Poh Pooh Ree

Flirtatious: "Can I pass you the butter rolls?"

Real Mood: Validated  (I'm only using that because of all the Olympic athletes using it the past few days to comment on both their success and failure.  Amazing! Gold may not Validate you, but maybe it would Elevate you above the world of cliche.)

Prediction: If you read on you're going to say "HUH?" at least three times.  I know I did. 

I've got it from a pretty good source that our favorite spot to show out of town visitors a Denver overview is closed, or about to close.  It's a theme restaurant with a really good regional history connection. The food is pretty decent whilst a tad pricey. But the view and the perspective has clearly been worth the price of admission. I'll update this when I can get it official.

If my source is correct, they are going to level this place to make room for condos or apartments. (Anything like that going on in your neighborhood?) So the view will still be available, just exclusive. It may be giving new meaning to the cliche "always try to make friends with people in high places." 

(that's kind of interesting going from the virtual back to the real, isn't it? I suppose when we see the prices of the condos, "high places" will have many meanings.)

This whole issue comes to light when I take one of my TV journalism students, Ray Cruz, on a quick jaunt around town. Let me give you an idea of how things just oddly connect themselves.

I show Ray a view very close to this restaurant because its where all of the local TV stations, (and networks when they visit) set up their satellite trucks to get the old "WOW," so that's Denver,  shot.

From there we go to see a  nearby neighborhood sculpture garden.   This very talented scrap metal sculptor moves back into his old neighborhood. He starts scavenging the alleys around him for raw material. (Call it focused dumpster diving.) Well along the way he picks up a lot of abandoned bicycles. Some strange "Karma" brings the sculptor in contact with neighborhood youth who need bike repairs. So when the zoning people stop by to say you can sculpt here? The neighborhood screams, "YES HE CAN!" I think he's been there at least 15 years since then.

So I'm thinking I should show Ray some other unique urban feature. So we head to Balestreri Vineyards. So you're thinking we hop on a jet, fly to San Francisco, zip out to Napa, and sip some Shiraz?  No, we just drive about two miles north of Denver into this metro area's most industrial complex.

IF your eyes are open, there,  next to the warehouses, power plants, and beer by the pitcher bars, you'll see them, about 2 acres max....row upon row of delicately cared for grape vines. (each row is electronically heated.)

A few blocks away you can find the Balestreri home and winery.  They hand bottle everything and have a small but delightful tasting room. The Balestreri's have been living in the area for several generations. They'd been in the cut flower business and knew the land was good. And hey, they're Italian. Italians usually make and know wine, don't they?  Why tie up the bathtub?

I try to stay away from endorsements, but there was an old TV cereal campaign with the theme statement, "Try it, you'll like it!" It would apply in this case for even the most delicate vino palate.

So anyway, here we are, at a winery? Well that inspires Ray to remember one of my BLOG entrys where I'm talking about Kyle's.  Kyle's is one of those bars where people of my generation go to get nostalgic.  There's a pool table, posters all over the place, a bar that's been through a few wars, comfort food, and an atmopshere that demands open and honest debate.

"Where is that Kyle's Paul?"

"Okay Ray, we'll go there."

I made a few wrong turns getting from wine to beer.  But that was okay because it took us through some other "earthy" neighborhoods I hadn't been to in a while.

"Wanna go in and have a glass of Tea?"

"Sure!"

Going from sunshine into the neon lights requires a few seconds of eye adjustment.  That's just along enough for me to focus on the voice I hear say, "Reinertson!"

There sits my old friend Tom Gleason, former spokesperson for Senator Gary Hart and Energy Secretary Federico Pena. Well we probably bore Ray with some "good old days" nostalgia when I tell Tom, "took Ray up near that restaurant where you can really "see" the city."

"Well I think it's closed or going to be closed soon," Tom says.

"Huh! Why?"

"Apartments or Condos is what I'm hearing!"

See how things just sort of connect if you let them, no matter what? 

"You want to pass me the pickled eggs?"

You learn pretty quick in Journalism that there is no such thing as a free cup of coffee (or glass of ice tea). To pay for my tea I promise to give directions to "Kyle's."

Whenever you're in Denver head East or West on I-70 to Quebec. Get off on Quebec and head South to Smith road.  Turn left or East on Smith Road until you reach the first street you come to where you can turn left over the railroad tracks. Drive straight ahead to Kyle's.  (Caution: You'll think you're lost the whole time you're getting there.)

I got a really fun response from Sheila from Yonkers on the Goose entry.  She sent it by regular e-mail but I have her permission to paste it in here.

Sheila says there are lots of "honkers" in "yonkers" that can drive you "bonkers."

But about our lone goose she writes, " That thar lonesome goose? It was herself-old Mother Goose in a bit of a snit. She was sick and tired of that gabbling honking bitching and moaning goose pack always on her heels and she just needed some space to find herself, so to speak. (did you mean, so to honk?)  Will she return to the Gaggle? I don't know. Will she make it to the Anniversary? At 60 mph, maybe."

If you are looking for a theme restaurant with a view? Simm's Landing East of Denver off of 6th avenue is still around. I owe them nothing. You'll have to find it on your own.

Maybe you'll want to visit Kyle's or Simm's Landing on your way to THE ANNIVERSARY OF Paul'sModestMusings, NOW JUST ABOUT TWO MONTHS AWAY.

How Come?

Flirtatious: "Can we fly united"

Real Mood: Curious ( that's such an obvious one I was sure it was going to be one of AOL's designated moods? But no! Not even CURIOUS is on their list.)

Prediction: Bode Miller will soon shave.

This is going to be a quickie. I just have to share and ask for your feedback.

So I'm headed down the highway on the way to campus this morning? Using my "driver's training" peripheral vision something seems to be following me in the air.

Sure enough it was a bird getting in it's morning aerobics. It was cranking out about 60 mph with that wing flapping. (might have been more, but I'm not going to confess.)

On a curve I get a little better look at this flying creature.  It looks very strange. It's neck is sticking way out in front of it's body. I'm not quite sure what it is until with my window down I hear, "Honk!"

It's just a goose.  This town is loaded with them.  But I can't think of very many times in my life I've seen a goose flying all by itself?

And so it set me to thinking.  What could have transpired that seperated this poor bird from the flock.  Was it some inappropriate digestive release in a crowd?  Had he or she or it "honked" the wrong thing to the "V" leader?  I tossed the same question to my Intro class today and got some pretty good speculation.

"Maybe he slept in!"

"Maybe his mate got hit by a truck and he's in mourning."

"Could be he's like Jonathon Livingston Seagull, and just wants to get away from the pack and try new things."

Anyway I just thought it would be fun to open the door and see what your speculation might be.  Why was that goose flying solo?

Join the insanity!

