Battle at the Palace

November 19, 2004

Being from Indiana, I would be remiss if I did not comment on the "Pacers/Pistons Brawl" just over a week ago. I know a lot of you are tired of reading about, hearing about, or seeing the incident...if so, skip this post. But if you want my two cents on it...in depth, read on.

I have done a little research in order to put myself in David Stern's shoes. How would I have handled the situation? After reviewing the tapes (numerous times), brushing up on past incidents, and waiting a week (to weed away any predjudice I may have), I have concluded the following:

Let's start at the beginning.

A little under a minute in the game, Artest fouls Ben Wallace.

Artest faces Wallace and starts to extend his right hand towards the Pistons Center, as if to say, "No hard feelings," and Wallace answers by giving Artest a two-handed-Elaine from Seinfeld-push to Artest's chest and face (one hand struck Artest in the nose.)

Artest makes a point, as he is retreating from the situation, to ask the ref if his foul was a "flagrant foul." The ref responded "no."

After this Artest laid on the scorer's table. Because Reggie Miller, Chauncey Billups, Derrick Coleman, and Elden Campbell left the bench after the initial shove, they are automatically suspended one game.

This is where things get hairy, and hard to sort out.

Both benches emptied...Stephen Jackson taunted the Pistons, looking as if he was ready to "throw down"...Wallace throws a towel at Artest...and then the "cup" is thrown from the crowd, hitting Artest in the chest/face.

Artest entered the stands, and made a bee line towards a shouting Piston fan. His left arm swooped down, grabbing the fan and throwing him to the ground. I never saw Artest "hit" this guy, just throw him to the ground. In fact, the fan even said after the game:

"He was on top of me," fan Mike Ryan of Clarkston said. "He asked me, 'Did you do it?' I said, 'No, man. No!'"



Of course, a joker who threw a drink in Artest's face next wasn't so lucky, as Stephen Jackson clocked him with a roundhouse right.

The fan who actually threw the "cup" igniting the brawl, is next seen grabbing Artest from behind and throwing a series of punches to the back of his head. Several players (Rasheed Wallace, etc.) enter the stands and pull the players out.

As Security is trying to help in the stands, several fans enter the court. One of them, a man in a Pistons jersey, approached Artest on the court, shouting at him. Artest punched him in the face, knocking the man to the floor before leaving the court. Artest was pulled away, and the fan charged back. Jermaine O'Neal stepped in and punched another man who joined the scrum.

More craziness ensues, a chair is thrown, and the Pacers are doused with coke, popcorn and other concessions as the exit they court.

The League hands down the following suspensions:

Ron Artest: Out for Season (73 games)
Jackson: 30 games
O'Neal: 25 games
Ben Wallace: 6 games

(Anthony Johnson - 5, Reggie Miller - 1, Chauncey Billups - 1, Derrick Coleman - 1, Elden Campbell -1).

Are these penalties fair?

Ben Wallace

At first, I was shocked he ONLY received a 6 game suspension. But, here's some additional information:

In last year's playoffs, Anthony Peeler connected with an elbow to Kevin Garnett's face: Suspended 1 game, plus $7,500.

In 1996, Dennis Rodman was suspended 6 games for head butting a ref.

Seems like 6 was excessive...HOWEVER, I believe hard fouls, like the one Artest gave Wallace, are a dime a dozen in the NBA, and the main cause of the "riot" was Wallace's actions.

The push, the throwing of the towel, and the irrational behavior after having been ejected from the game (which I think was the main contributor of the "riot"), in my opinion should have warranted a longer suspension.

Commissioner Gillespie hands down the following:

Ben Wallace - suspended for 10 games.
Reason: Instigating a "riot", shoving a player in the face/chest, not leaving the playing area immediately upon being ejected, throwing a towel.

