Pity the poor pundits. They are right all the time. But, if their opinions brook no contradiction, are they no longer opinions but, in fact, fact? No wonder we are confused.
It has to be hard to come up with a 600-word essay twice a week. I have trouble creating a few paragraphs every so often that I hope will be interesting and perhaps amusing. And I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything. And I certainly don't get paid for my efforts.
This is not to say I don't have opinions. But so many opinions are flying around all sorts of media I confess I'm intimidated to offer my own. Thus, I'm not disappointed if no one pays attention to me.
Not so for the pontificating pundits who constantly offer their opinions on how to right the wrongs of the world. I hope they're not frustrated at the end of the day when they realize their words fall on deaf ears. But do not fret, dear pundit, I'm always curious about you may say next.
So keep opining, Oh, pundits fine, the field is yours, the decisions mine.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Me and Warren
Warren Buffet revealed today he has prostate cancer. He's almost 82. Welcome to my world, Warren.
I was just 80 when I got my diagnosis. That was almost a year ago. Many guys our age have had or will have prostate cancer any time now. It's part of the aging process.
Matter of fact one of my golfing buddies called me during the winter and said he had been diagnosed with it. He wanted to know how I was treated and what he could expect. I was happy to talk with him.
So far, Warren hasn't called me but if he should I'd be happy to talk to him; tell him all about the treatment process. But he probably doesn't need my advice. I suspect doctors by the score are offering Warren their services. Afer all, he is one of the world's richest men. He's probably covered by Medicare anyway.
Meantime, Warren says he feels fine and so do I. Let's keep it that way, buddy.
I was just 80 when I got my diagnosis. That was almost a year ago. Many guys our age have had or will have prostate cancer any time now. It's part of the aging process.
Matter of fact one of my golfing buddies called me during the winter and said he had been diagnosed with it. He wanted to know how I was treated and what he could expect. I was happy to talk with him.
So far, Warren hasn't called me but if he should I'd be happy to talk to him; tell him all about the treatment process. But he probably doesn't need my advice. I suspect doctors by the score are offering Warren their services. Afer all, he is one of the world's richest men. He's probably covered by Medicare anyway.
Meantime, Warren says he feels fine and so do I. Let's keep it that way, buddy.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Make Room for The Superkinders. Please?
According to the NY Times, New York City is awash with applicants for its gifted and talented public school KINDERGARTEN classes.
Naturally, it's the anxiety-ridden parents who are driving this phenomenon. Which, of course, has opened up opportunities for a host of testing and prep services for these privileged kiddies.
Testing for admissions to KINDERGARTEN? I thought you just had to be toilet-trained. Now, according to the Times, you have to test above the 90th percentile to even have a look-see at these select classes. And what if you don't get in? Do you take your percentile and go home or join the other five-year-old’s in the playground?
One parent is concerned that his kid's 99th percentile test result might not get him in. Geez!
About 76 years ago a five-year old from the Bronx held his mother's hand as she ushered him into his first day at PS 90. About all he remembers of the day is pulling some girl's braids and the teacher telling him to stop. He passed the test of being a five-year-old boy.
Naturally, it's the anxiety-ridden parents who are driving this phenomenon. Which, of course, has opened up opportunities for a host of testing and prep services for these privileged kiddies.
Testing for admissions to KINDERGARTEN? I thought you just had to be toilet-trained. Now, according to the Times, you have to test above the 90th percentile to even have a look-see at these select classes. And what if you don't get in? Do you take your percentile and go home or join the other five-year-old’s in the playground?
One parent is concerned that his kid's 99th percentile test result might not get him in. Geez!
About 76 years ago a five-year old from the Bronx held his mother's hand as she ushered him into his first day at PS 90. About all he remembers of the day is pulling some girl's braids and the teacher telling him to stop. He passed the test of being a five-year-old boy.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Back By Popular Demand!
Now Playing at a Blog Near You!
