Category Archives: Uncategorized

Empty your Bucket

Masters 4

BUCKET LIST (noun): a list of things that one has not done before but wants to do before dying

I think we all have our Bucket Lists; I hope you do.  That trip, adventure, goal we want to complete before the clock expires on this earthy world.  One of the very largest items in my personal bucket was a trip to The Masters golf tournament in Augusta, Georgia with my Dad, Big Frank.  Well, last April we removed this item from the bucket.

Masters 12

The trip was everything we hoped for and beyond.  He and I spent three incredible days walking the most beautiful and hallowed ground in golf lore.  Augusta National is golf heaven for the player and fan alike.

Since I was a little kid, the week of The Masters has been very special.  On this week, Dad and I carve out as much possible time together to just sit and soak it all in.  To actually walk the course, smell the perfectly manicured grass, stand just feet away from the worlds’ best players (and even drink a few very economically priced adult beverages) was everything  we dreamed it would be.

Masters 8

The moment we left those “pearly gates” of Magnolia Lane, we both insisted we needed to come back; as soon as possible.  It was 100% worth it.

And so, we booked the trip to return in 2019.

But, life got in the way; as life tends to do.  Late last year, Big Frank got diagnosed with cancer.  He would have a big battle on his hands.  Masters 2.0 for the McCabe Boys was not going to happen this year.  That said, he has a very positive prognosis and fights the good fight everyday to get back to his full health.

And so we will, per usual, enjoy another Masters from the comfort of home.

First round is less than 48 hours away.

And while I am confident Dad and I will be back in Georgia in April again, you never know?  I am just so thankful we have no regrets and got there when we could.

More so, what prompted me to pen this story today is when I learned one of the most kind, genuine and decent human beings I ever knew passed away; very unexpectedly and far too young.  He led a wonderful life, but I am sure he had some more items on his list he will never get to cross off.

Start emptying your bucket.

Rest easy, Billy.

 

Advertisements

Voter’s Remorse

100 days in.  Remorse is growing stronger….

Written 1/12/17

————————–

I voted for Donald Trump.

I did.

Like (obviously) many Americans, I was/am ready for a change.  Like any Average Joe, I do not feel as if the country was doing the best it could for me and my family.  I am ready for change.

Step back a year.  As the election race evolved, I became weary.  I can’t vote for Hillary (certainly not Bernie) but reality -TV-crazy-man, Donald Trump, surely won’t win the nomination? No way. I’ll wait this out.  It will be fine.  Someone great will surface.

But s/he didn’t.  Months turned to weeks.  Weeks turned to days.  Holy shit.  Donald Trump is the Republican National Party’s nominee for President of the United States of America?

Ok.  Deep breath.  This could be a good thing?

Right?

Time for  a major change.  An evolution.  Turn things upside down.

Right?

That’s what I tried to buy in to.

As November grew closer I got more and more apprehensive.  Watching the Saturday Night Live-fodder made me even more nervous.  This guy is not built for President.  He is just a giant, orange, obnoxious, rich bully.  He is an asshole.  I hate him.  Everyone hates him.

After 3 debates, it was quite clear Hillary Rodham Clinton would be the (first woman) next President.  I was a bit apathetic, so I entered that voting booth and figured ‘What the hell, Donald.  Have my vote.  Doesn’t matter and anything is better than Hillary.  You can’t win anyway”.  

Right?

And then this shit actually happened.  He won.

Wow.  Well, maybe this is OK?

Right?

Healthy change in the country.  Cant be a bad thing?

Right?

And then I REALLY started to pay attention.  Like a moment of clarity, I was filled with regret.  This guy is a narcissistic, ego-maniacal, shallow, spoiled, childish asswipe…and he will be MY President.  What have I done?

While I am, by no means, an Obama guy, I reflect on where I sit as a human.  Love or hate his politics, Barack Obama appears to be a ‘good dude’.

Right?

A family man. A gentleman.  A good husband and father.  Classy.  The qualities I certainly aspire to possess.  Dare I say Barack Obama was certainly, “Presidential“?

And then I watched this presentation of the Medal of Freedom he bestowed upon his Veep, Joe Biden.  Like Mr. Obama, I am not necessarily a Biden guy either, but if I step back, Joe Biden is the guy you totally want to hang with.

Right?

Fun, funny, charming, charismatic and, most notably, good hearted.  Joe Biden is the guy you would be grilling burgers and sneaky smoking (legal) weed with on a Friday night.  He just is.

And isn’t that what America is about?  Isn’t that what you want a leader to be?  A person like you.  Relatable.  Basic. Kind.  Real.

Right?

