Monday, December 30, 2013


Since I was a young child, I have loved football and I have never gotten enough of it. My earliest memories about football are of following the New York Giants every Sunday. I couldn't wait to sit in front of our black and white TV and watch Y.A. Tittle connect a long bomb pass to his favorite receiver Del Shofner. The way that Sam Huff would tackle his oppnents was legendry. Elroy "Crazy Legs" Hirsch who played for the Los Angeles Rams was another one of my heroes. Who can forget Lou "The Toe" Groza and, the greatest of them all, Jim Brown. Over the years I have loved every minute of it. My love of the game has never diminished and, during the fall and winter months, Sundays have been reserved for enjoying my favorite sport. Luckily, I have a wife who shares my enthusiasm.

Despite my love affair with the game, I am taken back by the after-effects of football among those who have played the game. Every day it seems there are veterans of this sport coming forward with stories of dementia, violent behavior, alcohol and drug abuse and other physical and behavioral problems caused by the many concussions that they have experienced in high school, college and professsional football.

The injury thing has me in a moral dilemma.

How far have we really come as a society if we subject our fellow human beings to the punishing consequences of this sport?

As a result of this moral dilemma, I am swearing off football forever. I will replace my viewing time with wholesome, non-violent, educational programming. In looking at the programming lineup, there are a number of possibilities: Masterpiece Theater, The Actors Studio, NOVA, Bill Nye the Science Guy and BBC News.

But, then again, the NFL playoffs start next week. Let me rethink this.

Readers, enjoy your day.

Sunday, December 15, 2013


I never liked her. We got her almost ten years ago and she's been a pain in the ass from day one; farted incessantly, shed fur all over the house, chewed everything in sight. If I said that I missed her I would be lying.

Good riddance.

When we walked her in the winter she would get covered with snowballs because she had the type of fur that attracted snow. We spent hours pulling burrs from her. She was a magnet for everything that would stick.

I had grown sick of her many years ago and I'm glad she's out of my life.

She had big, floppy ears that would drag in the dirt, picking up all sorts of crap that had no business coming into a civilized person's home. Those same ears would drag in her food bowl. The rancid stench of dried food, sticks, grass and dirt permeated every room in our house. I'm sure that our friends were talking behind our backs saying "their house smells awful - it must be HER."

Thank goodness she's gone.

The veterinarian's bills were incredible. We could do a yearly world cruise for the money we sunk into that stinking mutt. The veterinarian now drives a Ferrari and all of his kids have graduated from Harvard on the money that we have pissed away.

There's only one thing left for me to do: I'm going to read this column a million or more times and convince myself that I am not hurt now that she is gone.

I don't think that that is possible.

The fact is that we had to put our little dog to sleep three days ago. The pain of losing her is excruciating. Belle, we love you so much and there is a huge void in our lives now that you are gone.

Goodbye, our sweet dog.

Readers, enjoy your pets. May they and you live long and happy, healthy lives.