Pray for our Children....

My heart and soul go out to the hundreds of children, men, and women who were killed in the hostage situation in Russia this past week. I pray that the trauma that the surviving children endured does not scar them for life. I pray for those who are recovering from their horrible wounds, physical and emotional. And I wish nothing but the fiery pits of damnation and hell-fire on those pussy-ass terrorists who use little kids as their pawns.

Where the fuck is George Bush and his administration? Are they focusing on Iraq, when the rest of the world is getting fucked over? Get your priorities straight, bitches. Oh yeah, let's go to Mars. How about another fucking election snafu. Nah, let's update the "Axis of Evil" and alientate more of the world. How about China? They're pretty damn evil. Oh, wait a minute, they give us a ton of money and cheap products. Forget their human rights track record.

I remember the good ole' days with Mikhael Gorbachev and Ronald Reagan. I hate Reagan's trickle-down bullshit, but he certainly worked to provide stability between the two superpowers. What's good ole' Dubwa doing? Smoking terrorists out of holes? Fishin'? Huntin'? Suckin' Dick (Cheney that is)?

Your Republican ass is prolly saying, "What the hell do we have to do in Russia? It ain't our problem." When we decided to police the entire world, it became our problem. And when we vowed to fight terrorists all over the world, it became our problem. We can't be selective about which terrorists we should be fighting.

The fucking terrorists we should be fighting are in the white house and pentagon. It's G Dub, D Rum, and D Chain that are sending bombs all over the world and killing innocent civilians, all the while sleeping well at night because they don't live under the threat of land mines, bomb raids, or hostage situations.

My 3650

I love my Nokia 3650. I thought I would never get a cell phone. I was the longest holdout that I knew of. Even my 11-year-old nieces were getting cell phones. When Joanne first get her cell phone back in the mid 90's, I always joked with her that she was dealing smack. Only gangsters and drug dealers had cell phones. When she got a $400 cell phone bill in our first year of marriage, I threatened to throw the phone out of the window! Little did I know that I would have my OWN cell phone nary 2 years later.

Mind you, I don't really use the phone too much to call anyone. I got it initially because of the family rate plan that only added ten bucks to Jo's bill, and because the 3650 was free, because of the rebates. It was bulky, odd-looking, and weird, but I still got it because it got great ratings from Amazon consumers. It had a large color screen, bluetooth, a camera, a videocamera, and limited internet capabilities.

At first I used it to just play thay dumbass game, Snake. Then I started circulating my number, and people called me! Woohoo. And then, I discovered the camera and videocamera. So here are some favorite pics of mine from the past couple of months. They also come with a story.




I took this picture while Jo and I were watching a long movie. Gilbey and Belle were so tired of waiting for us to take them on a walk that they just fell asleep at our feet. Apparently, Belle makes a good pillow.




Alvin and I went to a preseason game back in April. We got pretty damn good seats right in front of the Giants bullpen. Before the game, I saw Fred Ingliss, the Channel 2 Reporter, lugging a bunch of his equipment across the field. Without even thinking what I was gonna say, I yelled out, "Lookin' good, Fred!" He bounced back a smile of acknowledgement, looked at all the crap he was carrying, and retorted, "I don't get paid enough for this shit."

I was wearing my New York Yankees hat, even though the Giants were playing the Rangers, and Dave Righetti, the pitching coach, yelled from the field towards our direction. I didn't catch what he said, but I should have gone up to him and have him sign my hat, being that he was a Yankee in the early 80's, and got a no-hitter with them.

Last thing about this pic. It was the first day that the Giants organization announced that SBC park had Wi-fi. Sure enough, the techie in front of us brought his Mac and webcam. He got on the internet really quickly and corresponded via webcam with a bunch of his buddies. Eh, it was preseason; can't blame the guy.




My company has its annual dinner in July, and even though I had work that night, Jo and I decided to go. I was glad I went because I saw a bunch of people I hadn't seen in years. My buddy, Kevin, went with my old Supervisor, Moe. They also handed out the Unkie's, the unconditional care awards. One person at our table, got one. It was nice, because she seemed sweet, and judging by the applause, deserved it. I always get uncomfortable during awards, because you don't know if you'll be receiving one. I didn't receive one that night, but 2 weeks later, I received the Residential staff of the month, as well as the Residential team of the month. It was nice getting the accolade.

Anyways, the nicest thing about that night was spending some quality time with Jo. We've been so wrapped up with such stressful crap the past year, that it was a relief to get all dolled up with my honey and spend a nice evening together. The dinner was held at Hs. Lordships at the Berkeley Marina, and the picture was of the sunset. It was a beautiful sunset set amongst the rolling clouds, and the sunlight appeared to dance above the horizon.




