Today's MOZEN: Idiocracy

F LoBuono

When did our society get SO stupid? Perhaps, it's always been this way and I've just started to take notice. Maybe, it's the emergence of social media that has made me more aware of this sad situation. One way or the other, we seem to be drowning in a sea of idiocy.

In a previous posting, I mentioned the plethora of vapid reality shows that currently dominate the TV line-up. They are cheap and easy to produce and the value they deliver is exactly the same: cheap and easy. Little thought is necessary to create OR watch them. Well, they have plenty of company in most TV commercials, particularly those for Fast Food establishments. It seems the more inane the pitch man (or woman) is, the more people are likely to buy their food!

And, there is no shortage of examples:

Two boobs sitting in a car use mindless banter to sell shakes, burgers, fries, and the like from Sonic. Anything from Carl Jrs /Hardees usually involves a buxom blonde saying little, wearing even less, lustfully biting into an overstuffed cheese burger. Burger King hawks its new all beef hot dog using a moronic fast food eating contestant and an over-the-top ballpark vendor as their spokespeople. A series of actors desperately trying to channel the original Colonel Sanders - and failing miserably - attempts to get us to eat Kentucky Fried Chicken. Burly actor Vig Raimes' deep baritone informs us the Arby's "got the meats" (no typo, really meatS, with an "s"). I'll spare you the rest. It seems the cheaper the food, the more lame the message is to get people to buy it!

I suppose that these food outlets know who they are marketing to. After all, fast food IS cheap food. Therefore, it tends to be purchased by people from lower income brackets who, in turn, tend to have a lower level of education. I get that. However, can't the marketers for these fast food chains make their ads simple without be so moronic?

It all may seem harmless but, in the long run, it really isn't. It's part of an over malaise, a dumbing down, that is affecting America. Where we once led the world in education and innovation we are now falling behind. Our democracy, which once required a brain and a conscience, has been replaced by an idiocracy which simply requires one to breathe. And, we have no one to blame but ourselves.

Today's MOZEN: Elvis Killed Kennedy

F LoBuono

My favorite tee-shirt meme is this: Elvis Killed Kennedy. It is so because it represents my feelings towards Conspiracy Theories - all of them.

Choose a historic event, ANY historic event or unusual occurrence, and you will find someone who will be willing to debate you as to the legitimacy of its cause. Let's list just a few of the biggies:

1. Elvis Presley - faked his death and went into hiding. Many rabid fans of The King believe that instead of dying of a drug overdoes, he went into hiding to begin a new, more stable life.
2. The Kennedy Assassination - theories abound challenging the official reports that President Kennedy was killed by a lone assassin claiming, instead, that it was carried out by the CIA or the mafia.
3. The Moon Landings - in order to restore American pride during the cold war, there are those who believe that the 1969 US landing on the moon was nothing more that an elaborately staged movie stunt.
4. Chemtrails - the exhaust streams left by high-flying jet airplanes are thought by many to contain toxic chemicals placed there by the government in collusion with major drug companies. It is said to be in an effort to control things like crop growth through weather manipulation.
5. 911 - the grand daddy of them all. The collapse of the World Trade Center complex, particularly building #7, was not caused by strikes from two jet airliners but was, rather, a controlled explosion detonated by the government. The purpose was to blame radical Islam and plunge us into war in the Middle East.
6. Vaccines - rather than cure, or even eliminate disease, some believe that vaccines are a direct cause of autism and that it is a plot by big pharmaceuticals to collect more money.

There are mountains of mainstream scientific evidence that seem to be reasonable and legitimate explanations as to why all of these things happened. There is also considerable evidence presented by Conspiracy Theorists to support THEIR claims. Generally, however, most of this support comes from sources other than those considered "reliable". Now, this in and of itself is not necessarily a bad thing. A certain amount of skepticism can be healthy, especially when it applies to dealing with information from so-called "official sources". Certainly, we HAVE been lied to and mislead - and more than once. Still, at some point, since most of us do not have the expertise to actually KNOW, we must decide who to TRUST.

And, how do we arrive at that trust?

I, for one, in order to trust, need to know what motivates anyone to do anything, especially if goes against the so-called norm. For example, why would Elvis Presley fake his own death? What would motivate him to attempt such a radical stunt? What could he possibly gain? Instead, considering his past history of drug addiction, is it not perfectly reasonable to believe the explanation that Elvis Presley did, indeed, die from a drug overdose?

The same question should be asked of ALL conspiracy theories - what would be gained by presenting misleading or inaccurate information to the public? Are the so-called rewards worth the risk of staging such a deception? Is it reasonable to accept as an explanation that during the terror attacks of 911 our government killed thousands of its own people by its own hand in order to legitimize going to war? Impossible? No. But, to me, that seems HIGHLY unlikely as a motivator.

Then, there is the issue of feasibility. Is what you are proposing as an explanation actually DOABLE? Is it physically possible? Does the technology exist to produce the results that you were hoping for? These parameters should include not only physical factors, but psychological ones, as well. For example, it is physically possible that the World Trade Centers were brought down by something other than the crash of two jet planes into them. However, HIDING how it was done and WHY it was done is an entirely different matter! If it is difficult to keep a secret in a small office of a just a few people, then how many complicit people would have to be silent in such an enormous attack? FOREVER? I find that incredulous.

And, last, but not least, if one looks hard enough, one can find just about anything anywhere. We can CHOOSE to interpret facts as we wish. But that becomes a slippery slope. Isn't EVERYTHING in life open to interpretation? When does one stop? Also, sometimes, in order to make a situation fit our particular narrative, we can see things that simply are not there. When we try too hard, we suffer from Cognitive Dissonance. In other words, we see only what we want to see. And, there are those who see conspiracies in just about EVERY aspect of life!

Besides, as I get older, I continually look to simplify my life. In fact, the simpler the better. I have little or no time to go looking for theories that might or might not explain why things happened the way they did. Especially since I, or anyone else for that matter, CANNOT know with absolute CERTAINTY, why and how things happen. This does not mean that I do not seek answers to pressing questions. In fact, I am always searching. However, I do not want to be consumed by the search. Somethings, most, in fact, are simply what they appear to be. And, that's just fine by me.

So, yes. Elvis did kill Kennedy.

