Time to Consider

I am at a crossroad insofar as my blog is concerned. I use it to convey thoughts, plans, happenings--it is a virtual stream of consciousness that I have enjoyed penning for a few years now. Unfortunately, social media has decided that the content isn't worthy of distribution, or perhaps my readership is such that they want "their cut." I suspect the latter, but that isn't the point of this entry.

Over the past several days, I have considered discontinuing my blog. Since it doesn't seem to be in the best financial interest of the Facebook or Google gods, perhaps it's time I move on to a different form of communication?

I realize this is the second time I've posted about the reverse engine going on with this blog. Understand, I have access to the analytics and can easily see how many page views it is getting, as well as countries it is read in, and upon what devices you are viewing it. No, I have no idea who is using an Android or an iPhone, but it does give me a quantitative number of devices by which the blog is read. It also details the number and type of operating system used to read it. Interesting, huh?

The most important stat of late, though, is the total page views globally. Previous entries have garnered thousands of views--then all of a sudden a hundred or less. I considered the content being produced for my readers, but I have been pretty consistent over the years of being inconsistent regarding topics. What, then, could it be?

Simple deduction tells me that the throttling of my blog (and similar experiences have been logged by many friends attempting to communicate to a broad group of individuals across the web) have coincided with Facebook's sudden financial plunge. Look, I'm a business guy and I understand revenue generation, but to do it on the very backs of those supporting your platform isn't the smartest business plan in the world if you ask me!

So, I am back to my earlier conundrum--do I continue this thing or not? Do you have thoughts on content that you would enjoy reading? I try to keep this relatively light, but would consider much headier topics if demand were high enough to warrant it.

I'm going to give it a few more days and think about it a bit more. The future of this blog is in the various social media outlet's hands. We'll see what they (and you) decide.

Throttling it Back!

I will continue writing about Facebook's practice of unsubstantiated and punitive punishment of anyone they feel threatens their profiteering platform. Facebook--a social media interface created by a pimple faced Harvard kid in order to rate how hot chicks were. Yeah, that's how it got started. Read about it here.

Once it went public, stock holders demanded more profit. Stakeholders, in conjunction with founder Mark Zuckerberg created ad spaces for prospective businesses to share advertisements with members. Their lust for Uncle Sam's fine green currency would never be sated, however. In fact, as artificial intelligence took on a more expanded role, Facebook went after small businesses and people like myself-bloggers who managed some modicum of success. What did they do? They throttled back readership/viewership.

No matter if I tag someone, Facebook will likely not allow you (the owner of your personal page) to post it there. If you are like me, I control who posts what on my page. When someone attempts to post something there, I decide if it gets published. Unfortunately, if you have a successful blog, even if you allow it to be posted, Facebook will likely not allow for it to be posted.

Nice, huh?

Make no mistake: if I chose to pay Facebook to publish my blog to a much larger audience, it would do so without thought (artificial or real).

Now, this: I have spent money with them when I advertise my books. But my blog is free to anyone interested in reading it. I merely share my thoughts about whatever I feel like discussing, but no matter to the democrat-socialists on the left coast. If they don't like my content, or if I'm not paying them, YOU are penalized!

I've always enjoyed the interaction with everyone on my friend's list during the past ten years I've spent on the book of faces, but I must tell you, should this continue, I may just delete my page. It's frustrating to try to express myself, only to watch my readership go from thousands globally to less than two hundred nationally.

Disgusting behavior by you, Zuckerberg--even by your own "community standards."

The Rally--Please Read

I get it--we are a politically polarized nation. We are democrat and republican flavored ice cream with sprinkles of fence riders (did I say that? I meant independents). Sometimes I wonder just how far apart we truly are in our beliefs, but so long as we allow the media, and social media, to pave the proverbial narrative, we'll continue to barb, jab, punch, and call each other names.