And now we have this orange, soulless, baseless,  useless a-hole about to lead the free world.

Donald Trump is the guy who would cheap shot punch you during gym class when no one was looking?  He is guy that cuts you in the lunch line cause his Dad bought the team uniforms.  The guy that pays for his kid to be on the varsity team.  The guy that has no time for a couple Budweisers and some football talk with you.  The guy that actually makes fun of special needs people.  He is a fucking dickhead.  And I cast a vote for him…in the name of change.

And while I had/have no interest in Bill-ary leading our country…this guy?  Big mistake…and I aided it.  Why can’t we just have a “do over”?

Right?

So, I am sorry ladies and gentlemen.  We fucked up.  Can’t we all just poetically exclaim in unison”You’re fired!“?

TOP 10: What I would do with Tom Brady during his suspension…

The Greatest Football Player of All Time, Thomas Edward Patrick Brady (Christ, that might be the greatest freaking NAME of all time!) is about to be mortal.  He is about to become a regular person.  Human.

In the coming days, our beloved TB12 has to join the rest of us “fans” and simply sit back and watch the first 4 weeks of NFL action.  Tom will be sitting at home and watching HIS Patriots play their first four games like he was just another Joe (Montana).  It is hard to imagine.  Hard to digest.  Hard to believe.  And while this is a devastating blow to the Pats, this is the one team in professional sports that can likely manage it, even with TFB sidelined (insert gratuitous FUCK YOU, GOODELL!)

And so, got me thinking.  What to do during this black hole in Boston sports history?  Of course I will remain glued to the TV each week with the rest of you but also…what will Tom be doing?  Per his suspension he can have no contact with his teammates.  Can’t visit the stadium, sit on the sidelines, throw a pass, communicate in any way with anyone in the NFL. (Yeah sure.  As if Coach Bill and J McD don’t have more burner phones hidden than Anthony Weiner’s weiner)

Got thinking more – what would I do if I could spend these 4 weeks with Tom Brady?

(SIDEBAR: If Tom was ever actually willing to host a contest where one lucky fan could spend the suspension month with him, the funds raised would make the entire history of The Jimmy Fund Radiothon look like a 6 year old’s $.25/cup lemonade stand. He’d probably cure cancer too.  Just sayin’.)

What would you do with Tom if you got that opportunity?

The listing of possible activities is endless, but here is my top 10. (all entries are rooted in strict hetero-sexuality, I assure you)

10.  Grooming:

Lets get this one off the table, who would not want to assist in assembling the G.O.A.T. everyday?  What the hell kind of magic potions, ointments, soaps, shampoos, lotions, creams, etc. create that level of magnificence?  Even this new, ah hem, ‘interesting’ hair style.  So what.  I need to know.

Image result for tom brady new hair

9. Go to the mall:

Yup, I bet TB never can do this given his fame, but I want that experience.  I want to walk in to Structure and watch the heads turn.  I want to pepper spray oncoming crazed fans.  I want to be the one protecting him.  I want to hold his hand in the food court while waiting in line for an Orange Julius.

8.  Prank calls to Sports Radio:

I want to be the Bart Simpson or Baba Booey to these stations that loath the Patriots and Tommy Boy.  I would use Tom to legitimize the call and then scream drunken obscenities (see #5 before they could cut us off.  Then #12 and I would giggle and have a quick pillow fight before our next call to glory.

7Image result for karate in the garage

Enough said here.

6. Tandem-Bike-Ride (could be substituted for Motorcycle with sidecar, but whatever, whatever) -through-Boston-to-Duck-Boats-Sit-on-Good-Will-Hunting-Bench-for-3 -Hours-in-Silence

(or something generally along those lines)

5.  Drinking

Yes, I know, Tom is not completely fueled and energized by booze like the rest of Patriots Nation, but this is fantasy.  In this world, Tom and I hit the bottle hard…every afternoon.  And I’m not talking about ‘sitting around the house sipping on some Bad Larrys’-kind of drinking.  I mean bar hopping from Back Bay to Brighton to Barnstable.  I mean jello shots with every Barstool Smokeshow since 2010.  White Girl wasted.  Watching the Greatest throw up a little late night Moons Over My Hammie in a Denny’s parking lot would be a privilege and an honor.

4.  Get arrested…

…for streaking…at Gillette Stadium, but during a Revolution practice.  Cause…Fuck you twice Goodell!

Image result for streaker football game

3.  Visit a Michigan University Sorority House. 

Be like hunting with nuclear weapons.

Image result for michigan university sororities

2. Potato Sack Race Against the Manning Brothers (no, not you Cooper.  Sit back down)

Win, lose or draw the Mannings are going in those sacks and being thrown off the Tobin.