When You Think About It: Dissatisfaction vs. Dysfunction

F LoBuono

  dissatisfaction

          
[dis-sat-is-fak-shuh n, dis-sat-] 

      noun

         1.

the state or attitude of not being satisfied; discontent; displeasure.

dysfunction

[dis-fuhngk-shuh-nl] 

noun

1.

not performing normally, as an organ or structure of the body;malfunctioning.

2.

malfunctioning part or element:

It is hard to get bills through a dysfunctional congress.

3.

behaving or acting outside social norms:

All the siblings in their extremely dysfunctional family lost contact as adults.

When analyzing the surprising rise of Donald Trump and to a lesser extent, Bernie Sanders, it is important that we distinguish between these two similar sounding but, ultimately, disparate words.

Mr. Trump has managed to surprise the GOP field virtually from the beginning by playing to the dissatisfaction of voters with the status quo in Washington. Democratic candidate, Bernie Sanders, is receiving similar (but less spectacular) traction for the same reason. This is a good thing. Business as usually by our leaders has led to questions regarding not only their skill as politicians but their motivation, as well. To paraphrase the fictional newsman, Howard Beale, in the award winning film, “Network”, People are mad as hell and they’re not going to take it anymore! And, when anger is focused, it is a powerful force.

Now, here is where it gets dicey. We cannot allow our dissatisfaction with “the system” bring us to the point of dysfunction in how we intend to change it. It can be argued that the only way to fix a broken system is to completely dismantle it. However, there are others who call for restraint – we shouldn’t throw out the baby with the bathwater. The very way we effect that change will make all the difference in the end.

One of the definitions of dysfunction is behaving or acting beyond social norms.  This seems to be the very embodiment of the Trump campaign. He has played with peoples’ fears to the point of extreme behavior. His fiery rhetoric focuses anger on any group he singles out as potential “enemies of the state” – HIS state.  He encourages people to tear down without offering any solutions as to how we may actually build up. Instead of building a consensus, he’d rather build a wall. Instead of including, he is all about excluding. His campaign rallies are raucous affairs where the message is STRICTLY controlled and dissent is squashed. Violence against groups or individuals who disagree with “The Donald” if not actively encouraged, is tacitly so. This is the true meaning of the word dysfunction. 

Senator Sanders has also found success in tapping into that same vein. However, in my mind, Sanders offers change in way that lacks the dysfunction of Trump and his followers.  In a sense, he encourages change in a kinder, gentler way.  Both agree change is necessary. How they would go about accomplishing that is radically different. Of course, Hillary Clinton offers her own brand of harnessing dissatisfaction and turning it into votes (another conversation for another entry).

One of the things I find distressing is the fact that Trump continues to gain momentum by accentuating both dissatisfaction AND dysfunction while Sanders’ platform seems to waning.  Trump preaches Fear and Loathing and his devotees sing “Hallelujah”! The meaner and angrier he gets, the more they seem to love him for it. Instead of being embarrassed by it, it is almost as if they wear their dysfunction (i.e. anti-social behavior) like a badge of courage. And, the uglier it gets, the more they seem to like it.

hings needn’t be so mean-spirited to effect real change. I think we can ALL agree that a new way of doing things in Washington is essential. It all comes down to WHAT we want to change and HOW we want to change it.

The choice is ours – don’t allow your DISSATISFACTION become DYSFUNCTION.

Today's MOZEN: Birthday Message 61

Words and photo by F LoBuono

Ecclesiastesor, the Preacher

Chapter 3

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die. . . 

Turn, Turn, Turn

First put to music by Pete Seeger and then popularized by the 60's band, The Byrds, it has always been one of my favorite biblical passages. Beyond its religious connotation, to me, it conveys the endless cycle of life: birth and death, repeated over and over again. There is also an acceptance of fate, if not faith.  I have always found that "letting go" comforting.

It has particular meaning to me today.

It's my birthday. Sixty one years ago I opened by eyes to the world and started screaming. And, it seems that I haven't stopped bellowing since. Probably never will.  I have been given a voice and I'm going to use it where I believe that it's needed the most.

It's also a week when I lost a dear friend and co-worker, Richard (Dick) Rinehart (feels good to write his name). A quiet, dedicated man he never wavered in his devotion to his family and what he saw as his duties as a man. He literally walked around the world and documented his travels to share with his friends. His sudden and unexpected death was a shock to us all. I intensely mourned his passing. But, it also reinforced the message that life is uncertain. We need to treasure every moment. And, I'm sure that Dick would not have had it any other way.

It dawned grey, cloudy, and rainy. I suppose that it suits my rather subdued mood. I know that birthdays are usually celebratory events and I'm sure that I will mark the day with some joy and a small gathering of friends. But, it can also be a day to reflect - on where I've been, to where I may be going, and to be sure to be thankful - for ALL of it.

And, LOVE ONE ANOTHER.

Today's MOZEN: Perspective

F LoBuono

Prologue: From time to time, it is important that I reiterate TalkFrank's most basic chore belief: My opinions are my own. I take ownership of them. I am solely responsible for their content. However, they are only that - opinions. And, I encourage others to voice theirs, as well. If it is well put, then it is always welcome. But, I also created the blog to exercise MY right to express my thoughts. Therefore, those opinions can be passionate and, perhaps too often, seen as combative. This, I suppose, comes with the territory.

And, as I will not be silenced, I will not silence others. But, as I must use decorum and not say just any thing in just any way, I feel it is fair to expect the same from others.

Now, to the issue at hand -

On the passing of Prince.

First, I don't want to detract from anyone's feelings when it comes to the loss of someone they might not know directly but still has had enough of an impact on their lives so that they feel as if they actually did. It can come with the passing of some type of public figure, usually a celebrity. They often play a significant role in the pageant of our lives. So, it has been the case with the recent deaths of David Bowie and, now, Prince.

Both were masters of not only their crafts but, seemingly life. Their music AND their personae made them giants, not only in their industry, but in the eyes of millions of adoring fans, too. Their music STOOD for something and it resonated with so many. As you often hear people say, they, along with a select few others, provide the soundtrack of their lives. And, if their enormous talent weren't enough, they were groundbreaking artists whose vision set the bar ever higher.

