Why.

One of the enjoyable things about having a forced day off from work is that you can sleep a little later than usual and then wake yourself up at your own pace. I choose to do this by spinning around the television dial to see what shows are on. I don’t plant myself in front of the television all day watching game shows such as “Sale of the Century” or “Wheel of Fortune” but I do catch a sitcom or two as I do a few of the mundane chores.

This morning I clicked the remote and ended up on “Golden Girls” on Hallmark Channel. Hallmark Channel bought the syndication rights last year sometime when Lifetime dropped (or forgot to renew) their rights to broadcast the show and in the process the made a really big deal about it. Hallmark Channel tends to broadcast very safe, family friendly programming, so I was a little surprised when they decided to show “Golden Girls” because back in it’s day the show was a little edgy.

I wouldn’t be a gay man of the 80s and 90s if I didn’t know my “Golden Girls” episodes so I know that Hallmark has done a lot of slicing and dicing of the episodes to make room for more ad revenue. Lifetime did the same thing during their run, but Hallmark is showing completely re-edited shows. The only good thing about this run is that they are showing the proper credits for the season the particular episode is from.

Now I have mentioned before that I have spotted some dialogue editing in some episodes. The editing mentioned in the linked blog entry irritated me but I let it slide. Well today I spotted another one that pissed me off to the point that I have decreed that Hallmark Channel will not be watched in this house again.

The episode in question is #52, “Old Friends”. Originally broadcast on September 19, 1987, the story features a young girl named Daisy. In trying to make friends with the young girl, Blanche mistakenly gives her Rose’s treasured teddy bear to her. This crushes innocent Rose and realising a gold mine, Daisy holds the bear for ransom. As Blanche tries to explain the problem, the normally always pleasant Rose becomes irritated and tells Blanche, “cut the crap and get back my friggin’ bear.”

Hallmark silenced out ‘crap’ and ‘friggin’’. The covered the whole line with a very out of place and very loud laugh track. The line is funny but it’s not roll-down-the-studio-aisle funny by any stretch of the imagination.

What irritates me is that the line made it past NBC network censors in 1987. It’s not like Rose exploded with a “what the fuck? Cut the shit and get my bear back, bitch!!”

Here’s the thing. I understand that Hallmark Channel owns the rebroadcasting rights to “Golden Girls” and I guess can do whatever they want with it. I have no issue with that. That’s how the U.S. works. However, I do NOT believe that the artistic integrity of a program that has already been broadcasted continuously for the past 20+ years should be edited to make the show conform to the moral standards of the channel. If you don’t like the content of the show, then don’t purchase the rights, don’t broadcast it. If I were to put out a record with some questionable lyrics and expected airplay, I wouldn’t want some radio station changing my lyrics just to suit their needs if the song had already been deemed broadcast safe.

I understand Hallmark Channel is trying to broadcast programming they consider “family safe”. I get that. If they were true to their word and beliefs, then they shouldn’t broadcast “Golden Girls” at all if they find some of the content to be objectionable. But apparently, based on the frequency in which they broadcast the program, they are making a LOT of money on the show.

I guess they’re money whores.

I was on the elevator heading up the 16 floors to my office. I was alone in the elevator watching the indicators flash my progress: 12, 14, 15… The doors parted at my destination and I suddenly feel very dizzy, to the point that I have to steady myself against the door frame before continuing on the short walk to my office. Though it is very hokey and cliche to say, it was like a disturbance in the force.

I walked up the last flight of stairs to my office just as the clock on the wall advanced to the next minute: it was 8:48. I was 12 minutes early for work.

I started my daily routine when my cell phone rings, it’s Earl. “A plane just hit the World Trade Center! Turn on the television.” Wow, a small plane had hit one of the buildings at the World Trade Center. I figured it was probably like a Cessna 172 or something.

I started walking to the production side of the office when I noticed that the ABC radio feed on one of the radio stations I worked at was playing the “special report” theme music. I walked into the video studio where my co-worker Allen was tuning in the local television station. He found “Good Morning America” and we watched the building coverage of what was happening in New York.

It was a very short time later when all of us in our small office and radio stations were gathered around the television watching the coverage of what was happening in New York. A few moments later, we watched the second plane hit the other tower.

I felt ill. It was then that I knew that life had changed forever. I remember thinking this must be how people felt after the news of Pearl Harbor or the JFK assassination. We were glued to the television for the rest of the day, doing as little work as possible trying to keep the radio stations running. To distract myself, I made a list of all the commercials we weren’t playing (and wouldn’t play for the next couple of days).