Stephen Jackson

If any one player was LOOKING for a fight, it seemed to be Stephen Jackson. His conduct from the start was of the "non-peacekeeping" kind. Before Artest went into the stands, he was verbally confronting the Pistons...then he squared up like he was ready to fight and pulled his jersey out of his shorts. And, of course, he wailed on many a Piston fan in the stands.

30 games. There really is no president to go by for Jackson's actions. But, I'll try. Throwing a punch to a player (whether it lands or not) is an automatic one game suspension.

A few years back, Shaq was suspended 3 games and fined $15,000 when he threw two roundhouse punches at Brad Miller.

Marcus Camby of the Knicks received a 5 game suspension for sucker punching Danny Ferry.

And who could forget Kermit Washington's roundhouse right on Rudy Tomjanovich in 1977? It left Rudy T's face shattered, and his career over. The suspension? 26 games.

Of course, these are all attacks on other players. Jackson went into the stands, and hit fans.

Commissioner Gillespie hands down the following:

Stephen Jackson - suspended for 15 games.

Reason: taunting, entering the stands, punching fans, not keeping the peace.

Jermaine O'Neal

What, really, did Jermaine do? He didn't enter the stands. He didn't taunt any players. He didn't punch or try to punch and players. What he did do is come to the aid of Ron Artest when a fan started cracking wise out on the court. Ok, I agree, "coming to the aid" isn't exactly what he was doing, but still, I consider this 25 game suspension ridiculous. In football, if a fan enters the field of play, they are fair game. A lineman is welcome to run over them.

I also heard a story on the radio in the days after the "brawl" about wrestling. A caller who wrestles in a semi professional federation, said that if a fan comes from the audience and tries to interject into the match (be it in the ring, or in the area of the ring) the wrestlers have the right to dispense pain upon that fan. One time, a fan came out of the stands, and BOTH wrestlers in the match stopped wrestling, and began beating the guy silly. The caller went on to say: "I pulled the guys arms backwards until they snapped." Suspension? Fines? Nope.

The closest I could find was a 1997 suspension handed to Dennis Rodman for kicking a photographer. He was suspended for 11 games. (the photographer was NOT on the court, but close.)

Commissioner Gillespie hands down the following:

Jermaine O'Neal - 3 game suspension

Reason: It looks bad on the game if players are hitting fans.

Ron Artest

Hard foul...eh. He was trying to make peace with Wallace afterwards which resulted in his being pushed harder than the foul. Then, he backed away. Sure he was arrogant in laying down, but he was calm and level headed. He showed a little temper when the towel was thrown. Still, no problem. Then, the cup flew.

He entered the stands...that should gain a suspension. But how long?

Back before televised games, Jerry Sloan, now the Head coach of the Jazz, was hit with an aerosol can while in a huddle. He entered the stands and began screaming at the fan. Suspension? None.

In 1995, Vernon Maxwell of the Houston Rockets entered the stands and PUNCHED a fan that was heckling him. Suspension? 10 games.

10 GAMES!!

Artest didn't even hit that first guy. Watch the tape. He grabbed him with his left hand and threw him down. He didn't even make a fist. Even after the guy was down he didn't make a fist. He yelled at him "did you do it?" and then other fans grabbed him and began hitting hin. I didn't really see him hit any of those fans. Maybe he was swinging his arms to get away, maybe he was punching them...it's hard to tell. I would call that "self defense".

Of course, we can't argue he hit the fan on the floor. But again, on the floor, fair game.

Commissioner Gillespie hands down the following:

Ron Artest - suspened for 15 games.

Reason: 10 for going into the stands (ala Maxwell), and 5 for the fighting. Remember, there was no FLAGRANT FOUL.

All the one game suspensions stand (the rule of leaving the bench is the rule...even though every body eventually left the bench). Anthony Johnson's 5 games...I really don't know what he did, I didn't see him.

If you think my penalties are too lax, think about this:

A few years back, Latrell Spreewell "Physically Assaulted" his then coach, PJ Carlesimo. Spreewell grabbed his coach by the throat and proceeded to choke him. That's assault...that's battery...that's attempted murder...that's a 68 GAME SUSPENSION!!

