$2 Billion dollars!

The big news here in Southern California, which you've all heard by now, is that the Dodgers sold for $2.15 billion dollars!! That is an unfathomable amount of moola. Just to comprehend that amount of money, divide $2 billion by your yearly salary. I know everyone reading my blog lives a relatively comfortable life, but how many THOUSANDS of years would it take you to make that kind of cash? Even if you make great money, you're probably looking at a 5-figure answer. It's shocking! I'm an Angels fan, but I have nothing against the Dodgers. I'm glad that Magic Johnson is part of the new ownership team. If my Angels don't win, I don't really mind if the Dodgers do--I'm happy with someone representing Southern California. And yes, my Angels spent a boatload of money too, on just one player, who I can't wait to see on opening night, but that's the problem--way too much money is spent in professional sports! Nearly a billion people on earth don't have access to clean, safe water and 3.5 million die every year of water-related disease. One in seven people on this planet don't know where their next meal is coming from, and some of them are probably your neighbors. Close to 600,000 people died of cancer in 2011 in the Untied States alone, and AIDS took over 1.5 million souls worldwide. What could we do with $2 billion dollars? We could provide water to the thirsty, food to the hungry, shelter for the homeless. We could shore up infrastructure in order to prevent another Katrina, we could work harder to find and implement alternative souces of energy and save our environment. We could educate the masses, cure disease. Hell, we could save the world! Instead, $2 billion bought a baseball team. Our priorities might be a little off, but this is our world, our reality. And we all have the ability to balance it out. Get out there and work at a soup kitchen, volunteer for a beach clean-up, teach an illiterate adult to read. Get involved in your community, pay attention to what is going on in the world, and for God's sake, vote! Just do something! Two billion is a lot of money for baseball, and Opening Day is next week. Go Angels!

Westminster Dog Show

This time of year always makes me wish I had a dog. The 2012 Westminster Dog Show is in the history books. The Grand Champion was the Pekingese, Malachy. I do like him--he made me laugh. It is impossible to watch that hairy little thing slowly waddle around the ring without laughing. I almost felt sorry for him making the cut to Best in Show because he'd have to make a few extra laps around the ring for the judge. It's a lot of walking for those little legs--and he lagged way behind the German Shepherd, Doberman and Dalmation. My all-time favorites, the Chinese Crested and Irish Wolfhound, never win, but my record was a lot better this year. Eight of the dogs I liked made it to the finals of their groups, and one, the Doberman, won her group! I picked a winner! And she was my overall favorite this year--beautiful dog. But the best part is that her name was Fifi! I mean, who names a vicious Doberman Fifi? I love it! It is so classic! This year I also paid attention to breeds that I thought would be good for me. I really like the Whippet, Manchester Toy Terrier, Canaan Dog, German Pinscher, and Standard Manchester. They are all small-to-medium size with short hair, dogs I could take for a long walk or a short run, who don't shed too much. But I'd need to win the lottery so I could buy a house with a yard before I could think about getting a dog. I guess I can always dream--and wait for Westminster next year.

The Jukebox at the Bar

I miss old fashioned jukeboxes. You know the kind--you hit a button and flip the 'pages' with pictures of album covers. You could play track 4 on side B of the album you bought because you liked the number one hit you heard on the radio, but track 4, side B became your favorite song. Years pass and you forget about that song, but on a jukebox, you could always find it again. The new high-tech jukebox at my favorite Irish bar is digital. Sure, it's pretty, it's fancy, it's new,and it has thousands of songs, but you basically have to know the song or artist you want to play. You can't flip through, see something you'd forgotten about, and think 'Wow, I used to love that song! I'll play it now'. It's just not as much fun, and it's a dollar a song!! So much for nostalgia!

Online Dating

Are you into the online dating thing? I'm not. Did it once maybe 10-12 years ago and went on one date--never again. Not that it was some horrible experience, but the guy was so damn irritating that I'd prefer to take my chances meeting someone randomly. But, sometimes when I'm bored, I'll look at some of the free sites for a laugh. Found a perfect one, NOT! This guy absolutely takes the cake. On this site you have to answer questions by completing sentences. Obviously not an easy task for some people. The sentence starts "I have a weakness for girls who..." He writes "women with intelligent." WTF!!! I almost want to fork over the $25 so I could write him and ask "Women with intelligent what? Pets, kids, what?" Anyhow, I doubt many women with intelligence want to date a moron. And if you are a moron who wants to upgrade to a higher caliber date, at least enlist the help of a friend to proofread your profile so you don't look like an idiot. He must have done that, after the fact, because he changed his answer. It now reads "are honest and wear there heart on there sleeve just like me." Good Lord--he went from bad to worse! Basic English, people! Isn't it 3rd or 4th grade when you learn the difference between there, their, and they're? Maybe he skipped school that year. Thanks for the laughs, guy--and good luck with that dating thing!

