My Birthday Wish...

So this weekend I will be celebrating my birthday (not pictured).

I don't need to wish for much. It's been a really great year in my life and I'm excited about all of it.

But, this year, this blog was also born.

And so what I'd really like from my readers is the following:

Tell people about this blog.

Post it as a status on your facebook page. Tweet about it.

Spread the good word.

I try to balance out sports and other items. There should be a little something in here for everyone.

It's nice to write a generic "happy birthday" on my facebook wall. But if you could spread the gospel of the blog, that would mean more to me.

Well, that or a Justin Bieber CD.

My Love-Hate Relationship With...

I'm constantly interested in my relationship with facebook (pictured, you try to come up with a visual pun for facebook).

One might argue that I'm slightly obsessed.

My girlfriend likes to call it the "third person in our relationship" (even though without facebook there likely wouldn't be a relationship).

But my relationship with the social networking site has changed, as has the site itself.
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I first heard of social networking in the same way I've heard about anything else that's cool in my life, from my brother.

Years ago, he encouraged me to join friendster. I didn't. I just didn't see the point in tracking down people who I had barely wanted to talk to in high school.

Then, myspace came along. I literally only created a profile because I had a friend who was OBSESSED with it. So I joined the bandwagon. There were only two things I liked about myspace. I liked updating my profile song. And I really enjoyed when the fake ladies would ask to be my friends. I appreciated the female attention. However, seeing as myspace was only for teenagers and pedofiles, and I was neither, I decided to evolve to facebook.
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I was somewhat of an early adapter to facebook. I know that because I can name about 10 friends who I told they HAD to get on this thing.

The appeal was instant.

I loved the concept of status updates. At the time, I was making a few bucks writing one-liners. What a great place to workshop. Plus, as an incessant texter, I could save myself having to mass text 10 friends, by just posting a status update.

And honestly, I've always kind of THOUGHT in status updates. About 10 times a day, I'll think of something that I think is either clever or interesting. Rather than telling it to my basketball-shaped black and red Miami Heat pillow, I can now tell it 400 of my closest friends.

Plus, I could use the chat function to chat with my siblings. It was perfect.
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And then it BLEW UP.

And that changed facebook.

Now, it's a vehicle for self-promotion. And EVERYONE is using it.

From politicians, to every news station, to political groups, it's not just a place to putz around anymore.

Bosses are becoming your friends.

And know this, once you're friends with your boss, that changes what you say.

The site is no longer a repository for random thoughts.

One must censor one's actions.

Which is fine I guess.

It's just another public medium.

It's not like I was posting bikini pictures before (though much to my chagrin, someone did tag a shirtless photo of me at Calle Ocho--- skinny jews do not look good shirtless at Calle Ocho--- hence I de-tagged it ASAP).
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I think about the social implications of facebook OFTEN.

Here I am.

28 (soon to be 29) and I'm sitting at home, reading an update from a girl who I haven't seen since 12th grade?

Or I'm scanning through 45 photos of a wedding I wasn't invited to.

Why the hell do I care?

I don't know or like this person, but I can't stop looking at their profile.

How bizarre is that?

The answer, it's not.

EVERYONE is doing it.

Which makes it even stranger to me.

Simultaneous stalking has become the norm.
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The other downside of facebook is this.

People don't usually post a bunch of pictures from the nights when they're feeling fat, rent a movie, engage in self-loathing, and then go to sleep.

They're usually the more joyful, fun times.

When you're looking at facebook, not always the times you're out and about.

And so, the people in the picture are USUALLY having more fun than you.

Friends or not, that can't be healthy for your self-image.
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On top of that, facebook creates a myriad of abnormal situations.

The "relationship status" question comes up in ANY and ALL relationships.

How soon is too soon?

There's not a person on there who hasn't (or doesn't) check up on ex-girlfriends or boy-friends.

It's only natural.

There's a certain level of curiosity and being as EVERY human on planet earth is on there, it's only normal to look.

Then there's the question of de-friending and re-friending.

People have public meltdowns on there, which is always entertaining. (the next time you want to write a 'woe-is-me' status, pick up the phone and call one of your 235 friends).

Then you get friend requests from strangers.

And high school teachers.

It's just ****ING strange.
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But I know it's the new reality.

We as a society have said, collectively, when pretending to work, I want to putz around on this site.

And so we've all agreed to waste time... together!

That's a strange place to be at.

In our boredom and isolation, we've formed a new community.

Closer than ever, and yet more detached, such a strange paradox.
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Twitter came along RIGHT as facebook got too big.

There are definitely elements I like about twitter (follow me by the way @dukielang).

I think twitter is a place of information.

I read articles there.

I learn facts.

I can follow people I respect.

I've always had a problem with the language of "follower." I must prefer "friend." Because I want to see what you put on your page, that doesn't make me a follower. If anything it makes me a fan.
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But twitter just ain't facebook.

Yeah, it's not the same as it was when I first joined.

But the concept is beautiful.

Who knew that two dorks at Harvard who were just trying to get laid, would change all of our lives so dramatically?

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go post a link to this blog entry on my facebook page.

Waking Life Part 2....

Ricky Williams (not pictured) has always fascinated me.

How could he not?

He's a former Heisman trophy winner, led the NFL in rushing in 2002, failed several drug tests, left football to go live in the Australian outback, played in Canada, and then came back and rushed for over 1,000 yards for the Dolphins.

But that's not the most fascinating part.

When he speaks, he actually says something.

I often find myself quoting him when he said "my obligation is to the truth and not to consistency."
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I must admit I was riveted by the ESPN "30 for 30" on Ricky.

He's about as fascinating a subject as you could pick.

Before discussing the film, let me say, I really like Ricky Williams.

As a football player, despite everything, when he shows up--- he's there.

Ask anyone who has played with him.

He's no non-sense. He runs hard EVERY play.

If he decides to play, he's going to be a force.

He's complicated, but he's not a diva.

He doesn't pout when the ball doesn't come his way, he sets a vicious block.
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But my goodness, does Ricky have demons.

I didn't realize the extent of them until watching this film.

I knew he had social anxiety from his early New Orleans days and doing interviews while wearing his helmet.

I suspected that he was bipolar and that the marijuana use was a form of self-medicating.

And worst of all he had to survive Dave Wannstedt single-handedly trying to end his career (and ruin his post-football body) by giving him the ball EVERY play for two years.

What I didn't realize, was that Ricky had a history of what appears to be sexual abuse.

The film interviews Ricky's parents.

According to Ricky's mom, when he was 6, his dad stood over a toilet and made Ricky take sexually explicit polaroids of him.

The father was charged and had to leave Ricky and his two sisters.

The father denies it. He's found god and has a new family with 4 kids.

But Ricky had to grow up with all kinds of stuff. He had the guilt of having told on his dad, piled on to the abuse, piled on to growing up without a father.

That's a lot for a 6 year old to deal with.

And it takes an incredible person to expose your life like that.

Ricky gets more props given the hyper-macho culture of the NFL, Ricky just doesn't give a ***t. Even though he's in a locker room, Ricky lives in his own world. That's what I admire so much about him.
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Still, he can be a lot to take.