And Artest gets 73?

The brawl was unpresidented in the NBA, and Stern wanted to set an example. But, I disagree with the severity. Commissoner Stern said:

“I did not strike from my mind the fact that Ron Artest had been suspended on previous conditions..."

Artest hadn't been suspended for over two seasons...and most of his other suspensions were for Flagrant fouls...not fighting. Let's make an example out of this "Bad Seed". That is the biggest injustice of them all. Artest had made HUGE strides in the past few seasons to shed his bad boy image.

You may say the brawl wouldn't have started if not for the Artest foul, or Artest going into the stands. You are wrong. Fouls, hard fouls happen on a regular basis. Pushing, like Wallace did, happens. People throwing things at players? When was the last time that happened?

I couldn't find a time.

It's the Detroit fans, and Ben Wallace who are to blame. Wallace could have handled himself better...he didn't need to push, but he did...ok. But then, he should have left, period. The fans would have booed, the clock would have clicked down, and the game would have been over.

Commissioner Gillespie has spoken.

Honesty...Honestly!!

How hard is it to be honest?

"I did not chop down that cherry tree." Ok, Mr Washington, I believe you.
"The British are coming!! The British are coming!!" Paul Revere, thank you for your honesty.
"I did not have sexual relations with that woman." Mr Clinton...ok, so two out of three isn't that bad.

Across the street from where I work is a store called My Dollar Store, which advertises, right on the sign, "Always Just $1." You go inside, and once again, you are bombarded with signs saying everything $1 or less. Everything. The cashiers even use to greet me with the same line:

"Good Morning, everything in the store is a dollar or less!"

I use to like to go over there every once in awhile and go down the aisles, looking at the $1 tools (not that I'm that handy, but it seems like a good price for a saw) and the $1 medicine cabinet items. It set my mind at ease to know that, indeed, everything was $1. Then I would buy my soda and maybe some .50 cent cookies (the cookies are Famous Amos, not the rapper...that's Fiddy cent).

Well, all of that changed today. I walked next door and right as I stepped in, directly next to the cash register, was a sign that screamed out at me...

EVERYTHING IN THIS AISLE OVER $1

What the hell? Over $1, in the Everything is $1 Store? I glanced down at the picture frames, fancy plates, and the ugliest wooden lamp I have ever seen (for $20, no less!!). I was appalled!

"Did you see our new over $1 section?" the cashier asked.

"Don't you think that's false advertisement?" I shot back.

"Well, people buy it."

I picked up a $5 wooden duck on a stick, shook my head, and looked at the cashier again.

"This is how you guys are gonna do it, huh?" I started. The cashier looked puzzled.

I continued, starting to get a little irritated: "You start out by having everything $1. You build a pretty nice clientele, a lot of regulars start to surface, then you start integrating OVER $1 items in with the cheap stuff. People think, 'oh, that's nice, and it's only a couple dollars more.' Once they agree to that, then everything starts raising in price, til it's no longer My Dollar Store, it's My $20 Store."

The cashier stared at me for a few seconds, and then, as calmly as could be, said,

"Well, you don't have to buy any of it. Just get soda and cookies."

Suddenly, I wasn't irate anymore. I laughed...she made a good point. I guess I let the principle of the whole deal cloud my better judgment. I always do that.

And besides, how could a store stay in business by selling just $1 items?

Sushi BBQ

Coming out of lunch today, I noticed a sign across the street for a new Japanese Restaurant. "Sushi BBQ". If Sushi is RAW fish, then how, possibly, could it be barbequed?

Becky offered a suggestion.

"Maybe it's sushi with barbeque sauce on it."

I contend that in order to have your food BARBEQUED, you have to have it cooked on a grill. Cooked being the key word here. The sauce is just a flavoring, which is necessary, but not the key component.