YOU DON'T NEED TO BE HIT BY A TRUCK TO KNOW WHAT'S COMING UP 57 DAYS FROM NOW. " CORRECTO MUNDO AMIGO. "  IT'S THE ANNIVERSARY OF PaulsModestMusings. BE THERE! BE THERE EARLY! BE THERE OFTEN. DON'T LET THE OTHER GEESE GET THERE BEFORE YOU. JUST 57 MORE DAYS!

Just Park It!

Flirtatious: " Like to ride on my crane up to the penthouse?"

Real Mood: Sore!

Prediction: An Australian entrepeneur will develop an environmentally correct pickup that runs on Vegemite.

I've enjoyed so much of what I've done in life, I often think I've totally defeated the negative emotion, ENVY! But totally is not really an honest operative when it comes to any human sensitivity. There is always a vestige of every evil intention lurking within our souls. Like, ya know, I don't believe Will Rogers when he says, " I never met a man I didn't like?" 

Sorry Will, that's just not possible. Unless you've had a lobotomy administered, there has to be some person, or group of person's that "frost your pumpkin." There has to be some little quirk or condition within some portion of your fellow man you ENVY.

You know it's pretty easy to ENVY a rich man if you're poor.  It's close to normal to ENVY a pretty person if you are not one. I can see ENVYING a fast person if you are slow, a thin person if you are hefty, a smart person if you are intellectually challenged.  I like to think, that while I might have been on the short end of a few of those sticks, I've pretty much overcome any sense of jealousy in said categories. But there IS a classification of humanity I can't help but ENVY.  Which classification?  THE CONSTRUCTION WORKER.

I was reminded of this traveling to work recently.

I'll lay odds you are NOT guessing why I ENVY construction workers.

Sure, they don't have to wear ties. They are expected to get dirt all over them. They don't have to wash up until they get home. They get to release all their negative energy through their hammers, pliers, saws and pipe wrenches. Flatulence is not only tolerated but generally admired. They get to sweat all the poison out of their systems every day.  They tend to make a lot of money per hour. They are expected to show up at sports bars and down a few kegs of beer, and get rowdy.  They sleep like babies. They tend to be in pretty good physical shape. Ergo a lot of the opposite sex openly lust after them.

Certainly there is something in this laundry list that I would covet? 

Not a whit! Been there, done that, sorta. No, what I envy is what I noticed on that drive to work that day.  THEY, construction workers, get to PARK ANYWHERE THEY WANT! That just isn't right.

Put a tool bin in the back of your pickup and you own the World.

While the rest of us follow some semblence of agreed upon parking rules? The construction worker sees some space?  She just occupies it. ( does that cover me?)  And no one questions her. (that should do it)

Fire persons and police persons can pretty much park where they want. But they have to have pretty good reasons.  They need smoking guns, fires, explosions.  Not the construction workers. 

"Just pull up on the sidewalk there while I run in and get myself some beef jerky."

"Hey it's lunchtime.  Just park out by the pool and we'll eat under the veranda."

"Just pull in behind that front loader and we'll play some Texas Hold 'Em under the bucket."

"Just squeeze around those cones and park by that porta potty. I gotta pee!"

It just ain't right!  It just ain't fair!

"HEY SWEETIE, BRING ME  A COLD ONE!"

"What do you think you are? A construction worker? GET IT YOURSELF!"

Boy I ENVY THOSE GUYS (and gals). 

I miss-read my calendar. Sorry! It turns out there are 58 days left before the ANNIVERSARY OF PaulsModestMusings. THAT JUST GIVES YOU MORE TIME TO PLAN YOUR PARTY AND ORDER YOUR SNACKS. IT GIVES ME MORE TIME TO HYPE WHAT WILL BE THE GREATEST BLOG ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION ON THE PLANET.  BE READY.  YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE IT!

HOPE THEY PAY MOVING COSTS!

Flirtatious: "Need a ride to the new campus?"

Real Mood: Rib Nudging

Prediction: A woman from either Olney, England or Liberal, Kansas will win the annual Pancake Day race on Shrove Tuesday, 2007. Mark my word!

So the headline above is in the Rocky Mountain News. In case your screen is small? The sub-head reads "Louisville employees going to Broomfield."

If you live around here? And you finally read the sub-head? You start laughing.  I'll tell you why in a minute.  But let's back up.

I know I've said in this forum that I'm determined I'll neither a "media critic" nor a "media apologist" be.  And what I mean by this is I don't want a label.  I'm certainly going to point out the excesses and foibles of the professions and their products as I see them.  And I'm particularly going to do that when what I see makes me "guffaw."

Some time ago I remember ruing the day The Christian Science Monitor started using headlines. One of the great things about that newspaper was it's passionate commitment to fairness. Not sensationalizing their stories with headlines was a testament to that commitment.

I suppose I can still compliment the Monitor along with the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times. When you read their headlines they tend to be a PRETTY good indication of what's going to be in the article. They are still clearly on the opposite end of the sensational continuum of the tabloids.  But like TV and Radio teases and promotions, headlines are designed to get your attention. Perception and perspective be damned! "We just want you on board."

Okay, back to the case in point. Had you just moved to town? Had you just had a second to scan the headlines with your latte? You could be forgiven if your heart started bleeding for these poor souls. They will have to pack up all their worldly goods, sell their homes, yank the kids out of school and leave Kentucky for some "God Awful" town named for a Broom.

"Wait a cotton pickin' minute!"

This Louisville is a suburb of Denver.  Not that it's critical, but the pronunciation of this Louisville is not debatable.  Say "LOO' us ville." Still these one thousand workers must now commute to this new town, Broomfield.

The lead "graph" in the story hints at the deceptive nature of the headline.  It reads, "Sun Microsystems Inc. plans to move approximately 1,000 or more of it's employees to its Broomfield campus from its nearby Louisville campus."

How nearby? Well first of all you should probably know the distance between the city and county of Broomfield and the town of Louisville? The distance would be the microscopic width of a pencil line needed to draw a border between the two entities.  They are adjacent, butt up to each other, share common roads and highways, etc, ad infinitum.

But hey these could be pretty good sized communities and still involve a significant distance between the two campuses?

Well the Louisville campus is just Northwest of a large regional mall, "Flatiron Crossing?"  The Broomfield campus? It's just Southeast of a regional mall called, "Flatiron Crossing."  Hmmm?

I think the biggest inconvenience this grand's worth of displaced "techies" will face? They may need to switch their Starbuck's location loyalty. They should still be able to lunch with their old colleagues at the Food Court.

Lost in small print in this story? Trading on the Nasdaq, Sun Microsystems was up a nickle.  

I'm not going to fight the excesses. Like it or not they are institutionalized and part of our evolution.  I may even participate in them at times. But I hope if I point them out once in a while we won't get so serious about everything.