Certainly, they gave so much that it is right and proper to mark their passing with the adulation they both earned and most certainly deserve.

However, the AMOUNT of public grieving, especially for two men who were notoriously private, puzzles and vexes me. I suppose that a good amount of that stems from the fact that we live in a VERY connected and, therefore, public society. We seem to share everything - including our grief. I get that. And, as I mentioned above, I get the deep connection people feel for these artists. Plus, I also understand that in their passing we lose a piece of our past - another page is turned. However, at some point it all loses perspective.

I did not know these men directly. YOU did not these men directly (well, the GREAT majority of you). Perhaps, you FELT like you did. But, the reality is you couldn't. So, how could you feel the same connection that you would have if you lost a member of your family? To me, that's not realistic - it couldn't be. These people, in a sense, are nothing more than figments of our imagination. Therefore, the connection is, or should be, more tenuous.

Now, this does not make me an evil person (other things might, but not this!). I have noted and acknowledged their greatness as artists. And, I've told that they were also great as humanitarians. But, again, just for perspective, I was not a big follower of either as performers. Their "gender bending" style and outrageous "costumes" did not attract me. I enjoyed their music but did not collect it. My style then, as it is now, tends more towards the likes of Tom Waits. This does not make me, or you, bad - just different. I suppose I'm saying there is no such thing as a "Universal Artist". That's simply not possible - and, so, Bowie and Prince should not truly touted as such - no one is. Again, this should not be seen as detracting from the greatness of their accomplishments. I'm just a little more jaded when it comes to such matters.

And, sometimes, there can even be a "back story" that can affect that memory. I have one.

I never had any professional dealings with Bowie. However, I did with Prince. A few years back, I was given as assignment. Prince was on his "THIS IS AMERICA"tour and was to perform that evening at Madison Square Garden. During his sound check he was going to present a check for one million dollars to a Harlem based charity. We were invited to document the event.

It was disaster.

First, they kept us waiting in the hallway of the Garden's press entrance at 33rd Street for hours. Some of the photographers were there for four hours or more. Then, as we were finally herded into the large, freight elevators for our trip to the mezzanine level, we were given STRICT orders as how we were to conduct ourselves:

You will not be allowed to shoot until you are given the OK to. ANYONE who violates this rule will be escorted out, IMMEDIATELY. You can only shoot from the designated area. ANYONE who violates this rule will be escorted out, IMMEDIATELY.

We got the message.

When we got to the mezzanine, we were penned into an area in front of the stage. Technicians were milling about, preparing for that evening's performance. I set my gear and waited for the OK to begin taping. After a few minutes, some of the kids from the charity to receive the donation began appearing around the stage. We asked if we could take some preliminary shots. We were told, "NO".

After some more time passed, we heard the wail of an electric guitar. Suddenly, a spot light cut through the darkness exposing Prince in a back section of the lower level of the Garden. He was wearing black, skin-tight leotards with bright white, shaggy knee-high boots. Brandishing a bright white custom Fender guitar, in the glare of the spotlight, he couldn't be missed. He was walking from area to area around the floor, playing a bit in each area to see how it sounded from that spot. I must admit, it was very cool seeing him there. I remember thinking how tiny he appeared to be!

Of course, all of the photographers get very excited. Here was the "Money Shot". We all began to bring our cameras to bear when, once again, we were told by security that we would not be allowed to shoot yet. Prince's publicist explained that he had to get direct permission. We asked, "when will that happen"? and were told, "soon".

After Prince was satisfied with what he was hearing, he came to the stage and approached the young people from the charity. They all gathered around him like bees to honey. What a great shot! "NOW"?, we screamed. NO. I have to ask Prince first. I'll go down there now and ask him", responded the publicist.

We watched him approach Prince. He leaned in and said something in his ear. Of course, we could not hear what was transpiring but I did see one thing; Prince was nodding his head in a negative manner. In other words, he was saying NO! The publicist kept trying and receiving the same reaction - NO. He came back to the shooting platform and informed us of the bad news: "sorry fella's. It's a rap. There will be NO photos today". We were livid! Unfortunately, that poor fellow had to bare the brunt of our rage. "NO photos? What the hell did you invite us here for, then"? we bellowed to know avail. Security rounded us up and escorted us out. But, before they got us to the exit, we all started chanting: "This is America? This is BULL SHIT"! I wonder if Prince actually heard us - or, if he did, would he even have cared.

This should not detract from the fact that, ultimately, Prince WAS donating a million dollars for the benefit of young people. That IS what is most important. I'm sure that he had his reasons to reject us. It doesn't matter.

I suppose, that in the end, no one if perfect. We all die - some more famously so than others - but, all. Perspective, my friends. Perspective.

Today's MOZEN: RED RULES

Words and photos by F LoBuono

Certainly, things happen in our lives that defy standard explanation. Does this mean that mysterious forces are in play? Is their some message being sent for us to hear? Perhaps. I profess a little agnosticism when it comes to such matters. It may, or may not be due to circumstances that are truly beyond our control and understanding. How can we truly know for sure? To me, as much as I want to fathom ALL of the mysteries of the Universe, it is not that important that I come to know exactly why these things happen. Sometimes, I believe it is enough that that we simply accept whatever message we may choose to take from it.

Such was the case the other day.

I had just finished one of my sojourns into the village and was taking the sidewalk that runs alongside my building and then to my apartment when I noticed something different. Just over 2 years ago I buried my beloved cat, Big Red, next to the path. He had been such a big part of my life that, even in death, I felt that his spirit would sustain me (I have shared his story previously on the blog). There was a patch of wild lilies that I thought would make a fitting final resting place for the Big Guy. I placed a Pink Flamingo Pin Wheel to further mark the site (he would have appreciated that). And, there he has rested ever since.

As I was passing Red's grave, my eyes were immediately drawn to two, bright red tulips standing tall right in the center of the tumulus (grave mound). They were the only blooming flowers in the entire field of green, making them stand out like little red sentinels! Now, what made this somewhat remarkable to me was that I do not recall planting any tulip bulbs on the grave. In fact, I'm sure that I did not. Also, there are no other tulips blooming anywhere even CLOSE to that area.

So, how did they get there? And, why were they blooming now, after all of this time?

