Henry VI Part II

"The first thing we'll do is kill all the lawyers, "

Those who defend the legal profession are quick to point out that when Dick the Butcher uttered those famous words, in Henry VI as written by William Shakespeare and then goes on to advocate hanging, "With his ink and quill horn around his neck", that this is not in fact a condemnation of the entire profession.

Quite the contrary, the words, when read in context actually point out that the first step to rebellion or revolution is to kill the lawyers.

Shakespeare was trying to imply that lawyers are the ones who maintain law and without them, we would have a society of lawlessness.

This may have been true in that time and place. Bear in mind that England does not have quite the same type of government that we enjoy here. The checks and balances that make up the foundation of our government were trumped at that time, by a monarchy, so it was the lawyers who helped to maintain order and balance withing the legal system.

Well, welcome to the zeros! This is simply not the case in 21st century America. contrary to what they may wish to believe, lawyers are not the glue that holds our society together.
They simply represent a necessary, but unpleasant facet of our civilization, right up there with trash collectors, morticians and bill collectors.

They deal with the refuse of society, and profit of the misfortunes of others.

Is it then, any wonder, why so many of them prefer the term "attorney", to "lawyer," knowing that "lawyer" and "liar" sound too much alike for many people to differentiate between the two. And further realizing that many people would not bother to differentiate even if they could?

OK, Got that off my chest.

I have been waiting patiently, for quite some time, for a trial that was supposed to take place on January 31, then was postponed to March 31, and now had been postponed indefinitely.

The explanation seems vague, filled with lots of words that have many syllables but say nothing. What it boils down to is this. Two lawyers, neither of who have nearly as much at stake as I do, get together on a regular basis and make plans, changes, and decisions as to when it will be the most convenient for them to have their little meetings and conferences.

Never mind the fact that each time they delay it makes my life a living hell.

Never mind the fact that they are playing with my life, my livelihood and my future. All that matters is whether or not my life somehow interferes with their tee time.

Well, I hope they get their tee times, and I hope both of them end up with their balls in the lake.

Where's Dick the Butcher when you need him?

Altruism is my middle name.

Now don't get me wrong, I like to help mankind and do my part to keep the world green, and save the rain forests and the whales, and eat soy bean sprouts and use solar power, and love a lot of people and sell a lot of flowers just as much as any of the other long haired freaky people I hang out with down at the bar on Friday Nights.

I'm a regular Euell Gibbons of the new millennium. Greenpeace, Sierra Club, Granola Coalition Earth Day, spokesman, that's me.

I am all about the greater good, adding to the benefit of humanity, even if it is at great personal sacrifice and all that other stuff.

But even I, in my moments of great nobility, have my moments of weakness.

Like today for instance.

I signed up to do a medical research study. Now, I was hoping it would be one where I was asked to try a new very potent painkiller to see if the psychedelic side affects were really long term or not, but it was nothing that exotic.

Basically, it involved an hour of answering questions about my lifestyle, and then allowing them to take 60 c.c.'s of blood. No big deal.

When I signed up, they indicated that this was a paid study, and that for my time I would get a Meijer gift card. Cool, I thought. Everyone can use a few dollars to spend on groceries.

So, I fasted from midnight on the day of the study, dragged my butt out of bed at some ghastly hour of the morning and drove halfway across the country in the rain to get there in time for their ridiculously early appointment. (translation, I had to be in Ann Arbor by 8:30 am.)
I finished the study and the woman asked me if I wanted them to mail me a check, or just give me cash.

I told her that either one would be fine, but that I thought that I was going to get a Meijer gift card.

She said that they just put that in the details to discourage people who are just doing the study for the money.

OK. So here was where I had to stop and think.

I know I am a great humanitarian and all, but do I really come across as someone who would get up in the middle of the night and trek through the wilderness to get my blood drawn all for the greater good of humanity?

Do I really strike people as that altruistic?

If so, I think it's time to work on my image.

It's all about Style!

OK, so Diann and I are sitting at Big Boy, minding our own business and enjoying our meal. There are these two high-schoolish guys sitting at a table across from us. They have obviously been there a while, the waitress who served them finally comes and asks them to cash out so she can go home. They are hunched over a notebook, discussing something. I can't help but overhear from time to time, and it is obvious they are writing a song.

We eat our meal, and they do their thing, and then one of the guys comes over to our table with a sheet of notebook paper and asks us if we will do him a favor. He writes songs he explains and he is working on a love song. Will we read it and tell him what we think.

A whole bunch of thoughts run through my mind. Do we look like a pair of star crossed lovers who are ready to swoon at being serenaded? Or do we look like artsy kind of people who could attend a poetry reading and give our input? Do we look like traveling troubadours, or minstrels who roam the country writing a bit of song for a bite of bread?