BUT ONE DATE YOU MUST TAKE SERIOUSLY? THE ANNIVERSARY OF PaulsModestMusings. GET HOTEL RESERVATIONS NOW WHILE ROOMS ARE STILL AVAILABLE! THIS COULD TURN YOUR WHOLE LIFE AROUND. JUST 43 MORE DAYS!

Tangentially Yours,

Flirtatious: "How's the water?"

Real Mood:  Meanderingly Driven

Prediction: Strawberry Silk Pie will overtake Strawberry Shakes in popularity in Bath, North Carolina by 2009.

Congrats to Casey and Jeff. They produced Mac in Pasadena this week.  They promise to keep him well-fed and happy.

Jeff joins a bunch of  all the hornbills I see around town on Valentine's Day morning. One of them is this guy pushing his kid in the swing while mommy sleeps in.

I think it was too early for the Gorillas, Mallards and stray dogs.

A couple of days ago I look up on the hill behind our house and spot a pair of owls.  Isn't this a little early for mating? I get this weird "Harry Potter" like feeling that they are telling me something. But What? 

Then later in the day we are out on a walk and a prarie dog stands up and barks at me. What's that mean?

Today I see a flicker banging away at the trunk of our ash tree while probably 30 finches and sparrows chatter around him. They are fighting over bird feeder access.  It is as if the Flicker doesn't even know they're there.

Now that's focus.  I wonder if there is a direct correlation between hunger gradients and levels of concentration?

Which reminds me that I stop by the "Daily Grind" to break a 20 Dollar bill so I can drop a 5  dollar bill to get out of the parking garage. Many of the employees at the Daily Grind are from foreign countries because they can work on campus, without a green card, I think. I at least know they can work at the Daily Grind where as they can't work out in the broader community.   

They also work at the new parking garage where they charge 5 bucks a day.

Anyway I pick up a pastry and ask for a cup of coffee.  The woman at the cash register is of Asian descent.  She quickly rings up the coffee...and then turns to a supervisor and says, " Is that a scone?"

I can sense a Brit saying, " are those pig knuckles?"

We're still sporting a lot of differences on the planet, arn't we. My friends Duane and Nancy tell of their Peace Corps experience in East Africa. They say field mice stuffed into bamboo is a delicacy. You buy it at the market by the foot.

We were out for breakfast this morning.  I'm not sure what the wait person is thinking about. 

"What would you like to drink sir?"

"Well, water and maybe some coffee."

She returns with a coffee pot and cups.  No water!

"Can I get that water?"

"Oh, sure.  I'll get that right away."

She heads to the kitchen and picks up an order for the table next to us.  She serves our neighbors and hardly notices we're on the planet.

"Excuse me? The water?"

"Oh, yes. I'll get that right away."

Off she goes to the kitchen. I notice she gets called in a direction away from the fountain.  She responds to that call.

Well it seems she's been called to pick up our order. She doesn't want it to get cold and brings it right to the table.  I'm about to say, "forget the water!"

But I think she finally focuses on my brain waves and beats me to the punch.

"I'll get that water now."

This woman is not sporting a lot of fatty tissue.  She's one step up from anorexic I'd say.

I'm half way through my Southwest Chicken Skillet and she returns saying, "Here's that water sir."

I think they need to feed the poor woman.  Then she could focus.  You know focus like a FLICKER. 

I see a picture of a new pie offering called Strawberry Silk pie. Maybe she can have some of that (with water).

Extra Credit to any student who can turn all this into a story. It will be fun for the rest of us to watch while we're munching on our Strawberry Silk Pie. (Maybe you can't munch on silk. Maybe you can only gum it.)   

Only about 45 days to go to the SUPER INCREDIBLE MIND NUMBING OXYGEN SUCKING SPIRITUAL JOURNEY INTO THE MOST OVERPOWERING ANNIVERSARY OF THE ENCHANTINGLY UNBELIEVABLE BLOG OF OUR TIME, PaulsModestMusings. HAVE YOU GOT YOU'RE RESERVATIONS?

You Animal!

Flirtatious: "Is that a gelatinous rhino horn? Or are you just glad to see me? "

Real Mood: Adolescently Ticklish

Prediction: Love will live another day. At least one more day.

THIS BLOG ENTRY IS RATED 'R': TONS OF NUDITY (see above) AND MILD VIOLENCE (coming up).

Let's get some attribution out of the way here.  What I am about to launch into I have absolutely no expertise in. All of the information I'm about to share I've acquired from three qualified sources. I have no reason to doubt the veracity of their facts and "FIGURES."  At this juncture they will be known simply as "My Sources." Should this wind up in court?  I'll squeal like a pig.

Let's start in the middle.

There are these juvenile persons who grow up on a farm, and go to a one room school house. The day comes when they must be shipped off to town to attend Middle School.  There they are enrolled in a Sex Education Class.

"Now children we are going to talk about the Birds and the Bees!" 

"Huh?" The kids are in stitches. "Excuse me Mrs. Dimwitty.  If you're talking about sex? Wouldn't it be better to talk about cows or horses or goats. Birds and Bees do it so fast! And you can't see anything!"

"Well young man we'll just have to talk about that after class."

So many years ago a brave Zoo curator, on one of the coasts, decides it might be fun to have Valentine's Day at the Zoo.  He will bring the media in and discuss the love making of a variety of species.  He will be graphic enough so that it will be a test of local media's bravery to see how much of it makes air.

Well eventually the concept makes it to this market. Thus begins the education of prhinos:

While multi-layered, love making has at least two components. There is the physical aspect of romance. Then there is the wide range of behaviors of the various species.  To make this trip meaningful, I will comingle the two layers.  Okay, enough teasing.

When the female Tapir goes into estrus? Ready to breed? She can often be seen racing away at full speed from the male.  And she truly appears to be screaming for help as her sexual counterpart approaches.  Why? Well the Tapir's "Unit?" It's clearly the largest in the animal kingdom relative to it's body size. I'm told we're talking 27 inches at the low end.  What can we learn from the Tapir? Yes, size counts.  But that's not always a GOOD thing.

(THAT WAS THE MILD VIOLENCE I REFERRED TO IN PICKING AN 'R' RATING.)

Now that Gorrrilllaaa! I'll bet HE'S one heck of a lover.  Look at him beat that chest.  How could SHE resist him? Sorry to let you in on this little secret, and I'll bet he's sorry I'm telling you. He's all show, very little go!  The Gorilla is probably the source of the expression, "Wham! Bam! Thank you Maam."  I'm told the average length of time of the procreation act among Gorillas?  Eight seconds!

Here's an odd comparison. The Orangutan? Both sexes are apparently insatiable sex maniacs. Even though the male at the Denver Zoo had a vasectomy?  I'm told NON-STOP foolin' around.

"Oh, look at that little male Mallard Duck.  Isn't he cute.  I'll bet he chips right in and helps raise the little ducklings?"