Image result for manning brothers

1. PLAY CATCH!  DUH!

Image result for tom brady playing catch

Period.

And so, may the month of September fly by as fast as the salmon of Capistrano!

GO PATS!!!!

 

Back to School

Image result for back to school funny

Dedicated to Botto, Ellen, Boogie, Skeets, Shauno and the rest of you dedicated educators

(Reblog from 2013, because laziness is the hallmark of starting school)

No matter your color, creed, political affiliation or ethnicity when you hear the phrase “back to school” it elicits an emotionFrom the time we can comprehend the concept until we are in our golden years those three words mean something to just about everyone; especially students, teachers and parents.  But even for those beyond the educational starting-line that is “back to school”, the expression conjures up some feeling be it past, present or future.  Every one of us has had to manage the passage of returning to school for some portion of our lives and later, many need to manage this annual happening with our offspring.

With the beginnings of another school year upon us again I began to think about the feelings that are mustered up when we hear those three little words  And so, here is my review of the emotional roller coaster we each ride over the course of our lifetime when we hear that timeless expression.

Age 7: Wonder & Excitement

First grade baby!  Are you kidding me?  What on earth is better than 1st grade?  You have already survived the politics and mind games that you surely confronted in kindergarten.  Now it’s time to party.  No more naps.  No more half days. You have your own little friend posse and you are ready to take it out for a spin.  First grade may be the last grade you enter with no real expectations or demands put upon you.  Show up, shut up and smile…you’ll get straight ‘A’s’.  Fact.

Age 11: Confusion & Uncertainty

Well, you have now dominated elementary school.  You have been to the top of the mountain.  King or Queen of that K-5 hill and now it’s time for the next chapter.  But, not so fast my friend.  It’s not that simple.  Not only are you entering into those years with perhaps the largest age bracket of punks, sneaks and (future) criminals, you are in an all-out war with your hormones.  For the fellas, they are noticing they are growing hair on more than their heads.  What is this?  Not to mention your voice sounds like you are the next of kin of Michael J. Fox and Peter Brady.  Oh and let’s not forget about your, ah hem, newfound acquaintance with your…never mind.  As for the young ladies, you are meeting two new close “friends” and not sure how you should manage their inauguration.  That’s all I really know about girls  (back then and now).  As for the academics?  Spanish?  Algebra?  More than ONE teacher to deal with?  How do I get out of this one?  Junior High sucks…on most levels.

Age 14: Fear & Loathing

Congratulations!  You have managed the daily minefield that was Junior High School but now it’s time to take off the training wheels.  It’s a brave new world. While you almost have your newfound adult form in check, you are now the littlest of tadpoles in the big pond.  For the young men, you are getting pounded by the upper classmen; on the field, in the gym, in the hallways, in the parking lot.  NO escape.  Your only saving grace is there are REAL women here for you to gawk at!  Yeowza!  No more wearing sweatpants to school.  I’ll leave it at that.  And for you poor freshmen girls…that is how you are viewed by your elders; ‘girls’.  Prepare yourself to be mocked ad nauseum by every single older female you come across.  They will judge your clothes, your hair, your shoes, your friends…everything.  Even if you are a squeaky clean all-American girl, you will be mocked and probably be rumored to have made out with the janitor, Carl, before Columbus Day.  For you early developing 9th grade ladies, I always hated you.  Why?  Because you were not wasting your time with a silly co-ed freshmen boy like me when the senior captain of the basketball team named ‘Scooter’ has just asked you to the prom during orientation.

Age 18: Hip Hip HOORAY!!!

You made it!  Graduated high school.  You can vote.  In some places you can drink!  You have big dreams and ambitions.  The world is your oyster.  Oh, here is the really good part for the lucky ones; COLLEGE baby!  On your own.  No more parents and curfews.  New friends to meet.  Ridiculous theme parties. Fraternities. Tailgates.  Awesomeness aplenty.  Going ‘back to school’ for the 18 year old is the apex of life…so far.  Breathe in that higher educational air, start an ultimate Frisbee game, and chug that beer!

Age 21: Depressed & Scared

Where the hell did college go?  What do you mean it’s over?  Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?  What do you mean I am not going ‘back to school’?  I need to pay my own bills?  What in God’s name is going on?  Even for you brainy slicksters that continue on to law, med or grad school, the joke is on you.  The school work is harder, the party has ended and, likely, so has your parents’ generosity.  For the rest of you, grab a helmet and welcome to the real world.  It sucks.

