Sunday Coffee: Eggnog latte edition

“Not only is there no God, but try finding a plumber on Sunday.”

                                                                                Woody Allen        

Winter weather has arrived early this year in the San Francisco Bay Area.  At a time when we would normally be enjoying the last few weeks of the typical warm Indian summer and maybe a sunny Thanksgiving the rains have settled in.  Much to my dog’s dismay the trips to the local ball field to let her run around have been cut short.  Getting the mud off a setter is no simple chore so we’re relegated to walks down the recreation path. And no I didn't have an eggnog latte this morning. Nothing particularly against the gloppy drink but I need to keep down the calorie count on this Sunday before Thanksgiving. 

Twas weeks before Christmas and all through Star-bucks:  Thanksgiving is still days away and I’m already approaching Christmas overload.  Starbucks has started the nonstop Christmas music.  Can’t we at least wait until after we’ve gotten up from the post-Thanksgiving dinner nap? There is one interesting phenomenon about Christmas music.  At what other time of the year would the under 25 crowd that normally listens to hip-hop suddenly listen to hours of Sinatra, Crosby and classical music?

The new formal wear?

No shoes, no shirt…:  A young woman strolls in this morning.  Just get out of bed dear?  Pink pajama bottoms and cheeks with that wiggle and jiggle that shout; “Hey I’m not wearing any drawers!”  Drawers are probably a good idea if you’re wearing anything but tight pants to keep those cheeks in check.  When was it that Americans decided that it’s okay to be complete slobs?  Fashion statements like flip-flops in any restaurant that doesn’t otherwise have a door leading to a pool deck or beach?  Did we gradually get here by replacing slacks with khakis and then khakis with jeans and then jeans with torn jeans?  Or did we suddenly throw on the unkempt switch; screw this button down shirt I’m wearing my Big Johnson t shirt.  And who could possibly overlook, “Pants on the ground, pants on the ground, lookin like a fool with your pants on the ground.”

You don’t got to show me no stinking Elmo:  According to a Nielsen survey the most wanted Christmas gift among 6 – 12 year olds is the iPad.  Wow; and to think that when I was 6 or 7 I was looking for a set of toy soldiers and a slot car set.

Capitalist bastard, baseball edition:  I’d like to thank Bud Selig for sticking yet another pin in his baseball voodoo doll by announcing last week that there will be another wild card team in the playoff mix.  That must be because a 162 game schedule just isn’t nearly enough to determine which teams are the most deserving.  Or maybe it could be all about more revenue from an extra playoff game.

But when will little Johnny have time to play video games?  Reading Tom Brokaw’s new book The Times of Our Lives.  Brokaw relates the story of when he was in South Korea to cover the Olympics; “Because of the time difference I anchored Nightly News at 5:30 AM, Seoul time.  We broadcast from a building roof overlooking a junior high school.  The first morning when I finished at 6:00 I was startled to see the schoolyard crowded with uniformed students hunched over their textbooks, studying by flashlight, waiting for the doors to open at 6:30.”  Meanwhile here in California, which was once the model for the world, budget cuts may shorten the school year, class sizes continue to grow, students are forced to use woefully out of date textbooks and parents whine that their poor dears get too much homework. We can thank the GOP faction of the state legislature for not allowing any, and I mean any, new taxes or extensions of expiring taxes.  Not to worry though. While our kids learn to kill zombies in their elementary years, get piercings and tats in their high school years and get put on a fast track to careers at coffee houses and record stores we can rest assured that if we need any engineers or scientists they can always be imported from India, China and Korea.

On a related note, I wonder how successful our nation’s youth would be if parents were as attentive to their childrens' academics as they are to their athletics.  Parents never seem to have a problem getting their kids to soccer practice and then spending hours huddled on a chilly evening watching that practice. But getting parents engaged in their kids academics or with the school results in a weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. “I don’t have time to get involved with the school.  When are we going to have time for dinner?”  Dinner didn’t seem to be a problem during that 7 PM practice that was being held by the dim light of an autumn moon.  Do parents spend as much time making sure that their son can read at grade level as they do making sure that he can read the opposing team’s defensive scheme?  Do they put as much effort in getting to know the teacher as they do the coach?  Part of that problem might be the unrealistic expectation of the coveted D-1 scholarship.  It’s a lot sexier to brag about a full ride basketball scholarship than the one for writing an essay about Gandhi.  Unfortunately that athletic scholarship is a lot more elusive.  Case in point, there are about 19,500 D-1 and D-2 football scholarships available to be divvied up among about a million boys who play football.    

Let's see, Libya.  Is it bigger than a breadbox?

