We’ve been busy lately.
Both Charlie and I have been seeing local doctors for a number of nagging problems. Hey, we’re OLD, and we have a right to bitch and moan about aches and pains and our parts deteriorating! Charlie is seeing specialists about urinary issues, hearing, aging skin, memory failure, and the like. I’m in the process of getting my right shoulder fixed: my orthopedist game me a cortisone shot last week to no avail, so it looks like arthroscopic surgery is in the cards.
I saw a cute Dr. Seuss book the other day that spoofs old farts like us.
Our good friend Sandy, who is only 59 years young and single, has decided to get a dog. It’s a “Cavapoodle” (mix of Cavalier King Charles and Poodle) and will replace the 15-year-old dog that she lost last year. I think she’s paying $1,500. She needs a buddy and I think this little girl dog will be just the ticket for happiness. She has to drive up to Salt Lake this week to pick up the pooch. Charlie volunteered to keep Sandy company on the 500-mile one-way trip, but is having second thoughts. I don’t blame her: it would be a long trip by itself… without having to listen to Sandy babble on. HaHa.
(Actually, Sandy is a nice gal and a good friend of Charlie. The both of them took a two-day road trip down to Las Vegas last week to socialize with an old acquaintance (of Charlie), look at an RV that Sandy is interested in, do some shopping, and eat some good food. They had a nice time, and I’m thankful that Sandy did the driving.)
A couple of sporting events took place this weekend.
The Waste Management Phoenix Open golf tournament was held at the TPC Scottsdale course. This event is popular among the younger crowd because they are allowed to drink a lot of beer and be rowdy, which is out-of-character for the staid PGA golf tour, where someone in the gallery actually making a noise (like hiccupping or yawning out loud) while a player attempts a putt is strictly verboten. No so in Phoenix, where patrons can taunt and curse players in their backswing and loudly boo crummy shots.
This has been going on for years and has morphed into a one-of-a-kind sporting event that is popular with fans and players alike, everyone letting their hair down and enjoying the nice weather and loose atmosphere. Especially popular is the 16th hole, where there is an amphitheater built like a horseshoe around the green, with stands that seat an estimated 20,000 fans, most of whom are there to: (a) get drunk, (b) raise Hell, and (c) enjoy some golf, up close and personal. On Saturday, a golfer got a hole-in-one, whereupon a large number of rowdy fans responded by showering the green with beer cans and bottled water containers, many of them mostly full. On Sunday, another lucky golfer got his ace, and the bedlam reoccurred. It was kinda cool and funny, but…
It is a miracle that a competitor, caddie, or PGA official in the playing area didn’t get knocked unconscious by the barrage of missiles raining down on them. Why beer in cans would be sold in a sports arena where there are excited fans is a mystery to me, as virtually every stadium, arena, and such has banned such things for decades due to the danger to competitors and the substantial liability. Why a PGA event allows this is a puzzler, other than making a shitload of money off of beer sales. This event is the only one on the professional golf tour which permits, and even encourages, rowdy behavior from fans, giving license to imbeciles to bombard players with objects. It fun to watch but will not be amusing at all when someone unlucky competitor gets his brains bashed in from a flying 16 oz. grenade of Bud Light.
Not surprisingly, the patrons who pack the 16th hole amphitheater seats are nominally warned (with signage and announcements) not to throw things onto the course, as if this releases the course management and PGA Tour of liability. And then the tournament organizers sell copious amounts of beer… in cans … to the patrons! Jeezus, how dumb can they be! It’s almost like they’ve winked at the potential perpetrators, saying that, “Well, boys will be boys.” That implied permission, and alcohol, is a deadly mix, and it is only a matter of time until someone gets hurt.
Super Bowl VLI was held on Sunday in Los Angeles at the brand new SoFi stadium, which cost an obscene $6 billion to construct. This amount is approximately four times the cost of the brand new Allegiant stadium in Las Vegas, which was (temporarily) the most expensive stadium ever built in the United States. But, it’s Los Angeles… what do you expect?
The home team Los Angeles Rams defeated the Cincinnati Bengals 23-20 in an exciting game. There was a touchdown earlier in the game, giving the Bengals the lead, where the Cincinnati receiver clearly grabbed the Rams defender by his facemask (a rules violation) but no penalty was called on the play. Later in the game, a ticky-tack interference penalty was called on a Bengals defender that was a game-changer and the Rams capitalized to pull ahead and win the game. It might be my imagination, but I’ve watched pro football long enough (since the 1950’s!) to recognize a “make-up call” by the refs, correcting an injustice done earlier in the game. I think that’s what happened. It’s fairly common, and fans recognize it when it occurs. Let’s face it: refs are human and they make mistakes. Oh, well, it’s only a game!