Age 30: Jealousy and Bitterness

You are likely at some mid-level job you hate.  You may have gotten married.  You may even have a kid or 2 of your own.  Life has become just too real to fathom.  When you see all those ads for ‘back to school’, you muster up intense feelings of envy and sadness.  You can finally appreciate just how awesome school really was compared to the ‘real world’.  You contemplate if there is any possible human way to turn back the clock?  There isn’t.  Put your head down…you are in for a long haul.

Age 40:  Hopefulness and Joy

By 40, you probably have a few kiddos of your own running around the school hallways.  You have channeled your previous anger and jealousy for the college years into positive feelings of hope and excitement for your children.  For many of us, ‘back to school’ is once again awesome…but for totally different reasons.  Those summer-time-dependents of yours are, once again, someone else’s problem for six hours a day for the next 10 months.  Break out the bubbly!

Age 50:  Oh Crap

By 50, you have two overpowering emotions that you have no idea how you will control and manage when ‘back to school’ is mentioned.  Number 1, my ‘baby’ is leaving for college and 2, how on God’s green earth am I going to pay for it? In a related story, you are middle aged and gross.  BOO!

Age 60: Oh well

The kids are grown up, moved on and no longer your problem; financial or otherwise.  ‘Back to school’?  Who cares?  We are headed for Boca come October anyway.

Age 80: Who’s going back to school?

No really?  I can’t hear very well.

In the immortal words of Billy Madison

“Oh, Back to school, back to school

To prove to Dad I’m not a fool

I’ve got my lunch packed up, my boots tighed tight

I hope I don’t get in a fight

Oh, Back to school, back to school…”

A ”Lochte” to hate about this Olympics

Police say Ryan Lochte, swimmers lied about alleged robbery

derp-67

Police said the swimmers were confronted by security guards carrying guns after leaving a party at the French hospitality house.

RIO DE JANEIRO — Rio police said on Thursday that four U.S. Olympic swimmers who claimed they were robbed at gunpoint fabricated their story to cover up for a drunken night that ended with them vandalizing a gas station bathroom.

“It seems that they lied,” said Fernando Veloso, chief of Rio’s civil police. “No robbery was committed against these athletes. They were not victims of the crimes they claimed.”

Veloso’s statements at a jam-packed afternoon news conference followed a chaotic and confusing week for the U.S. team and cast a pall over the final days of the 2016 Summer Olympics. What started as a case of U.S. athletes falling victim to Rio’s notorious crime could end up leaving a black eye instead on the four American medalists.

Early Sunday morning, Ryan Lochte, Gunnar Bentz, Jack Conger and Jimmy Feigen were riding home from a party at France House — a restaurant/bar set up for the Olympics — when they said they were pulled over by men pretending to be police officers and were robbed. Lochte was the most explicit, saying one of the men put a gun to his forehead before taking their money.

Veloso gave a far different account. He said the four swimmers stopped at a gas station and one of them broke down the bathroom door and police found damage to a soap dispenser and a mirror.

The athletes were confronted by security officers, and they offered the gas station employees $20 and 100 Brazilian reais (about $33 U.S.). Veloso said the swimmers continued being belligerent, prompting a security officer to show his gun. But he said no excessive force was used and there was no way the swimmers could have interpreted the situation as a robbery.

There have been some pretty big fuck ups when we talk about celebrities (even half-ass fringe celebrities) doing stupid ass shit. Hugh Grant hiring a hooker that looked like Samuel L. Jackson on a good day.  Pee Wee Herman treating his own Herman to a good time in a public theater, The list goes on and on.  OJ, Aaron Hernandez, Rae Carruth, Evil Kanievel jumping over the canyon; all really fucking stupid things to do. Then we have a washed up reality show SWIMMER in the Olympics, which no one has even cared about since before Bruce Jenner stopped buying Goldbond powder.

Anyway, breaking this story down to the core is real simple.

  1. Shithead Swimmer  goes out and gets hammered with 3 other grape smugglers.

2.  On the way home they stop at gas station. The gas station won’t let them use the bathroom, so they piss all over the place.  As swimmers tend to do.

3.  Swimmers get in a fight with the attendant and break a door.

4.  So the head idiot swimmer decides “Hey guys I have this covered, We just tell them we got robbed at gun point.

Even for  a pancake brain like Lochte, making this allegation is completely moronic. How about the other 3 fucking idiots thinking “Yeah great idea Ryan nothing can go wrong with this plan”. This plan is equal to getting pulled over for a DUI and telling the cop “I wasn’t drinking, the booze drank me” (side note I’ve tried this it doesn’t work).

Here is how you explain Ryan Lochte.