You know those conversations you have in college, when you can't fall asleep, and you and your roommate think you know everything? They just go on and on and on, and the more you talk, the more you realize, 'Wow, I'm full ot it.'

Imagine that movie "Waking Life," but not animated.

Most of us outgrow those shortly after orientation.

Ricky was having those for years.

It was hard to watch him in his super-pot days.

He had the full beard that always managed to capture JUST the right amount of food.

And sometimes, he truly wasn't making sense.
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Still, that was then.

This is now.

The movie ended with RW marrying the woman who has been with him through all the ups and downs.

He appears to have a clear head and a clear sense of purpose.

I follow him on twitter, and he tweets frequently about school and his goal of being a doctor.

I always cheer for 34 for the simple reason that he makes sports more interesting.

I salute his courage for showing his past, and the journey it took for him to get here.

Here's hoping his next journey is into the endzone 10 times and to 1,000 more yards.

Run Ricky Run.

Dissed By The President...

This is a blog about AROD (not pictured).

The New York Yankees went to the White House on Monday. It's an honor reserved for champions. And frankly, I think one of the coolest perks of the job for the commander-in-chief.

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As every President does, Barack Obama gave a nice 8 minute or so speech congratulating the champs on their accomplishments.

It was your stock speech, which, if you weren't a Yankee fan would bore you to tears (even if you were, perhaps you'd be bored).
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Allow me to preface this by saying, none of this is substantiated. This is merely *MY* interpretation of the events I witnessed.

The President singled out several Yankees for their achievements on and off the field. He praised Mariano Rivera for his great cut-fastball. He talked about Mark Teixeira donating money for a scholarship. Mr. Obama talked about meeting Jorge Posada at a charity event and the work Posada has done for children.

And then things got really interesting.
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The President asked 'where's Jeter?' He turned around and found Derek Jeter, Sports Illustrated magazine's "Sportsman of the Year." Obama praised DJ for the way he carries himself, for being a consummate professional.

But my favorite part was seeing Alex Rodriguez standing right next to Jeter.

I'm sorry. I know the topic is played out and all. It doesn't impact wins and losses (as is evidenced by the championship they were celebrating).

But AROD had a TOUGH job masking his contempt for the fact that *HE* was not being recognized.

Let's be honest.

AROD had more to do with the Yankees winning their 27th championship than ANYONE. For the first time in his career, he was the BEST player in the world at the most meaningful time. He did a LOT to repair his image as a choke.


But, if you're the President, can you really single someone out who has admitted to using steroids?

You don't want to touch that controversy.

So you pick the safe choices.

But that leaves Alex there to stand with an uncomfortable grin.

No one ever said he wasn't pety.
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That's an anomaly of being a sports fan.

You can like a guy, without actually liking a guy.

I think Alex can be vein, silly, small, phony, and self-serving.

But I don't care.

Our relationship isn't structured that way.

He hits home runs for the Yankees, and I smile.

He's useful to me so long as he's driving in runs.

When he's not, all the other elements of his personality which I see (be they real or imagined) become much bigger.

When he's hot at the plate, I praise the ballplayer.

When he struggles, I take shots at the human being.

It's not fair.

But then again he makes 25 million dollars a year and I have to fill out a timesheet every two weeks.
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Now, I'll admit it's much more satisfying when the athlete or movie star or writer or rock star, is a good person.

When you can admire someone for WHO they are in addition to WHAT they do, it's an added bonus.

But at least for me, I usually don't care.

I tend to be results oriented.

Obviously it's great to form attachments to athletes, like the one I feel towards Dwyane Wade, but it doesn't have to be that way.

I think Woody Allen is truly a genius. As an artist, he's a hero of mine. As a human being, to put it kindly, he's a little shady.

My grandfather (who incidentally hated Woody Allen) once told me, the closer you get to someone, the more you learn their flaws.

That's why with hero-worship, it's best not to cloud our judgements with pesky things such as facts.
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My only concern watching AROD try to mask his hang-dog look as 'others not named Alex' were recognized, was, how will it impact him on the field?

He can be fragile.

Any perceived slight can send AROD into a tail-spin.

Maybe the President dissed AROD on purpose.

He is a known White Sox fan.

Bittersweet Symphony...

Sunday Dwyane Wade (not pictured, think 80's tv) put on a performance for the ages. He scored 46 points and single-handedly willed the Miami Heat from elimination, and at least for one day, provided Heat fans with a glimmer of hope.

Watching that virtuoso performance made me feel: Sad.
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No, I wasn't just sad because seeing guys TRY in the NBA reminds me how often they dog it. Though that's part of it.

Rather, I kept thinking, this REALLY could be Dwyane's last home game in Miami.

The next time he comes here, he could be wearing a Bulls jersey, or a Cavs jersey, or a Knicks Jersey.

That's insane to me.
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Though I was born in Miami and grew up in Broward, I really came back to Miami in January 2003.

That's the year the Heat drafted Wade.

He's the first athlete who I have "covered" for the entirety of his career.

I put the term "covered" in quotes because I'm not there every day. I go to games periodically. I have interviewed him. But I'm a rare face in the crowd. A nameless dude holding a mic flag, who may or may not have the balls to ask a question, once in a while.

But he's so much more to me.
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I remember watching Wade *BEFORE* Shaq came to town.

I was under the basket in his first playoffs, when he threw down that MONSTER dunk and everyone simultaneously thought, HOLY ***T, who is this kid?

I watched him grow up.

I saw fame go to his head.

I saw his game evolve and devolve.

I saw the size of his post-game jewelry collection grow and the suits get better and better.

I remember when he wasn't a particuarly great soundbite and now he's go-to.

I remember when he'd get mugged at the basket and NOT get a call, and now he constantly gets superstar treatment.

He used to be under-rated.

Now at times, I feel he's over-rated.

But the key to it all, I was there and he was OUR guy.

I feel a personal stake in his triumphs and failures.

He brought Miami a championship. Yes, Zo was the heart and soul of the 2006 team. Yes, Shaq made this town bigger.

But Wade was the star.

I was at Game 3 in Miami of the Finals. The Heat were down 0-2 and down by double-figures, when Wade decided, I won't let us lose.

He did the same thing on Sunday.
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That's what made me sad.

I don't expect loyalty in sports, any more than I expect it in any other business.

But we *do* grow emotionally attached to athletes.

When you kinda-sorta cover them, you grow even MORE attached to them.
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I live in downtown Miami.

One of the coolest aspects of Miami address is that I get to show people, yeah, I live near where the Heat play.

I drive to work every day. On my ride in, I see a billboard, "Wade County."

It's cheesy, but I love it.

It makes me feel like I'm in an important place.

I imagine people in Chicago felt the same way about 23 (I know Wade's still 5 titles short).

I can't imagine how much less relevant our town will be without him.

I wouldn't quite gleefully point out the Triple-A if the Heat were back to their expansion-like ways.
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Dwyane's not the same kid who came in from Marquette.

Even the WAY he scored his 46 Sunday, a little less fun than his early career.

Wade was settling for jumpers.

Yes, he was hitting, which shows signs of his improved jumper.

But still, I'll never forget early Wade.

He used to drive damn near every time.

