“We’re all connected.” It’s the ubiquitous mantra of new-agey types. Chances are if you’ve ever watched Oprah, were a fan of the TV show Lost, or have read just about anything I’ve written, you are very familiar with this concept. Along with its close cousin “everything happens for a reason,” it’s pretty much become a cliché that isn’t really given much thought. Yet, how exactly are we all connected? Sure, we’re all made of the same elements, live on the same planet, and are plugged into the same Internet, but the phrase usually refers to the idea that all of our minds are somehow connected, that our lives are intertwined, that actions taken by you, now, could somehow affect a struggling shoe salesman living in Uzbekistan. I think it’s about time we explored this concept and saved it from the nether regions of trite, hackneyed banality. After all, if the idea that “we’re all connected” is a given, why doesn’t anyone (with the possible exception of Oprah herself) really believe it? [Read more →]

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#99

We know no more than he knew then.
We see farther and imagine numbers
Larger, but the same old infinities
Confront us, we still count to ten,
See through mirrors dying fire’s penumbra,
Envision alien cities,
And watch for asteroids to come too near.
Like him, we are empty of fear,
Assume the universe is like a globe,
To be dissected and mapped, lobe by lobe.
He touches the heavens and says a prayer,
Not for insight, guidance, or grace
(Though he longs to pierce the layers
Of darkness), but to transcend space.

Note: This is one of more than 100 poems after paintings or images, which can be viewed at the blog, Zealotry of Guerin.

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Howdy y’all- the robot LBJ keeps us yukkin’, pic from here

There are 13 “presidential libraries” in the US. These are grandiose shrines that contain the papers and records of every president since Herbert Hoover. Tomorrow the library dedicated to George W. Bush will open in Dallas and all living presidents will be there to celebrate – rather like one of those episodes of Doctor Who where the current incarnation meets with his past selves to foil a Dalek invasion.

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I have been declared Emperor of the World. Let us not waste time explaining why or how; let’s all simply accept the fact that we are better off, as a result; hence, my next decree:

Emperor’s Decree No. 10: Restaurants and taverns in the Empire are no longer allowed to sell “boneless Buffalo wings,” because they are a lie.

The Punishment: Anyone attempting to peddle these meaty imposters will be forced to use wing sauce as aftershave for the span of three weeks.

Now, go forth and obey.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

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This column will post on Monday morning, nearly a full week after the horror that occurred at the Boston Marathon. I really wanted to write something soon after it happened, but, as is so often the case, life interfered and I never “put pen to paper,” as they say. With the added perspective of 6 additional days, I am not sure I can make a lot more sense of what happened that afternoon. As the resident sports columnist for When Falls the Coliseum, though, I feel like I need to at least give it a shot. The human tragedy of lives lost and lives altered forever at an event that should have been a joyous celebration is one that most of us will not quickly forget. [Read more →]

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10. “If all those Congressman can’t figure out their finances, how do you expect me to?”

9. “I have a deathly fear of 1040 paper cuts.”

8. “Trying to use the Qualified Dividends and Capital Gains Tax Worksheet gave me a severe brain cramp.”

7. “My dog ate my return.”

6. “Fill out a tax form?! I can’t even figure out my tip at the Red Lobster.”

5. “I’m rich. I thought we were exempt.”

4. “When I burned my business down for the insurance, I forgot to remove my receipts first.”

3. “I thought the penalty for filing late would make for a sweet deduction on next year’s return.”

2. “I don’t want to bounce any more checks.”

1. “I was stuck on a Carnival Cruise.”
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

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#87

A tune is the ultimate abstraction,
An emotion expressed as a fraction.
Some notes invariably repeated
Become a cold emotion reheated.

Not all musicians are made of music.
Some are talent, some mere facility.
The best I’ve known live a necessity,
Like physicists slave to mathematics.

Picasso’s clowns can only make us dance,
Twist our senses into a whirling trance.

I’ve wept at the silence a conductor
Held at the end of the Ninth of Mahler,
As if to say, “Behold what’s gone before —
Anguish, redemption, hope — and don’t despair.”

Note: This is one of more than 100 poems after paintings or images, which can be viewed at the blog, Zealotry of Guerin.

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What does it mean to write well? That the writing is clear? Eloquent? Powerful? Emotion-inducing? Connected? Ah, but there we get into it: Your writing’s value is connected, linked, intertwined with an audience. A reader. Someone who might think about what you’re saying. Someone who might, of all things, care. [Read more →]

Tags: education, virtual children by Scott Warnock // 5 Comments »

Don’t worry, there are no dinosaurs.