Sorry again. I'm told the Mallard male may be the horniest little guy on the planet. "Hops on, hops off and moves on." That's how it was explained to me.  Put him in a human context and it's my information he'd put Wilt Chamberlain to shame. (you men are on your own explaining that one to your significant others.)

"Look at the tall stately polar bear! What a great family man he must be.  I'll bet he really defends his clan."

Ha! In the words of my source, "he is the ultimate deadbeat dad. Not only is he of no help during pregnancy or early bear rearing? He won't even recognize his offspring!  And if he does? He will recognize his kid as LUNCH."

 Well is there not an animal amongst us that can serve as a proper Valentine's Day role model?

Funny you should ask. Let's take the Hornbill. The Hornbill mates for life. ( and life to them can be over 60 years.) And while mom sits on "eggchild?" Dad runs around and gathers food for all three of them ( I don't know about you but I hate going to the grocery store). And he plays a key role in helping the fledgling make it to adulthood.

Cranes? Whoa! Lovey Dovey.  They hug (necks), they dance together, and they also mate for life. And it appears LOVE may be  more of an issue than procreation for them.  Case in Point?

Denver Zoo gets itself a pair of Cranes and puts them in an area together.  The Zoosters think they've done everything right because theseCranes, like the Orangutans, can't  keep their feathers off each other.  Then there is nest building. Oh, will we soon have a blessed event?  Nothing happens.  Finally a Vet gets in their area to have a closer look. Whoops!   TWO MALES.

Now here's a case for the "NATURE" argument of homosexuality. The Zoo decides it will try to break up this relationship.  They go out and get themselves a CERTIFIED female to see if they can initiate a little love triangle.  Well...you've figured it out.  The guys won't go anywhere near her. 

And she doesn't seem to care anyway....because as the story goes? She falls in love with her keeper.  I think it's best we leave this story here!

I gave a little hint about a month ago how I would wrap up this treatise.  You want a lover? I mean a real lover? Consider the Rhino. If you look hard enough you can find this information somewhere on the internet under RHINOCEROS: MATING HABITS.

When Rhinos copulate? The average length of "the act" (foreplay not included)? FIFTY FIVE (55) minutes. During that time period I'm told there can be as many as 100 SPECIAL MOMENTS! If you know what I mean?

But hey, that's not what love is all about, is it.  Tommorrow is Valentine's Day.  What BEAST should be our model as we share our hearts' outpourings?

Well, let's go with the conclusion I used when I found a way to get this story on the air.  "LET'S ALL VOW TO BE HORNBILLS." 

Come on! We can do it for just one day.

Although I keep thinking about that Rhino. Eat your heart out Wilt Chamberlain.

YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT WILL BE DISCUSSED ON THE ANNIVERSARY DATE OF PaulsModestMusings. IT WILL ALTER YOUR WHOLE VIEW OF MANKIND AND THE UNIVERSE.  ONLY 47 MORE DAYS TO GO. MARK IT ON ALL YOUR CALENDARS. DON'T BE LEFT OUT.

"Valentine's day. Bah, Humbug!"

Flirtatious: "Won't you be my torrid lover?"

Real Mood: Toasty

Prediction: Diamond sales will see some increased activity Monday. (Mark this day. I think this might be my first foray into economic issues predictions.)   

This BLOG posting is rated 'G'. It has lots of 'Good' stuff in it, 'Generally' speaking.

According to The History Channel,  Valentine may have been a  third century Catholic Priest.  Legend says a Valentine contemporary, Roman Emperor, Claudius II, made a "mind blowing" discovery. "Old Claud," let's call him, notices SINGLE soldiers tend to hold their spears a little straighter than married soldiers. So an edict follows:

"By the absolute power invested in me, by me, Old Claud, I say LOVE is for wimps.  Therefore, no Single Male of  'Go to Battle Willing to Die' age, may be married."

So, the legend says, Valentine snuck around behind Old Claud's back helping soldiers, and would-be soldiers, get hitched.

Ultimately, the story goes, Valentine gets revealed, and Old Claud dispatches the priest to be with his maker.

It's clear Old Claud hadn't heard of the modern day solution to all those marriages?  Divorce? That might have kept Valentine out of the Martyr Catalog. It may have also elevated the morale of at least some of the Claudian troops.

But hey, it's just legend, and only one version of the legend.

What follows is not legend. I was there.

Whilst teaching one Valentine's Day eve,  I have a fleeting thought jump from my cortex to my cerebrum.

"I wonder if there is anyone of college age, and up, who hasn't received a Valentine's Day card?"

So I asked, "Is there anyone in this room who has never received a Valentine's Day card?"

My suspicion was I would come up empty, and for a minute it looked as if suspicion would become reality.

But  then slowly the right hands of two young women crept from their waists to full extension above their heads.  My jaw dropped.

These were two attractive young women.  They had distinctively different personalities, yet both very charming in their fashion.

There were clearly some historical religious and intellectual morality issues at play. They had clearly not been allowed or encouraged to accept Valentine's Day cards.

Both women put up weak fronts that it didn't bother them.

"Who needs a Valentine's Day Card, anyway."  "It's just a pagan holiday."

Normally I'd have just kept my nose out of said personal issues.  But my eyes were starting to well up. I was sure these ladies were lying. My heart was breaking for them. And so I acted.

On Valentine's Day I presented both of them with very large Valentine's Day's Cards in front of the whole class. I'll never forget what followed.

I've never seen such huge warm smiles appear out of nowhere. I don't always do the right thing, but this time I think I lucked out. These weren't even coy "Ah Shucks" smiles.  These were glorious emanations.  These were transformations. These were "dream come true" smiles. There was enough warmth in that room that day I could have safely walked home in a blizzard. 

I bring all this up because "time's a wastin." Just two more days for you to go out and find somebody to "Hug and Hand a Heart To." If you can find somebody whose never gotten one before? Hold on to your heart strings!

Well enough of this mushy stuff. Tommorrow we're going to talk about the "Bird and the Bees."

I know I said I was going to up the Reader Rating from PG13 to NC17?  I've been giving that some more thought. Just to be safe I'm going to give it an 'R' RATING, TONS of NUDITY, and MILD VIOLENCE. And, oh, by the way? " JUST 48 DAYS TO GO TO THE ANNIVERSARY OF PAUL'S MODEST MUSINGS. DON'T BE THE ONLY ONE ON YOUR BLOCK TO MISS IT. " 

 

   

From The Heart

Flirtatious: "You sure are cute! Can I have your parking spot?"

Real Mood: Syrupally Sore

Prediction: The restaurant where Peggy and I had breakfast this morning will soon have a job opening.

 

I'm mildly amused at the opening and closing ceremonies of Olympic gatherings.  They are such love fests.  I suppose it's appropriate for Winter Olympics, with the event dates taking place on or near St. Valentine's Day.