I could have cared less who won the game, but my sons in Southern California are big Rams honks, so I’m happy for them that their favorite team became World Champs. And, it was a close, exciting game, which (and I’ve seen every Super Bowl game) doesn’t always happen, so that’s a good thing. What was not good was the cavalcade of absolutely crummy television commercials interrupting the on-field action. How those Madison Avenue advertising doofuses can keep their jobs after such drivel amazes me: I was not encouraged to buy any product that was pitched, and in some cases couldn’t figure out exactly what product was the subject of the multi-million dollar ad. It was just a panoply of fancy digitally-enhanced skits. One a scale of one to ten, I’d give the whole mess a “2”, at best.
Charlie, our friend Sandy, and I watched the game together. In bygone years, the halftime show was a highlight of the Super Bowl (because, often times, the game itself was a stinker). To be honest, we had taped the game and were able to skip the halftime festivities, which went on for about 40 minutes, I think. Let’s be honest here: we’re older folks and White as snow. The halftime show this year was a Hip-Hop spectacle that is not our idea of entertainment, once again because we’re old farts, prefer Rock and Roll oldies, and are not “down” with the new urban stuff. I’m sure the halftime show got a lot of younger folks’ juices flowing, and I’m happy for them, but we took the opportunity to munch on chicken wings, mini tacos, Chinese spring rolls, and consume additional adult beverages while we enjoyed each other’s company. Our crew probably skipped by a number of outstanding commercials while boycotting the halftime show but, what the heck, it’s our right to be old farts who enjoy old time entertainment (and munchies). Besides, we took the opportunity to use the restroom, which old farts do a lot.
Yesterday, I joined up with the local hiking club to again visit the Valley of Fire, the oldest Nevada state park and a place of outstanding geological beauty. I’ve hiked there many times. In fact, on my last visit, my buddy Jason, his dog Ashka, and I spent part of an afternoon looking for his car keys (on a lanyard) that he’d misplaced somewhere amidst the thousands of acres of rocky hills and rough desert. On that occasion, looking for a “needle in a haystack”, we somehow escaped victorious. John Muir must have been looking down on us, favorably.
Monday’s visit rekindled some of that drama when we GOT LOST: the hiking trip “expert” found a way to misdirect our party of a dozen innocents into a maze of rockscapes, box canyons, and cactus. It was, as usual, a beautiful walk through a rugged but striking landscape, but it took us an extra hour of exploring to find our way back to our cars.
Lots of interesting sights, for sure, and I’m happy that my 74-year-old body is able to enjoy nature like this. I need to get in better shape, though.
On the 45-minute drive back from hiking, I was chatting with my neighbors John and Lynda and another guy named Ron. He brought up the pandemic (which, thankfully, appears to be easing up) and noted the almost juvenile, anti-authoritarian attitude that lots of American adults have exhibited during the catastrophe. Apparently, none of us in the car were Trump cultists, so we could talk about serious matters like this in an adult manner. Ron went on to opine that this whole 2-year ordeal, and the behavior of a large number of citizens toward it, makes him quite apprehensive about future dramas which might unfold and how America might react and address the problem.
Ron specifically mentioned the crisis in the Ukraine, and the standoff between the Russians and N.A.T.O. countries, and the possibility that hostilities could break out, unleashing cyberwarfare between the notorious state-supported Russian hackers and the U.S. How would Americans behave if, all of the sudden, the Internet went down, or major facilities or key infrastructure was rendered inoperative by cyberwarfare? In his opinion, based upon what we learned in the pandemic, there could be societal breakdown and all manner of anarchy running rampant, blame being cast, scapegoats being hunted down, etc. Not a pretty sight, for sure, but plausible given the state of affairs in our country.
I have to agree with his concern: I’m not impressed with the maturity of a lot of our citizenry. When anti-mask fanatics feel enabled to cold cock Walmart greeters, airline stewardesses, and restaurant hostesses for politely asking them to adhere to company policy in the pandemic, how are these political fanatics going to react when the shit really hits the fan? When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, the Nation rose up as one and worked together to prevail. Would that happen today, if we were attacked by an enemy, or would Americans divide into warring political camps, looking for ways to blame the other “side” for the calamity and rebelling against the government? Many testosterone-fueled morons are just looking for an excuse to whip out their military-grade weapons and mow people down. Like Ron, I am not confident that our citizens, as a group, have the maturity to deal with adversity. It’s a sad thing to say: our forefathers, who gave so much, would be disgusted with the situation we have created.
Let’s hope those Russkies, the Chinese, the North Koreans, and the like behave themselves for the time being. Hopefully, I’ll croak before the shit really hits the fan.
Back to reality today. Charlie will be working on bookkeeping and tax stuff and I will be walking the dogs, grooming them a bit, and checking in our RV that is being repaired in Southern California. I think that work is about done, so I will have to drive down there soon, hook up the car, and make the return 400-mile trip. Not so much fun, but it will be nice to get the rig home, ready for the coming year’s hijinks.
Have a nice day!