You thought the poor guy would get killed, but he'd always get back up (heck, that's what his marketing campaign was all about).

He hit some of the most acrobatic, bs shots you've ever seen.

His dad (who lived in my old apartment building) said that growing up they called "Lucky" because he used to hit those shots all the time.

Yeah, he doesn't do that as much anymore.

But even though he's changed, he's still ours.

At least until the Heat's next loss.

Notes On Fans...

This blog is a new venture for me.

I started it because my other writing gig came to an end and I figured this would be a new venue for self-expression.

I never figured I'd actually have fans (not pictured).
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Recently, I've received posts and messages from around the country.

Literally from the west coast to northeast and here in Florida.

That's surreal to me.

When this started, I figured, I could get my brother, my parents, my girlfriend, and maybe even a few friends to read it.

It would be a fun way for me to take the ideas that roll around in my head ALL day, and put em on paper (so to speak).
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My biggest thought on fans and fandom is, base it on talent.

That's my biggest beef with American pop culture.

Too often, people are now famous for being famous.

Reality television has elevated morons to super-star status based on their hyperactive reproductive abilities or their ability to play out the worst sterotypes of Italian-Americans (without actually being Italian, I'm looking at you Snookie Berkowitz, who are you fooling?)

So, if I get any fan support, I want it to be because I grind it out and earn it.

To be honest, and my brother happily reminds me of this on a routine basis, I'm not there yet.

I would argue I'm not even close.

But I don't say that to be woe-is-me.

I say that because I plan to keep working, keep grinding, and trying to get better.
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The other funny aspect of having any kind of fan support, is you can't let it change your behavior.

That drives me nuts about fame and recognition.

People alter their behavior based on their audience.

My model of how to handle that is Yankees closer Mariano Rivera.

I think about him often.

I don't believe in much in this world. I'm about as skeptical/cynical as they come by both birth and vocation.

Death, taxes, and Mo in the 9th.

The thing about Mariano is he NEVER changed what he does. Time of year, importance of game, number of fans, he calmly throws his cutter. That's it. One pitch. Again and again and again. Hit or don't. He does it calmly and consistently.

I just realized, Mariano has nothing to do with what I'm talking about.

I just really like Mariano Rivera.

He's had way more longevity than that Justin Bieber will ever have.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go hit the eye-roll button on myself...

A Night Of Interesting...

That's right.

I'm referring to the NFL draft picks (not pictured).

To be honest, I watched the draft out of the corner of my eye because I was doing my day(night) job.

But, honestly, how much attention do you need to pay to watching a pick every 10 minutes or so??
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First question, what's up with all the man-hugs?

What about Roger Goodell says "Hug me?"

I enjoyed the players' ethusiasm, but, what happened to the era of the firm hand-shake?

These guys ran up like contestants on "The Price is Right."

It's the commish, not Bob Barker.

Whatever happened to Barry Sanders' act like you've been there before?
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I'm happy for Tim Tebow.

But it's really not about Tim Tebow.

It's about LOGIC and BEING RIGHT.

I was on the radio about a month and half ago, and I said on the air, Tim Tebow will be a first-round pick.

The host who was on after me (whose name rhymes with Dadum Dooperstein) mocked me. First, he asked me, off-air and to my face, why I think Tebow was first round worthy. He said, he was hearing that Tebow would go in the 4th round or so (he claims he said 3rd round, I think he said 5th, let's just split the difference).

Dadum asked me why did I think Tebow would go in the first round. I said, because I have eyes. If you've watched Tebow play the last four years, you'd realize, he's a good football player.

He's excelled at every level and dominated the college game. Why wouldn't a pro team give a player with his unique skill-set a shot??

Then, this host went on the air during HIS show and essentially called me an idiot. I guess having an original thought (which turned out to be right) is far less interesting than parroting what you read in a draft guide.

So, on ONE level, I was really happy because I was called out and MOCKED. And yet, it turns out I was right. There's no better feeling in the world.

Additionally, a friend of mine with whom I NEVER agree on matters pertaining to sports, agreed with me on this one.

So we were right, and the mocker was wrong.

Will Tebow be successful in the pros? I don't know. I think he's the same as about every other draft pick, flip a coin.
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I now hate AL Davis.

Skeletor picked up Rolando McClain.

That's who I wanted for my New York Giants.

Instead, New York goes with the D-Lineman from South Florida who COULD be an effective pass rusher.

I just hope that doesn't spell the end of the Osi-era.

72 is one of my favorite players on the team.

My dad tells me, Osi (i'm not going to bother spelling his last name or my friend Ari will ride me like SeaBiscuit) was made by Michael Strahan.

Perhaps.

But I would've liked the Giants to address the linebacker position.

FREAKING Al Davis.
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I think the Dolphins would've taken CJ Spiller if he were around. I really do. Instead, they said, let's get a 2nd round pick, let's move down. We like this big bad defensive tackle from Penn State. We can plug him in.

I don't think Dolphins made this pick because they were trying to replace Jason Taylor.

I think the Dolphins were indifferent to Jason Taylor because they knew they could make this pick.

Will he be any good?

I don't know.

He's big.

Parcells likes him.

Getting him at 28 instead of 12 probably saves the team a few bucks.
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As a Giants fan, I hate to see Dez Bryant end up in Dallas. That was a fantastic pick and a really good fit.

I think Jerry Jones got his guy.

The Cowboys organization says, they can take care of him.

Name me a big-time wide receiver who isn't a diva?

Everyone would've said Marvin Harrison, you sure about that?

Dez was a steal.

Austin, Whitten, Dez.

Now if their quarterback didn't suck, they'd have a shot to be a really good offense. (a pet theory of mine, the Cowboys will NEVER win with Romo).
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How about this?

I think the Lions did well!

They got Suh *And* the running back Best (his name) out of Cal.

Those are two quality players who I've seen.
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Coverage-wise, I must differ to my brother on this one.

The draft is one of the ONLY events where, it's pretty much just as good to read the paper the next day.

I'll admit, when the Giants and Dolphins are "on the clock" my heart races a bit. But that's because I'm a nerd.

The actual talking that takes place, either on NFL Network or ESPN, is MOSTLY garbage.

I just want to hear WHO the pick is, and then see a few clips of him.

Give me context and information, not bloviating.
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My favorite draft moment was actually on the radio. An hour before the first pick was made, I tuned to 940 am and had the privledge of hearing Jim "Mad Dog" Mandich back on the air.

I'll say it again, best radio personality in this market, and it's not even close.

What a treat to hear Jim and Jimmy Cefalo back together.

I can't wait to hear the Dog calling Fins games during the season.

It'll be music to my ear, but good, unlike Justin Bieber.

Return Of Slick...

When I referenced the return of slick, I'm not talking about myself (not pictured--- though as a child I'd stick my head under the sink to look like the man in the picture).

There are a few BIG topics going on in the world of South Florida sports and my friend Ari threatened to take his business elsewhere if I didn't address them, and so here I am.

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What happened to the Heat in Game 2 was embarrassing (if not unexpected). With Kevin Garnett out, the Celtics woke up and obliterated Miami.

In every category that matters, the Heat were outworked, outplayed, and yes, outcoached.