"Well, if you get chicken with barbeque sauce on it, what do you call it?" Becky asks.

"I call it Barbequed Chicken." I reply.

"What if it wasn't cooked on a grill?"

"Well, at least it was cooked!!"

Regardless of what an item with barbeque sauce is called, I contend it must be cooked to be barbequed. Sushi cannot be barbequed, period.

Plus, who would want barbeque sauce on fish anyway? YUCK!!

My Apologies

Sorry for that last post. I think I am delirious from lack of sleep these last two days. Please read at you own risk!!

Do I Look Like An Indian To You?

Everybody has one, or has had one in their lifetime. Before you go off the deep end with sexually explicit innuendos (sicko perverts!!) let me clarify. At some point we have all had a nickname. (Wow, what were YOU thinking!!)

What I can't figure out is why guys get so creative with nicknames, and girls are so blah. For example, Tiffany becomes Tiff, or Barbara become Barb. YAWN!! Maybe girls just don't have the nicknaming capacity, or maybe they don't care to partake in nicknaming. Either way.

For guys, the stakes are raised. Donnie becomes "Chainsaw"...Rick is now dubbed "Slaughterhouse"...and Joe somehow becomes "Mandingo".

I guess if you break it down more (which is what I love to do), you have to put different kinds of nicknames in different catergories.

Catergory 1: Common Name Nicknames

This is your Tiffany = Tiff, your Richard = Dick, your Anthony = Tony.
You can't really say much about these. It's just a way to take a proper, stuffy adult name, and make it a little more hip and personable. I do it myself, because it's shorter...less letters to write. Hey, I'm a lazy guy, ok?


Catergory 2: Manly Nicknames

Bob = Mangler, Frank = Psycho
Really, why do guys do this? I say guys, cause when have you ever called your girlfriend or wife "Psycho" and meant it as a good thing? Ok, so guys attach these crazy, blood thirsty names to their friends as some kind of a ego boost. I am no psychologist, but I would think being called "Maniac" would make me feel more self confident than "Pooh Bear". That's just a guess.

The question is, why don't women take on such barbaric nicknames? I think it's because girls are "suppose" to be soft and less-crazed. I wouldn't want to date a girl who was refered to as "The Butcher". But maybe the ladies should take a page out of the guys book, and come up with some semi-manly nicknames to help with self esteem.

Examples: Anything with a more duel meaning..."Killer" could mean a knockout looking lady, or a lady with a steak knife ready to rip out your liver.

Catergory 3: Animal nicknames

Adam = Rhino, Josh = Weasel, Heather = Bunny
See where this is going? Guys just don't seem to care what they are called, as long as the animal is tough or filthy, women need soft, furry nicknames.

Catergory 4: Common nicknames

Let me attack this catergory by giving you the 3 nicknames I HATE to be called.

3. Fella. Ex: "What have you been up to, fella?" What is a fella? I'm sure it's short for fellow, but when is the last time you heard someone say fellow? "He's a mighty good fellow" is the last time I heard it, and that song is as old as the hills (and not sang that often anymore for that very reason.)

2. Big -un. Believe it or not, I've gotten this nickname more than once. "Hey, big-un, how's it going?" Yes, that is Big-un, as in short for Big One. Who would feel good about being called big? A bodybuilder, maybe. I am not a body builder. But, on the bright side, at least I haven't been called Fatty McButterpants...yet!

1. Chief. "What's up, Chief?" I'll tell you what's about to be up...my foot, up your behind!! I can't really explain why I hate being called Chief, but I do hate it so. Chief? Man, I hate that one. Even worse than Big-un.

Of course, other catergories include: Lover's Nicknames, Nicknames for your Animals, Last Name Change Nicknames (using the person's last name to make a new, cooler nickname. Ex: Jones = Jonsey) and Far-Out Non-Sensical Nicknames (Ex: Brad = Godsey...see? Godsey isn't a word, yet, it's Brad's nickname!)