Rose Bowl Week and So Cal Weather

It's that time of year again--Rose Bowl Week. The tourists have already started arriving and the weather, as usual, has changed. It has become unseasonably warm. This is NOT normal. Everyone who is freezing in the rest of the country sits in front of the TV and watches the Rose Bowl Parade, the game, the sunshine and the t-shirts in January, and thinks "Let's move to LA!" DON'T DO IT!!! It's a trick! Don't be fooled! This warm weather and sunshine is an anomaly! Sure it's warm and sunny this week, but winter comes back when you aren't watching. No one who lives here actually wears a t-shirt in January--that's insane!! It's cold! My advice to you is to sit in your warm living room on your comfy couch, and watch our nice weather on TV--knowing that next week we'll be freezing and miserable. Happy New Year! And stay warm! ;-)

The Dogs on my Run

I run in the mornings at 6am before work each day. There is a lot of activity on the streets at that time, but my favorite part is the dogs I encounter along the way. The first one I meet, and Thank God he's not out very often, is a football-sized cotton ball: tiny, fluffy, curly white fur. He. Does. Not. Like. Runners. The thing goes absolutely APESHIT! The old lady who walks him holds onto the leash for dear life (mine). Fortunately, his mouth is too small to bite anywhere on my legs, and he is too little to jump high enough to bite my fingers. I assume it's a 'he' because I can't imagine a girl being such a vicious killer, which is my nickname for him. The second dog I see is a beautiful, well-behaved shepherd who runs and plays catch with his owner on the greenbelt at the college across the street from my house. I like this dog because he accepts runners and minds his own damn business. The third one is a gorgeous Golden Lab. He goes to work with his owner at the business complex near the end of my run. He is wide awake, rambunctious, and playing frisbee in the parking lot at 6:30 in the morning. He also lets me run in peace. The last dog I meet is Buffy. I heard her owner call her one day, so that's how I know her name. (I think Vicious Killer's name is "Stop It", as that is what his owner says to him all the time!) Anyhow, Buffy is an off-leash dog. I don't like meeting off-leash dogs as a runner because they usually don't like runners and you never know what they are going to do. Also, I think it's dangerous--we have a lot of coyotes near my house, who like to have pets for breakfast, so a leash is safer for both runner and dog. Buffy is not a smart dog. She is overly concerned with someone getting into a car on the other side of the street, completely oblivious to to a person quickly approaching on her side of the street. I could mug her owner and I don't think Buffy would notice. She is hell-bent on watching people across the street. And that makes me laugh on my final 100-yard stretch. So that's it: my four-legged morning gang. I love that they are out there--they keep me amused.

My Hometown

Yesterday, the Brookings Institute named my hometown, Youngstown, Ohio, number one in percentage of poverty concentration, the poorest of the poor among 100 larger cities in the United States. I didn't expect the article and the story on The Rachel Maddow Show to affect me so much, but it really made me want to cry. I admit, even as a little kid, I wanted to leave Youngstown. All I ever wanted was to live in a huge city by the ocean with football and hockey teams. I wanted it to be New York City but I ended up in Southern California. There's no football here, but I've got the beach, hockey and futbol (soccer), and I can play golf year-round. I'm happy here, but I'm so sad for Youngstown. It was fun growing up in the murder capital of the US, alongside the mafia. Although that looks like childs-play compared to the situation now. It was a far more innocent time then. Regardless of the fact that I wanted to leave, part of who I am is because of the place I'm from. Youngstown helped shape the person I am today. Every day, on the TV, in the papers and on the internet, we get news about the Occupy Movement in cities across the US. The place I'm from, and place I live, point out Occupy's premise of the extreme and growing disparity between the haves and the have-nots. There is a house for sale in a city near me on the market for $32 million, and Youngstown has nearly 50% of their poor living in extreme poverty: neighborhoods with no jobs, no stores, no hope, nothing but blight, and no way out. Where is parity, where is fairness, where is the middle ground? Where is the American Dream? Does it exist anymore for the dwindling middle class? I don't think I live as well as my parents, and my generations' children probably won't live as well as I do. How do we get back to where Youngstown is the place of my youth--a place with world-class medical facilities, a great university, a vibrant downtown, a place where you could skate at an ice rink, swim at a public pool, cruise through a beautiful park, live for Friday Night High School football, and eat the best Italian food ouside of Italy? How do we regain that ideal? I don't know the answer - I wish I did.