Miami comes home for the next two with their "BACK IN BLACK" campaign. That seems apt, seeing as it's likely this team's funeral.

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UNLESS....

Pat Riley reaches BACK into his bag of tricks.

Much like he took over Stan Van Gundy's playoff team, and turned them into a champion, he needs to intervene.

Would a Riley-coached team give forth such a piss-poor effort in the biggest game of their season? I'd argue no.

Riley has no scrupples. That's why I love the guy. He said there are two states of being, winning and misery. How's Mr. GQ feeling right about now?

Don't act like he's above it.

Imagine for a second, that the Heat re-sign Dwyane Wade this summer and MIRACULOUSLY bring in LeBron.

Do you really think he'll move to Napa and let Spo drive that Ferrarri?

Please.

I'm just suggesting that Pat intervenes a little earlier.

If Miami gets swept in embarrassing fashion, is Wade really going to feel this is his best spot to win a title?

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Spo's a smart guy.

He does deserve credit for taking a mess of a roster and making it into a 50 win team.

Fine.

They beat up on crappy teams at the end and finished strong.

But, now it time for the big boys to make the decisions.

And I'm sorry.

As long as Riley is around, and as long as I remember what he did in 2006, I can't help but dream that he'll return.

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I thought I should explain a bit why I've dipped from sports on the blog lately.

Blame Mike Krzyzewski.

Duke's national title took a lot out of me.

When you reach sports nirvana, it's a little hard to come down and get fired up about Jorge Cantu's 18-game hitting streak.

I'd much rather spend my time watching youtube footage of Duke's post-game celebration.

But the draft is around the corner, baseball season is getting into full swing, and the NBA playoffs are here... If for no other reason than Ron Artest's hair, I'll get back into it.

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I don't care much that Jason Taylor is going to the Jets.

He's 36.

The Dolphins didn't make him an offer.

That's about it.

The Jets did.

My thinking is, the Dolphins didn't think he was that good.

They figured that either Cameron Wake or a player to be drafted, could do the job better.

Can't blame them for that.

Jason figured, I'm 36 and still want to play.

The Jets look like a Super Bowl shot and they're offering me a job.

Can't blame him for that.

I don't think it's a great betrayal.

I think it's a temporary pit-stop.

Jason's not the first past-prime player to sign with another team.

Brett Favre has done it with great success.

I understand what a great impact he's had for the Dolphins, but I'm blah on J-T.

All his shtick and camera-love haven't done much to ingratiate him to me.

Frankly, I look forward to rooting against him.

He's a better villian than ally.

And in conclusion, Justin Bieber.

Customer Dis-service...

"I'm trying to give you my money, why are you making it so difficult?"

"In 1957, my grandparents were able to get ABC and NBC, why can't I?"

"Give me a second to grab a pen, I'm going to put you on hold for a second, there won't be any music, but just know, you're on hold."

I have uttered all of those statements in the last two weeks.

I'm not going to specially call out the company that provides my cable (not pictured).

Because in general, I'm quite a satisfied customer and have been for a while.

This isn't about a company.

This is about customer service, or lack thereof.

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The customer is always right.

Seems a simple enough mantra doesn't it?

Whatever it takes to make the customer feel happy about spending his or her money on you, you do.

Makes sense to me.

So why is it, when it comes to phone customer service, (at least in my case), the customer is always angry???

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Here's the most basic rule for me.

Get me to a human being.

I don't want to speak to your Avatar operator.

I don't want to be more specific with my complaint.

When I dial "0", let me speak to someone with a pulse.

The automated machines just serve to make me angry.

They have too many options, ask too many questions, and are super impersonal.

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Let's talk about music.

If I wanted to hear awful music, I'd buy an album by John Tesh, Ke$ha, or Justin Bieber.

Don't patronize me.

Your easy listening doesn't calm me.

It makes me want to start throwing hands.

You want to play something? How about comedy? If I could hear some old George Carlin, that would do much more to lower my blood pressure.

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Don't try to sell me when I'm calling to complain.

If my cable isn't working, why would I want to upgrade my service?

Hey your engine doesn't work, want new shiny rims?

No.

That's not even a bait and switch.

It's saying, I suck at what I'm providing, want more?

Hmmm, as tempting as that sounds.... know the difference between a complaint call and a sales call.

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Don't argue with me.

I know what I've paid.

I know if Channel 6 is working or not.

I'm an educated dude, don't talk to me like I'm a 3rd grader.

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Here's a novel idea, how about having a phone operator who is capable of handling more than one task.

If I mention a bill, I go to billing.

If I mention a tech support question, that's another department.

Heaven forbid I ask to speak to a manager.

The phone service business is more specialized than Tony LaRussa's bullpen, how about a little multi-tasking people?

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Here's the bottom line.

Things break.

I get it.

All I want out of a company is to know that when it goes down, I can talk to someone who can address my problem.

In our ever-technologically advancing society, it's a little human touch that means the most to me.

There's no app for human decency.... yet.

Paradise Found

Since I spent the day there, I figured I'd write a blog about the Keys (not pictured).

No matter WHERE you live, I can guarantee you something, you're not taking full advantage.

I thought of this today, while holding a drink in one hand, a stogie in the other and looking at the beautiful bay-side water in the Florida Keys.

-------------------------------------------------The Keys are literally an hour and 20 minutes by car for me, or about an hour for anyone who doesn't drive 45 riding in the left lane (yeah, I'm that guy-- much to the chagrin of any passengers who rides with me).

And yet, I never go.

Huge mistake.

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The Keys are deeply embedded in my memories. Throughout my childhood, my parents had a little place in Islamorada.

I remember bringing down my friends for the weekend, getting to hang with my brother's friends . I remember the big room the three siblings shared. I remember hanging my Magic Johnson poster above my bed, while my sister proudly displayed her Spice Girls poster.

I remember spending Jewish Holidays down there, and having conch chowder for break-fast.

I remember catching a fish on the dock.

I remember getting up at 5 am to go out with a guide to catch fish with my dad.

I remember my mom cooking those fish with a Frosted Flakes glaze.

I remember hitting tennis balls horribly on a little court there.

I remember going to the one movie theater in town, and if nothing was playing, you'd better have brought a book.

I'll never forget the image of my grandparents, walking hand-in-hand down the dock at Cheeca Lodge. At the time, we were kind of laughing, because it literally took them about two hours to walk up and down the boardwalk (including many breaks). Little did I realize, it was one of the most beautiful moments I'd ever witness.

Going to the Keys was just something we did.

Little did I appreciate the true awesomeness of the Keys and the lifestyle it allows you to have.

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That was until my parents sold the place.

The truth was, we weren't going enough to justify having it, and they could make a few bucks.

So they did.

And for the most part, we stopped going to the Keys.

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I miss the place.

I miss the Keys.

But I think no matter WHERE you are, that happens to you.

If you live in New York, do you REALLY take full advantage?

If you live in Chicago, are you going to Wrigley every day?

If you live in Seattle, are you drinking coffee while listening to some whiny singer who hates his parents?

Sure, you have your favorite spots, but often, there are places that people from out-of-town appreciate, that you simply don't. (yes, I know price is often the determining factor).