When I mentioned this to friends, some offered logical, plausible explanations: Squirrels had buried the bulbs in the soft earth and forgotten about them. They were there when you disturbed the earth in the first place and just germinated, etc. But, others suggested things that were more esoteric in nature. They said that, yes, the bulbs may have already existed in nature but it was the power of Big Red's Spirit that made them bloom in the exact spot that they did. He was sending a sign in all of his BIG RED glory, that he is, indeed, still with me - in spirit if not in body.

I choose to believe a little of both . . .

When You Think About It: The Spirit of Things

Words and photo by F LoBuono

There was a recent posting on Facebook with many expressing outrage that students trying out for high school sports teams may be drug tested while welfare recipients are not (this is not entirely accurate).

On the surface, it seems completely reasonable to find outrage in this. If we require it of "innocent" students then we certainly should from those asking for a handout, i.e. public assistance.  After all, they are, in a sense, getting something for nothing. Right? In fact, they should be GRATEFUL and, therefore, eagerly willing to submit to drug testing. Yes?

So, where is the issue?

Well, it lies in the SPIRIT of the law, i.e. what is the motivation and the impetus for passing this, or any other, law? Why is it needed? What do we, as a society, hope to gain from its implementation? Who will it help? Who might it hurt?

So, let's see if we can answer these questions. First, if we live in a truly FREE society, why are we drug testing ANYONE, especially without probable cause? To drug test randomly without a REAL reason, suggests that people are inherently bad. We begin with the premise that they are "dirty", rather than "clean" - dishonest rather than trustworthy. This mindset is particularly applied to those who seek public assistance, i.e. POOR PEOPLE. There is the assumption that these people take the money to buy drugs rather than to feed themselves or their families. I mean, the reason these people need the help is because they've screwed up their lives in the first place, right? And, why should I subsidize their bad behavior/drug habits?

Now, I know that there is fraud in the welfare system. There always has been and, most likely, always will be - because it is human nature. Where there are people there will always be greed and graft. However, when you think about it,  do you REALLY believe that the majority of  those who need the help would squander it on drugs? That's absurd! Sure, there are unscrupulous people who would choose to feed their addictions rather than their children, but they are the exception rather than the rule. Still, there are those who would have us believe that most welfare recipients take our money with one hand and with the other give it to a drug dealer. I don't know about you but, if I needed the help. I would resent the hell out of someone degrading me like this. And, make NO mistake, that's exactly what it does - degrades those who are already suffering.

And, beyond the obvious stereotyping of poor people, the statistics simply do not support this premise. Study after study of States that have implemented drug testing as a prerequisite to receiving welfare have produced underwhelming results*. The myth of the so-called Welfare Queen, i.e. a woman who lives lavishly on public assistance, in exactly that - a MYTH. The facts do not support THE SPIRIT of the law. In other words, despite its claim of good intent,the law is really about simply (please forgive the vernacular) breaking balls and keeping poor people down by destroying their very integrity.  Drug testing welfare recipients is not only ineffective, it is unnecessary and counterproductive - costing more to initiate than it saves by claiming to defeat so-called welfare fraud. It simply reinforces old, worn stereotypes.

This mentality can also be seen in the latest round of the so-called Bathroom Restriction Laws like the one recently passed in North Carolina. Here, The Spirit of this law is also flawed. It serves NO PURPOSE beyond attempting to vilifiy those who may be different than us (them). The framers of the law claim that it was passed to insure the safety of women and children while in a vulnerable area, despite the fact that there is NO STATISTICAL EVIDENCE that would support their premise. It is simply more ball breaking!

It is also odd to me that people would accept random drug testing in their own lives so readily. This is still a free country and I, for one, resent the fact that the government looks to control what we do in the privacy of our own homes. Instead of railing against this intrusion to their own lives, people look for scapegoats. They think that they've found them in the welfare system. I also find it strange that many of the people who believe in drug testing welfare recipiants generally support so-called Conservative Causes, which, in general, eschew interference by the government. Except, apparently, when it comes to social issues. Then, if it doesn't fit within their vision of God and Country, it must be controlled (think reproductive rights, gay rights, etc.). Of course, it is more than mere coincidence that the States that have passed most of these draconian measures are controlled by Republicans.

So, when you think about it, it shouldn't be too hard. In fact, it's pretty simple: Live and Let Live. Look with your hearts as well as your eyes. All the poor people are NOT trying to rip you off.



*http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/welfare-drug-testing_us_56156d38e4b021e856d344cd

Today's MOZEN: The Way of the Peaceful Warrior

Words and photo by F LoBuono

Let me make one thing perfectly clear: despite all the preaching that I do extolling the virtues of non-violence, I do not always practice what I preach. I have a temper, and a fierce one at that. It can get me in trouble and it has - more than once. It is something that I have wrestled with my entire life.

As a kid, I worshipped men of machismo. My father and all of my uncles projected "maleness" in their personae. Testosterone was in the air.  Growing up, my younger brother and I were typical (for that era) rough-neck boys. We loved watching the Saturday morning gladiator movies shown on one of the local TV stations and then mimicking the action. Steve Reeves as Hercules was a BIG role model. We swore that when we grew up, we would work out so that we could look just like him!

We both played violent sports. It was all about being a warrior. I played football and boxed. My brother also played football and wrestled. At one point, I stopped counting how many times I had broken my nose. I got into more fights than I care to remember. I simply would not take any shit from anyone. I really don't think that I won many of those fights, if any at all. It didn't matter. I would defend my honor and use my fists if necessary to do so.

So, what IS the point I wish to make here?

NON-VIOLENCE does not come easily to me. I have to WORK AT IT - every single day! There are times when my temper still gets the best out of me and I simply want to strangle the shit out of someone. This seems particularly acute when I'm behind the wheel of my car: there's the arrogant young woman who just cut me off and still gives ME the finger. Then there's the person going WAY too slow in the left lane forcing everyone else to go around them. There seems to be a never ending supply of assholes just dying to piss us off! If you're like me, you feel the blood rush to your temples and you just want to explode!

And, there are other ways to raise our blood pressure. Facebook can be a prime offender. The relative anonymity it provides to it's users allows them to give voice to their inner fears and desires. Some of those can be downright frightening AND infuriating! The amount of Fear and Loathing can just set me off.