Like many people I know, I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing that day. I also remember how I felt about my country and how proud I was when I saw all the flags pop up on every car that passed by in the following weeks. I remember how determined I was to walk down to a local shop, purchase the biggest flag I could find and then climb up on the roof of that 16 story building so I could hang that flag on the sign below the giant letters that proclaimed “ADIRONDACK BANK”. My love for the United States was never greater, and though I have been very vocal in the past, and will probably continue to be just that, I am still very much a proud American.

In 2002 Earl and I went to Shanksville, Pa. where Flight 93 went down. A chain-link fence held countless memories and tributes and a few little monuments. It was then and there that I cried for those that had lost their lives and I cheered for the bravery that each one of those people in New York, Washington and over Shanksville exhibited. Today it is with just as much emotion that I join in with the rest of our country in remembering them again.

Tears streamed down my face as I wrote my closing comments on a card at the site of the World Trade Center just last weekend: God Bless America.

Taken near Shanksville, Pa. in 2002.

I have been pruning my Facebook and Twitter friends lists and my blogroll lately. The reason for this is simple: I can’t take the friggin’ negativity any more. My god there seems to be a lot of down people on these interweb tubes. Is this limited to the social circles in which I travel or is there a prevailing wave of depression making it’s way through the U.S. these days?

“I need the purple pill (the one that makes you happy)” Just get the hell out of bed.
“I’m fat.” (Yeah? So am I. Stop eating.)
“No one looks at me.” (Stop being ugly on the inside!)

Listen, I know that a lot of people in this world have a lot of problems. And the gods know that I have bitched and bitched and bitched (like right now!) on this blog on more than a few thousand occasions but when Every. Single. Blog. Entry. or every twit, tweet or twat is about how horrible the world is because your clothes are too tight or the oil ran out of your car or your hairdresser bleached your hair too blond or you’re shocked I tell you, shocked because you just found out that a hamburger with cheese and bacon wrapped in roast beef is bad for you and you’re blue flunking it all becomes very, very tedious.

It’s dragging me down, baby.

You want something to bitch about? How about the fact that there is no cure for AIDS yet or that our government is spending money like a sailor in a whore house by throwing money in every direction hoping that something somewhere gets fixed or we are eating food that is undoubtedly going to fill us with cancer 30 years from now or that today’s kids will have no imagination because everything is being electronically fed to them. You want to complain? How about the dead Americans and Iraqis in a war that doesn’t seem to have an ending or what about all the men and women still sitting in their living room full of despair everyday because they lost a loved one. What about the way we shove our elderly into nursing homes or burn oil in these outrageous behemoths in the interest of having the biggest car (and smallest dick, apparently) on the block? I could go on and on and on about issues that have a national or even global effect.

I like writing fluff pieces here in this blog. (Hey Paula!) I also like writing the heavy stuff once in a while. And yes I do complain a lot. But goddamn it, life is not that bad and when it is, it’s probably going to be something that you’ll laugh and/or be embarrassed about 10 minutes from now anyways so for the love all that’s holy mix it up a little bit!

I am going to try to do something this weekend that I’m not sure I’m capable of doing. I am going to power down the iPhone and leave it in the drawer of my nightstand both Saturday and Sunday. My contact with the outside world will be with real human interaction. I’m not going to twit, tweet, FB or interact with anyone that isn’t either talking to me on the landline at the house or better yet engaging in a conversation face to face. I’m going to hike or go to the beach, chase storms, take pictures and spend time with my family and recall what life was about before I became so embroiled in this digital revolution that I forgot what the sun looked like and what a sunny disposition felt like. You want to talk, call me on the home phone and c’mon get happy about it. Better yet? Visit me!

Enough is enough. I’d break into song here but I can’t remember if I prefer the Barbra or Donna part.

I posted this quote from another blog last week in reference to the anniversary of the moon landing back in 1969.

Some people say that September 11, 2001 was the moment America best defined itself. I respectfully disagree. On the evening of July 20, 1969 we defined ourselves not by our fear of what could happen, but our dreams of what would happen, if we only dared to dream.

This is so true. Our society seems to be so fear driven these days and I really think it’s been full-tilt in that direction since 9/11. While eating lunch at the mall today the electricity briefly blinked on and off. This outage lasted no more than five seconds. This is not an uncommon thing; it’s hot outside, there are way too many air conditioners on and we are putting a lot of demands on the power supply. Sometimes there is just not enough juice to go around. I just went on eating my lunch but when it happened, more than one person near me gasped in horror and there was one middle aged woman who screamed like she had just been shot.