I say I'm amused because of the irony. We celebrate the carrying of the torch from country to country, we dance, we hold hands, we are exalted, we are UNITED.  We are blown a kiss by Yoko Ono, and then we listen to a tender rendition of John Lennon's "Imagine."

"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one, I hope some day you'll join us, and the World will live as one."

Meantime, possibly heard among all those grinning faces down on the ceremonial field? 

"Let's go kick some Austrian Butt!"

"That Bode Miller is an _________! You know where I'd like to see his ski pole?"

"You're not kiddin' me.  Those Chinese didn't get that good at speed skating with out a little pharmaceutical help."

"Hey! Where's my body guard?"

I don't know John. You might be "the only one."

I've got a few things on my chest I have to unload before slipping into an extended Valentine's Day theme. Sometimes you just can't be in a loving mood when you got things "gnawing" on your aorta.

Okay, number one.  Wait People? You are not always right. I know many of you students are sustained by working as wait persons. It's given me an appreciation for what you go through. Customers can be real demanding, light tip paying, jerks. 

But the meal out? It's a two wait street.  Okay, here goes!

This is what I saw and heard at a popular eatery this very morning.

"Let's see. You had the French Toast?"

"Ooooh!"

 "Whoops! Can I get you some more?"

This waiter has just spilled a small beaker of hot syrup all over the lap of the customer.  And he says, "Can I get you some more?"

"No, but I don't think I can sop it all up with this napkin.  Would it be possible to get a wet cloth?"

"Let me see if I can find one. You sure you don't want some more syrup? I'm sorry about this."

The poor, I have to assume low self-esteemed woman, just sits there taking it.  It's clear this guy has never had hot syrup in his lap.

I feel a little guilty that I don't follow my own instinct. That is to grab the guy by the nape of the neck, drag him to the kitchen where I say:

"When you drop hot syrup in the lap of a customer? Be consumed with guilt.  Run and get warm moist rags.  Hand her one of those rags so she can go to work on those delicate syrup sopped regions."

" Then you start mopping up every extra cell of syrup you can find. Lick the table clean around her.  Beg her forgiveness as if you were her slave. Pretend she has the option of having your head chopped off.   Don't OFFER to pay for her meal.  PAY FOR HER MEAL.  Don't offer to pay to have her new suit cleaned.  BUY HER A NEW SUIT. And just so you clearly get the message?"

I politely ask the wait person to take a seat. Once in the  seat I  pour a hot BUCKET of syrup into his lap. Just to insure that future syrup events will evoke deep empathy?  I release jars of flies and ants in his vicinity.

Now that may seem cruel and unusual puninshment? But if she's got an attorney? My response is just a "slap on the wrist."

Okay, the other matter chewing on my goodness vein involves "signs of the time." The signs I'm talking about are in parking lots. I'm thinking World War III may be looking for a cause in these signs.

They first appear in strip malls where there is limited parking space. Signs go up indicating one might only park in this lot for say two hours? Maybe one?

Well "Don's Dry Cleaners" gets frustrated because his customers can't park close. He puts up these signs protecting two or three spaces adjacent to his storefront.

"15 MINUTE PARKING FOR DON'S ONLY."

Well fine, but that's cutting into business at "Irish Pub."  To fight back Mr. Finnegan puts signs in front of five spots that say,

 "FOR IRISH PUB ONLY." 

No time limit for Finnegan. There is no profit in one quick Guiness.

Well next to the pub is "Pirate Pete's Pizza." With Finnegan dominating the parking places for long periods of time, Pete can't get any spaces for his delivery drivers. So he has to give up some actual allotted customer spots, and put up signs that say,

"FOR PETE'S DELIVERY ONLY AT ALL TIMES."

To make up for the loss of his customer spots, Pete has to ensure a quick turnover.  He takes two of his spots and puts up signs that say,

"FOR PICKUP ONLY. TEN MINUTE TIME LIMIT."

It used to be that strip mall shop owners would have coffee together in the morning, utilize each other's services, buy each other's wares, have a smoke break together mid afternoon.

Not anymore. It's become war. And there ARE no good guys.

Okay, you might think I'm blowing it a little out of proportion. But my button's been pushed. I'm in a grocery store parking lot? Everybody's drug dealer "Starbucks" has cut a deal to operate a shop inside the store.  For some reason that deal includes five strategic parking spots with signs that read,

"FOR STARBUCKS CUSTOMERS ONLY. TIME LIMIT 11 MINUTES."

How the ____did they come up with that? Someone actually came in and determined the average length of time it takes to order, make and consume a Vente "Carmel Mocha."

And that person cares not a whit that I've got to haul my three (would plastic be okay?) bags two more parking rows over.

You people who gripe about your transit systems in Washington, New York and Boston? You have NO IDEA how lucky you are.   

Okay, that's out of my system. Let's talk Valentine's day. I've got two love theme ideas I want to share. I want you all to join me for the first one which I'll post tommorrow. But since Blogging is "Latest Entry" driven, I need to drop in a disclaimer now.

Early on I said it was my plan to make this place PG 13. Two days from now I'll likely break from that commitment.  ONLY for a day.  There is a perspective on love I've always wanted to share with adults only.  I'll be using carefully selected language, but the material may not be appropriate for young eyes.  It's a little like the issue of,  " If my kids are going to find out about the birds and bees? They'll learn it from me."

So I'm going to say....... not the next one? .........But the one after that? NC 17. I doubt anyone under 17 has ever been here anyway.

I think that's fair warning. Now let's go kick some Austrian Butt.

Ain't Necessarily So

Flirtatious: "Let me fly you to the moon!"

Real Mood: Sanctimonious

Prediction: Some fears will get resolved.

Well, you see I want to point out that sets of averages among all the local weather prognosticatorys indicate that this time? Well, they're pretty much RIGHT ON!  They said we'd get about two inches of snow? The salt on that Margarita up there? Two inches of snow on the rim of my bird bath!

Truth is, that happens more than we give the prognosticatorys  credit for.  Among all the "journalists" that habituate newsrooms? They are among the few who bring some science to the craft. But I think you can see from the picture above, even they can inadvertantly distort reality.

Now there are others among us, with "News" located somewhere on our business cards? We ADVERTANTLY distort that reality. It's our job.  I was reminded of this whilst watching a promotion on 'E'  TV for "Silent Hill!"  Since there is no audio, I only have exploding graphics to illustrate my point.  With the eyes of an actress dilated to take over screen, I see flashing before me: "MYSTERY WITHOUT ANSWERS!" Wow, really? "FEAR WITHOUT END!" No kidding?

I just want to say the creators of these teases? They could make some pretty good livings in newsrooms. Really they could! 

I think this might be a good time to remind myself, and anyone along for the ride,  where I SIT on teases. I sit RIGHT ON THE FENCE! 

I've said in this forum before that I will neither an apologist or critic of media BE!  I recognize that MEdia can not exist in a bird cage with a dark blanket draped over it.  It needs to see light to squawk. It needs a human audience to feed it.