The thing with an explosive temper like mine is that the eruption only provides temporary relief. Sure, for that moment, you feel GOOD. You have vanquished the demon that has caused you such discomfort. You want them to PAY and when they do, you smile - but, only for a moment. If you are at all like me, you feel much WORSE in the long run for having lost your temper. After the initial rush of satisfaction, I can feel awful. Both my head and stomach start to hurt. That's a physical reaction to the adrenaline that my anger has caused to flood into my body. If I allow my self to listen to my body it would be saying: fool, where did that little escapade get you in the end? Generally, that is not a better place and, at times, anger can actually land you in one far worse.

Venting, exploding, and raging may make me feel better in my head but, in my heart, I know that it is wrong, terribly wrong. We simply cannot continue to cater to the darker angels of our nature. We cannot yield to our baser instincts. In doing so, we are chartering a course to our own demise. There must be a better way to become a WARRIOR - A WARRIOR FOR PEACE.

As a young man, I admired the toughest fighters, the fiercest creatures, and roughest competitors. These were the men that relied on their skills as warriors to accomplish their goals. I wanted to be as fearless as they seemed to be. Then, I realized that fearlessness is a relative term. Being fearless does not have to be measured at the tip of a spear or the muzzle of a gun. It is an internal quality that allows us to face even enormous odds when we believe in what we are trying to accomplish. Certainly, the legendary Tank Man, who famously stared down a column of Chinese tanks in Tiananman Square, is every bit as brave , if not more so, than any man behind a machine gun.

We have already been shown the path of NON-VIOLENCE. It is both an ancient and modern one. Jesus showed the way 2,000 years ago. Martin Luther King practiced it successfully in the mid-Twentieth Century, and the Dali Lama lights the way today. However, ironically, we only lack the REAL COURAGE to implement it. We prefer to continue to define bravery by its association with violence when the bravest are really those who choose to deal with problems without it.

I'm not there yet. I still fall prey to old habits. I can flash far too easily to anger. But, at least I am aware of it now and that's half the battle. If I can catch myself WHILE it's happening, perhaps I can at least minimize the effect if not completely eliminate it. There ARE practical ways to deal with one's anger. Freaking out is NOT one of them. Patience and awareness are.

I am committed to trying. Are you?

Today's MOZEN: Common Sense 1

Words and photo by F LoBuono

One cannot elicit responses for a passionate topic and then not like the answers. Let the debate rage!

Today's MOZEN: A Plea for Sanity.

F LoBuono

Damn it. Damn it. God damn it!! How many times does it have to happen? How many grieving families must suffer? How many funerals will be planned before we actually get it - no matter whose hands they may be in, guns kill. It is what they were created to do. Period. And, now, they do so indiscriminately and with maximum efficiency.

Just the latest in a seemingly never ending trail of gun violence occurred this past week in New Orleans. Former all-star football player, Will Smith, was gunned down and his wife severely injured in an apparent road rage incident. Although all of the details are yet to be revealed, it is known that Mr. Smith was shot a total of 8 times (7 entering his back) by an alleged enraged driver, Cardell Hayes. It seems that Mr. Hayes claimed that Mr. Smith rear-ended his vehicle and left the scene. Mr. Hayes pursued Mr. Smith, eventually crashing into his car to get Smith to stop. The two exited their cars and exchanged angry words in the street. Eventually, Mr. Smith left to return to his car at which time Mr. Hayes opened fire, killing Smith and wounding Smith's wife with two bullets to her leg.

Through his lawyer, John Fuller, Mr. Hayes did not deny shooting Mr. Smith but claimed that he only did so in self defense. One eyewitness claims to have heard Mr. Hayes threaten Mr. Smith with his weapon and Smith respond that he also had a weapon that he would use, too, and turned to walk back to his car. Hayes did not give him the chance to get there. In essence, he is saying that he never gave Smith the chance to get the gun to use. It should be noted that Smith did, indeed, have a loaded handgun in the glove compartment of his car. Under Louisiana law, Hayes actually has a case. Similar to the defense (Stand Your Ground) used by George Zimmerman in the Travon Martin case in Florida, Hayes can say that he "stood his ground" when he felt that his life was being threatened.

So, Hayes shot him 8 times, 7 in the back, to make sure that Mr. Smith could cause him no harm.

Really.

Mr. Fuller went on to claim that Mr. Hayes is being unfairly portrayed as the "bad guy" in this - that he is actually a good father and church goer. He was just protecting himself.

Really.

Now, let me make this perfectly clear: I DON'T GIVE A SHIT IF HE WAS BLESSED BY GOD HIMSELF. He is a boldfaced, merciless killer!! THERE IS NO ADEQUATE DEFENSE to settle an argument at the point of a gun!! NONE!! It simply cannot be defended. He took another human being's LIFE because he may have gotten a bump on his Hummer!!!!!!!!!!

And, because Louisiana is so crazy about guns and peoples' rights to use them under almost ANY CIRCUMSTANCE,  a killer can actually mount a legitimate defense where there should be little if any!!

THERE IS SIMPLY NO EXCUSE.

Now, why a 6'5" 290 lb. mountain of a man also needed a gun for his protection, I will never know. It certainly did not save Mr. Smith. And, I don't really care. It's all part of the same problem - our obsession with guns. I just want it to stop.

I'm not going to waste my breath debating the right of Americans to "bear arms". That genie is long out of the bottle. What I am going to rail on about is our lust for the power they bring. It's obscene and perverse. And, it must stop - NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today's MOZEN II: Honor Thy Father

Words and photo by F LoBuono

This is my father's Eisenhower jacket. It is one of the few things that I have left of him. He was not a man of means. He left me no money. He left me no property. But, he did me leave this: LOVE will ALWAYS conquer hate. Be tough but, ALWAYS be kind. Be fair and honest. NEVER judge. Do not suffer fools. LEARN everything that you can. Treat EVERYONE with the respect they deserve. There is no substitute for EXPERIENCE. ALWAYS fight injustice wherever you find it - not matter the price. LOVE your family. Bullies are cowards - they will never win in the end. The Yankees rule New York. And, above all, RESPECT YOURSELF.