People will tell me, if I lived in Miami, I'd go to the beach all the time.

No, you really don't.

Just doesn't work out that way.

People don't take full advantage of their surroundings, and that's truly a shame.

This goes back to the whole, grass is always greener thinking.

People don't really appreciate their town, until they're out of it.

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I aim to try to change that.

The Keys, and Islamorada in particular, are paradise.

There are few things better than being there, and doing nothing.

And just to up my page views, may I say in conclusion, Justin Bieber.

Marshall Plan (or I could've gone with Marshall law or simply Marshall, Marshall, Marshall)

Bill Parcells lost it, huh?

Really?

Cause I think the Dolphins just landed a STUD. STUD wide receiver, and the cost is just a second round pick.

I remember the not-so-long-ago days when the Dolphins would give up second round picks for crappy backup quarterbacks.

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I know Marshall comes with baggage. 10 touchdowns last year and a 21 catch game.

That must keep Chad Henne up at night.

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This guy is one of the best playmakers in the league. He's the type of guy who will give opposing defensive coordinators nightmares. He makes Ricky better, he makes Ronnie better, He makes Henne better, He makes the Dolfan Bandits better, He makes the Miami Dolphin cheerleaders better, Big Papa Pump just got better.

If there were ONE guy out there that I'd want the Dolphins to get, it would have been Marshall.

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The Knucklehead factor. Sure, it's there. He's been suspended before. He didn't like Josh McDaniel (I don't blame him, that guy is a dip).

I can live with that.

Here's why.

You have to believe in your organization.

You have to believe that no matter WHAT issues someone has had in the past, you have enough leaders, you have enough positive people, to help that guy turn his life around.

Look at what the Patriots did to Randy Moss.

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Just yesterday, I had a friend (whose name rhymes with Diss Bank) tell me he was upset with Parcells. I've read blogs saying the old man's lost it.

Really?

Why?

Because he didn't telegraph this move? Because he didn't hold a press conference to say what he was going to do?

The Jets went FIRST this offseason, they acquired Antonio Cromartie and Santonio Holmes. The Fins got Karlos Dansby and Brandon Marshall. Advantage: Fins.

It's like they taugh me in my public policy class, there are advantages to going first in a negotiation. But there's also an advantage to waiting and getting better information.

He who moves first, doesn't necessarily get the best result.

Leadership isn't about talking about what great things you'll do, it's about doing them.

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This proves lesson number 1,000 why sports-talk hosts and reporters are always behind the 8-ball in this town. Who told me the Fins were going to legitimately be able to make this happen? The only place I read it is espn.com, when it's a done deal.

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The Miami Dolphins are a whole lot better this morning. Bill Parcells is a whole lot smarter than some people were giving him credit for.

Bravo tuna, Bravo!

Re-Revenge Of The Nerds

I'm glad my brother is in Brooklyn. Were he in Miami now, he'd likely punch me for writing this blog. He's not a fan of the show seen on the left, and told me (repeatedly), it makes him angry.

I must say, I beg to differ.

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Five years ago, if you had asked me what my favorite movie was, I'd have likely have told you "Annie Hall." First of all, I love that movie. Secondly, it made me sound way more literate than I actually am.

A few years ago, I made a decision. I asked myself, what movie has brought the MOST happiness into my life? Which movie can I dependably watch to put a smile on my face?

Then the truth emerged, it's "Revenge Of The Nerds."

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I don't want to pontificate on Nerds too much like the neyrd in "American Splendor," but I want to discuss a bit of WHY I like it, and how it relates to Glee.

The movie achieves a delicate balance. It makes fun of the nerds and their geeky quirks, while still leaving them their dignity.

While they're caricatures, they're also characters. We care about Gilbert, Lewis, Booger, Wormser, Tikashi, and the gang, because they're real people trying to navigate the complicated maze of college.

I went to a college that was all nerds. And yet, who didn't feel like a nerd in college at one time or another?

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Which brings us to "Glee" and high school.

I know. Singing, dancing drama folk can be infuriating. I did a few shows in high school. I know how annoying those happy-go-lucky types can be.

And when you look at the Glee club, you can probably see a bunch of types.

In fact, you could see a bunch of sterotypes, the jock, the perfect cheerleader, the nerdy ms. perfect singer, the gay guy, and on and on and on.

'Glee' definately makes fun of each of its characters. There's plenty of slap-stick mockery, and no one is above reproach.

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But I like the show because there's more depth than that. Much like the Tri-lambs, each of the cast members of 'Glee' is treated as a fully-evolved person, with quirks.

I think it's more akin to "Freaks and Geeks," than say, "Cop Rock."

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In summation, I'd like to paraphrase Gilbert's final speech in Nerds and say "I'm a Gleek, and I'm pretty proud of it."

Go ahead big brother, throw a slushee in my face!

I'm Not With Coco

Allow me to make a distinction off the top, I'm a HUGE Conan O'Brien fan. I watched his 12:30 show all through high school, into college, and young adulthood.

I think he's a razor-sharp mind. I think he has a knack for the zany, the outlandish, and the self-depricating.

Comedically, he's one of my role models.

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But this whole "Coco" concept that he started on his 11:30 show, and pretty much everything he's done since he left 12:30, has been painful.

I know NBC did him dirt. I'm not defending how he was treated. I'm just saying, if you're really honest with yourself, and you're a Conan fan, he wasn't good at 11:30.

Which leads me to the question of the day, will he be worth watching on TBS at that 11:00 timeslot?

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Honestly, I'm not so sure.

Conan fell into a trap that's common among many performers. He learned what was working about his shtick. He knew the tricks, the bells, the whistles to get the laughs.

So it became formulaic.

It's the same thing that happened to Bill Simmons in my mind (The Sports Guy on ESPN.COM). As soon as Simmons knew what worked, and got a fat contract, he started mailing it in. He was way better before he was on ESPN's homepage.

I say this with love. I don't like ripping someone who I KNOW is capable.

But here's what happened at 12:30, Conan performed like he didn't think anyone was watching. And so his irreverant humor was genuine. His self-deprication was sincere.

He threw out all of his crazy characters, because he figured, what the heck? Let's just have fun and consequences be damned.

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THEN, he moved to 11:30. All of a sudden, all eyes were on him. In addition, he immediately got rid of one of his most interesting elements, New York City. He moved out to LA where he stuck out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way. And he tried to reach middle America (Not his core audience). Rather than acting like NO ONE was watching, he tried to please everyone. And started sucking in the process.

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Which leads me to TBS. There's two ways this can go. EITHER, he'll say, You know what? I'm on TBS, no one is watching. Let's just cut loose.

OR...

He'll think, Well, I have my 11:00 time-slot, and I have to carry this network.

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I just hope I get Conan and not that cheap facsimile he dubbed Coco.

A Word Of Unsolicited Advice To Big Ben...

I'm not a Steelers fan. But as an NFL fan, it's impossible not to appreciate the first-class organization that the Rooney family has built. That city lives for the Steelers, and they consistently deliver elite performances.

Which leads to me to the knucklehead in the picture (on the right).

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Today, Big Ben Roethlisberger received a bit of good news. He won't be charged with rape for hooking up in the bathroom with a 20-year old college student in Georgia. Stay classy Ben.

