Warning: It's Almost Fall

Summer's almost gone       

Summer's almost gone

We had some good times

But they're gone

The winter's comin' on

Summer's almost gone

~ The Doors

“If cross country were easy it would be called football.” ~ Slogan on the backs of many cross country team shirts.

Am I ready for some football?  Well - no.   America is all a twitter, sports talk show hosts are ecstatic and television network and National Football League execs are just beginning a 5 month long fiscal orgasm (For those readers outside of the USA, I’m speaking of American football as opposed to futbol/soccer). 

American football is an absolute dollarific orgy.  On average the 32 NFL teams are worth $1.17 billion dollars each.  The average revenue per team last year was $286 million dollars.  Broadcast revenue from the networks for the current contract, now in its final year, averages $1.9 billion per year.  The new contract starting in 2014 will average $3.1 billion per year.  These are just a few of the bank account boggling figures.  And this doesn't even count the gambling money exchanged – both legal and not. 

Speaking of gambling money, we’re in the second year of our family/friend football fantasy league.  The pot is $200 and the winner at season’s end gets a hideous perpetual trophy to display for a year in a closet or some other convenient hiding place.  This year the wife joined in.  Over the years she’s watched games in a sort of superficial way, uninterested in stats and individual players – the two main ingredients in fantasy football.  That’s why she’s going to win this competition.  The ones that buy football magazines, pour over stats; spend the season changing rosters, making trades and acquisitions never win. These things are won by the folks who pick players that they recognize from TV commercials, or because they're good looking or seem charismatic.  And so after the first week the little woman schooled the rest of the league, outscoring the next closest player by over 30 points.  This is mostly because she picked up Peyton Manning who she probably recognized from the Buick commercial that comes on about 20 times a night.  Hell, if you can replace Tiger Woods as a shill for Buick you must be pretty good. 

Football season is a herald of sorts.  It starts around Labor Day, the last holiday of summer.  Once we've emerged from Labor Day we realize that the next occasion is Halloween and the next holiday is Thanksgiving and, ugh, Black Thanksgiving/Friday which melds right into, yup, ho-ho-ho – Christmas season and the stress and the overeating which leads into the new year and my gym being overrun by mobs of plump resolutionaries trying to shed their holiday weight.  Geeze, what am I doing sitting here?  I need to get up into the attic and start pulling down the Christmas decorations. 

“There’s nothing like the start of a cross country race.”  I've never forgotten those words from a girl on the high school team I coached some years ago.  The autumn wind carries with it a pleasant bit of nostalgia – cross country season.  It was my sport of choice in high school and a sport that I coached at Salesian High School in Richmond CA.  Training would begin in June, climax with cross country camp at Tahoe in August and then the season would begin in September.  Before we knew it, we were at Thanksgiving weekend and the state championship closed out the season. For me it was a labor of love that had me rushing from work to practice to the computer at home to work on stats, schedules and workouts, to team events such as pasta feeds and awards ceremonies.  At season's end I was both exhausted and sad; and planning for the next summer.

There is nothing like the start of a cross country race

When lawyers ruled the Earth.  There was a fall chill in the air and the crunch of leaves on the patio outside Peet’s Coffee in Berkeley.  I was having a conversation with a friend of mine who happens to be a VP of Human Resources which I don't hold against her because aside from that she's a great person.

VP: “I have to let someone go for sleeping on the job.”

Me:  “At lunch time I go to my car and take a nap.”

VP:  “We consider that sleeping on the job.”

Me:  “What the hell do you mean?  It’s my lunch time.”

VP:  “You’re not hourly so in reality you’re sleeping on the job.  If you want to take a nap, you have to get in your car and drive it off company property.  If someone mugged you while you were sleeping in the car on company property you could sue the company for not providing security.”

Me:  “Your company is pretty fucked up.”

VP:  “That’s true but there are a lot of stupid, litigious people in the world.”

She’s right of course and so the alternative would be, when stupid and litigious people ruled the Earth.  After watching the evening news on any given day I often think we’re already there. 

Along the same lines, last night’s season finale of The Newsroom had a brief scene in which one of the producers railed about lawyers and ridiculous warning labels.  I recall eating some peanuts from a can of Planter’s Peanuts and idly reading the label.  I almost choked on those selfsame peanuts when I read on the label; Warning: Contains peanuts. 