But there I go, off on an imagination tangent.

Diann recovered faster than me and pointed at me, explaining to the young man that I write songs myself and I would be the one to ask.

Great Diann, put me on the spot here.... LOL.

So I read his song.

Now, first of all I have to say that yes, I do write songs and poetry from time to time. When I do, I pay a lot more attention to rhythm, cadence and meter than most songwriters today seem to, and I will often spend weeks working on a particular line until I get the words, all in the right place. When I write a poem or a song it is important to me that not only the lines rhyme when they should, but that they have the right number of syllables in them and that the emphasis is on the same syllable in each line so that the cadence and meter are consistent.

Diann knows this and so she was quick to point out to the guy that he was about to get an actual critique, of meter and rhythm. He acknowledged that would be okay, so I gave him a few tips, pointed out a few spots where he could add a word or two to make the first verse and the second verse more consistent.

He was happy, and he went to work. As we were leaving, he beckoned me over and showed me what he had added, and asked for help coming up with a word. I helped him rearrange a few words, so that instead of finding a word, based solely on the fact that it rhymed, he could find a word that fit the sentence, and we moved the two rhyming words around so they both were at the ends of the line.

He was happy and offered to put my name on the song along with his.

As I walked away, I kind of shrugged that off. This was clearly not the type of song, the style of poetry that I write, nor even the genre of music that I enjoy.

But as I thought about it, I came to a few conclusions.

First, it was flattering to be asked an opinion and then see the askee actually take my suggestions seriously enough that he would change his song based on my recommendation.

How often do we give our opinions in life only to have them ignored. Even when someone asks our opinion, more often than not it seems like they are only looking for a confirmation of their own opinion, and if ours differs then they want to argue or ignore us.

Second, It was fun to see my own experience and work with writing be able to be put to use in helping someone. I don't have a degree, I'm just an average blue collar kind of guy, and it isn't often that I can take something I have learned over the years and pass it on to someone else and have it help them. It was rewarding to be able to do that. I don't get that opportunity as much as I would like.

Third, It was just genuinely refreshing to see someone of that generation not only have confidence in themselves, but actually proactively be working on whatever goal or project they have in mind.

Too often in the last year or so, I have watched as one particular member of that generation wouldn't try anything new, because he was sure he would fail, wouldn't set goals because it was too depressing when he didn't reach them, and basically sat on his butt waiting for someone to do everything for him.

It was so nice to see two guys working toward their goal, asking for help when they needed it, accepting constructive criticism when it was given, acting on that criticism, and then, extending an offer to share the credit for the end result.

Whether the song ever makes it big or not, these are two young men who already are more successful in life than they know. They have developed some skills that far too many of their generation don't have.

I may not like the music, but I admire their style.

Maybe there is hope for the future after all.

Heading the right direction

OK, so we took a deposition from my doctor this morning.

It went well.

My attorney surprised me by wearing a white shirt and tie and actually being almost clean shaven.

The other side's attorney wore a Richie Cunningham sweater, no tie and looked like a school teacher. I'm sure that was on purpose.

Court reporters fascinate me. I remember when I was a kid I found a court reporting machine at a garage sale and played with it for a while, but I was never able to teach myself how to use it well enough to do it for a living.

They use to have this little paper that ran through them, like an adding machine, and each word was printed out on it's own line, but now they are all digital.

She just loaded a disc into the machine and away she went, clacking her levers and stopping from time to time to make handwritten notes.

In a day and age where so many jobs have become obsolete, it's reassuring to know that there is at least one that has managed to keep up with technology. It's somewhat disheartening to realize that it is a job that is dependent on the dishonesty, of somebody. If everyone were all just completely honest and honorable, all the court reporters, as well as all the lawyers, and judges, would be unemployed.

So, in the interest of helping an American keep their job, I say, go out today, cheat someone, break a law, slip on some ice, do something illegal, immoral or both.

Keep America's judicial system working.

It may be the only industry left that we haven't managed to outsource.

Can you imagine if they were to outsource the court system?

Log on to Http://www.courtcentral.gov.....

Judge: Hello, how may I help you today?

Me: I am trying to resolve my workers comp case. My employer abandoned me in my hour of need and threw me to the wolves when they realized that I was not willing to ignore my pain and continue to do a job that would potentially put me in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.

Judge: I understand you want to resolve your Workers Comp case. I can help you with that. My name is Judge Rahshibji. I will be happy for helping with you please. Can you describe what the problem is?