It seems that the common theme in all of the catergories is: Man = Strong, tough nicknames, or nicknames that play off your own name. Women = soft, cuddly nicknames.

Sounds like men need some ego boosting, and women need to feel more feminine. I don't have a problem with that...I do, however have a problem being called Chief!!

I'm sure it says something about our society, but as you can tell if you've made it this far in the post, I obviously have no idea where I am going with this entry, so I'll leave you to ponder the shortcomings of our society, and to think about the meaning behind YOUR nickname.

Blue and White

There are signs that your favorite sports team is doing well. Maybe the baseball game is featured in Prime Time...maybe the basketball game is the "Game of the Week" on NBC...maybe the hockey game is, um, well, I guess we can skip that one being as I live in Indiana.

But for Football, it's a showdown on Monday night. Last night, Becky and a fellow IT worker, were able to score free tickets to the Indianapolis Colts vs the Minnesota Vikings, two teams at the top of the win column. Because Becky and her co-hort, Doug, are extremely nice, they gave the tickets to my brother and me.

Of course, as they say, nothing is free. We knew about the "possibility" of these tickets gracing our hands a week in advance, but the road wasn't without it's bumps. In order to get the tickets, several things had to fall into place.

The Proposal

Becky and Doug were to get the tickets if they came to a presentation by a computer equipment supplier (I can't pretend to know what they were selling, something that was big and expensive). They show up, look at the product, badda bing, badda boom, tickets for us.

Well...

1. Doug had to agree to go to the event. He said ok.
2. Doug had to agree to part with his ticket to Monday Night Football. He said sure.
3. The Company had to agree to let the tickets be given from Becky and Doug, to me and my brother. No problem.
4. My brother had to be off work, have someone to watch the kids, AND get a vehicle to drive to my house. Check, check, and check.

Smooth sailing...so far. Doug then dropped a bomb on us that he MAY not be able to go, because of child care issues. He would know the Monday of the game. So with all the balls in place we waited...and waited...

We had planned on leaving at 5:00, and at 3:30, still no answer from Doug. 4:00, nothing. 4:30, nadda. But, rejoice!! A little after 4:30, Doug gave us the green light.

The Waiting

It wasn't "see your breath" cold, but it was a little chili out last night by the Dome. My brother and I waited patiently while Becky and Doug went through the computer company's presentation.

We arrived shortly after 6...and by 7:30, we were just about spent. Then, we saw a guy with his wife stagger close to us. He was easily 6 foot 4, big ole beer belly, greying hair. The closer he got, the less he walked straight, and the more he walked to the right. Finally, he hit the curb, grabbed the trash can, and took a dive straight into the grass. We couldn't tell if he was hurt, or drunk. We soon concluded that he was drunk because his wife continued to nurse her cigarette as if nothing had happened.

It was just the little excitment we needed. At 8, a Rep from the computer place asked if we would like some passes to go in where Becky and Doug where. We agreed, because we knew there would be food. Oh, yeah, free food!! We scarfed some free food and shortly after, two tickets graced our numb fingers.

The Game

It's a once a year thing, maybe, for your hometown team to play Monday Night Football. So, to be there, was already thrilling. But the game itself was exciting, too. The first play, Minnesota fumble! First play! Of course they regained the fumble.

Some other highlights included:

1. Minnesota returned a punt for big yardage...but their punt returner was crushed by Hunter Smith, the punter. (NOTE: For those of you not in the know, punters are, gererally speaking, smaller guys who only tackle as a "last resort". Of course, Smith is a little larger, as Punters go, but still, it doesn't happen often.)

2. Later in the game, Smith got his second big hit in, unfortunately, it was as the Viking returner stretched across the end zone for a 91 yard punt return for a touchdown.

3. 4 passing TD's for Peyton Manning.

4. A last second Mike Vanderjagt field goal to win the game for the Colts, 31-28.

Here's what you didn't see...

