide to move to the SEC, incurring huge financial obligations, while their athletic director is on vacation. Does President R. Bowen ("Bowtie") Loftin have any idea after about a year how much exit fee it must pay the Big 12? Having trashed the University of Texas at every turn and in every media outlet known to mankind, they react with shock and awe that Texas refuses to schedule their teams after they leave the conference, thereby depriving A&M of a marquee intrastate matchup key to A&M’s recruiting.

Don’t think all this didn’t create turmoil within the football program. The results were plainly obvious. A good football team with the talent and coaching to make a serious run at the BCS proved incapable of holding second half leads. The Aggies went .500 on the year, losing to the likes of Missouri and hated Texas at home. All year long, “old Ags” pontificated on how they needed a true SEC coach leading the team, and practically held fundraisers seeking to raise the money needed to buy out Coach Sherman’s contract. The team also suffered key injuries to its talented running backs and wide receivers. Towards the end of the season, the athletic department CFO was found to have been posting anonymous comments on a popular Aggie athletics web site that the school President (Loftin) was a “putz” and an “incompetent puppet.” In this circus, no one could have succeeded, though the Aggies under Coach Sherman still managed to field a good team that never quit.

A&M even bungled Coach Sherman’s firing. Over the Athletic Director’s recommendation to keep Coach Sherman, the Regents, with the Bowtie's encouragement, called a special meeting and directed the President to fire Coach Sherman. Someone within the administration, presumably in the Regents’ offices, leaked the news to the Austin American-Statesman, which released news of the firing before the Athletic Director could convey the news to the Coach. AD Bill Byrne reached the Coach by telephone as he was pulling his car into the driveway of a recruit’s home before a visit.

Even by today’s debased standards, this was a shabby way to treat a long-time, loyal coach. Even the Texas A&M student newspaper, the Battalion, agreed. Unlike many, many other college football programs, A&M under Coach Sherman had not even a hint of scandal or impropriety. A&M had gone from also ran to perennial competitor. The athletic department debt had been paid off, and fans had regained the optimism they had lost in past years. A&M was beginning to recruit the best talented players. The NFL resumed drafting Aggies, something that had not occurred in some time. Coach Sherman had restored the program to respectability, in an honest and honorable way. So if ever anyone had a legitimate ax to grind for being fired, it was Coach Sherman.

Yet, rather than open fire with both barrels, he eloquently took the high road. He reaffirmed his loyalty to Texas A&M University. He paid tribute to nearly everyone who plays a part in the football program. He thanked those who’d hired him, including Athletic Director Byrne. He wished the team and others in the program well. More importantly, he reaffirmed the ideal of college athletics as an institution that can mold young people into men and women, teaching them lessons that will help them lead successful and rewarding lives. Today’s money-hungry athletics directors, regents, and even alumni seem to have forgotten this ideal as they instead focus on multi-million dollar TV and merchandising deals. “Professional college athletics” is no longer sarcasm, its reality. Coach Sherman, however, reminds us that some still resist this commercialization and truly work to educate and help young people.

I commend to you his remarks.

"Howdy. Let me just begin by saying that no one has had greater expectations for this program than I have. No one, after the season, is more disappointed than me. I feel totally accountable and responsible for everything we've done over the last four years, including this past season. But I'm proud of how our football team always came back and battled and battled. At no time did I ever feel like they gave in to that disappointment. They gave it their all. If anything they pressed too hard and missed opportunities they would normally make.

As I said, I'm disappointed and accountable, but I'm proud of these men and even prouder to be called their coach. Last night, saying goodbye to them was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do in my life. It was gut-wrenching to say the least. I told them they could always count on me. Winning is such a fine line in the game of football and we were on the wrong side of that line each time. I take full responsibility for that. But this is a good football team. We're going to play this bowl game and we're going to win. I'm disappointed I won't be there to coach.

I believe in the last four years this program has come a long way. We've changed the culture where we are now expected to win every game. That wasn't the case when we got here. This season we fell victim to our own expectations that we created. What I'm most proud about with this football team is their character and their work ethic. I've asked a lot of these guys and they've always responded when I've put them to the task. We've recruited some good kids from some good families. Sometimes it's a single mom, but those moms are such an influence on that young man that they come to us with character. Someone in their lives led them here ready to do the things I've asked them to do.

I'm very thankful for the players' parents, they've been very supportive. I wouldn't trade the last four years for anything. I've had the chance to coach my son Matt and see him grow into a man. I've also gotten to see other kids grow and become men.

It's been an honor to be a part of this great University. I've worked 24/7 the last four years. Not a day has gone by the last four years where I haven't done something related to A&M football, whether it's drawing up plays, recruiting, working toward development of facilities.

I'm proud to be associated with the great faculty we have here. I know this is a research university, but we have a group of faculty members that embrace these kids, educate these kids, and I'm proud to be associated with each of these faculty members that care about these kids. We have a great athletic staff, and coaches in all our sports. They motivate me with the bars they've raised. I'm thankful for the sacrifices everyone's wives and family have made for this program. I'm proud to be associated with our athletic director, Bill Byrne. He's professional in everything he does. He's been a mentor to me and very supportive these last four years.

(Thanking various other parties.)

Our athletic training staff has been great. Our doctors have been second to none.

I'm going to miss a lot of things over the years. I'm going to miss walking across campus on a Wednesday or Thursday heading to mass at the All Faiths Chapel and students always stopping to be supportive, giving a Howdy or a handshake. I'm going to miss Aggie Band practices, going over to the Corps — which is the backbone of this University — and the students. At 11:00 last night, a group of students were out at my house encouraging me. I was so moved by that demonstration, it was special to me. That tells me we made the connection we wanted between our football players and our students. I always told the players that they're players on game day, but when they walk across campus they are students. I tried to break down that barrier between athletes and students, athletics and academics. Our players understand they have to be students first, and athletes second.

Our former students have been unbelievably supportive, over the last four years and yesterday. Our academic support group is second to none in the country. There is not another school in America that helps our guys like we do. It is the greatest recruiting tool we have, that we can get a young man in here and not just get him the grades but educate him to a higher level.

I don't know if I enjoy anything as much as going out and visiting with high school coaches. I feel when we came here we weren't received as we should be. Something was wrong. But we embraced the coaches and they embraced us and we've opened avenues that will help us as we move into the SEC. We've got a great group of recruits that will lead A&M to new heights. I plan to encourage them all to continue to be committed. You don't commit to a coach, you commit to a school.

I've tried to embrace the values of A&M and infuse that into our players. I believe that they're better men today because they bought into the Aggie culture, the Aggie Code of Honor. No one's perfect, but they've embraced A&M and they beleive in it and that's important to me."Since I've been here at Texas A&M, it's never been about Mike Sherman. And today is not about me. It's the end of one chapter and the start of another. I just hope that when this chapter is read later, it tells that this chapter is one that led to greater times. I hope this leads to a period of greater things as we head into the SEC."