“The Return of Muddling Marv!”
Encouraged by an overwhelming desire of his fans (at least three), The Muddler is resuming blogging after a lengthy bout of:
a) Jet lag. b) Lingering jet lag. c) Aggravated laziness, followed by d) a severe case of writer's block.
But enough excuses. The truth is that after more than a year of nightly blogging I ran out of steam. And after a two-week-plus visit with our Israeli family, the flight home wiped us out.
Last year I tried to follow the blogger's code: write every day, more than once a day if you have something to say. I liked the challenge but I realized that just before bed time is not exactly the best time of day to be productive.
OK, so what's been happening since I last wrote at the end of February?
Mitt Romney is still running for the Republican presidential nomination but his opponents are not. I hear he's looking for a Veep candidate he can strap to the roof of his car for the trip to the White House. Good luck with that.
The Republicans still hate the Democrats and anything they propose. The Democrats are too timid to hate back. Bi-partisanship? What's that?
Tim Tebow comes to the Jets. They still don't have a prayer for the Super Bowl.
Jeremy Lin jump-starts the Knicks and then suffers a season-ending injury. He was fun while he lasted.
The Mets opened their season strong and then got shut out by the Nationals, of all teams. Same old, same old Mets?
The Yanks lose three to the Rays (no surprise there) and then take three from the Orioles (no surprise there, either.) The real season starts tomorrow when they meet the Pujols-powered Angels.
My son, Rob, loves the Tigers and with Cabrera and Fielder hitting 3-4, who can blame him. And until someone proves otherwise, Verlander is still the best pitcher in the AL. Go kitties. (But not further than the Yanks.)
I'm not promising a daily dose but we'll do our best to keep up the flow.
That's all for now. And it's only 8:35 p.m.
“The Return of Muddling Marv!”
Encouraged by an overwhelming desire of his fans (at least three), The Muddler is resuming blogging after a lengthy bout of:
a) Jet lag. b) Lingering jet lag. c) Aggravated laziness, followed by d) a severe case of writer's block.
But enough excuses. The truth is that after more than a year of nightly blogging I ran out of steam. And after a two-week-plus visit with our Israeli family, the flight home wiped us out.
Last year I tried to follow the blogger's code: write every day, more than once a day if you have something to say. I liked the challenge but I realized that just before bed time is not exactly the best time of day to be productive.
OK, so what's been happening since I last wrote at the end of February?
Mitt Romney is still running for the Republican presidential nomination but his opponents are not. I hear he's looking for a Veep candidate he can strap to the roof of his car for the trip to the White House. Good luck with that.
The Republicans still hate the Democrats and anything they propose. The Democrats are too timid to hate back. Bi-partisanship? What's that?
Tim Tebow comes to the Jets. They still don't have a prayer for the Super Bowl.
Jeremy Lin jump-starts the Knicks and then suffers a season-ending injury. He was fun while he lasted.
The Mets opened their season strong and then got shut out by the Nationals, of all teams. Same old, same old Mets?
The Yanks lose three to the Rays (no surprise there) and then take three from the Orioles (no surprise there, either.) The real season starts tomorrow when they meet the Pujols-powered Angels.
My son, Rob, loves the Tigers and with Cabrera and Fielder hitting 3-4, who can blame him. And until someone proves otherwise, Verlander is still the best pitcher in the AL. Go kitties. (But not further than the Yanks.)
I'm not promising a daily dose but we'll do our best to keep up the flow.
That's all for now. And it's only 8:35 p.m.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Time to Go
We’re on our way to visit eight grand and five great-grandchildren in Israel. There are two little ones who haven’t met us yet. Two older ones, three-plus and almost two, have been shown pictures of us and are practicing saying” Great grandpa and great grandma.”
That should be fun to hear. But, we plan to spend quality time with all the kids. Oh, I should say we’ll also spend time with our son and daughter-in-law, whose be-gatting began it all.