1. Two guys getting tossed (from in or close to our section). The cops and security filed up the steps, yanked the drunkards, and wisked them away. Both were in the absolute top row of the stadium...I guess they didn't care if they saw the end of the game or not.

2. A guy three rows in front of us proposing to his girlfriend. She looked happy, so I assume she said yes.

3. Two guys in suits sitting next to a guy painted blue.

4. 57,000 screaming fans.

We rolled back into my town at 2:30 am. Tired, but satisfied.

Oh, yeah...if you are the lady who sat in front of us (section 320, row 16), I wanted to let you know when the Viking running back got crushed by our defense and he layed, apparently hurt...it was not me who yelled "BRING THE PAIN, 39!!" It was the guys behind me...and I didn't appriciate the smug look.

Ok, so it was me, but this is football after all, lady, not ballet!

Men's Rules

Becky sent this e-mail to me and actually prefaced it with a "sad but true" comment. I'll let you read it and judge yourself.

Men's Rules

We always hear "the rules" from the female side. Now here are the rules from the male side. These are our rules!

Please note these are all numbered "1" ON PURPOSE!

1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us bitching about you leaving it down.

1. Sometimes we are not thinking about you. Live with it.

1. Sunday = sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.

1. Don't cut your hair. Ever. Long hair is always more attractive than short hair. One of the big reasons guys fear getting married is that married women always cut their hair, and by then you're stuck with her.

1. Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.

1. Crying is blackmail.

1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!

1. We don't remember dates. Mark birthdays and anniversaries on a calendar. Remind us frequently beforehand.

1. Most guys own three pairs of shoes - tops. What makes you think we'd be any good at choosing which pair, out of thirty, would look good with your dress?

1. "Yes" and "No" are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.

1. A headache that last for 17 months is a problem. See a doctor.

1. Anything we said six months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after seven days.

1. If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't expect us to act like soap opera guys.

1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us. We refuse to answer.

1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways, and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.

1. Let us ogle. We are going to look anyway; it's genetic.

1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

1. Christopher Columbus did not need directions, and neither do we.

1. The relationship is never going to be like it was the first two months we were going out. Get over it. And quit whining to your girlfriends.

1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.

1. We are not mind readers and we never will be. Our lack of mind-reading ability is not proof of how little we care about you.

1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," we will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.

1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.

1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine. Really.

1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as sex, sports or cars.

1. You have enough clothes.

1. You have too many shoes.

1. Foreign films are best left to foreigners. (Unless it's Bruce Lee or some war flick where it doesn't really matter what the hell they're saying anyway.)

1. It is neither in your best interest nor ours to take the quiz together. No, it doesn't matter which quiz.

1. I am in shape. ROUND is a shape.

1. Thank you for reading this; Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight, but did you know we really don't mind that, it's like camping.

Red Faced on Red House

I'm still a little bummed out about Saturday. You see, Becky and I went to a Halloween Party at my buddy Dan's house. The main attraction: His band was going to be performing. I love a live show, and these guys rock pretty hard, so I was very excited to go and check them out.

This is a real band here, two guitar players, bass and drums. They practice, perform at the local bars, etc. Not some two bit operation, in other words. I was particuarly excited because they had been working on a Hendrix cover of Voodoo Chile (Slight Return). Hendrix, being my favorite, was definitely a draw to the shindig.

When we arrived, we went through the regular Halloween stuff. Ah, look at the costumes, etc. (we, by the way, chose not to dress up. We just weren't into making a spectacle of ourselves.) Little did I know, I would be making a spectacle of myself soon enough anyway.

The band started warming up, and immediately broke into Voodoo Chile. I have to admit, it did sound awesome, despite a few small things.

1. They played it the Stevie Ray Vaughn way, which has an extra note in the intro. For some reason, I couldn't get past that.

2. Dan didn't know some of the words to the first verse. "I stand up next to THE mountain?" No, no, no!! "I stand up next to A mountain."