"MEdia want a CRACKER?"

As long as WE (there is no THEY in media) keep feeding the little 'fella' CRACKERS, he's going to keep SQUAWKING. It's WE who tell the MEdia how to behave. WE make up the FOCUS groups. WE add up as numbers in RATINGS.

Even though we know intellectually that at the end of a tease? That the actual story or drama will fall short of it's promise? Even though we know in our hearts it's leading us to "Chicken Little" news? We BITE don't we.

If I were to suggest we all tune into CSPAN to watch the roundtable discussion on the "greenhouse effect" on the endangered wartless frogs of Madagascar? Be honest now! Would you join me? Come on? Honest?

My only POSSIBLE concern is that the end result of all these teases? These teases MIGHT carve out some big voids in our lives. Voids we don't even recognize. The teases could lead  us down a path to DISAPPOINTMENT!

But I also think as long as we know we are being duped? Well, then we can accept the teases as part of the game of life. 

I DO, however, have ENDLESS FEAR for those who might expect a REAL POT OF GOLD at the end of the rainbow. There are some who will believe responding to teases brings REWARDS.

I know that doesn't include any of us who profess to have reached a state of enlightenment. But if we should run into someone wrestling with that misconception? Why we should set them straight. 

" NO, THE WORLD IS NOT GOING TO END! IT IS JUST A TEASE. ha,ha"

"Oh, and by the way? MAKE YOUR PLANS NOW! THERE ARE ONLY 49 DAYS TO GO UNTIL THE ANNIVERSARY OF PaulsModestMusings.  DON'T BE LEFT OUT! IT WILL BE THE BLOG OF ALL BLOG'S. IT WILL SOLVE ALL MYSTERIES! YOUR LIFE WILL NEVER, EVER BE THE SAME! Make your reservations TODAY OR FACE ENDLESS FEAR!"

That's funny? It doesn't taste like a Margarita?

DON'T MISS IT!

Flirtatious: HAVE I GOT NEWS FOR YOU!

Real Mood: Spatially Spontaneous

Prediction: There will be a major oil spill somewhere in the World this week.

 

WE HAVE BREAKING NEWS! We are just FIFTY (50) days from the anniversary of PaulsModestMusings. Make sure you plan your day around this very SPECIAL  moment in our history on THIS PLANET.  I promise to use words you've NEVER heard before. I promise to show pictures that will SHOCK you.  I will say things that will INCENSE you. YOU CANNOT MISS THIS MIND BLOWING, TEETH RATTLING, EYE STRETCHING MOMENT IN BLOGGING HISTORY. TELL YOUR FAMILY, TELL YOUR FRIENDS. BE PREPARED FOR THE 1ST ANNIVERSARY OF PaulsModestMusings. YOU'LL NEVER BE THE SAME.

(any resemblence between the preceding promotional blurb and any February Sweeps promotion you are seeing on TV? Might be coincidental.)

I recently predicted that "Peace on Earth" will not come this week. Beth? She hopes I'm wrong.  For the record, me too Beth.  I, for one, am going to be more positive in the coming week.

I can be positive now,  because while my Intro to Radio and TV class was out looking for space to gather? Some people quietly and persistently had our best interests at heart. We now have this wonderful place to study and share. Thanks Audry. Thanks Brad Pepper.

I took my Announcing class this week to the top of the cheaper of two parking garages on campus. From there you can view over 200 miles of moutain range. (more expensive is not always better.)  (A spot I mentioned in an earlier entry actually allows one to scan more than 300 miles of mountain range? Don't think for a moment my SECRET location is on top of a parking garage. It could be, but dont think it.)

An interesting piece of recent history is? This very same parking garage actually became a dorm for over a week when Pope John Paul the Two'th came to town. I think there were over two thousand students from all over the World sleeping on cots arranged on concrete. It was the campus version of the "Tower of Babel." (And hey Beth, they all seemed to be getting along.)

While they had "Porta Potties" surrounding the place, I'm thinking zoning officials were all on vacation that week. ( Before I make this next declaration you need to know I am not a practicing member of the Catholic Faith. ) Crime also took a  break that week. There virtually wasn't ANY crime committed (or at least reported).  I'm thinking maybe all the criminals were, at the least, guilt ridden former members of the Catholic Faith.

Anyway, I  try to let students know that there is great journalistic value in finding a high spot in whatever town your in. From there you can get some perspective. And hey, the top of a parking garage is often just the ticket.

I took my Broadcast Journalism TV class down to a crowded mall just to watch people and listen to ambient and natural sound. (For natives? The 16th street mall.)  We all seemed to enjoy two young women trying to smoke their first cigars. Now that's TV.

No doubt you know what's occasionally said here has little to do with known logic or life enhancing significance. That just might be the case this time?

Have a nice day! Good luck on seperating the "wheat from the chaff?" By the way? That's easier to do if you are on top of a parking garage.

Rear View

Flirtatious: "Can I give you a ride? I've got an extra helmut?"

Real Mood: Ambiguously Ambitious.

Prediction: "Peace on Earth won't arrive this week!"

I'm coming up on the anniversay of this BLOG. Huh? Yeah, it's two and half months away. But this is what you're accustomed to if you are a mediaphile. Ad campaigns for TV ratings periods run that long.  Automakers hype what's coming up for six months. So I thought I'd just get an early start on relecting back.  And then maybe by the time the anniversary actual arrives, I will have caught up. (Don't spend a lot of time trying to sort that out)

I started this thing because some students kept asking me, "What's a BLOG?"

"Well you see, students, a BLOG is......."

I had no (apply adjective) IDEA.  Fortunately? I still don't. It's just wonderful playing around with something so un-defined. I'm having a ball. And I'm quiet "tickled pink" to be taking gentle jabs at those anxious to give BLOG definition.

"Por Ejemplo!"

AOL, which generously allows me to do this gratis, believes anyone accidentally reading this needs to know what mood I'm in. I clearly was gently incensed that I was required (asked) to select my mood from a list of 16 possibilities.

(One of the 16 is FLIRTATIOUS in case you've just recently showed up and wondered why it's always highlighted.)

I have orneryly (new word form of ornery) added my REAL MOOD. And at a risk of catching the attention of some AOL bureaucrat, I have to say I've discovered 127 (One Hundred Twenty Seven) different moods to date.

I have one other thread running through these pages.  I'm offering PREDICTIONS that I hope give MEANING to your life.

That feature began when I inadvertanly predicted the date of a major earthquake, and then followed that up with an accurate "Richter Scale Rating." 

That latter prediction was actually a result of years of media experience. The initial readings are never absolutely right on. And the real number is typically two tenths of a point in either direction. But, hey, I was right, and you have a new Nostradomus on your hands. If you take a good look at my list of predictions you'll likely conclude that my percentage is right up there with the "Greats of All Time."