Regardless of how you feel about any candidate, getting involved in the political process is exhilarating and informative. Make no mistake, my political motivation is of the extreme conservative nature. I like to think of myself as a Constitutionalist--and sometimes that it makes my life difficult when people say and do things I disagree with, but fall within those God-given rights penned by our Founding Fathers. I do not think, no, I know, The Constitution is a "living document" as liberals espouse; it is as it is written--the basis of our system of law and order.

Sunday, November 4th, 2018, I bore witness to the right to peacefully assemble. That's the First Amendment if you're keeping score. Tens of thousands of like-minded individuals held closely to that right and came together from near and far to hear the forty-fifth President of the United States speak. Forget the hyperbole, the political inferences, or even the fact that we are all about to head to the polls to exercise our right to vote and elect our public officials. What I would like for you all to understand is how this event transpired as I saw it, and to share in some of my experiences.

Renowned Atlanta radio talk show host (and personal friend), Shelley Wynter put together for his listeners an opportunity to ride together to Macon, Georgia to see and hear President Trump. For those unaware of Shelley, allow me the opportunity to introduce him: Shelley is a New York City born and bred conservative. He admits to being sucked in by the former President, who he voted for, but now clearly sees the nation as it should be. Shelley isn't politically correct and is heavily involved in educating the metropolitan area, and most importantly misguided black Americans, who may still be living, as he puts it, "on the plantation." This political speak for being lied to and still beholden to a political faction who uses people for its own power and political gain.

So, we met and bussed to Macon, Georgia. Fifteen of us to be exact. Of the fifteen, three were former New Yorkers, and two were black. We also had with us a Hispanic couple. You cannot imagine my exuberance!

We made the two hour trip and got in line around 11:00 AM. The event began at 4:00 PM, but already the vendors and visitors were lined up and ready! Once the gates opened at 1:00 PM, thousands of people of all races and nationalities began drifting inside. Let me restate that: people of all races and nationalities began drifting inside.

The short walk to the hangar found us between the Presidential podium and the backstage of fake news media. Har har har!

The good news was we arrived early enough to find a spot approximately thirty feet from the President gubernatorial candidate Kemp. Thousands upon thousands of people continued to funnel in until a spectacula

r portion of the tarmac was covered. The bad news? We could not leave to use the restroom for fear of losing our spots. Ah well, you win some, you lose some!

Music played, politicians spoke, and people cheered and cajoled on cue. We laughed and had a great time listening to President Trump, and aside from the multitude of races present, I would like to share something even more exciting: the place was covered with Millennials and Generation Z'ers! Not only were they paying attention, they were engaged.

I want to stop here to make a point: what we witnessed with President Trump's election was nothing short of miraculous and revolutionary. In my opinion, he is the greatest President of my lifetime, and I am a Ronald Regan fanatic. He says what he means, and he means what he says. And the greatest part of this refreshing leader? People from all walks of life are waking up and listening!

Get out and vote, America!

Tough Mudding

On the 20th of October, 2018, I checked another goal of mine off the list: a half-Mudder, or a five mile jaunt through excessively muddy hills, valleys, and wooded trails. This wasn't your typical Tough Mudder event where pools are dug to create obstacles, or walls are built in an effort to facilitate teamwork and camaraderie; on the contrary, God helped muddy the land further by having it rain the night before and the day of the event.


Here's a breakdown of the day's events and how I perceived them as I ran and trudged through mud and muck:


At the start line:


We stood as a singular group staring straight up a hill, which was the exact course we were to take. Maybe I should have down more up-hill/down-hill road work, I think to myself. The hill looked daunting and I immediately began questioning my cardiovascular conditioning. After topping the hill, I was correct in doing so. My lungs were promptly afire!


The one mile mark:


This wasn't too bad, at least after that first uphill jaunt we took at the start line. There's a chubby girl outpacing me, and I can't have chubby girls getting to the finish line before I do. Time to pick it up a bit!


