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The Goal of One

My new nemesis is this thing strapped to my wrist.  No it’s not some kind of law enforcement tracking device, worse, it’s a new FitBit thingee.  It tells me how much or how little activity I do during the day. It also tells me how well I slept.  It records it all in mocking detail for all the world to access. You have the ability to set “step” goals and to monitor your heart rate and it will even track your walks, hikes, runs, etc.

So I was talking with someone the other day.  Someone who wouldn’t typically engage me in conversation but they saw the evil thingee on my wrist and figured we were now some way connected.  “Joy, oh joy,” I thought.  Next they’ll want to friend me on face book and then have me join their little activity measuring online sorority or in my case fraternity.  Ugh

So before even asking a question they started the conversation by stating their step goal for the day.  “My goal is 12,000 steps a day,” they enthusiastically proclaimed, “what’s yours?”

I stood there for a moment, knowing full well that the goal on my activity nemesis was half their total of 12,000, not wanting to be judged a wimp I looked at them and said, “my step goal is one.”

They looked at me like I was some kind of three headed, Plutonian alien.

“How can one be your goal,” they asked with a hint of snarkiness in their voice.  “One isn’t a goal at all,” they continued.

I stood there for a moment and then said:

One is my goal, it’s your goal and it’s the goal for everyone else out there.  For all us of our day starts with that one step we take after getting out of bed.  Without that one step the rest doesn’t happen.  For so many people with either physical or mental disabilities that one step is the most important. That one step may, in some cases, be impossible without help from others.

I waited for a moment to let what I just said sink in and then looked at them and continued.

What we need is a day when everyone with these damn activity tracking thingees on their wrists sets their personal goal to one and we use the opportunity, just one day, to focus as a society on those who need help taking that first step and working to help them achieve that goal.  The goal of one step.

They stood there for a moment, shrugged their shoulders and said, “cool idea, we should really do that,” they then turned and started adding steps to their lofty goal of 12,000.

The Goal of One.

I like the idea.  What a neat way of helping many.  So what do you think?  Any interest in setting your activity tracking thingee to a goal of one for one day?

Let’s make this happen.


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Cake and Juice – Juice and Cake

Cake and Juice 


First off, these are my opinions.  I really don’t give a fuck if you agree with them or not.  They are mine.  If you want to voice your own opinions get your own fucking blog. 

That said, all this hoopla regarding Don Imus has got me thinking about Cake and Juice. 

What Don Imus said regarding the lady Scarlet Knights was racially and gender inappropriate.  He made a mistake and apologized. 

I am not a huge fan of Imus.  I have listened to him over the years when nothing else was on.  What I do know of Imus is that he made a living out of being racially and gender inappropriate.  That was his shtick.  Have you ever heard him rail against the Catholic Church or the Jews.  Yikes!  His shtick made him, CBS, MSNBC millions of dollars. 

He’s done some nice work for kids with his ranch in
New Mexico.  What is interesting is that Gov Spitzer, at the time Attorney General Spitzer investigated Imus’ charity and ranch for financial improprieties and he found nothing.  Trust me or ask the family Greenberg (of Marsh and AIG fame) when Spitzer starts his proctological examination of corp finances it usually leaves you with a bloody ass. 

A couple last things that piss me off – first this incident has given Al Sharpton and the “reverend” jesse
Jackson an opportunity to exploit it for their own gain.  That sucks.  Second is the legion of folks who have used the Imus machine to whore out their books, ideals or causes for their own gain.  They distanced themselves pretty quickly from him.  What a bunch of dicks.  Actually dicks is too complimentary, what a bunch of assholes.  Take the snot nosed tool Mike Lupica.  It seemed that every other week he was on the Imus show whoring another book or literary assignment.  He wasted no time throwing Imus under the bus.  What a scum sucking
New Canaan weenie (sorry Mr. Russo).

Back to cake and juice.  The whole Imus thing made me think about Howard Stern.  No not Anna Nicole’s bitch, rather the one time “shock jock” who at one point seemed to have the world by the balls and squeezed repeatedly. 

Mr. Stern decided to jump to satellite radio and took the cake and lost the juice.  Lots and lots of cake.  You see folks, money (cake) is nice, but the game is really all about power (juice).  Since Mr. Stern left terrestrial radio he has become irrelevant.  His juice is gone.  Traded it in for cake.    On the other hand – why else would a billionaire like Mike Bloomberg want to be mayor of NY City.  He don’t need the cake.  What he needed was the juice.  Juice is a crazy drug.  Heck, why do you think all these folks are raising millions of dollars to be President.  Think it’s cuz of the $200K salary?  Nope.  It’s all about the juice. 

Remember folks – it’s not about the cake it’s about the juice. 

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Zappa Jag Zappa

It has been a while since I went on a Frank Zappa music jag.  The Zappa jag came over me the other night.  Actually morning would be more appropriate since it was about 2am with a headful of Jameson’s and other synaptic provocateurs motivating my search.  As I poked through my cd collection I stumbled on Zappa’s Joe’s Garage.  One of his more commercially successful ventures.  I just had to share the following lyrics….cuz they are fucking awesome…Where is Tipper Gore when you need her!  Yee ha…. 


Shortly after his liaison with the taco stand lady,
JOE makes a horrible discovery. . .

Why does it hurt when I pee?
Why does it hurt when I pee?
I don’t want no doctor
To stick no needle in me
Why does it hurt when I pee?
I got it from the toilet seat
I got it from the toilet seat
It jumped right up
‘N’ grabbed my meat
Got it from the toilet seat
My balls feel like a pair of maracas
My balls feel like a pair of maracas
Oh God I probably got the Gon-o-ka-ka-khackus!
My balls feel like a pair of maracas
Why does it
Why does it
Why does it
Why does it hurt…
I Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?

God Bless Frank Zappa, WHERE EVER HE MAY BE!!!!


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