At Peggy's suggestion I won't extend this review into the realm of your "ENNUI." Idon't know why I love that word.  I like saying it more than typing it.  But even typing it is fun. I'm being offered pancakes to take a break.  Join me in the next entry where I will be coming to you sated.   

"How much you want for that Pickup?

Flirtatious: "Can I interest you in a ride in my air conditioned combine? It's got surround sound?"

Real Mood: Comfortably Casual

Prediction: Beyond all good sense "high heeled" shoes for men will make a comeback.

Be careful! Things and people are not always what they seem. I was watching some old Andy Rooney movie the other day. He goes off to college where all the students are wearing ties. I don't know when that tradition "went south," but God bless the radical miscreant who made it happen. I've been on the Harvard and Yale and Stanford and Berkeley campuses? Thank goodness today the quartet above would fit right in.

Somewhere between high school and life, Tim Ewing and myself take a little adventure trip up the California coast.  Our wardrobes consist of Tee Shirts and Levis with holes in the knee. (by the way we earn those holes. We don't buy them that way.)

Part of our adventure is a trip to the top of the Mark Hopkins Hotel in San Francisco. We just want a glimpse of the "Top Of the Mark" restaurant. I don't think the Maitre d' had ever seen a Tee Shirt. He was pretty sure we were some type of criminal elelment that must be dealt with.  I recall it took more than one person to escort us back to the elevator.

(I'm happy to say San Francisco has loosened it's tie a little since those days.) 

I still remember my first high school teaching job. I'd be judged inept without a hunk of cloth strung around my neck. It's the beginning of a twitch that still pops up now and then.

This is no exaggeration.  On my last day at that school? I anticipate the bell, beat the students out the door, rip off my tie, get in my car, and run over that "puppy" about three times before I drive off into the sunset.

It's always amazed me that anything creative ever happens within the Disney empire.  Those I've known who've worked for Walt's family have closets full of blue suits and red ties. Oh, they must be miserable.

When I was working in Liberal, Kansas in the early 70's I was told a story I've locked in my brain forever.  It truly supercedes the expression, " Don't judge a book by it's cover."

So there is this pretty typical auto dealership in town.  There are  probably five new car salesmen, and three working the used lot. The "new car" guys are running around in three hundred dollar suits. Their shirts are starched, and the knots in their ties are flawless. They are hopped up on three pots of coffee, and they are sporting smiles that I'm guessing are early models for "Botox."

These guys will spot a serious buyer from a mile away. If you're just lookin'? They know it.  They're looking for the "suits." That's where the money is.

And "so it is" the day a man drives up in a beat-up old pickup. The well worn vehicle backfires as the driver turns the key to "off."

The driver is clearly a man who doesn't get to town often. He is wearing coveralls without a shirt. There are massive tufts of hair hanging out from under his arms.  There is an odor that indicates he's just come from the field. I'm told we'd be surprised if he even OWNED a comb.

Well, all the new car guys disappear in their pecking order. The handing off of the baton is subtle but clear.  Number five finally says something like, "look we're going into a sales meeting. Maybe one of those guys over in the used lot can give you a hand."

"Suit yourself," the country man says as he ambles towards the used lot. He has a very  strange gait as he walks with both hands stuck in these deep coverall pockets. He never pulls them out.

Well in the "hand me down" lot?  He gets the same treatment. Numbers one and two find some way to get busy and dump our farmer on a "rookie" salesman. The rookie, let's call him Billy, has only  been on the job for two days.  This rookie isn't even wearing a tie. He doesn't even know not to be polite.

"Can I help you sir?"

The farmer gets a huge grin on his face.  He's going to enjoy this.

"Yes, son.  You can help me.  I get kind of used to the vehicles I drive. But there always comes a day when they all seem to wear out at the same time. Can you take me back to the new lot?"

"Well, sure. I think so!"

"Let's talk as we walk.  See I need two brand new luxury sedans I can use for special trips. My wife and me go to Kansas City twice a year, and Topeka once. She won't go without leather seats and cruise control. She gets real mad  if she can't brag about her travelin' cars."

"Now me, I need a new pickup for myself and two for my harvest hands. We got several thousand acres there we got to keep track of."

"I notice you all are sellin' them horse trailers. We got some horses we run around to "ropin' contests" and the axles on the trailers we got? About to go."

"Should I be keepin' notes here, sir?"

"Probably wouldn't be a bad idea!"

"You got it!"

"I could probably get by another year, but my grain truck is getting a little wobbly. You got one?"

"Yes, sir. I  believe we do."

"My son just turned 15 in May.  Looks like I'm going to have to let him out on the highway.  What kind of horsepower is under the hood on that sportscar out front?"

"I don't know sir, but I'll find out."

"Oh, I'll take it anyway.  It looks fast. He won't know the difference."

 "Anything else sir."

"I don't know. I guess not.  Let's go ring it all up."

"Now I'm going to have to run all this by the sales manager? I'm new and not very good yet at dealing with financing options."

"Okay, this should be fun."

The new kid brings back the manager who is suspiciouly going over the list and thinking he's going to be calling this old farmer's bluff.

"Seems like you have some pretty big vehicular needs here, sir. I'm afraid we're going to have to run a pretty extensive credit check on you. Are you sure you dont' want to trim the list down a little bit?"

"Credit check. What's that?"

And with that those hands finally come out of his pockets.  In those hands are thick stacks of one thousand dollar bills.

"Of course if you don't want my business I can just drive on over to Garden City and see what they can do for me?"

In shock, the Sales Manager stutters, "Oh, no sir.  Of course we want your business. Billy run and get Mister, I'm sorry, what's your last name sir."

"Johnson."

"Run and get Mr. Johnson some coffee and show Jim that list so he can start working up some sales contracts."

"Well I'll tell you what. What did you say your last name was?"

"Donaldson, sir."

"First name?"

"Walter!"

"Well Walter Donaldson, why doesn't Billy stay here with me, and you go get me that coffee and get Jim to workin' on those contracts."

"Oh, okay."

"And I want those contracts to read that Billy here gets all the sales commissions on these vehicles."

'Oh, okay."

Alright, the story came to me second hand. And I've added a few adjectives here and there. But anyextras are just here to make the point clear: "Don't judge a SALES MARK  by his check book. He MAY NOT HAVE ONE." 

We all oughta try to keep clean, eat healthy and jog. And we oughta comb our hairs once in a while.  But Ties? Naw! I don't think so.

So I try and tell my students that working in small markets like Liberal, Kansas may be the most fun they'll ever have in their young work worlds. That was the case in my career.

And I bring this up because I put in my "two cents" once in a while on the student produced weekly newscast they do here on campus.

Now they did a story this week with kind of a pre-Valentine's day theme that I am still shaking with laughter over. Walter, Melany and Andy put together a piece that unfortunately will only be shown here (or in one of those small markets).