Once I passed the one mile mark, I was feeling pretty good. My knees were in decent shape, I wasn't sweating profusely, but the rain was falling again like it did the night before. I passed the chubby girl up and smiled to myself. The guy running to my right gave me a I ain't getting passed by a chubby guy look. Damn him!


The two mile mark:


After the first mile, the trail took us into the woods, up and down small hills. The scenery was nice, but the trail was beaten to a mushy pit of mud and gunk, mixed with a large portion of sweat and despair. I slipped two or three times, almost falling, but managed to keep my footing through a very difficult part of the course.


This sucks!


I ran from the woods onto firmer ground and saw the two mile marker. Another smile crept across my face.


No Man's Land:


Just past the two mile marker, a large, muddy hill loomed in front of us. Behind me I heard screaming and calls for a medic. Someone fell and broke a leg. I hope it wasn't the chubby girl I passed earlier, elsewise I would feel horrible.


I begin the slow trek up the muddy hill. The footing is treacherous and slow. I watch as two or three people fall and tumble down the side of the steep clay terrain, while making a mental note to be careful.


At long last, I reached the precipice (if you can call it that) and began the arduous decent back to lower ground and firmer footing. The trail zig-zagged down the hill. I felt my right foot slip and widened my legs to create a stronger base. In an instant, both feet flew from under me and my left hand shot out in a senseless attempt to break my fall. I slammed to the ground, simultaneously driving my left hand and butt into the merciless ground. The pain was instantaneous. At different times in my life, I've had each shoulder operated on--the pain shooting through my rebuilt left shoulder is amazingly sickening. My stomach lurches, but worse yet, is the feeling that I ripped two inches of my anus into the next century.


Even though my shoulder was sending waves of agony to my brain, all I could think about was getting hauled out on a stretcher and having a couple honeymoon stitches literally placed in No Man's Land. Never mind dealing with the gloriously hilarious "friends" I have who follow me on social media; the thought of work-place retribution on Monday when my peers learned of my dilemma was enough to get me back on my feet and jogging again, despite my injuries.


Where is Mile Three?:


Either I passed it and didn't see it, or it was MIA. Either way, my aching shoulder and delicate starfish had me running like a cast member from The Walking Dead. I noticed other participants getting out of my way; it was probably the look of agony on my face, or quite possibly a fear of me biting them and turning them into an injured Tough Mudder zombie.


Mile Four:


After wading through some more sloppy mud, and belly crawling under another obstacle, I see the four mile marker. My aching anus wants nothing more than a cushioned donut to sit on, and my teeth get closer to my shoulder to begin the self-starter surgery process. I wanted to chew my own arm off, but the mile marker assured me I was close to the end.


My knees were now screaming at me, and I questioned what I was thinking by even showing up to this event. Dozens of young adults ran past me, some shooting sideways glances in wonder that the old injured guy was still in the game. If any of them had bumped into my shoulder or buttocks, I would have stomped them into one of the mud pits lining the running trail.


The End of the Line:


The last obstacle was called Electric Shock Therapy, or some such nonsense. A guy with a microphone was shaming people to run through it, and I figured what the hell, I'm already injured, so a little electric shock won't hurt. Right?


I enter the make shift structure with wires hanging from the overhead beams. The first one I encounter touches my head. I feel the rip in my anus seize up and my right knee buckled. Down into the mud-slop I fell. Shaking the cobwebs from my brain, I stand up and catch another ten volts in my (thankfully) right shoulder. I stumble once more into the pit of despair wanting nothing more than to punch every living soul in my sight.


At last I emerge from the house of pain and cross the finish line. I'm hurt, I'm aching, my heart is pounding, but by God I finished.


I can't wait until next year!


P.S. My shoulder still hurts, but my anus was just in shock and, you'll be happy to know, uninjured.

Hanging out in Pittsburgh

Many who follow me on social media know I'm involved in the martial arts. It's a passion of mine--something that transcends what most believe to be a hobby. It's a part of who I am and how I think and act. And for the majority of my life, it's been exactly that to me--my go to, my happy place, my New York state of mind.