This Friday, April 19, will mark the 20th anniversary of the fire that brought an end to the Waco siege, after a 50-day-long standoff between David Koresh, his followers and the FBI. Seventy-six people died in the inferno, and the name “Koresh” is forever infamous as a result. What most people don’t know is that a century earlier, there was another Koresh – also American and just as messianic, if less randy. [Read more →]

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Emperor’s Decree No.  2013: We don’t know when it happened, but, sometime over the last sixteen years, young people have completely dismissed the use of the definite article, “the,” before the word “prom.” The Emperor knows this, because he has been teaching high school throughout this period  (call it a diversion from the rigors of Imperial Domination) and, sometime during this stretch, a linguistic shortcut took hold. No longer does a boy ask a girl: “Do you want to go to the prom with me?” No, now, it is, “Do you want to go to prom with me?” “How are you getting to prom?” “Are you going to prom?” “Shall we chip in  for a limo for prom?” Gaaahhh!! This annoys the Emperor to no end.  He tried to change this appauling habit, at least on a local scale, through his pedagogical efforts – nay, heartfelt entreaties – in the classroom; he even addressed this on the school’s television system, once, but, to no avail. (In fact, this only made things worse, because, now, students intentionally seek him out and ask him if he is “chaperoning prom.” Little snits.) The Emperor didn’t want it to come to this, but, it’s time for a decree. Let all of America’s youth take note:

The Punishment: Young people who leave out the definite article in discussing THE prom (and are heard by the Imperial Maintenance Men (they’re everywhere, sweeping) will be assigned to a type of grizzly, gray-stone-roomed detention the likes of which they have never known…WITHOUT THEIR CELL PHONES!!!!!!  [Teens scream in horrified unison from the four corners of the globe…] Oh, we mean it. What now? Whuuuut?

Now, go forth and obey.

The Emperor graces the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

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There is a whole lot of idiocy in sports. I write about a lot of it here on a weekly basis, although there is far more of it than I could possibly cover in this small space. Aside from the material it gives me, though, I do genuinely wish that most of it would go away. Things like what happened Thursday night in San Diego during the Padres game against the Los Angeles Dodgers just make me angry. The thing in question was a bench-clearing brawl between the two teams that included a major injury to Dodgers pitcher Zack Greinke, incurred when he was attacked by Padres slugger Carlos Quentin. [Read more →]

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10. “Look, if you file late, it’s no skin off my nose.”

9. “I’m pretty sure you just multiply your income by 1040.”

8. “You needed another deduction, so I billed you again.”

7. “My last client was Wesley Snipes.”

6. “Of course one bajillion is a real number.”

5. “It’s close enough; it’s five of one, half a dozen of the other.”

4. “To save you some dough, I listed myself as one of your dependents.”

3. “Please, no math. It makes my brain hurt.”

2. “Don’t worry. You know that little box ‘For Office Use Only’? I wrote in ‘Approved. Send Massive Refund’.”

1. “That’s due today?!!!”
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

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#75

We thought, when we were the heart of the universe,
The constellations accumulate the divine.
We chanted as we watched the gods slowly disperse,
Replaced by single stars and Albert Einstein.
A star can fall. There’s too much of velocity,
Distance, and duration in our current science,
Because there’s no such thing as specificity.
Even if we could fly a billion light years hence,
What we want to see would be just as far away.
We might find a planet where men would want to stay.
Life could be altered. The sky would remain the same,
New constellations we’d have to give new names.
The discovered universe is not what we sought.
The only container of the stars is a thought.

Note: This is one of more than 100 poems after paintings or images, which can be viewed at the blog, Zealotry of Guerin.

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I have been declared Emperor of the World. Let us not waste time explaining why or how; let’s all simply accept the fact that we are better off, as a result; hence, my next decree:

Emperor’s Decree No. 9-X/32-C: Many make this claim, in an attempt to prove their sophistication: “I listen to everything.” This claim, of course, is a reference to their musical tastes. (Usually, it indicates a complete lack of musical taste, but that is subjective and the Emperor would never want to be subjective.) The sad part is that this claim is usually made by those who make it in referencing the fact that they have pop, rock, rap and country on their playlists. This, to these ignorant auditors, is, “everything.” (And, no, it does not count that you listen to variants within rock and pop. One is not being musically explorational because one listens to Led Zeppelin and Slipknot and Rick Springfield. It is also fair to point out that music is not automatically experimental because its composer wears wool caps in the summer.) In short, most who make the claim of listening to “everything” are like an ant on a beach who, tuckered out after a good three-inch walk, exclaims “Well, I have now seen the world.”  He has seen grains of several different shapes, but, the fact remains, they are still a particular kind of sand. Henceforth, no one may claim that they listen to “everything” until their playlist contains at least 75% names  and works from outside the popular realm and whose works are not available on collections of “relaxing music” sold in endcaps at Target.