This is the SECOND such allegation, and once again Ben dodged a bullet.

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It appears that Big Ben lives like he plays: recklessly.

That's what makes him so much fun to watch.

He leads the league in plays where you say "don't, don't don't, wow what a play!" Unfortunately, he hears the same cries OFF the field.

This is a guy who NEARLY died in a motorcycle accident, again, an act of recklessness.

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Put simply, it's time for Ben to get his stuff together.

He's won 2 Super Bowls for the Steelers. He COULD be in the middle of a Hall of Fame career, if he doesn't mess it up.

It's looking more and more like he will.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------My hope is that Roger Goodell suspends him.

I know, he wasn't charged in courts.

But that hasn't stopped Goodell before.

Pacman Jones was never convicted, and he was suspended.

In the eyes of the NFL, perception matters more than reality and you're guilty until proven innocent.

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There's really only two ways this can end up with a reckless guy like Ben.

Either 5 years after he retires he'll be going to Canton and the Hall of Fame.

Or I'll be watching his obit piece on SportsCenter.

Choose wisely Ben.

The Off-Beat Oscars...

First off, I was overwhelmed by the response of the Bieber crowd to this blog on Sunday. By far, the biggest day since I started this thing. So thank you all for reading.

That said, the following entry is *NOT* for the Bieber folk. You have been warned. Don't read below the dotted line of this entry.

Ok, let's begin.

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You ever catch yourself watching something that you're initially embarrassed to be watching, and then suddenly you can't look away? Well, it happened to me the other night with the AVN's on Showtime.

If you know what the AVN's stand for, you should be ashamed of yourself! Now, for the rest of us, it's the Adult Video News Awards show. It's the porn industry's answer to the Oscars.

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As I was watching this freakshow, many thoughts occured to me. I will describe for you the bizarre theater that it created. But more importantly, I thought, there are some interesting parallells between this show and the Oscars.

The Hollywood industry may tout their integrity over the porn industry (doing it with a straight face while still cranking out such quality work as "Ghosts Of Girlfriend's Past"). But, I think it's interesting to note: the biggest night, wasn't that different.

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Both started with a red carpet. For many Oscar fans, this is a key moment. Seeing Hollywood's biggest names, all dressed up and ready for their moment. It's the equivalent of Super Bowl hype, people start watching the pre-show hours in advance, building to the cresendo of the actual event. The Oscars are all about what you are wearing.

The Porn awards are all about what you are *not* wearing. Let's just say the outfits weren't exactly Bar Mitzvah attire. It replaced glitz with something that rhymes. Plus, none of the nominated performers knew 'who' (or what) they were wearing. For example, the questioner would ask, what are you wearing, the actress would reply "a dress." The other difference is, none of the actresses knew what they were nominated for. They would all stumble and bumble their way through their response. 'I'm up for best group, setting, scene, internet.'

I must say, what you lose in glamour, you more than make for in idiot.

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My favorite part of the porn award was the following. The winners actually became emotional while giving their acceptance speeches. That boggled my mind. You sure you want to thank your family? Your fans? I don't know. I don't think people walk around in your jersey.

That's what makes the night so bizarro. That industry, and people who rent those types of movies, are usually filled with such shame (that is more an American phenomenon than any other country). And yet, on this night in Las Vegas, everyone is so unabashed about who they are and what they do. It's almost touching.

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The other difference is the pacing of the awards show. At the porn awards, there were no technical awards given, there was no 'year in people who died,' there were no musical tributes: The show moved like it was double-parked.

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And then there was this. This is the part of the night that baffled me, and frankly undermined the spirit of the night.

They gave an award to a young lady (and I use that term incredibly loosely), for 'best cross-over star.' She had won several awards on the night (apparently she's gifted with many talents), but also starred in a movie directed by Steven Soderbergh (it's called 'Girlfriend Experience' about a Manhattan call-girl. It actually may find its way onto my Netflix Queue).

And that was seen as the biggest honor of all.

The ability to cross-over to mainstream.

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My question is why? Why is crossing-over seen as the highest level in that industry? The night seemed to be about flaunting convention. It seemed to be about telling mainstream Hollywood, we don't need you, we have our own party (and in our mind, it's cooler).

But underneath it all, I guess any one of the 'best group' performers would trade it all for a real statuette.

Horray for Hollywood!

Fear For Our Future...

I"ll admit, I'm no music critic.

But, as someone with ears, I think I'm qualified to say, Justin Bieber, you suck.

I mean, you are very bad at singing.

You're not very good at dancing.

You need a haircut and you need to go back to 3rd grade.

There I am, peacefully trying to enjoy my "Saturday Night Live," when all of a sudden some child with a John Lennon-haircut pops onto the stage.

It took me all of 3 bars to grab the remote, in disgust, horror, and ennui.

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I had heard his name before on Conan O'Brien's twitter. He always jokes about selling out more concerts than Bieber. But now, I fully realize why Conan goes after the kid.

Look, it's not a crime to be a bad singer. I am. The difference between me and Bieber is that I don't subject countless millions to my awful lack of skills.

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Maybe I'm just getting old.

Maybe at 28 (soon to be 29), I don't understand the struggles of a kid born in 1994.

Must've been tough growing up with a Sega Gensis in your crib.

I'll admit, the twilight kids scare me.

Every last one of them.

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I get it Lorne Michaels. I really do.

If you put on this kid, millions of 12 year olds will set their tivos.

You'll win over future fans by putting on this ball of stinks-at-his-job.

I'm just saying, I would've liked a warning, like when newscasters show an offensive piece of video.

Jason Taylor's Heart Will Go On...

Jason Taylor (not pictured) is a diva. Plain and simple. Much like Celine Dion (pictured).

I, much like everyone else, was not surprised that he has been talking to the New York Jets.

But, unlike, everyone else, I will not cite the "he has a right to earn a living" argument.

Jason has made it abundantly clear throughout his career that he loves being a Miami Dolphin. He's also made it even more clear that he 'hates' the Jets. They have courted him before, and he's basically spit in their face.

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Let me just say this before I go on trashing JT, he's an amazing football player. For a guy who's not your traditional defensive lineman (I know he's now a linebacker in the Dolphins' scheme), he's fashioned himself a hall of fame worthy career. I've heard Jim Mandich call him the best defensive player in Dolphins history. I cede to the Mad Dog on all issues Dolphins, especially historical.

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But that said, Jason LOVES the camera. Think about after he gets a sack. Jason does that stupid celebration where he outlines a box, and then shatters it. Why? He's the only human on planet earth to do it. I bet he was hoping it'd be his trademark, and it would catch on. Little kids would copy him. Of course it didn't. It's godawful.

So then, JT tried "Dancing With The Stars." Here's a few more facts about Jason Taylor. He's a handsome man, knows it, and wants a movie career. Can't blame him. The Rock did it, why can't he? (charisma, sincerity)....

So now, in his sunset years, why would Jason consider betraying his team, and going to the hated Jets?

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Hard Knocks.

That's right.

HBO's amazing reality show. More so than anything I've ever seen, it does a great job of humanizing players.