I also realize that the majority of folk who read my blog don't have a passing interest in the Okinawan or Japanese martial arts (what those of us in the trade refer to as budo), so I won't bore you with those details in this entry. I do, however, sometimes pen a martial arts blog, so if you'd like to read it, just let me know and I will include you in that particular distribution list one I write the next entry.

No, the purpose of this article isn't to reflect on the weekend's training, but to discuss one of my favorite topics--human interaction with people from different areas of the United States and Canada, as well as those with varying interests and political affiliations.

Before we traverse that glorious road, I want to first focus on this anomaly we call social media. On its surface, "places" like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and other such cyber locations offer us connections with those we otherwise would never have made. That side of the cyber world is wonderful.

The dirty side of social media is how we treat certain topics. We (most of us) tend to focus on singular topics and overplay them to the point of annoyance. A couple years ago, I came to terms with how I was doing that very thing. Yes, I engage in political dialogue on my Facebook page, and yes I love to discuss that very topic. But like martial arts, not everyone is interested in politics or my opinion of them. It took me a long time to realize that, because some people do enjoy that very thing, but I soon realized I was losing more friends than making them.

Losing friends to a given topic sometimes means they simply disagree completely with my political perspective, and other times it means they are just sick of reading the same old thing. Many times, though, they just aren't interested in reading about the very thing that inundates their lives every waking second.

What does any of that have to do with my trip to Pittsburgh this past weekend? Nothing, and a bunch! We gathered, almost sixty of us I think, to share and sweat together on the dojo floor. We learned from some of the best instructors I've had the pleasure to be around, and we shared some of our own knowledge when called upon to do so.

Here's the really interesting thing though--a few of us have had run-ins with one another on social media. One fellow in particular is a great guy, and one I've let go of on Facebook. Our politics don't mesh and we rub each other the wrong way on-line, so I figured it was better to let him go on social media in order to preserve a friendship. It worked too. He and I spent hours together training, telling jokes, and just generally cutting up. I love him to death, and I think he feels the same way.

Another fine gentleman blocked me on Facebook. We all had a good laugh about it too. He is a great guy, but we don't see eye to eye on politics. The lesson here is a great one, I believe: it's okay to spend real, human time together and be friends, than to force yourself to read someone else's opinions day-in and day-out that you don't necessarily agree with.

This past weekend was another great one! More memories made, tons of laughter, and just good old fashioned hard work on the dojo floor. For me, there are few things finer.

Love, peace, and chicken grease, y'all.

Is Open Dialogue Still a Thing?

Social media is the devil! With all the glorious connections it's brought to the world, its very existence has ushered in an inability for two humans to have a logical, polite conversation about ANYTHING. This is truly a sad time in our history, as colloquial as that may sound.


I have tried to temper my written tone. Although my dry, sarcastic, bombastic, and deplorable political perspective is gently and cerebrally strained like a house through a giant sinkhole in a Florida neighborhood, it often comes through as harsh and condescending. Yeah, chew and swallow on that simile for a few moments. 👀


Our emotions get this best of us when we engage in debate, whether the discussion be about religion, politics, sports, and now...social reform. I would go so far as to put each of these topics into one sports bucket; religion, politics, and social reform have all taken on similarities to beach volleyball. You know, we slap a topic back and forth until we find a weakness in our opponent's defenses, then we slam that thing into sand with all the ferociousness of an African lion assaulting a young zebra for his evening meal.


No longer are we capable of casual or intellectual discourse. In our wake of debate comes the win at all cost mentality. We do not seem physically able to shut our mouths for a few minutes while someone else shares an opinion. Becoming a better listener, even if you cannot be dissuaded, is a learned trait, and a gift from the hearing gods. Two ears, one mouth...you know the rest.