The Punishment: Those who wish to make the “everything” claim must be cleared by the Emperor, himself. He will quiz the person in question, who will need to score an 80% or above on a quiz filled with questions like: “Who wrote ‘Koyunbaba’?” — or, “Who was Count Basie’s legendary rhythm guitarist?” — or, “What American orchestra is best know for interpreting French Impressionism?” — or, “What Irish traditional band once teamed up with Roger Daltry for a recording of ‘Behind Blue Eyes?” Those who fail and still continue to make the claim will be chained to the dungeon wall and forced to listen to the entire catalog on their own MP3 player performed by a precocious child with a comb and some wax paper.

Now, go forth and obey.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

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There are not a lot of major state universities that do not have the name of their state as part of the school’s name. I imagine that Rutgers is not the only example of this, but it is the only one that springs to mind. Rutgers is New Jersey’s biggest state university, and although it does technically have New Jersey in the name (the full name is “Rutgers, the State University of New Jersey”), nobody calls it that. I choose to believe that is to avoid having to admit they go to school in New Jersey. Anyway, the school, or more specifically the school’s basketball program, is having a bad week. Last weekend, ESPN’s Outside the Lines showed a video of the basketball team practicing and being verbally, and somewhat physically, abused by head coach Mike Rice. The coach’s behavior was pretty outrageous, as he tossed homophobic comments and profanity at his players, while also physically pushing them, throwing basketballs at their heads, and doing a variety of other awful things. [Read more →]

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We have a peculiar relationship to facts. Dickens’ Prof. Gradgrind and his love of facts. Star Trek characters Spock, Data. “Just the facts ma’am.” We like facts. We’re nervous about facts. We believe in facts. [Read more →]

Tags: education, virtual children by Scott Warnock // 9 Comments »

10. When the umpire yells “Play ball!” your entire team runs to second base

9. They feel weak and listless without their Twinkies

8. One player gets injured standing for the National Anthem

7. A runner gets thrown out for stealing the dugout

6. When a sports writer compares your cleanup batter to Ruth, he means Ruth Buzzi

5. You keep hearing arguments about how many strikes to an out

4. When you tell a player to take left field, he asks, “My left or your left?”

3. Every time the pitcher throws the ball, the catcher dives out of the way

2. When your leadoff hitter gets to first, he has to ask for directions to second

1. It’s a hockey team
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

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#61

The day has taken a billion ages to die.
No more than mathematical points, infinite
In any space defined or without compass,
We, our thoughts, motes in a god’s eye,
God’s tearful eye, are not (at least) indefinite.
We are both dark energy and dark mass.
Something beyond the sun points to us.
A light beyond any spectrum we know,
Like a thought, but even more like a reason,
An unimaginable generator of purposes,
Flies at us, at our minds, not like an arrow,
To pierce, but with a kiss’s intent, a frisson.
It takes only a day for all our suns to set.
Sadly, that light is what we’ll least regret.

Note: This is one of more than 100 poems after paintings or images, which can be viewed at the blog, Zealotry of Guerin.

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I had been in the US for five years before I encountered my first white supremacist. It happened outside a gas station on a rural back road in Texas, next to a used tire lot that I suspected was a front for skullduggery. We didn’t exchange any words; we just walked past each other, scowling. How did I know he was a white supremacist if we didn’t talk? The “White Power” tattoo on his gut was a dead giveaway.

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I have been declared Emperor of the World. Let us not waste time explaining why or how; let’s all simply accept the fact that we are better off, as a result; hence, my next decree:

Emperor’s Decree No. 37382: In the interest of full disclosure, it must be revealed: the Emperor is straight. (Not that there is anything wrong with that.) He imagines, however, that, if he were gay, he would be sick to death of people going out of their way to brag about having him as a friend. It is embarrassing to watch the subjects of the Empire grovel for acceptance in a rapidly-changing philosophical climate by harping on their connection to gay friends instead of just…having them as friends. It shall cease. Just have plain-old friends, my minions. Don’t be a gaytronizer.

The Punishment: Violators shall be forced to watch old sitcoms with token ethnic characters for three-months, non-stop. (They will be connected to a feeding tube in order to facilitate the possibility of this.) Their eyes will be propped open A Clockwork Orange-style and they will be lubricated periodically with a turkey baster.

Now, go forth and obey.

The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.

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