Picture the United States as a giant High School. Ryan Lochte is stuffed in a locker, in the girls locker room. That’s it…end of comparison. We all know this guy is a fucking idiot. This shithead had a reality show on E! that was cancelled. You know how hard that is to do? For Christ sake that network will show basically anyone that will bang a black guy that plays a sport and that pansy wouldn’t even bother to blow Brittney Griner (USA WBBALL) to keep his show going. What a coward!

brittney-griner-doing-interview-160847_thumb_585x795

Okay here’s my favorite part of my blogs…They are the one liners that I love so much.

Things Lochtes buddies would have rather done that night then lie about being robbed

-Accompanied the North Korean losing athletes home to face Kim Jong Un

-Taken a dip in the Poop Ocean in RIO

-Tried to piece together all the severed limbs that wash up on RIOs beach

-Go to a gay club with some new friends they met from Syria

-Find Michael Phelps’ one other friend

-Try to help Bob Costas make those fudge cookies in his tree

-Help pay for all the abortions that will be needed just from the USA Basketball team

-Hang around with Brazils best known celebrity- The bubble bee guy on The Simpsons

41da10aa21ad0895037db3722d170553_simpBumblebeeMan_f_JPG-Climb up to the Jesus statue and find out its really The DUDE  from “The Big Lebowski”

-Chill with the Horse Dancing guys because…they gotta know how to party, right?

Lochte is so stupid he can’t finish a Highlights magazine.

He is so stupid he has Velcro shoes that match his wallet.

 He is so awful that his favorite sport is fucking swimming.

If Ryan Lochte was a cartoon character he would be fucking Millhouse from The Simpsons. Nobody needs him but if he is there no one notices anyway.

And so, just  go away Ryan.  Go crawl in a hole and leave productive humans alone. Or at least til you smoke some bath salts and eat someone’s face off like that kid in Florida. (Seriously did you see that shit? Way more entertaining then the Olympics.)

See you in 2020!

An Open Letter to Steele Johnson’s Dad

As former Blogger Cum Laude @therealdantobin stated eloquently during last night’s Olympic Men’s Synchronized Diving competition…

“You’ll always remember where you were when Steele Johnson entered your life. ‪#‎rio2016‬ ”

Steele Johnson.  What can we say?  The Man Named Steele captured the Olympic Silver Medal along with (“partner?”, “companion?”, “aero-soul mate?”, “splash dancing buddy?”) David Boudia last night in beautiful Rio.

If I know Olympic Synchronized Diving history, and I think I do, Ace and Gary should be famous for at least another 5, 4, 3, 2….yeah..sorry fellas…its over.  Congrats anyway.

The only diver I have EVER respected was Grand Lakes University legend, Thornton Melon.

thorton melon

Case closed.  Call me biased but until I see another Triple Lindy in an active diving competition, you boys are all just playing for second place in my book.

But back to our boy, Steele.  As I watched him weep and proclaim to the world he and Little Davey’s “identities were rooted in Christ“, I knew I loved what this crackerjack was all about.  I understood him.  I get it.

My next flurry of thoughts were what Daddy Johnson must be feeling at this moment?  The easy answer is ‘pride’.  The honest answer ‘shame’.  No Dad names their baby boy ‘Steele’ and envisions a lifetime of water-world-slap-n-tickle and Bible thumping whilst skipping down Copa Cabana beach in a speedo.  Those are the simply the facts.

I pictured that quaint Indiana delivery room in 1996 when Mama Steele gave birth…

Dad: “Oh my goodness!  It’s a son, Jill!”

Mom: “He is just perfect.  We should name him after you, Bill.”

Dad: “Don’t even think about it, woman.  This boy s destined for greatness.  For glory.  He needs to hold a moniker that exemplifies strength, unbendable courage and character.  Defines the unbreakable spirit of man.”

Mom: “What are you saying, Bill?”

Dad: “We shall call him….”Steele”.

And history was made.

My guess is for the next 5 years (until Bill realized Little Steeley was destined to be a Grape Smuggling Water Whacker) good ol’ Bill had grandiose visions of…

Steele, the Middle Linebacker

Steele, the Alligator Wrestler

Steele, the Bull Fighter

and the most obvious, “Steele Johnson: PORN STAR”

‘What’s that Steele?  You wanna be a Synchro Whatsie Who?’

And they say that Bill  Johnson’s heart shrank 3 sizes that day.

Take it from me…it’s no easy road for a competitive diver.  And an even harder road for your Dad.

Sincerely,

Chaz Osborn

Former National High School Champion

chaz osborn

P.S. USA USA USA!!!