Here's a rant sure to upset a lot of people.....

You know what I'm sick of?  I'm sick of every minority thinking their voice or their opinion matters to the majority.  What do I mean by minority?  Exactly that--the minority.  If you are in a racial minority, gender minority (whatever that is), sexuall preference minority, impoverished minority, religious minority or any other minority--I don't care.  You know why I don't care--because at some point in time, we are all in a minority, but more often than not, we are in the majority.

If you could excuse my Andy Rooney mood for a moment I would appreciate it because, seriously, I don't care if you've ever felt slighted.  Here's a newsflash for you: WE'VE ALL BEEN SLIGHTED AT SOME TIME IN OUR LIVES!!!

Need a specific example?  Homosexuality.  If you are gay--great.  That's your choice, but don't throw your opinion in my heterosexual face, because what you do in the privacy of your home is your business--keep it that way.  How about racial minority?  In today's watchdog environment, does race really matter anymore?  Really?  Do Jessie Jackson or Al Sharpton stand for anything, or do they pander to a select few in hopes of monetary donations, thereby playing their base like cheap fiddles?  Now that's just a shame, isn't it?

I'm an unapologetic white, heterosexual male.  If I say or do something that offends you, guess what?  Get over it.  If my very existence somehow drives you to think that I've received preferential treatment, then perhaps you should walk a mile in my shoes or ask me about my upbringing.  I'm certain my family will tell you we didn't receive preferential treatment in life because of our skin tone.

Wait, wait...I'm not finished just yet.  If your politics don't agree with mine, I DON'T CARE!!  Nothing you say or do is going to change my mind, because ultimately, politicians are in their seats for themselves, not for the people they supposedly represent.  It's time to wake up people and get on with life.

Hold on, I think there's more: if you assume, because I talk differently than you or because I'm from a Southern state that somehow makes me racist, you are mistaken.  You know why?  BECAUSE I DON'T CARE WHAT COLOR YOU ARE!!!!!  Know what else?  People of color live down South!!  What does that make them?  In my book it makes them smart.  But who am I except a guy who probably is in the minority with that opinion, so simply ignore it, because it shouldn't effect the way you go on with your life.  There...see how simple that was?

I'm sure there's more I could rant about and I'm certain I've made numerous typos and grammatical errors in this post I will have to go back and correct.  You know what?  I DON'T CARE.

Have a great day.

God's Whisper

Some people see God's mysteries and work in everything.  I'm afraid I don't always see Him in my general surroundings; there is so much anger and evil in the world, I have a hard time believing, or accepting, that God is everywhere.   No matter your religious perspective or belief system, I think you have to agree there is Yin (good, light) and Yang (evil, dark) at work.  Now, before I'm assaulted with a history lesson in Chinese lore, I understand that Yin/Yang (Ch) or In/Yo (Jp) does not necessarily equate to good and evil.  However, the concept is that of man and woman-opposites that rely on one another to co-exist and meld the world into proper shape; hence, my American-ization of the Asian concept.  Just indulge me here, okay?

Now that I've spelled out my take on God's presence, or lack thereof, let me tell you where I have witnessed God at work.  When I see a baby, I see God's soul--pure and innocent.  As I've traveled around the world I've seen the result of God's handiwork, such as the mountains in Villa Escadero, The Philippines, Mount Fuji, Japan, the tundra of Quebec City, Canada, His tapestry on the coast line of San Francisco, CA, USA.  And recently I heard God's whisper in the Continental Divide in Colorado, USA. 

While driving alone through a valley toward Estes Park I remember saying aloud, "My God," as I stared in wide-wonder at the magnificent colors of the trees.   Craggy mountains stood erect, in sharp contrast to the beautiful mountain stream flowing gently toward the valley bottom.  The mountains seemed to swallow me as I drove through the valley, elk grazing in a meadow, the bright blue sky directly overhead.

When I arrived in the small Colorado town of Estes Park, I felt the cold air glide across my face as I exited my vehicle.  I closed my eyes and breathed in the clean oxygen, vaguely aware that my senses weren't detecting smog and vehicle emissions, nor hearing horns blowing or motorcycles roaring by, that I wasn't afraid to touch something for fear of catching someone else's cold or malady. 

As I inhaled in the mountain breeze, I realized I could almost make out a voice, a whisper really.  Suddenly, I was attuned to a force much greater than myself and also realized a gentleness was at work in my mind.  God whispered, "This is my house, behold." 

It was then I saw the world in a whole new light.  For a time people didn't look so mean and the Earth didn't seem as evil as I had once perceived.

I only want to hold onto that sound and remember God's Whisper.

Hey, white guys....

I don't purport to be some sort of fashion guru, but over the years I have developed an ability to match clothing.  I've seen a lot of guys that do this well, but there's one particular group of men who seem incapable of even a modicum of fashionable sense.  So, here's to you the "I have no inkling in the world how to match socks to shoes white man."

You see, I notice things like socks not matching shoes, and for the most part white males lead the way in the inability to do so.  Perhaps it's a lack of caring, I'm not sure, but let me tell you, when I see a guy with dark sneakers, blue jeans and white socks on I want to slap him.  Why?  Because other ethnicities make fun of we whities for things like this.  Okay, admittedly, we can't dance.  There's not much we can do about not having rhythm--it's in our DNA.  But white men, pick up an issue of GQ and do a little reading.  If your shoes ain't white, your socks shouldn't be either.

Now, let me say, I've seen a few white women who are guilty of this fashion sin, as well as a lot of Asian men.  Very few black men fall into this trap, although I have seen a few, but for the most part they have this down pat.

So come on fellow white guys!!!!  Get with the program. 