I write this in HONOR OF MY FATHER, Joseph LoBuono, who's unit of the 3rd Army (see the patch on the left sleeve) helped to liberate the Buchenwald Concentration Camp on April 11, 1945. LISTEN to them. They were not afraid. Fight for freedom. Always. . .

When You Think About it: More Fear and Loathing

F LoBuono

I wonder why so many of you are filled with so much FEAR and LOATHING??? What is it that you are so afraid of? The latest bout of F and L comes to us from the great State of North Carolina. Now, it seems people fear for their lives while going to the bathroom. Apparently, hordes of transgender people have been molesting ordinary folk in the bathrooms. REALLY? Despite ABSOLUTELY NO EVIDENCE that this occurs, FEAR AND LOATHING rules the day. Let me ask another question: my mother, who is 92, has ABSOLUTELY NO FEAR in going to a restroom. So, why the hell are YOU???
TalkFrank - where the Talk is always Frank.

Today's MOZEN: Vitruvian Man

F LoBuono

Vitruvian Man. Yes, you've seen it. However, I would be willing to wager that most of you don't know it by it's proper title, or what it really represents. It is, arguably, the most famous illustration in the world. Drawn by the incomparable Leonardo daVinci around 1487, it is the Master's attempt at depicting man's relationship to both his world and the universe. And, he succeeded brilliantly.

A naked man, superimposed upon himself, arms outstretched, reaches out to touch the edge of an encompassing circle, enclosed within a square. It represents a perfect form in perfect proportion to both the earth and the universe - one fitting exactly within the others. Leonardo used the work of the Roman architect, Vitruvius (1st Century B.C.), in geometry as the basis for the sketch.

Leonardo was obsessed with proportion. As a mathematician (as well as a dozen other master titles he could claim) and an artist, he felt that the world had a certain order that was consistent and could be explained through the use of mathematical formulas and geometric equations. This, to Leonardo, was the obvious. However, what he looked to ultimately convey, and we should find within the work, is something beyond the "numbers". He notebooks, known as codices (codex), are crammed with the drawings, mathematical formulas and calculations that supported his theories. But, they are also filled with quotes and statements that give all of his work a HUMAN quality. This made him one of the first artists to incorporate the philosophy of Humanism into all of their work. Eventually, it would be the central theme that drove the great explosion of creativity and freedom known as the Renaissance.

One of the things that intrigues me most about Leonardo is his humanism. Reading his notebooks, one can certainly get the impression that Leonardo had a very healthy ego. He knew what he was good at and had no problem letting people know about it. In fact, in a most wonderful and fantastical letter he wrote to the Duke of Milan, one of the most powerful men in Europe at that time, reads like a resume. Within the body of the letter, Leonardo illustrates his skill as an engineer, particularly in wartime. He boasts of machines that only he could create. He also "brags" of his considerable skill as an artist. He desperately wanted to be famous and was willing to take the steps necessary to make him so. He felt that offering his wares to one of Europe's "top dogs" would help to insure that. He also realized that when push came to shove, unfortunately, there was more money and fame in war than there was in mere art.

Still, Leonardo never lost sight of human nature and that it was this quality that makes us divine. It is reflected in all his work of fine art (see "The Last Supper" and "La Gioganda", a.k.a. "The Mona Lisa"). But, he was also a pragmatist. Striking this balance was a lifelong quest. For example, his war machines were indeed terrifying. There were horse drawn scythes that would slice men into pieces. He created cluster bombs that, today, would be categorized as weapons of mass destruction. Still, at the same time, within his notebooks we can find many passages railing against the ravages of war. And, he was even a vegetarian! He predicts that a time will come when killing an animal for meat will be akin to murder. Leonardo was constantly looking for and exploring man's relationship to the world around him and how that might lead to the divine.

Leonardo was driven - to learn more, to know more, to feel more, to create more, to be more, to DO more. His thirst for knowledge went unabated until the day he died. And, he chided us to not only think, but to act:

"I have been impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough: we must apply. Being willing in not enough; we must do.

I think his message is clear. Be an informed human being. Learn all that you possible can. And, then, take it to the next step - be involved.  Be The Vitruvian Man - in balance with the world and the universe. Earn the title of HUMAN BEING. It's never been more important than it is right now. Our very future is at stake.

Today's Mostly True Short Story: NOT The Big Time

F LoBuono

To call us a a rag-tag bunch of misfits would be an insult to any te
am that achieved the right to be labeled as such. By all logic, the school should not have had a football team in the first place. To say that Rutgers-Newark, a.k.a. The Newark College of Arts and Science of Rutgers University, was not exactly known as a hotbed of college football would be a gross understatement. Rutgers- Newark was not flying UNDER the football radar. It was not even NEAR it! There was no "official" team on campus. The REAL Rutgers Football team, i.e. The Scarlet Knights play BIG TIME football, in a BIG TIME league (the Big 10) , and in a BIG STADIUM located in Piscataway, NJ. They might as well have been on a different planet as compared to us.

Still, there were enough former high school players like myself walking around there who were interested in forming some type of squad. It would not be a "real" NCAA team, but rather a club whose members would play football against similar clubs from other colleges and universities. The REAL football would be played by scholarship athletes recruited for the main campus in Piscataway, NJ. However, during those years, so-called Club Football was a popular campus activity and many former high school players and colleges participated. So, the Rutgers-Newark Red Raiders Football Club was created.

At that time, I was not even aware that we had ANY kind of a team until I saw a flier in the campus center that was recruiting players. I had always desired to continue playing after my high school days. Now, I finally had the chance. I didn't care that this was not the Big Time. It was football. So, I joined the "club" and became a proud Red Raider in my junior year.

                                                            THE FACILITIES
There may have been plenty of willing athletes, but there was also one rather large problem: our urban campus was completely ill-equipped to field ANY kind of football team, much less one to compete on a collegiate level. In fact, there were virtually no practice facilities of ANY kind at the school. Our "gym" was down the street from the campus in an old converted high school the college used for extra class space. There was a decrepit pool but no weight training facilities at all. So, we decided to create one in a spare equipment room. I'll never forget training in that humid air with the smell of chlorine stinging my nostrils.