Me: I broke my leg, it didn't heal completely, I went back to work too soon, and because I was not ready, I ruptured discs in my lower back. Now I can't return to truck driving, cannot lift more than 15 pounds and can neither stand nor sit continuously for more than 45 minutes at a time.

Judge: Let me restate the problem. Your leg is broken?

Me: No, my leg is not broken.

Judge: Your broken leg is not broken anymore?

Me: That is correct.

Judge: Well, I'm glad I could help you, thank you very much for using our service. As an added bonus, for using our service today I can offer you a special rate on an Alaskan Cruise Can I just get your credit card information, so I can verify that you are over 18?

...............

Ok, maybe it wouldn't really change that much.

Rant # 1. American Idol

It may be fair to ask. "With all the real stuff, the important stuff, the relevant stuff going on in my life right now, why kick off my blog with a rant about American Idol?"

The answer is simple really. It's the one thing I have the ability to have some control over. I can't vote for how the judges will rule in any of my various pending court sagas. I can't text the word "Heal" to anyone and make them magically better.

I can't call 1-866-who-cares to affect the outcome of my life, but I can, I CAN influence the outcome of American Idol. All I have to do is pick up my phone and call, over and over, endlessly hitting the redial button, only to hear the "I'm sorry, all circuits are busy now, please try your call later" recording over and over and over.

I can, but I don't. Why is that you may ask? (another fair question, as far as questions go.)

And another simple answer. Because it just doesn't matter. The things in life I have the most control over are the things that just don't matter.

So, rather than calling in my vote, I decided to dedicate my first official rant to American Idol.

Now, every year, we watch as talented country singers in the competition are forced to run the gamut of Motown, rock, new wave, R&B, Michael Jackson, Barry Manilow and Snoop Doop Daddy Dee Diddy music, and nobody bats an eye. But ask Bo Bice or Chris Daughtry, or Rubin Studdard to sing a little bit country and from the reaction of their fans, you would think they are asking them to tear their fingernails out and pour boiling iodine in the wounds.

Well, get a grip dudes! Anyone who has the talent to make it this far in a competition of this nature can sign a song within their comfort zone, that's a given. The point of the competition is to see how well you can do when you step outside your comfort zone.

Actually, the point of the competition at this point seems to be a more along the lines of a circus than anything else anyway.

Step right up people, Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages. Get your tickets, take your seats. The show is about to commence.

So, lets run down the list of 11 contestants who took the stage for Season 8 Grand Ole Opry night and see what we have to work with.

There's Michael Sarver, a likeable guy, with a steady voice. He'd make a good backup singer, could possible make a living recording demo tapes for writers, and singing at wedding funerals and street festivals, but does he have the energy level necessary to be a star?

Then Lil Rounds, who Simon Cowell, for some reason known only to himself chose to mock, by deliberately playing games with her name, something I did in third grade, but have since outgrown. Lil, is good, she has a powerful voice and poise and grace on stage, but does she have pizzazz?

Danny Gokey. This guy is just plain boring. His nerdy white boy look, and his blase voice make him forgettable on so many levels I can't remember them all.

Next is Anoop Desai. Ok, I'm trying to be fair here, but what is it anyone sees in him? I don't see it.

Scott Macintyre. A good solid singer, a likeable guy, but does he have star potential?

Megan Joy, the blonde Amy Winehouse wannabe, who sounds like a really bad actress trying to play a '40's cabaret singer in a B movie.

Alexis Grace, She came in as a clean cut all American girl and the judges told her they wanted her to be a bit more trashy. That seems very telling right there, if you stop and think about it.

Adam Lambert. This guy is a freak, with a capital "EEK". It boggles my mind that all the teeny bopper girls are so ga-ga over him. Don't tell me I'm the only person who sees a Michael Jackson wannabe when he walks onto the stage.

Allison Iraheta, A talented singer, likeable, but what the heck is up with her hair? It's too big for her head, and the color is absolutely horrid. It's so obviously fake she may as well just wear a wig. Or does she.....?

Matt Giraud. I'd tell him not to quit his day job, but being from Michigan, chances are he already lost it. I should be supporting him because he's a hometown guy and all, but he is just plain boring.

And that makes ten, who is #11? Who knows? Who cares? If you can't remember, chances are they aren't that memorable,

But just to set the record straight it's Kris Allen a pretty boy new kidz looking guy who disappears from your mind as soon as the last reverb dies away.

So, this group took the stage on Tuesday night, to do country music. How did they do?

Well, I guess that depends who you ask. The judges, Who have mixed feelings about the Country genre. The voters, who apparently are mostly females between 12 and 15 years old. Or me, a fan of country music since back before it was cool.