I found her reaction to be a little over-the-top. What is really sad about the situation is that it’s not the first time that I have heard someone react that way to a power outage in the past five years ago. My god, what would she do if there was something life threatening going on?

I think here in the states we really have this whole fear thing going on and quite frankly it’s become quite tedious. For example, Every. Single. Thunderstorm. is a severe thunderstorm. There are no regular thunderstorms anymore. Last week we had several “Severe Thunderstorm Warnings”, accompanied by an alert of the Emergency Alert System. Not one storm passed through the area and being on-call last week I was well aware of who was getting hit with storms and who wasn’t. No one within 75 miles got hit with a severe thunderstorm. A few scattered storms here and there, yes, but nothing that would be considered “severe”. A bolt of lightning and a clap of thunder is not severe. It’s just the way it is.

By the way, back in the day the Emergency Broadcast System was reserved for really important things like nuclear bombs, catastrophic floods, tornados and hurricanes. If the two-tones of the EBS were heard without the preceding “This is a test of the Emergency Broadcast System…” message then you were headed for the basement. Something bad was going to happen. With technology upgrades, the dire sounding two-tones of the days of yore have been replaced by something akin to “duck farts” and they fire the damn thing off every time someone has bad gas. No one takes it seriously anymore.

Now I know that really bad news gets really good ratings in the news business, especially when you have to fill 24 hours of a dozen all-news stations simultaneously, but we really don’t have to have a panic attack every time the power goes out or there’s a lightning strike. I won’t get into the whole “we are in Central New York and we get snow in the winter” thing that people get hysterical about.

Many have subscribed to the training(?) of living in fear, especially since 9/11. Small wonder people are stress eating, drinking and taking all manners of medicines to cope with it.

How about we start living in hope. And for goodness’ sake, stop sweating the small stuff.

By the way, I thought I’d share a picture of me smiling from the Apple Store at Eastview Mall in Rochester. Do I look hopeful or just mischievous.

What a week it has been. I think I need a vacation.

Wait, I just got back from vacation!

Talking or texting on a cell phone is a risky proposition, no matter how you go about doing it. Whilst I try really hard to mind my mobile manners while in a public setting, I have to admit that I am guilty of texting or talking while behind the wheel.

I have decided to stop this practice, effective immediately.

No longer will I hear the frightened murmurs of my passengers. I will now set an example for others by doing the responsible thing.

The decision has been spurred by this article that recently appeared in the New York Times. I find it interesting that politics are playing into whether or not the public should be informed about the dangers about distracted driving.

Here’s the link to the article.

For your reading pleasure, here’s a snippet of the article:

But such an ambitious study never happened. And the researchers’ agency, the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, decided not to make public hundreds of pages of research and warnings about the use of phones by drivers — in part, officials say, because of concerns about angering Congress.

So I stopped at the convenience store to pick up a bottle of iced tea. I was in luck, though I rarely stop at this particular store so I was flying blind, so to speak, they had the brand of iced tea that I enjoy because it’s made of real all-natural tea (instead of just labeled all-natural tea which often contains high fructose corn syrup or sucralose). The young man behind the counter was relatively grubby looking; I pulled out my wallet to pay. As I did so, he looked like I had just pulled Magenta’s ray gun and was about to stun him. I handed him the two dollars and waited for my change. He looked at me oddly and gave me my change and I turned and left. I politely said “Thank you”, he was silent. Just as I was approaching the door I heard him mutter something.

“Fucking Canuck.”

Here’s the thing. I have more Canadian cash than American cash to my name at the moment. I had taken out too much cash from the ATM the last time I was in Canada and found myself with a few extra bills. Since we are going to Toronto for pride in a couple of weeks, I have opted to wrap my American cash in Canadian cash in my wallet so that I don’t forget I have it when we go back. I’m also not shy about the fact that I love Canada very much (at least the parts I’ve been in) and would love the opportunity to move there so I also keep the Canadian cash around to make people notice me in an odd little way. It makes me stand out, it makes them think. I like to think that it makes them think that not everyone is the same. I was born and bred in the United States and I love my country, but I have to admit that over the past ten years or so I haven’t been as proud of it as I have been in the past.