And, more importantly, there were no playing fields on campus. None. Zip. Zilch. No fields = no practice. No practice = terrible performance (more on this later). It also meant no stadium. We were literally a team with no place to call home. When we did practice it was on a field that we rented from the city of Newark. The field itself was located a few miles from the campus in a mostly residential neighborhood. So, to make practice, we had to take a bus. If you missed the bus, you had to find your way by other means. At times, it made for sparsely attended practices. And, if that wasn't bad enough,the locker room facilities were in an old Quonset hut that had no heat or coverings on the windows. Any kid from the neighborhood, including girls, could walk right up to any window for a free "show".

I remember there was a Hersey Chocolate factory nearby that always provided the most heavenly aroma for the rare occasion we were all able to practice together. Also, there were railroad tracks that ran alongside the facility. Occasionally, a punt or kick would clear the fence edging the field and land next to the tracks. One day, while retrieving one of those errant kicks, we discovered a dead body lying there! This was a slice of life (and death), if you will, in one of the toughest cities in the Country at that time.

Our home games were played at Newark Schools Stadium, a decrepit brick facility built in the 1920's. It was used by the city to host local high school football championship games and looked as if it hadn't received any maintenance or improvements since the time it was actually built. I remember waiting on line to shower after the one home game we because only ONE shower head was actually working!

I also recall playing some of our away games in "stadiums" that were hardly any better than ours. In fact, I remember one game against Ramapo College in Mahwah, NJ that was played in a driving rain storm. Ramapo's field was sunken, below ground level, and had virtually no drainage. By halftime there must have been almost 3 or 4 inches of water covering the field. After one tackle, I found myself nearly drowning with my face pinned to the ground under a pile of bodies!

Surprisingly, our equipment was at least adequate, if not excellent - most of the time. Since the football team was technically a "club" our budget was drawn from the college's fund for student activity. In other words, we actually had some money to purchase things like efficient helmets and attractive uniforms. So, we might at least LOOK like a team despite the fact that our woeful lack of practice facilities left us far from performing like one. But, there were times when, despite the teams best intentions, things still went terribly wrong - like the time my uniform jersey did not arrive in time for a home game so I had to TAPE my number unto the jersey!
                                                             
                                                      THE COACHING STAFF
Our head coach was a volunteer graduate student named Tom Tullo. A more perfect moniker could not have been created to fit a human being. Powerfully built, he looked like a bodybuilder with a thick chest and heavy arms. But, there was just one thing he lacked to have a perfect football body - height. Coach Tullo was only about 5'5' tall! In other words, he was TOO LOW to really be a football player. Of course, we teased him about it. But, he was good-natured and smart. Despite his size, he had been an excellent high school player and was very well versed in all aspects of the game. He was not a "screamer" like many coaches that I had during my career. Besides, we weren't all that different in age and I think that he knew that. He was a positive force and coached by teaching rather than by intimidation. The entire team not only liked him, but respected him, too.

Coaches were not paid and, so, there was little consistency beyond Coach Tullo, who never missed a practice. One of the coaches who did come on a fairly regular basis was a young black man named Rob Poteet. A former player himself, he coached the backs on both offense and defense. Coming from a high school that was virtually all white, having a black coach was both challenging and rewarding for me.  It was a challenge because his vernacular was one that, up to that time, I had little exposure to. Often, I had to figure out what the hell he was saying before I could perform in the manner he expected me to! It was rewarding because he made it fun and I learned a great deal from him.

                                                         THE PLAYERS
Despite the lack of scholarship players and the dreadful facilities, there was no shortage of young men looking for a shot at playing college football. Most had some high school playing experience, but not all. Since it was a "club" team it was open to all. So, there were a handful of players that were willing to try the game for the very first time. However, a number of players were not only experienced, but were actually quite good. In fact, there were a few that, but for one circumstance or another, could have played on almost ANY college football team in the Country. For some, it was personal -  Jesse Stokes, a 225 lb. linebacker with mad skills, had a full scholarship to a Big 10 football powerhouse but couldn't bear being too far away from his girlfriend and their young child. So, he came home to Newark to play. Others, like  6'3", 230 lb. tight end, Joe Cook, had the largest, most gifted hands I have ever seen on a football field. He was a true rebel who simply did not want the regimen associated with a major college football program. There was also  6'3", 260 lb. defensive lineman, Jed Weintraub, who choose Rutgers-Newark simply because it WAS small. Besides, he was more interested in education than football, but he could sure play.

Then there were the players who had virtually no experience and very little natural skill to make up for the lack of it. One of these young men was Dave Neglia. Only about 5'10" and 190 lbs., he compensated for what he lacked in athleticism with grit and determination. He knew that he might never play in a game but he never wavered in his enthusiasm. He not only never missed a practice, he never even missed a drill!

One of the more brutal exercises in football practice is one known as "The Nutcracker".  That's a fairly descriptive name for it. Two players lie on the ground, head to head. One player has a football on his chest. When the coach blows the whistle, both players leap to their feet and the one with the football tries to overpower the other who is trying to stop him. The collisions can be frightening to even watch, much less participate in. It's a drill designed to develop fearlessness and toughness. And, it can - if it doesn't kill you. Well, NO ONE wanted to match up with the linebacker I mentioned in the previous paragraph. At 6'2" and 225 chiseled pounds, Jesse Stokes was was a fierce tackler. He didn't want to just stop you - he wanted to consume you! When he hit you, you found yourself rearranging all of your equipment, including your underwear. If he smashed you on Monday, you were still feeling it on Wednesday or Thursday. If I knew that I would be matched up one-on-one with Jesse, I often found myself having "equipment problems", meaning I would have to miss my turn in line. And, I'm not embarrassed to admit it.

Well, one person who NEVER missed was Mr. Dave Neglia. Whenever the coach would ask for a "volunteer" to match up with Jesse, Neglia never hesitated. Never. And, Stokes would simply annihilate him. Every time! He would hit Dave so hard that I would have to avert my eyes. But, Neglia would bounce right up, dust himself off, rearrange his gear, and yell, "Come on! Let's do it again"!!