Symbiotic stupidity.  Lawyers have ingeniously created this self-sustaining cottage industry.  Represent the stupidest of tort claims and sue the ass off some company which causes similar companies to hire legal teams to come up with absurd company policies and stupid warning labels (like Contains peanuts) to avoid getting their own asses sued off.  The legal lunacy inspired me to research witless warning labels.  It’s absolutely breathtaking. 

                Nytol Sleep Aid: Warning: May cause drowsiness. Could you sue them for fraud if it didn't?

                Chainsaws: Danger: Do not hold wrong end of chainsaw. Clearly this is a mistake you could only make twice.

                A kissin’ cousin to the peanut label. Egg cartons with the warning: Product: Eggs. 

                Scrubbing Bubbles Automatic Shower Cleaner: Not a body wash.
                Hair dryer warning label:  For hair on your head only. Obviously some of the guys at the gym don't read or heed this one.  Some of those guys dry their winkies with the gym blow dryer. I wish that just one winky would catch fire just to stop the stupid practice. It might be worth the higher gym fees to cover the suit.

                And the grand prize winner!  Instructions on a home roof antenna:

                                Do not attempt to install if drunk, pregnant or both.

                                Do not eat antenna.

                                Do not throw antenna at spouse (Can you make an exception if she’s getting drunk while pregnant?)

Don't touch me there or there, or there, certainly not there; and don't say this or that; and don't you dare look at those.  I got an email from my company HR that tells me I have to watch a sexual harassment presentation – umm, maybe that didn’t come out right.  I have to watch a presentation that ostensibly will tell me how to recognize and avoid committing sexual harassment.  I wonder if it’s about that Playboy Playmate of the Month calendar hanging in my office……That’s a joke.  What I really wonder; is there still a market for those?  Well, there will always be a market, but there’s almost no place you could hang one without getting sued or pilloried.  A year or so ago we had a sexual harassment presentation (you know what I mean), delivered by, what else, a lawyer.  It made me want to drive a nail through my skull. I've now developed a policy of not complimenting co-workers for anything other than turning out a good spreadsheet. Anything else might be inappropriate. 

Really?  Only 9 episodes?  The aforementioned show, The Newsroom closed out a much too short season.  It's one of the only reasons that I don't downgrade our TV plan to something cheaper. I would say that it's the best show on TV but I understand that HBO has a few quality series going.  So I'll stop at it's the best show that I watch.  I am pissed off that it's such a short season.  Now I can only hope that it gets renewed for a third...and so on.  I have two favorite characters; Charlie Skinner played by Sam Waterston and Sloan Sabbith played by Olivia Munn.  Just don't tell my HR department about the latter or I might get written up.  Actually I like her character's social awkwardness (Honest, it's the ONLY reason - really). I've been accused of the same so there's some affinity there.  Other than that any other resemblance is strictly absurd. 

Charlie Skinner reminds me of the old guard newsman

Sloan Sabbith. Socially awkward - believe it or not. 

A great idea in this new school year.  San Francisco high schools are reintroducing auto shop classes.  When I was a kid my parents drilled in me the notion that I HAD to get a college degree.  I did that and even though my degree isn’t in my field I believe it has helped me.  But there are some kids for whom a college degree isn’t appropriate.  They have the aptitude and passion for cars and this type of program caters to their needs, giving them a head start.  I sure as hell would rather know a good auto mechanic than a nuclear physicist. 

Tragedy has an open season.  And finally there is no season for tragedy.    Another mass shooting hit the news this morning.  I can’t say that it rocked the nation because the nation no longer is rocked by these events.  At the Washington Navy Yard, 13 dead and 14 injured.  But here is something different.  If you thought that this would have me railing against guns again, you’re wrong.  A month or so ago there was a break in at a home less than a mile from ours.  A woman in the house was beaten by the brave perps.  More recently a friend of mine woke up to find an intruder in her house.  She screamed, he fled and she’s been shaken ever since.  She owns guns but in the gun safe they did her no good.  The guns are no longer in the safe and they are loaded.

For my own part I have a decision to make about the shotgun that I bought many years ago and has been stored away with no shells in the house.  I’m about at the point at which I’m going to bring it to a gunsmith to get checked out, then buy some shells and teach my wife how to shoot it.  I don’t feel like I want to put our lives in the hands of the nervous thug that breaks into the house; hoping that he has some moral limitations.