Went to the Residential picnic for my work earlier this summer, and played a friendly game of volleyball. Friendly, indeed, but not without its share of trash-talk. My fellow overnight, DeShannon, was talking so much smack that I had to break him off. After he bragged about how he should be in the Olympics because of his athletic prowess, I bounced back and said, "Yeah, Special Olympics." It got a laugh from everyone else, but their team still lost. Then, we played football, and for some reason, it turned into a boy vs. girl thang. I swear we played to 100, because I was sucking air at the end. Those chicks could definitely play. Yes, we got our asses handed to us by a bunch of women. Girl power.




I was transporting a kid from one of the group homes to the school site one morning, and we had an eventful trip to say the least. First, we passed by a house with a huge yard that got tee-peed, or should I sat t-p'd, as in tissue paper. It was a masterful job, too. There were at least 30 rolls used, and the front yard that used to be green looked like a winter wonderland. I could only imagine how hard it would be to get that crap off those 20 foot trees they had. Incidentally, a couple of weeks ago, some fools tried to t-p our house. They picked a good night, too, because I was away at work. It took me 2 minutes to clean it up. 2 rolls and one of them was still 3/4 rolled up. I could only surmise that our pups took action and scared them away with their barking. Ha!

Anyways, I had to explain to the kid what the tissue paper was doing there, and why it was harmless and funny. I hope I didn't give him the impression that is was something every kid did. I only did it twice when I was a kid, and that was when I was a young thug. As if I thought the morning drive could'nt get any weirder, we're stopped at Seven Hills and Lake Chabot in Castro Valley, and guess what comes walking right in front of my car? A gaggle of geese. They were walking in single formation as if they owned the road. My fellow motorists were all stunned in amazement, and they were walking so slow, that I had time to reach into my pocket, pull out my 3650, and snap a pic.

Well, those are some of my favorite 3650 pics. I'll probably snap some more in the next couple of months, and post it later. Unfortunately, Jo's phone is acting up on her, so I promised she could use mine. Oh well.

Miggy's back!

Miguel Tejada, perennial all-star and MVP candidate, came back to Oakland with the visiting Baltimore Orioles today. Not only can he hit for power, hit for average (.324 this year), drive in runs (he's leading the major league with 113), field his position well, and come up with big hits, he's also a genuinely good guy. It's hard to find this type of guy in professional sports nowadays. Somebody's either beating up his wife, doping up, corking his bat, holding out, fighting with management, retiring to avoid drug suspension, talking on a cell phone after a touchdown, or berating a member of the media. Not Miggy. When he returned to the A's clubhouse, he greeted all of his former teammates, and they embraced him. He was the heart and soul of the Oakland A's the past five or so years. When Tejada was in a major slump, he gave all of his bats to the fans in the front row. When the A's were down by 3 runs in the 8th, Miggy was the first guy to fashion his hat into a rally cap. He always a had a smile on his face, and he welcomed his fans, young and old alike. I was incredibly proud to see him win the Home Run Derby this year, even though I hate the premise of the contest. And even though he wasn't wearing the yellow and green of Oakland, I cheered him mightily. Today, I cheered for him, along with 25,000 other fans in the coliseum. Mind you, I was in the comfort of my own living room and no one was there to hear me, other than my dogs who gave me that dog head tilt, which in dog-body language means, "I told you that motherfucker was crazy." But you know what takes the cake? A couple of local reporters interviewed him today, and he said that he owes his entire career to the Oakland A's organization. As a poor young kid playing ball in the streets of the Dominican Republic, the A's gave him a chance. How many professional athletes do you know thank their old teams for doing this? None that I can think of. He plays the game with such enthusiasm and fun. He plays the game for all the right reasons; not for the money or the fame, but for the fun of it, the comradery, and the chance to show his tremendous skills off. It's only fitting that he is a Baltimore Oriole shortstop now, and that he has the most consecutive games played streak of 700+. Cal Ripken was a class act, and an iron man, to boot. But I would argue that Miguel Tejada is a man of steel, with a heart of gold.

The curse continues...

The Boston Red Sox curse continues....Nomar Garciaparra just got traded to the Cubs for who? Doug Mentkiewicz and Orlando Cabrera. Two no-hitting, no-power, wannabe starters with gold gloves. Yes, they instantly iprove their defense, but at the expense of trading their most popular player in the past decade? Nomar (pronounced No-mah) was the stalwart of the Red Sox infield and the emotional captain of the team. He was the Derek Jeter of the Red Sox. But he could actually hit. He won two batting titles, his defense was adequate, but his value in the clubhouse was immeasurable. His value to the fans was even more so. He ran out infield hits, he played hard in the field, and his idiosyncratic routine that he performed everytime he stepped out of the batter's box was unique and endearing. I think Red Sox management are actual closet Yankee fans that just love sado-masichistic behavior.

I'm not complaining, though. My beloved A's are in first place, anad yesterday, they just trounced those damn Yankees. Why go on and on about the Red Sox, then? I guess I'm just a Yankee Hater at heart and any immortal enemy of the Yankees is a friend of mine. Unless the Red Sox and A's duke it out for the wild card; then you know where my allegiance lies.