From Tripoli you can see Russia (well maybe if you’re looking at a world atlas):  This past week an interviewer asked Herman Cain whether or not he agreed with President Obama’s policy on Libya. The pizza king who would be president paused, took a deep breath, paused again and said, “Libya,” as if he was trying to remember whether it’s animal, vegetable or mineral.  Cain then asked the interviewer if Obama supported the uprising.  That was all within the first thirty seconds and it went downhill from there.  It brought me back to my high school days when a classmate was called on to answer the previous night’s homework question and clearly hadn’t cracked the book. Only problem is this isn’t high school and Mr. Cain wants us to give him the ignition keys to the nuclear arsenal.  Is this the best we can come up with?  This isn’t a matter of politics but rather a matter of competence.  The video is an embarrassment.

Wants to be your priest

Devaluing the dollar:  In a recent radio broadcast Glenn Beck christened Rick Santorum as the next George Washington.  In the immortal words of Scooby Doo; “Ruh?”  Washington was a well-rounded, thoughtful statesman who believed in the rights of the individual.  He put his country first above personal considerations.  Rick Santorum is an unrepentant ideologue, a zealot who doesn’t just wear his conservative religion on his sleeve, he wears a veritable religious suit.  And he would like nothing better than if you and I and the rest of the nation embraced that fashion statement.  Washington was an enlightened man.  Santorum is the anti-enlightenment.  Take his stance on the sex scandal that shook the Boston Catholic Diocese; “Priests, like all of us, are affected by culture. When the culture is sick, every element in it becomes infected. While it is no excuse for this scandal, it is no surprise that Boston, a seat of academic, political and cultural liberalism in America, lies at the center of the storm.”  Yeah that’s right Ricky, we wouldn’t want academic liberalism.  After all that leads to critical thinking and the debunking of some of Santorum's ideas such as discrediting Darwin while pushing that nonsense known as intelligent design; essentially creationism loosely cloaked in a lab coat.  In 2001 Santorum tried to insert into the No Child Left Behind bill (a loser in its own right) language promoting intelligent design over evolution.  Washington on the other hand displayed an illumination beyond Santorum’s scope that inspired fellow founder Fisher Ames in his eulogy to describe Washington as one of "that small number" of men "who were no less distinguished for the elevation of their virtues than the luster of their talents. . . who were born, and who acted through life as if they were born, not for themselves, but for their country and the whole human race."  Beck’s comparison of Santorum to Washington brings to mind Lloyd Bentsen’s famous scolding of Dan Quayle when the would be Vice President compared himself to JFK; “Senator, you’re no Jack Kennedy.”  Rick, you’re no George Washington.

Trashing Tim:  Listening to sports talk radio last Friday morning following the Denver Broncos’ Tebowing of the New York Jets I caught another installment of the new national sport which is making sport of Tim Tebow.  It’s the fashionable thing to do these days.  Now I have no real issue with the criticism of Tebow’s skills as an NFL quarterback.  As a passer he’d be challenged to hit the ocean standing on the beach.  But the boys on this show, were taking on Tim Tebow the person; too squeaky clean, too goody two shoes, derisively describing a Tebow interview sound bite as a “Disney moment.  This is a common theme of the criticism.  Well just what is it that we’re looking for?  The normal sports talk fare is an unhealthy serving of jocks behaving badly; shootings at strip clubs, greed, over the top end zone celebrations and fines for various and sundry rules violations both on and off the field.  So now we have an unpretentious young man who carries himself with dignity and grace in the face of derision, who has done more charity work in his short life than most do in an entire lifetime and he gets pilloried as if he was a linebacker who beat up an overweight, out of shape salesman in a bar dispute.  I should probably put this particular bashing in perspective.  It was delivered by a drive time pair who call themselves, Murph and Mac.  Their shtick could best be described as juvenile although when they want to put on their serious hats they manage to elevate themselves to drunken frat boy.  Okay I’ve given up the secret that I’m less than impressed with this pair.  I only listen to them when I jump from another station that’s gone to commercial.  Aside from the poop and belch humor they embrace, my problem with these guys is that they’re basically two pudgy dough boys who would probably huff and puff after a flight of stairs and they have the gall to criticize high performance athletes.  There’s something in that deserving of a penalty flag.

Red and gold revival:  Folks are filtering into Starbucks proudly sporting their San Francisco 49er gear.  It’s been a long time since Niner jackets have been worn with pride.  Under new coach, Jim Harbuagh the 49ers have made a remarkable resurgence.  Maybe the best part of the story has been the redemption of quarterback Alex Smith who was mishandled badly by two coaches who through Smith’s current success have been exposed as incompetent pretenders.  Harbaugh’s team proves that coaches make a difference.

It’s time to adjourn now and go pick up the turkey for Thanksgiving; about 20 pounds should do. Holy moly, there must have been a pajama party.  Another one makes an appearance. Cheeks jiggling like Santa’s belly; or a bowl full of jelly.