After Dancing, Jason was a household name. But then, he decided to play that ill-fated year in Washington ( I know he was traded, but the time to do movies was THEN).

So Jason is chasing the cameras.

Get on Hard Knocks, show what a great guy you are, remind people how handsome you are without your helmet, and let the movie deals pour in.

Jason's brother-in-law Zach was on Hard Knocks when he was in Dallas. That may have sparked the thought.

I don't blame him for wanting to be famous or having a life after football.

Just don't be so transparent about it.

As much as he hates the Jets, JT hates not having the spotlight even more.

Send In The Lefty...

Sadly, the Pinto seen in this picture is more dependable than the one Fredi Gonzalez relies on again and again.

I don't get it.

Larry Beinfest and the Marlins braintrust have done so well to unearth talent that others can't see.

The Marlins have shown a particular ability to find talented pitchers.

So why is it, night after night, I've seen Fredi Gonzalez go to the bullpen and bring in Renyel Pinto? There aren't ANY other left-handed pitchers in the organization who are better than him? I find that incredibly hard to believe. I suspect he has naked pictures of key Marlins brass engaged in ungodly sex acts. How else does he still have a jersey?

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Baseball is a game about numbers. What's a guy's ERA, how does he do against certain batters, how many inherited runners does he give up?

SABR-metrics (SABR is short for the Society for American Baseball Research) has changed the way managers manage, and fans THINK about the game. It used to be, you roll out a starter, and see how he does. Not anymore.

Managers OVERMANAGE (I'm looking at you Joe Girardi, why on god's green earth didn't Joba start the 8th Tuesday night?).

But much of it is generated by numbers-based thinking.

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Which brings me back to Pinto.

I don't need numbers.

I have something far more useful. They're called my eyes.

Every time he enters the game, he's in trouble. Watching him run out of the bullpen, I feel like I'm watching a girl in a horror movie who lost her virginity in act 1, this isn't going to end well (I totally just threw in horror film tropes for the benefit of my brother--- my apologies to the six other people actually reading this).

Pinto is awful.

He's named after a crappy car, and he's a crappy reliever.

The Marlins are in too good a division to mess around with an awful reliever.

If Fredi doesn't stop using him, he'd better start looking for a new job.

Pinto will be the death of him.

National Champs... Pass the Pepto

It's a beautiful picture. Coach K standing in front of throngs of loving fans at Cameron. Behind him, a group of players fresh off of a national championship, the fourth in my school's history.

Believe me, I'm through-the-moon happy that this picture happened.

But good lord was watching the national championship game stressful.
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Sports are supposed to be fun, especially watching them. It's supposed to be a pasttime. In theory, it's supposed to be a *release* from the anxieties of life. This is the candy store. This is where the games MATTER, but aren't really important. A repository for emotional energy that we don't want to focus on important matters, just something enjoyable to make our little lives slightly more bearable. It's supposed to be a world to bask in the reflected glory of others, so as to not focus on the mediocrity of ourselves.

So why are each of my fingernails chewed down to nubs? Why was my heart-rate elevated for three hours? Why did I literally punch the floor of the Marriot in Fort Lauderdale at one point? What the hell is wrong with me?
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The result is amazing. I'm so proud of Coach K and the 2010 Blue Devils. They showed all kinds of character, will, fight, and determination. And I was floored by Butler. Their 12 year-old coach had that group focused, fierce, and un-afraid. Butler didn't win the game. But I can assure you they won buckets of respect.
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It's funny though. We dream and dream of having our teams make the championship game. Reaching that ultimate contest, where a run-of-the-mill group of young men, can become immortalized in our collective sports memories.

And when they FINALLY reach the highest levels of competition, this should be the ultimate experience in fan fun.

And it's usually not.

It's usually more stressful than anything else.

I LOVED the Super Bowl where my Giants beat the Pats. But if David Tyree doesn't catch a football off his head, my memory of that game and the experience of watching that game, become very different.

Whereas now I can appreciate the little moments throughout that game, the sacks on defense, Eli's final drive...

Had the Giants lost. All I'd remember is Randy Moss catching the winning touchdown, and my friend Will crying.
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Let's be honest. Duke won that national championship by an inch. That last shot, It kissed the backboard and hit the front of the rim. If that shot banks in, it's the most famous shot in college hoops history, it's replayed EVERY march.

And I'm sick to my stomach. My night, which I now remember fondly, would have been a nightmare.

The line between pure joy, and true sorrow, is inches away.

All because of what 30 college students, who I haven't met, and don't really know, are doing... all the way in Indiana... on a random Monday night in April.

I put so much stock into something that I have absolutely nothing to do with, and literally no control over.

No wonder you hear terms like March "madness" and Cameron "crazy." How absurd is that?
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Tonight, by contrast, I watched the Yankees and Red Sox. Sure, the rivalry is intense. Sure, every one of those games COULD end up mattering. But tonight, it felt like 1 of 162 games. Just another stop along a LONG, LONG road.

And thank god.

My stomach couldn't take another Monday Night.

ONE MORE

Farewell To An Amazing Professor

My Duke pride is pretty obvious. I'm quick to tell you about Coach K, the Duke Gardens, my amazing friends.

But I don't always tell people about what it was like to be in a classroom in Durham.

As I put on my Blue Devils hat to get ready for the final four, I learned very sad news. It was from a simple facebook post by a friend: RIP Susan Tifft.

Dr. Tifft was one of my favorite teachers at school. I had her for two semesters. I liked her so much, she became my Public Policy Studies advisor.

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Before taking her class, I was intimitated. She was the real deal. Dr. Tifft had worked at Time magazine for years. She and her husband had co-authored a pair of books. Both were about media ownership.

That's what she taught. How the changing face of journalism, and media ownership, would impact the content of what was covered.
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First of all, I remember hearing that she wasn't an easy "A." I took that as a challenge. Secondly, I heard that she made her students read the NY Times every day and would periodically quiz you on the day's events.

I was afraid she'd see right through me.

I thought I was a fraud and she'd call me out on it.
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The opposite happened. I remember Dr. Tifft challenged me. But, for some odd reason, she really liked me. When I made points in class (I'm a serial hand-raiser), she engaged them and made me think they were worthy contributions.

I remember writing a paper about the "Pentagon Papers" in her class and getting an "A." That was a really big deal to me.
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When I graduated, I remember telling her I was working in broadcast journalism, and her saying that she was really proud of me. She told me she wanted me to come back to speak to her class.

This year, the University of Miami football team plays AT Duke. I was thinking of going. I thought, maybe I could visit Dr. Tifft's class on the Friday I was up there.

Of course, I hadn't contacted her. This was just an idea that was floating in my head.
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So in her New York Times obituary, it said that she's been battling ovarian cancer for two years. But, to cope, she had started a blog. Of course she had.

She was a tremendous writer and thinker.
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When you're in journalism (or writing of any kind), one of the toughest feelings to deal with is that you're a fraud. I think about it a lot. What gives me the right to do what I'm doing? I often would think of Dr. Tifft. She was legit. And she really liked me. That gave me credibility in my mind. Isn't that a great gift from a teacher?

She cared deeply about doing journalism the right way. Not being impacted by outside forces. Telling a good story and doing it well.