Don't get me wrong. I'm a practicing martial artist and a lover of all things boxing. The sweet science, as boxing is called, is a favorite of mine. Two men engaged in an act of pummeling one another into submission is my kind of entertainment. However, verbal sparring has lost its finesse, its suave, and its swagger.


Open debate is healthy and educational, but when you shut another person down, just because you can, you should ask yourself what you have accomplished. Was your goal to demonstrate your wonderfully acquired verbal skills, or was it to show another how attuned to a particular topic you are? Those of us who throw verbal jabs at others should consider the means to the end. The art of persuasion is subtle, yet strong. At its core, persuasive argument should give the individual you are arguing with some room to maneuver before you demonstrate your intellect and fact-finding skills.


Ultimately, if we find ourselves in political banter, we should keep in mind that we want to win a person to our side of the debate, rather than push them away. I am the first to admit that I fall victim to low-road verbal tete-a-tete, but I am working hard to overcome that character flaw. Let us work hard to position ourselves to win over an individual who may seem hard and politically sallow. Who knows, maybe we will find ourselves on the real winning side of debate?! 

Life's Totality in One Weekend

For a few months, Cathy and I planned on flying to Chicago's Midway Airport then driving to see our brand new granddaughter. As a part of this weekend's festivities, we would bear witness to her baptism followed by a joyful family gathering at our daughter and son-in-law's home.


As life would have it, we learned that a family friend was battling cancer. "The Big C," as many call it. She was initially diagnosed and told the cancer would not be problematic, but alas, she would soon be overcome by the deadly disease. It finally consumed her just before our trip to Chicago. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your perspective, our friend was from and lived in the Chi-town area. Our weekend took on several new meanings as a result...


Friday evening we would attend her wake. For my non-southern and non-Catholic friends, that's the viewing where family and friends go to pay their final respects. Saturday would be the day of the funeral, and finally, Sunday would be Maya's baptismal and subsequent celebration.


Everything went according to plan (except our delayed flight back to Atlanta, which, if you follow any of my posts about my own air travel you know delays are built into my traveling plans) and we found ourselves on a flight Sunday night heading home. Like a lot of people, I tend to look at life events in buckets: we live, we die and everything in between is a bonus. Except, this time, as we flew the hour and a half flight home, I had time to ponder what just happened the previous three days.


What we bore witness to was, what Walt Disney productions and the Lion King referred to as The Circle of Life. Right before our eyes, we saw the dead, and all around us we saw the dying (we, as a whole are living and dying in the same moment), and we witnessed what Christians see as a spiritual rebirth. This all happened in the span of three short days!


Oftentimes, we hear people saying things like "dust to dust," or you have "come full circle." Mostly, I look at euphemisms as trite and colloquial. This, however, was the epitome of full circle! The death of the elderly and the renewal of the young. And somewhere in between was/are the rest of us.


So, while we mourn the loss of a friend, and celebrate new life, it wasn't lost on me the inconceivable odds that I would live to see all of it transpire over a seventy-two hour period. I would like to point out that I don't believe in coincidence or luck, good or bad. In my mind, there are missed and taken opportunities. In this case though, I can't fathom the opportunity missed or taken that would have me in the same place for both the end and the beginning of life.


Thus it is, that I think we, Cathy, Abby, and I, were brought into that weekend for a specific reason. Perhaps it was to do exactly what I've outlined here: bear witness to both events. On a grander scale it is possible that we were brought together on that particular weekend to see and share life's tragedies and triumphs. Finally, it is plausible that God himself put us in that time and place to see the Alpha and Omega and share the fragility of life with anyone willing to listen.


I don't pretend to know the answer to any of this, but I suspect there is something bigger than any of us at play. There is, as I stated, a beginning and an end, and all the stuff in between. The crème inside the Oreo, or books inside the bookends is how I see it. How we live and what we do with that stuff is up to us, but know that we all have faced a beginning, and all walk around decaying until our final moment. What we do and how treat one another is what matters, and how we perceive the unlikeliest of events will help guide us.


Live well!