Kris, Matt, Allison, Scott all did ok. Nothing stellar, but nothing terrible either. Just Boot Scoot night at the old Karaoke Bar.

Michael took a Garth Brooks song and took all the life out of it. A difficult song to sing, he was, I believe, trying to show that he could do a difficult song. It backfired. He had a chance to pick a song that showed off his range, and he picked a song that he could monotone his way through. It was a very disappointing performance. The judges agreed, as did most of the voting public.

Lil, took a Martina McBride song and slowed it down just enough to make the raw emotion come out in it. She faltered a bit with the lyrics in the second verse, probably because she knows the song and was being forced to sing a truncated version of it for the show, but she took the song into a whole new level, a dimension that Martina never did. Turned it almost into a ballad, and smiled the whole time. The judges didn't like it, I did. But then again, I like country and they don't.

Megan had a cold/flu thing happening, so everyone felt sorry for her and told her she did a great job as she butchered the snot out of a Patsy Cline song. She sounded like a scratchy, vinyl recording of a practice session of the song. I would have "gonged" her halfway through the song, but the judges all did the "Oh that was so brave of you to sing, you look beautiful" crap, ignoring the fact that she looks like she fell out of the tattoo tree and hit every branch on the way down. Boohoo.

Alexis picked a Dolly Parton song, and tried to give it her own flair. Simon said she sounded "Copycat" I thought she sounded weak. Dolly put a lot more energy into the song when she sang it. Alexis looked the part, but fell a bit short when it came to the "wow" factor.

Danny did a Carrie Underwood song and made it sound lifeless and fake. When Carrie Underwood sang "Jesus, take the wheel, " you knew she was praying, when Danny sang the same line, it sounded like an afterthought. There was no feeling, no emotion, and he looked like a class a weirdo. The judges all said he sounded great. But then again, they wouldn't know country music if it drove up in a pickup truck and bit 'em on the leg.

Anoop took a Willie Nelson song and surprised the heck out of me, with an outstanding performance. It's hard to do a song from a really great singer and make it sound good, because people will always compare it to the original. No offense Willie, but I think maybe I like Anoop's rendition better.

And speaking of singing a song from a really great singer, Freak Boy Adam, took a Johnny Cash song, and turned it into a screeching wailing freaked out weirdo version that sounded like two cats fighting over a squirrel on a hot summer night.

What a terrible way to disrespect a great singer like Johnny Cash. What a slap in the face, to country music, to the integrity of the writer, the singer and the genre as a whole, and to the Grand Ole Opry, which lent it's name to the nights competition.

What the heck was he trying to prove? Look everybody, I don't have to sing country, I can take a really good song by a really great singer and make it sound like trash.

Well, congratulations Adam, you managed to sound as creepy as you look! Not an easy task when working with music as wholesome as country, but you did it.

Of course, Randy liked him, and Paula likes everybody, but Kara was dumbfounded, and Simon said it all when he said "What the hell was that?"

So you don't like country, you think you may chip a black polished nail on a guitar string or something? Well, boohoo! get over yourself. You had the opportunity to get coaching and advice from Randy Travis, a man who was a millionaire several times over by the time he was your age, and you spit in the face of the music that he stands for. Shame on you, and shame on every 12 year old girl who doesn't know any better who voted for your sorry freakish butt!

I hope when you finally leave this competition, you can support yourself on record sales to 12 year olds. Those babysitting dollars don't go as far as they used to.

So, I watched tonight, and was gently surprised, but not stunned, disappointed, but not devastated as the field was reduced to 10 competitors. For all my fans on the west coast, I am writing this before you will have seen the elimination tonight, so I won't spoil it for you, except to say that none of the people I really disliked went home, and neither did any of the ones I expected to go home. It was someone in the middle.

So that's my American Idol review. Simon, when you read this, give me a call, I'll explain to you the true meaning of country music.

For the rest of ya'll,

Until next time...

Feeling Left Out

Ok, since everyone else in the free world except for me has a blog and gets to post their daily, weekly, monthly, quarterly, semi-annual, annual, etc thoughts at will, I figured I need to set one up too.

I suspect that mine will be more along the line of disestablishmentarianism rants than anything of actual merit, but one never knows.

After all, diamonds are not always found in velvet lined cases. Sometimes, the most valuable diamonds are not easily recognized, uncut, unpolished, unobtrusive, hiding among the rubble of a mine, deep in the heart of a third world nation. Their true value is only realized when they are taken by an expert, and their true assets allowed to shine through.

Maybe something I say here, when it falls into the hands of a the right person, can take on a greater shine.

Or maybe, I will just be stuck, sitting alone, on the side of the information highway, with a bucket full of broken rocks.