I aspire to that every day.

Dr. Tifft helped me believe I can do it.

I'll miss her.

Coach K isn't the only Dukie I hold close in my heart.

Alllllllrightttttttt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyone who knows me, knows I like to set strict rules for myself. And then quickly violate them. This morning I violated two rules: No waking up before 11 and no sports-talk.

And man, oh man, has it been worth it.

I had the distinct pleasure of hearing Jim "Mad Dog" Mandich back on WQAM.

As I write this, Mad Dog is back on talking about the Dolphins.

I can't tell you how long I've waited to hear Mad Dog back on the air.

My excitement has many levels.

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My first is as a listener. I'll put it simply, Jim Mandich is the best radio talent in this town. It's not that complicated. His mix of passion, knowledge, humor, and relate-ability to his audience are unmatched. He has a way of taking complex ideas and making them incredibly simple. How many other radio hosts have changed the LEXICON of this town? 'Riding around with the windows down, ' alright Miami,' and on and on and on...

So yeah, it's simply just great to hear his VOICE on the radio.

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I've written this before, but I think it bears repeating. Mad Dog is also one of the finest human beings I've ever met.

There's an expression he told me once, and it stuck with me.

I think it explains how he does business, how he treats people, and it's something that I aspire to every day.

"I don't do pety."

He doesn't have the time to get into the BS that most of us waste our time at.

I have worked for Jim for about a decade now, and I can say, he's always made me feel like a VIP. He's made me a guest at his touchdown club luncheon on Tuesday, welcomed me to his restaurant in the Keys, and made me feel like a part of his family.

But that's what he does.

That makes me think of one other quality of Mad Dog's which is so unique. He's not threatened by other people's success. He embraces young talent. He wants others to do well. It's not, I have to have the spotlight. Rather, it's, we can all succeed.

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On the radio today, Jim talked about his cancer treatment. And right now, he's doing well. He said "This is a tough fight, but I'm up for the challenge." There's no one I know more equipped mentally, physically, and spiritually to kick cancer's ass than Mad Dog.

If being a good person, treating people the right way, and being a consummate professional count for anything in this world, today won't be the last time I hear the Mad Dog behind the mic.

Blame It On The...

Hello, blog readers. How are you?

It's been a few days. I haven't written. I know, I know, not a great way to build a following.

I blame it on what you see in this picture. Delicious Soup. I've been a little preoccupied doing the jew thing the last few days. Two nights, two seders. It was delightful.

To all of those celebrating Passover, Hope you had a great one and that your Matza-induced constipation passes quickly.

Plenty has happened in the world that caught my eye. So I figured I'd do this one like I used to write my radio show for the Mad Dog show. Quick Hitters style. Imagine Greg Cote's "random evidence of the cluttered mind," if he were actually capable of being funny.

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Let's kick it off with Mad Dog. The BEST news I've heard this week is that Jim Mandich, the Mad Dog, will be appearing on WQAM on Friday morning during the 9 o'clock hour. I cannot wait to hear Jim's voice on my radio dial again. I can't wait to hear an update on his condition.

This town needs Jim Mandich something fierce. In his absence, I think we've all realized the greatness of his presence.

He adds perspective, excitement, reason, and adult discourse, to a medium FIERCELY in need of it. Even if its just for an hour, this will be the first MUST-LISTEN, I can remember in a long-time.

Here's how excited I am, I'm actually going to set my alarm clock for 8:55. Anyone who knows me, knows, I'm not usually happy when I'm awake before 11.

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Hey Dorell Wright,

Keep your Magic Johnson in your pants. My buddy Will wrote on Facebook, Dorell Wright's web-picture is a reminder that you don't show your face when you post things on the internet.

I have a crazier idea Dorell.

Don't post your penis.

Do you realize, that as a first round pick, Dorell Wright has more naked pictures on the internet, than All-Star apperances?

I'm not going to say I googled the picture.

But there's a reason Coach Spo plays him at small forward.

And then, when you get caught with a web penis picture, Don't issue a public apology.

Don't say anything.

How would you like to have to write THAT press release?

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Have to admit, I was a little surprised by the BIG Ricky Martin news.

He came out...

AS alive.

I hadn't heard from him since the Vida Loca. Wasn't that like 1998?

I truly could care less about his personal business.

I just thought it was funny that someone whose career is so done, could still make headlines (regardless of what those headlines are).

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This one is mostly for my jewish friends, or folks who have attended many Seders.

First of all, for the uninitiated, Seder literally translated means ORDER.

Which if you've ever eaten dinner with ANY jewish family, takes on a comedic irony.

Secondly, is there any other kind of Hagada made, than the Maxwell House ones?

In the history of ad campaigns, I have to give it up to Maxwell House.

Right around 1950, some ad wizards must've said, bet we can reach a diverse audience if we start advertising on religious books.

And son of a gun, if EVERY jew I know doesn't have their grandparent's Maxwell House book in their house for Passover.

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A good point has been brought up to me, so i will address it.

My friend Owen said to me yesterday, hey, We can get five minutes to interview Andy Roddick at the Sony Ericsson.

I said, That's awesome.

He said, so why wasn't it awesome when Tiger Woods offered CBS five minutes?

Touche.

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Speaking of the Sony Ericsson, I went there early this week and saw a wasp. No. Literally, I saw a flying bee-like creature with a stringer. Do you know how much energy it took to stifle my laughter?

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The Kardashians were also at the Sony. My sister and girlfriend watched them for the first 18 minutes of the Federer match. That is before they summarily walked up and left (the Kardashians, not my crew). I don't really get why they're famous. But then again, they did provide two intelligent ladies with more than 15 minutes of entertainment by merely sitting at the match.

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Minnesota's Denard Span 'accidentally' fouled a ball off his mother during the Twins Spring Training game with the Yankees Wednesday. OK, Norman Bates, accidentally.

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The Heat are suddenly red-hot, having won 6 straight games. Awesome. Now they'll finish 5th in the East and play Atlanta, instead of Boston, who is much easier to take.

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Here's the easiest column to write heading into the Final Four: Why do people hate Duke? That's way easier to do than, i don't know, reporting on the Final Four! Go out, do some research, find a story. Israel Guttierez of the Miami Herald is usually a LOT better than his most recent column. It was lazy, sloppy journalism, built on nothing other than someone ripping Duke. It's a played, tired topic. This Duke team is actually quite lovable, for reasons I've outlined on this blog (in totally objective terms).

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I saw the Canes Spring game. Hard to judge a Spring game. But here's what I took away. TONS Of playmakers on the field. I saw more talent on the field, in every position, than I had in a while.

For all the Shanon critics, all I can say, the cupboard has been re-stocked.

Does that translate into an ACC title? Does that translate into a BCS bowl game?

I don't know, but there's talent.

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So of course, my buddy is getting married Saturday night, the night of the Final Four. First time Duke's been since 2004. Doesn't matter. That's why God invented TIVO, IPHONE, and pretending to go to the bathroom 15 times to check the TV down the hall.

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What do you think of this format? As always with the blog, any and all feedback is appreciated. I'm trying to make this an enjoyable read. I'm in the customer-service business, so please let me know how I can better serve you, my loyal readers.