A Good Walk Spoiled

A little known fact about myself: I'm not afraid to walk a good distance if I have to. One day in 2004, I walked about 12 miles on the Pinellas Trail from the Tyrone area of St. Pete to Largo to the apartment where I lived at the time. I did that on a warm late September day, staying hydrated here and there.

Last Thursday, I thought I would walk a couple of miles from an appointment I had to my home in Pinellas Park, where I live now. I hadn't walked that great a distance in a while, but I figured as long as I had water with me, I'd be fine.

Right? Wrong.

I'd gotten almost half way thru the trip, and all of a sudden my body felt I had gone 12 rounds with Mike Tyson. I was walking slow, and had started to waddle a bit. I had to call a friend to give me a lift back home, realizing I was in trouble.

By the time I got back, my body was reacting like it never had before. I was getting light headed, and struggled to get in with my key. I plopped on the bed, taking the ice pack I had to keep my water cold and applied it to my forehead. A bit later, I was fine.

What the hell happened, though? My body never reacted like that, ever. Was it the heat? It was a rather warm day in Florida, about 95 and no rain. I did wait until I got about half way through my walk before I went to my water, so maybe that contributed to it.

I just think I got older, and thus not as acclimated to my environment as I once was. So, I leave this here as a cautionary tale.

Blood Circus

The NFL preseason kicks off in two weeks, but something I read on Tuesday has curbed my enthusiasm for the coming season.

There was a study done on 111 deceased NFL players recently, their brains donated for research. The families of these ex-NFL athletes, for the most part, feared that they had CTE, brain damage from playing football.

Here's the story as the New York Times had it. You're welcome. 😁

It turned out that their fears were well founded. Out of the now departed 111 players, they've found CTE in 110 of them, a rate of over 99 percent.

It's going to be hard not to think about this when autumn rolls around. These athletes are well compensated for the injuries they will endure, no question. But, I can't imagine a child or young teenager looking at this and thinking there might be other sports to play that don't take such a toll on body and mind.

Language Barrier

Perhaps I should have known something was wrong earlier on in the evening.

Friday night, I'm watching the Rays game with Texas. I'm also on the computer which sits to the right of my TV in the bedroom, which prevents me from noticing the ore-game show has no sound. I don't have the TV on mute, so there should be sound.

I do some chores and get back to the game at about 7:30. Now there's audio, but it's in Spanish. Again, I'm not generally concerned about it, so I fiddle around on the computer some more. I know the Spanish announcers will go into some high pitched exclamations if something good happens, plus it could be some sort of technical issue on the broadcasters end.

Midway through the game, it's still in Spanish. Now I'm thinking its something wrong on my end. I pour through the various audio settings, and restore settings to their defaults. BOOM! There's the voice of Dewayne Staats calling balls and strikes.

Somehow, my TV had found and switched over to the SAP audio channel. Don't know how it happened, but it did. Weird.

Educating Pandora

Technology, especially late in the second decade of the 21st century, is ever evolving.

There's so many apps you can get on your Android or IPhone that most of us don't really play around with it all that much. It's kind of like revolving addictions, really.

Recently I got hooked into Pandora, the service where you pick an artist and it delivers a radio station based on that artist and music like it.

But as in the case with many applications for your phone and computer, there are hidden intricacies and nuances that make the apps addicting. In the case of Pandora, there are "thumbs up" and "thumbs down" buttons you're encouraged to press to fine tune the station.

What I've learned is not to hit "thumbs up" too much, or you'll hear that same damn song every time you fire up that particular radio station. Hit it when it plays your favorite artist, but not too frequently.

Example: one of my stations I'm fine tuning in Pandora I call Goodfella Radio. A lot of the Rat Pack, modern day crooners like Matt Dusk and Michael Buble, some older music from mob movies, stuff like that. It'll want to play "Mambo Italiano" by Rosemary Clooney. But it's Goodfella Radio I want, not Good People Of All Genders Radio.

For some reason, the station wants to play Harry Belafonte music. Don't get me wrong. I love Harry. His Carnegie Hall album on 8-track was the first album I ever heard. But he's not a perfect fit for this niche I'm trying to develop.

That's the addiction. Thinking of what fits on the station you develop and what doesn't. Looks like it's hooked a few people other than me.

Orenthal Rides Again

CNN covering the O.J. Simpson trial moments after he was found not guilty, October 3rd, 1995.  F. Lee Bailey, Robert Kardashian (Kim’s dad) are to O.J.’s left, Johnnie Cochran on the right.

We are a society still too fascinated with a former pro football player named O.J. Simpson. Myself included. Thus, it was no surprise to me that the news world stopped covering the besieged Trump presidency to cover the parole hearing that turned Simpson into a free man come October.

I’ve been of the opinion that Simpson did indeed murder his wife and Ron Goldman, once I got over the disbelief that such a thing could happen. But, we have trials in our country for some decent reasons, and Simpson was able to get off hiring the best defenders money could buy. He wasn’t as lucky in civil proceedings, and as we know, an armed robbery in Las Vegas costed him his freedom in 2008.

Hopefully, a 70 year old Simpson has smartened up and can live the rest of his days away from the tabloids. But being the narcissistic person he seems to be, I doubt it.


Can’t help but notice how good are local team has been playing as of late. As of the end of play Tuesday night past, the Rays are 51-44, two games behind Boston for the lead in the AL East, and would get the first of two wildcard spots if the season ended there. 

Notice that I’m not using the right letter word beginning with P just yet. There are 67 games left in the regular season, so a lot can and probably will happen. 

The one thing I’m noticing that has me optimistic is this team is gaining confidence, especially since taking three out of four from the Red Sox recently. Belief is important when the best teams lose 60 times a year. 

Hoping there’s something good ahead, but we baseball fans are a superstitious bunch. Let’s not get overhyped. 

Offshoots And Variations 

The Home Run Derby. 

Big 3 basketball. 

Skills competitions at All Star Games of various sports. 

Can’t say I care for any of them, because they are offshoots of bigger sports. Though I admit women playing beach volleyball has appeal to me, maybe for the wrong reasons. There is a big tournament held every year over in the Lutz area north of Tampa, held by naked teams of six at a nudist colony. Never had the desire to see it. 

Miniature golf has always interested me, but it’s rarely played on TV professionally these days, and when it is, it’s not for a lot of money. 

Rhythmic gymnastics during the Olympics? Don’t get it. 

I do enjoy seven on seven rugby as a variant to the two disciplines of rugby, Rugby League and Rugby Union. 

The CFL is not really what I’d consider a complete offshoot of American football, as each game evolved differently from rugby. 

I’ve seen 20/20 cricket and one day cricket before. Each beat test cricket that goes on for days. 

Video gaming played competitively is an offshoot of itself. I imagine the games will keep changing. 

Online poker used to be a thing here until the government intervened. I don’t see them disengaging that anytime soon. 

I guess the big games get boring, so smaller big games will always be around. 

Kitty Shrink

A recent photo of my cat Harry, who turned nine July 4th.

They cut the lawns on Monday morning, perhaps other times during the week depending on whether or not it rains while they attempt to do the work. 

If I’m home, someone will complain about the lawn crew adamantly in his own way. That being is my cat, Harry. He will jump up on my bed and sleep, or go under it if the lawn personnel are nearby. 

In my observations with cats in my life, which wasn’t all that much before Harry came into it, cats simply don’t like noise. Yet it’s something to see a middle aged cat cower like an infant and display a sudden need for protection and attention.