I thought out shrugging off this little grubby man’s comment but I decided not to. I turned back to him, walked a few steps in his direction and simply said:

“Thank you for demonstrating one of the many reasons the rest of the world dislikes the United States.” I was calm and rational as I said it. The grubby little man just stared back at my comment. Another woman at the register smirked. It was then that I turned and walked out.

It was the second time in relatively recent history that someone has insulted Canada around me. I think I find this surprising.

With the recent passing of Bea Arthur, The Hallmark Channel is showing it’s respects for this extraordinary actor with a “Golden Girls” marathon today.

Known for playing two very liberated, opinionated and in the case of ‘Maude’, controversial characters, Bea excelled at her craft and left the two shows when she felt it was the right time, not when the programs dissolved into cancelation.

I just finished watching episode #66, “Dorothy’s New Friend”. This episode features Dorothy’s new friend Barbara, a snotty literary type who looks down on Rose and Blanche. In an effort to make amends with Rose and Blanche, Barbara offers to take all the girls out to an exclusive club for the evening. Sophia’s date, Murray Guttman, arrives in a powder blue tuxedo. Barbara speaks with Dorothy in the kitchen on the matter, where Dorothy discovers that Barbara won’t take Murray to the club because he’s Jewish. Dorothy realises she has misjudged her new friend and tells her to go to hell.

The line is delivered in the typical Bea Arthur manner: full of confidence and not overstated.

The problem is, Hallmark covered the line up with a really out-of-place, out-of-date laugh track. They censored the line “go to hell”.

Wow.

Bea Arthur chose to play the characters of Maude Findlay and Dorothy Zbornak because she believed in those characters and what they represented. The “Golden Girls” marathon on Hallmark Channel today is a touching tribute to her work, however, I really don’t think that Bea would be satisfied with the way these episodes have been edited.

It’s a shame. I thought Hallmark Channel had picked up the “Golden Girls” from Lifetime because they recognised a classic.

What they apparently recognised was the ad revenue.

So on the way home from work I decide to do something really daring and start punching around the “terrestrial” radio stations on the old-fashioned radio in the Jeep. Traditional radio doesn’t offer much to a guy like me these days, what with all the merging and divesting and changing of the formats going on. There’s my old station that went to outright Top 40 and became very less gay, they play Britney Spears’ “Circus” 24/7. Sometimes they throw in a commercial or two to keep it interesting. There’s the “Good Times Rock ‘n Roll” station called “Oldiez” that plays that car cruisin’ music like “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper and “I Ran” by Flock of Seagulls. Then they play “The Twist” followed by “The Lord’s Prayer” by Sister Janet Mead. I think they should change their name from “Oldiez” to “Sybil”, as it would be much more apropro.

Four of the ten or so primary stations in this area have gone to an all religious format. Sometimes I get a kick out of hearing what they have to say on these stations because quite frankly I find them exceedingly absurd. One of my favorites, “Faith and Hope for the New World” or something like that was offering financial advice to callers. The call I listened to was from a man who was over his head in debt and didn’t know how to deal with it.

The man was living under the following circumstances. He and his new bride had four children in five years. They lived in a small house in the country that they absolutely adored but it was a little small and far from the city where their church was. So instead of selling the house and relocating, they decided to rent the house out and then buy a new house in the process, something newer, bigger and located in the city (he didn’t say which, I’m guessing Paducah). Due to their financial considerations, owning a house, having four toddlers, etc., they were unable to come up with a downpayment for their new house, so they got an 80/20 mortgage to cover that. After a couple of years they realised that they couldn’t afford the bigger, newer house that was located in the city so they decided to sell it.

O.k., they have two houses, one presumably being paid for by the rent they are collecting from their tenant in the small house in the country and another house that they have two mortgages on and can’t really afford. They decide to sell the second house. So what do they do?

They rent an apartment.

That’s right, they rented an apartment so they could sell the new house, because they didn’t know that you could be living in the house when it was being looked at by prospective buyers.

So they are paying roughly three mortgages and rent on an apartment that is presumably big enough to handle two adults and four toddlers.

They were curious as to where they went wrong with their finances.

The kind gentleman on the “Faith and Hope for the New World” gently told them that they didn’t need to move out of their house until it was actually sold and that they should bag the apartment and move back into the house to save a little money.

He was way too kind, I would have just called them a dumb ass.

And I wonder why the United States is in such financial disarray today. Just think, this brainiac has made four more just like him for the next generation to enjoy.