It will never get past the suits in the big city.  You have to see it!  On Tuesday, go to your search engine and look for The Met Report. I promise you'll praise me for it? You'll wish all news could be this light hearted.

Merry Superbowl! Hope your team and your commerciall win!   

Rats!

Flirtatious: " Let's see how you look in this Groundhog wrap?"

Real Mood: Competitive

Prediction: There will be AT LEAST six more weeks of Winter.

Yeah, we heard about the Punk rodent from Pennsylvania. You know he always sees his shadow.  Big deal!

We've got a 13 lined ground squirrel we call "Denver Dan." That's him in the picture.   He comes out of a Stone Wall every Spring and tells us when it's okay to turn on the sprinklers. We're a little hurt that we don't get very much media attention for this special Homo Erectus-Rodentus connection. Why does that other rodent get all the glory. 

The map I'm looking at puts Punksutawney northeast of Pittsburgh. Looks to me like it might be a two hour's drive south to reach  Valley Forge. Let's see?  Valley Forge! Isn't that where Washington's troops were freezing their _____'s off?

Get to the point? Okay.  So Punksutawney Phil sees his shadow on February 2th and WOE is us.  My goodness.  Now there'll be SIX MORE WEEKS OF WINTER.

When wasn't there six more weeks of Winter?  I lived a Winter not too far northeast of Punksutawney?  I didn't see a molecule of snow melt before May 15th. And I think they were calling that an "Open Winter." (for the uninitiated "open winter" means you can walk to your neighbor's house without suffering severe frost bite.)

Out here in the Rocky Mountains we brag that we have more than "3 Hundred Somethin' " days of sunshine a year.  But even we would jump up and down with glee if we thought Winter was only going to last until the "Ides of March!"

We'd throw a huge celebration if one of our Prarie Dogs saw it's shadow and barked out, " I Proclaim Winter Will Be Over Before College Basketball Wraps it up For The Season."

Now THAT would be March Madness! But we know better. Our rodents are "straight" with us.

How dare I compare a Groundhog Proclamation with a Ground Squirrel Chat or a Prarie Dog Pronouncement? Arn't we talking apples and oranges? Well here's something you may not know.  I think I'm accurate when I say that Punksutawney showboaters stole their tradition from a German Hedgehog.

Truth be known? I think the rodents are playing with us.  They're down there in their big Tunnel Party Rooms, drinking "root" beer,  just laughing so hard their little buck teeth are about to crack.

Well this year I'm going to tune them all out. I'm the higher species here. I should be telling them when Winter is over.  And you know what? I can do that! I just need to squish me a "wooly worm," or see "How High" the skunk weed has grown.  What? You didn't know that's how you rate Winters?

Denver Dan and I will just talk about something else this Spring. I'LL decide when to turn on the sprinklers, thank you.

 

Room Rates

Flirtatious: "Can I interest you in a breath mint?"

Real Mood: Expansive

Prediction: Brer Rabbit will see his shadow and run back into the garden for another snack.

 

FOR THE RECORD: The picture is staged!

I teach courses that I believe cut through the ropes of most competing interests in our society. I greet students of all socio-economic makeup. I'm in class with a gorgeous rainbow mix of cultures and races.  I'm sitting in between students seperated by decades of life experience. So pity me as I attempt to have them reach a consensus on a very pressing issue.

"What issue is that Paul?"

So my "Intro to Radio and TV" class is assigned to a classroom designed for Lilliputians.  I ask through channels (e-mail) for an upgrade to a room that will at least house Hobbits. When there is no quick response I drop by the department office and querrie, "Is there still a chance of getting a little larger room for this Intro Class?"

"Oh, this is how we're doing it this year Paul.  You go around and see if you can find an empty room, and then come back here.  Then we check on the computer to see if anyone is scheduled to be in there.  If not? It's yours!"

I have to tell you I love the concept. We'll sort out our needs with face to face compromise.  We'll bypass the bureaucracy. But there is at least one flaw in the plan.  You're going to be looking for an empty classroom that's empty the same time the class you're in is meeting?  Hmm!

"Class. I've got it.  You'll pick."

So I sent out scouting parties to every classroom building on campus.

"Now we'll need a room bigger than this one.  We'll need all the electronic toys we've got here. We'll need enough room up front for guest speakers to roam around when they get nervous.  Beyond that, competing room amenities will be your choice."

"We get to pick?"

"Yeah, but only after you come back here, and we work out a consensus and come up with a priority list of four rooms."

"Yes, sir!"

Off they fly as I sit back and put my feet up on a thimble.

Before I can even work in a nap they start arriving.

"We found a great one.  Holds a hundred!"

"Let's see. There's 25 of us......I don't know."

"Hey we got one that holds 50. It's got everything we need. Look I took pictures onmy cellphone! "

"Okay....?

"We found a room with TWO, we're not kidding, doors."

"uh, huh......."

"Would a lecture hall be too big?"

"Well I kind of think....so."

"How we gonna pick?"

"One person from each of your scouting parties will make a sales pitch for your choice.  When we have all the options on the table we'll vote.  Then I'll take our priority list to the office and see what we can get."

What fun spirited debate ensues. Our priority list is finally settled with a round of "rock, paper, scissors."  And the loser of that contest offers to bake cookies if we'll vote for her room anyway.

I have to be honest. I do put in my two cents.  I want the room that's in the only building on campus that still uses paper towels in the "John." There seems to be some concurrence with that value, but larger issues reign.

And that's the whole reason I'm doing this entry.  I am blown away at what's important. It's understandable that they want comfortable chairs, and tables instead of desks. These issues pop up.  But they do not lead the pack.

"The lighting in 214 is really bright."  Predictable!

"It's close to vending machines."  Makes sense.

But you know what tops the cake, what drives students wild with anticipation?

 Really two issues stand out in the race for room.

"Phys. Ed. 234 smells great!"

"Really?"

"So does West Classroom 119 and guess what it has?"

"What could beat a good smell?"

"Brace yourselves.  West 119 has....a MANUAL PENCIL SHARPENER!"

"You gotta be kidding? Really?"

"No _______!  A manual pencil sharpener."

So I sprint to the office with my priority list.  I beg for instant room insertion on the computer. 

"Okay, option number one.  Sorry, it says someone is in there."

"Shoot,  no Manual Pencil Sharpener. Let's go with two then."

"Sorry, don't know where they were today, but somebody is in there."

"Dang.  There goes the great smell."

"Three?"

"Uh, uh!  Four looks good!"

"Okay, .... we'll.... take....four...in....the....South....Class....Room."

"Class, I'm so sorry.  This should have had a better ending.  I applaud your initiative and creative analysis. At least we know we'll be scratching our own chins?"

"Oh, we can live with it.  Did we tell you it has an old standing lamp with soft light in the corner?"

"You gotta be kiddin'? Really? Why didn't you say that in the first place?"