Dave's dedication paid off, and eventually he did get a chance to play in a game. It was our last contest of the year against Catholic University in Washington, D.C. We were really banged up and we needed all the help we could get. So, he was finally pressed into service as a defensive tackle. Just before game time I remember him pacing nervously on the sideline and telling him how happy I was that he would finally get his chance. However, on the opening kickoff - the very beginning of the game - as he was streaking down the field to get into his first action, he was blindsided and knocked out cold. I mean out! He never played a single down! No matter. He was never going to be a football player and he did just fine with his life. I heard that he became a doctor. (more on this game later)

                                                              THE GAMES
Despite the lack of facilities, practice time, and just about everything else, we still managed to play a fairly ambitious schedule that included Catholic University, Farleigh Dickinson, Scranton, Fairfield, and Ramapo Universities, Norwalk State University in Connecticut, and even St. Leo's College in Tampa, Fla. None of these schools could ever be mistaken for the likes of Michigan or Ohio State when it came to football prowess. They were all in a similar to position to us: some very talented players mixed in with others who were not. However, I don't believe that any one of them lacked for proper facilities in the same way that Rutgers-Newark did.

While the main campus in New Brunswick was preparing for BIG time football, we hoped to just survive. So, we went into every game at a distinct disadvantage - and it showed. Because of some of our more talented players, we would begin every game competitively before our lack of cohesion caused by the absence of proper practice time kicked in. By halftime, most games were over for us.

During my two years of playing ball there we never won a single game. Not one.

But, in a sense, it didn't really matter. This was NOT big time college football. It was more about the experience then it was about winning. And, the memories that I made during those years would prove invaluable to me as a person.

I remember playing against Scranton University in their stadium, a modern structure that would accommodate about 20,000 spectators. Of course, the stadium was virtually empty with a few hundred fans on their sideline while we had just a handful. I recall that the stadium was so empty, in fact,  I could hear the echo of the quarterback as he barked the signals. Still, among that handful were my friend Lance Nelson and my father. Lance drove my father in his fancy, new corvette the 100 plus miles just to watch me play. And, yes, we lost that game, too.

I remember the INCREDIBLY long bus ride we took to play against St. Leo's College in Tampa. Florida. The team had an option to fly, play, and return almost immediately, or save some money by taking a bus. If we saved money we could stay an extra day and go to Disney World. Well, the lure of a talking rat (as some of the players called Mickey) was just to much. We choose the bus. The problem was that no one told us how miserable a 26 hour bus ride with a bunch of smelly football players would be. Plus, someone decided to spike the cooler we filled with Gatorade for the ride with vodka. Half the team was sick from drinking the spiked Gatorade by the time we reached D.C.! And, a bus load of half-drunk, Then, the cheerleaders who had come along only had one song to play on their tape machine (remember, this was in the days before personal electronic devices). I heard "Fly Robin Fly" by Silver Convention over and over and over again. In fact, I heard it so many timesI thought that my ears would bleed!

When we finally made it to Florida we checked into a surprisingly beautiful hotel. Then, during the night before the game, as a prank, someone sank all of the hotel's lawn furniture in the pool. The coach was not happy. I found out years later that the deed was perpetrated by two brothers from Ridgefield Park, NJ, Dennis and Donnie Hard, a.k.a. The Hard Brothers. Both were good, hard-nosed players and couldn't have looked more different as brothers. Don was tall and lean. Dennis was shorter and thick. Don eventually joined the Marine reserves, became a captain and survived the horrific bombing of the Marine barracks in Beirut. After school, Dennis disappeared and I never heard from him again.

And, yes, we lost that game, too.

Perhaps, my strongest memory is also the last one I had as a player for the Rutgers-Newark Red Raiders. Our final game of the season was against the #1 ranked Club football team in the Nation, The Catholic University Cardinals of Washington, D.C. Since it was the end of a very long and debilitating season, we barely had enough players to make up a starting team. In fact, we really DIDN'T have enough. As I mentioned previously, this would force us to use players (like Dave Neglia) who were really not ready for "prime time". In fact, even with using all of our reserves it would still not be enough to field a team. Unless we could find a solution, we would be forced to forfeit our final game. After all we had been through, no one wanted to see that happen. So, we did what we had to do: our head coach, Tom Tullo, would suit up and play - both ways! He was still young (24 or 25) and kept himself in great shape. Besides, this was NOT the NCAA. No one would notice OR care. So, Coach geared up and prepared himself to play. Due to injuries, I would also be playing out of position, moving from my strong safety position to linebacker.

We received the opening kickoff and immediately began a sustained drive into Catholic's territory. The drive eventually stalled but we kicked a field goal for a 3-0 lead. It was a total surprise. No one believed that we should have even been in the same stadium with them. And, they were right. Our lead was VERY short-lived - they scored 70 unanswered points - 70! They scored in every way imaginable - on kicks, punts, runs, passes, interceptions, fumble recoveries and more.

If their water boy had suited up, I'm sure that he would have found a way to score, as well. Surprisingly, thought, I had a career game. I made over 20 tackles, 15 of them solo. At one point in the huddle, I looked at my teammates and invited any one of them to join me in making a tackle. But, it was to no avail. They were simply spent. There was nothing left to give.

After the game, I sat with Coach Zullo for some time in the visitors locker room. We had both given our all and were exhausted. Then, to add insult to injury, we were informed that the showers in our locker room were not operating and we would have to use the same ones as our opponents. Tom and I were not happy. It's one thing to lose graciously. It's totally another to shower with them after they've kicked your ass up one side of the field to another. But, this is how it happens away from the glare of BIG TIME college football. There was no fame. No fortune. No glamour. And, if that was not bad enough, in one final irony, we ran out of ice for our bus ride home. Considering that I needed it badly for a thumb injury I had sustained during the game, it would make for a long ride home (about 4 hours) and an exercise in patience.

I had always fantasized about playing major college football and, maybe, even beyond. But, like a lot of dreams, that scenario was not realized. But, you know, that's OK. I made memories with a great bunch of guys that I still love to this day. And, in the end, isn't that the most important thing? (But, I sure would have liked to have won a game - just one!
                                                           
                                                             EPILOGUE
I've lost track with virtually all of my teammates. Just one, the big defensive lineman, Jed Weintraub, became a lifelong friend. We don't see each other often but when we do it's like we were never away. And, we keep in touch on a fairly regular basis. As for the others, they exist now only in my memory. . .