Highlights forthcoming on our return.
That should be fun to hear. But, we plan to spend quality time with all the kids. Oh, I should say we’ll also spend time with our son and daughter-in-law, whose be-gatting began it all.
Highlights forthcoming on our return.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Pre-Oscar
Thinking about tonight’s Oscar telecast, I started remembering the non-Oscar winners of my childhood. These were the movies I went to on Saturday morning with all the other kids. We brought our lunches and for a nickel we saw the serials and the double-feature, all in black-and-white. Sometimes we sat through the show twice. One Saturday my mother came to the movie house and yanked me out. It was almost supper time.
Yes, a nickel to see movies like Gunga Din (five times), Jesse James, (three or more times) and when Technicolor came in there was Errol Flynn as Robin Hood, which I still watch when it shows up on Turner Classic Movies.
Like most kids, I was drawn to the action, the heroics, the underdog triumphing over evil, although Jesse was hardly a role model, robbing banks as he did. But Hollywood and Tyrone Power made his story appealing.
Fast forward to 2012. We saw two of the contending Oscar pictures, The Descendants and The Artist. We liked them both but they played to virtually empty theaters. We saw them at a nearby multiplex on a discount Tuesday afternoon and in each case we were among very few patrons. In fact, only one other couple shared the theater with us for a late afternoon showing of The Artist.
Even great movies need an audience to be fully appreciated.
Gunga and Jesse used to pack ‘em in.
Yes, a nickel to see movies like Gunga Din (five times), Jesse James, (three or more times) and when Technicolor came in there was Errol Flynn as Robin Hood, which I still watch when it shows up on Turner Classic Movies.
Like most kids, I was drawn to the action, the heroics, the underdog triumphing over evil, although Jesse was hardly a role model, robbing banks as he did. But Hollywood and Tyrone Power made his story appealing.
Fast forward to 2012. We saw two of the contending Oscar pictures, The Descendants and The Artist. We liked them both but they played to virtually empty theaters. We saw them at a nearby multiplex on a discount Tuesday afternoon and in each case we were among very few patrons. In fact, only one other couple shared the theater with us for a late afternoon showing of The Artist.
Even great movies need an audience to be fully appreciated.
Gunga and Jesse used to pack ‘em in.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Packing Panic
Whenever we travel the first thing I do is panic over packing. I never want to take more than we need but it seems we always do.
It's particularly annoying now that the airlines are charging casual customers like us additional for more than one bag each. We used to get two free bags anytime we traveled overseas. I hate being nickle-and-dimed like this.
Anyway, the challenge this afternoon was trying to stuff all the things we laid out on a couple of beds into the two allotted suitcases.
Much to my surprise it looks like we'll do it, with the aid of one carry-on. The rub is we have a third bag, a duffel, stuffed with gifts for the grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Since we didn't go overboard for those items, we'll consider the extra bag fee a gift tax. What happens on the return flight, however, is another story. That bag will now be empty. I see two choices: spread our things into three bags and pay yet another fee or leave the bag in Israel for my grandchildren. I'm leaning toward option two.
In any case, the packing panic is over. There even may be room for another pair of socks.
It's particularly annoying now that the airlines are charging casual customers like us additional for more than one bag each. We used to get two free bags anytime we traveled overseas. I hate being nickle-and-dimed like this.
Anyway, the challenge this afternoon was trying to stuff all the things we laid out on a couple of beds into the two allotted suitcases.
Much to my surprise it looks like we'll do it, with the aid of one carry-on. The rub is we have a third bag, a duffel, stuffed with gifts for the grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Since we didn't go overboard for those items, we'll consider the extra bag fee a gift tax. What happens on the return flight, however, is another story. That bag will now be empty. I see two choices: spread our things into three bags and pay yet another fee or leave the bag in Israel for my grandchildren. I'm leaning toward option two.
In any case, the packing panic is over. There even may be room for another pair of socks.
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