Here's a hint if you are still misunderstanding me:  Dark shoes with jeans-dark socks (including footies); dark sweat pants and dark/gray sneakers-dark socks/footies. 

I hope this helps--and women, if your husband is guilty of this faux pas, slap him and help him.

On southeastern conference football

Listen, I realize I generally look through crimson colored glasses when I talk college football.  I was born and I bleed the University of Alabama football, and most who pull and cheer for their team in the SEC do the same.  It's comparable to a lifelong ailment in the south; football is life and college football is the soul that makes high school and professional football worth watching.

Fans of other conferences will tell you the SEC is overrated, the conference is one dimensional (we are all about football) and we are arrogant when it comes to our collegiate football dominance.  Well, it ain't smack if it's fact!  :)

First, the SEC isn't overrated; on the contrary the kids who play for a conference school are elite athletes.  They are the best of the best in high school, and more often than not, they are the best college football has to offer. 

Next, the conference isn't one dimensional.  Florida has won national championships in football, track and basketball.  Alabama has won football, baseball, gymnastics and softball national championships.  Numerous other schools have won multitudes of championships away from the gridiron, but one thing holds true--football championships are the focus.  So, call the fanbase one dimensional if you want, but don't lay blame on the schools or athletes.  Our conference is awesome all the way around!

SEC fans are arrogant.  Okay, you got us on this one.  We are arrogant when it comes to football and have little respect for teams from other conferences because they don't play against championship calibre teams every week like our conferece.  We feel like the winner of the SEC not only deserves, but is destined to play for a national championship.  No, we are entitled to play because of the level of competition within the conference itself.

I invite my non-SEC friends to visit a campus on game day.  I think your attitude will either change about our conference or the visit will bring about reinforcement to your current beliefs.  Either way, we are winners and can't wait to meet your butt on your field or a neutral field.  Makes us no nevermind!!

Rammer jammer yella hammer, give 'em hell Alabama!

Coffee: It's what's for breakfast

Interestingly enough, as a teenager, I thought coffee a disgusting beverage both bitter and without much flavor.  The incredible heat given off made it almost impossible to pass over my underdevoloped taste buds and "charming" coffee mugs seemed less than manly to a youngster teeming with testosterone.

In a few short years, however, I began understanding the allure of coffee.  First, after several attempts at drinking it, I began to really discover it's appeal.  I tried coffee with sugar, with traditional creamers (both powdered and liquid) and later with the various flavored creamers.  After a few years of experimentation, I found that I enjoyed coffee for coffee's sake; the flavor of a good Arabica or Sumatran beans are to be cherished. 

The smell of a freshly brewed pot of coffee also meant the start of a new day, a day full of new adventures.  Bed head heaped atop my frame, a pair of sweats and a hoodie, flip flops on my feet, I would stagger to the coffee pot and press the brew button and anxiously await the opportunity to come to life. 

Coffee could also be placed in a thermos and taken to a destination, whether it be on a hiking trip or possibly a hunting or fishing stay.  Later, someone got the bright idea to develop insulated cups, which served as smaller thermoses, complete with a business or a favorite athletic team's logo.

But what coffee really meant to me in those earlier years was an introduction to adulthood.  It was something to be enjoyed by those who have come of age, something to be consumed in an intoxicating fashion, without the ill after effects of alcohol.  "Children be gone," coffee would scream!

I was so dismayed, however, when Starbucks and other Seattle brewers made drinking coffee "cool" in order to attract the teen demographic.  Heck, they really weren't purchasing coffee; rather, some mocha grande frape crap(e) would be bought and topped with Cool Whip or some other nonsense.  But what they (the coffee shops) did  was take away an adult pleasure, that is, the gathering of adults to talk in relative peace about unimportant or important things minus the worry of being interrupted by some wayward teen or pre-adolescent.

Now, I just enjoy my coffee in solace or with my wife, sometimes in our family room or sometimes on our deck.  And all is right in the world again.

Peace, love and coffee my friends.......

My martial arts training and teaching

has grown considerably over the years.  As I've aged I've found it easier to accomodate larger, younger individuals by taking into account Jigoro Kano's adage, "When the enemy wants to enter your house, open the door.  When he wants to leave, show him the way."  Kano sensei was essentially telling you to take an opponent's energy and move with it, almost like dancing, which intensifies a punch, throw, kick, etc. delivered to the opponent.

Currently, I only have one student.  This will probably change in the next week or so, but it's interesting for me to watch my new student learn and understand what I see as easy concepts.  Sometimes being the teacher means being the student all over again, as I must open my mind and heart to his energy and level of understanding. 

Lastly, my newest student's screams insure I'm doing the technique correctly, but my voracious laughter at his screams make moving to the next technique rather......difficult.

My first attempt at blogging

As most folks who own a computer realize, blogging is a 21st century creation and has been embraced by millions.  And as usual, I'm bringing up the rear when it comes to fads or waves either real or electronic.  I just really have no interest in doing what the general public does, but much to my dismay, I find myself drawn by the unknown and eventually come around to what everyone else is thinking--some of the time anyway.

I elected to start this blog to support my writing endeavors, especially that of my planned book which will be entitled, naturally, That Reminds Me of a Time....

Of course, I will probably return to this page to discuss whatever comes to mind, whether it be personal, political or just to slander someone I don't care for.  No matter the reason, I will give a concerted effort to make my presence known in the cyber world of blogging. 

I may occasionally cross over to martial arts ramblings, personal protection advice, offer up some personal travel experience or just mindlessly blather on about nothing like Michael Jackson leaving his drug dealing doctor a personal message.

Hopefully, as I learn how to navigate and use the various features offered on blogspot, the look, feel and "sound" will become much better.

Enjoy!