3. Dan didn't know any of the second verse.

That is where I came in.

During the instrumental break down, Dan calls me up to the stage. "Come on, Tony, I don't know the words, come sing it!!"

So, I did.

The problem was two fold.

1. I couldn't tell from what they were playing when I needed to start singing.

2. My mic was apparently not turned up, cause when I finally started to sing, I heard nothing, despite my screaming.

Oh, well. It was ok, cause that was my first time in front of an audience WITH a band. (of course, my birthday party had me performing by myself in front of friends and family, but this was in front of strangers WITH a full band...very intimidating.)

Well, I sat back down and the band finished the song. My ordeal was over...wait a minute...

Dan was called to the house for something, so Hiram, the guitar player, waved me back up.

"Do you know Red House?" Do I know Red House? Of course, I am a Hendrix junky!!

So, I took the stage one more time for Red House. The band had never played it before, but it sounded dead on to the original. I was ecstatic!! The time came, and this time my mic was on.

"There's a Red House over yonder....
that's where my baby stays.

There's a Red House over yonder...
lord that's where my baby stays.

I haven't been home to see my baby,
in 99 and one half days.

Wait a minute something's wrong,
this key won't unlock this door.

Wait a minute somethings wrong,
this key won't unlock this door.

That's when I realized something was wrong...I blanked the lyrics...the whole rest of the song was gone! I stood starring at Hiram, who played on as if nothing had happened. I looked at the Bass player, and shrugged "I forgot the words." He played on. It seems they didn't know the words at all, so it didn't matter. I, unfortunately, wasn't very good at improvising, so I stood there staring at the band, while they grooved out.

I was embarrassed, but not as much as I had thought I would be. Until I heard someone say
"He's not gonna sing it!" in a disgusted tone. Oh, well...I guess I made some friends that night!!

I apologized for forgetting the words, and we left soon after. So much for my first real performance. Maybe next time I will study before I leave...

VOTE

Well, my vote is in. For the first time ever, I went down and threw my political 2 cents in. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be. I had visions of hanging chad's and bug eyed vote counters scrutinizing my ballot.

None of that. Just a couple of old ladies in a room.

A couple of things bothered me.

1. They didn't ask for my ID or Voter Registration card. All they did was have me sign, and put the last four digits of my Social Security number down. What if they found the numbers didn't match? Obviously they couldn't find the particular ballot I cast and pull it out. That's just asking for voter fraud.

2. The voting booth had no back. While I was voting, the machine next to me opened up (there were only two machines in the building.) and some guy walked right behind me to get to the machine. My whole voting scheme was open to his wandering eyes! I felt like I was in the second grade, hovering over my votes like they were the answers to my Spelling Quiz.

3. You know those little "I voted" stickers? Well, I didn't get one, and I'm more than a little bitter about that!!

In closing, I hope that all my candidates will win. I have been told that whether I vote Republican or Democrat for President this year really doesn't matter, because apparently Indiana is a strong Republican state. That's nice to know that no matter who I vote for, my vote doesn't really amount to much. I mean, if it were the case that "every vote counts" and in the end, the popular vote wins, then I would still think my vote went to the good of the bottom line.

But that's not the case. I guess this whole Electoral College thing confuses me. If Bush gets 800 votes in Indiana and Kerry gets 799...then Bush wins 11 EC votes, Kerry gets 0. What happens to 800 and 799? I would think that would still mean something, but it doesn't. I just don't understand, I guess.

I guess it's more the Majority of each State, than it is the Majority of the entire country, which also seems weird to me, but I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation. Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to discredit the system, I'm just trying to understand.

Good luck to President Bush.
Good luck to Senator Kerry.

I hope the better man wins, whomever that may be, and I hope the country can accept the outcome either way and find a way to continue to live and prosper. I refuse to reveil my vote...except to the guy who walked behind me at the polls!