Float like a butterfly, sting like a kid who hasn't been fed in ... minutes!

The phone rang early in June – the caller let my daughter, Ruth, know the wheels she had put in motion two years ago had finally come to a stop and that a son was waiting in Japan to adopt her.  It’s a long long way from Scottsdale to Tokyo.  We left on June 14^th, arriving on June 15^th (it’s 13 hours earlier there) and my grandson was delivered to us at our hotel on June 16^th.

He was named Roma Nakamura by his birth mother and my first thought after watching his speedy little fists grab for his bottle was, he should be called Cassius Clay.  When we met he was one day short of a month old and I was four days short of 75. 

He remained Roma for a few weeks but the name didn’t quite fit the handsome little dude.  Wanting to honor his Japanese heritage, Ruth renamed him Kazuki Lynn.  Kazu means “one” and “harmony,” combined with Ki which means “radiance,” “shine,” and “hope.”    And let’s face it; “Kaz” sounds cool.

Lynn is a tribute to my lovely wife Margaret.  She assigned it herself when completing a form for her high school diploma (having been short-changed an official middle name at birth).  When her name was called at the graduation ceremony, her mother stood up and loudly objected.  Margaret gleefully made it a point to use Lynn in her name thereafter.  Kazuki’s eyes have a mischievous sparkle that is comfortingly familiar, so the moniker is highly appropriate.

Today is July 10^th and little Kazuki has nearly doubled in weight and his boxing skills have increased correspondingly. His big sister, Izzy, calls him “little guy” and has happily embraced her new status. He doesn’t have a job yet, but I have appointed myself his agent and we are fielding offers.   

There is no doubt that we wholly belong to Kazuki.

Robbed Again!

A whole lot of people (actually two inebriated people at an open bar)
suggested I write a Blog. It was 2009 and I didn’t know what a Blog
was. My research told me that the word BLOG is what is known in the
vernacular as a portmanteau; a combination of two words to make one. In
this case web and log. BLOG. Get it? Seemed strange to me to remove the
we and put b at the end of web at the front of log.

Everybody wants to be a writer. With the Internet exploding, wordsmith
wannabees jumped on the blogwagon and on February 16, 2011, there were
over 156 million public blogs in existence. That’s an awful lot of
words. Or maybe a lot of awful words.
In 2010 when the temperature in Scottsdale, AZ hit 110 degrees F (short
for Fahrenheit; as opposed to C for Centigrade), I passed up a golf
game and a sun stroke, stayed in my office and wrote my first prototype
BLOG. When I finished it and read it aloud, I was reminded of the
so-called F-word, inspiring me to replace the B in Blog as opposed to
the we in web with an F. FLOG is GOLF spelled backward. When I realized
that the verb flog has two meanings (1) to punish, (2) to talk about
something repetitively or at excessive length, I put the word FLOG at
the top of a blank piece of paper and tried to improve on it.
Mean Eileen, the brilliant President of my publishing empire, Sour Puss
Press, invented a new E-mail address, asternflogging for my Flogs. At
first I wrote a lot of Flogs and got a lot of comments from the market
test list.

When my plate became full with other pursuits, I put the Flogs in
purgatory. Then last week I got an E-mail from an old friend telling me
she was missing my Flogs. It was 111 degrees the next day and I decided
to stay in and revisit the Flog business.

Google took me to this Internet entry:
Wednesday, February 9, 2011… What is a "Flog"?
A Flog is a new term for "Fake Blog."

A fake blog (sometimes shortened to flog or referred to as a flack
blog) is an electronic communication form that appears to originate
from a credible, non-biased source, but which in fact is created by a
company or organization for the purpose of marketing a product,
service, or political viewpoint. The purpose of a fake blog is to
inspire viral marketing or create an internet meme that generates
traffic and interest in a product, much the same as astroturfing (a
"fake grassroots" campaign).

Fake blogs are corrupted forms of public relations, which as a
discipline demands transparency and honesty, according to the Public
Relations Society of America's code of ethics and the Word of Mouth
Marketing Association's code of ethics. Authenticity and transparency
are important in social networking and blogging, as these codes of
ethics attest. The UK Chartered Institute of Public Relations' social
media guidelines cite the Consumer Protection from Unfair Trading
Regulations 2008 and state that both astroturfing and fake blogs are
not permitted.

One blogger says “I first heard this term on What Really Happened and
thought it needs to be spread out as soon as possible and as far as
possible.

"...The money-addicts working against freedom and democracy are in a
panic, and trying to shut down all opposition to their plans. Everyday
more and more honest blogs are vanishing, to be replaced with
well-funded "Flogs"; fake blogs designed to wrap the same old lies in
new high-tech wrappings in the hopes that the people will fall for it."
he wrote.

“You just knew this was going to happen; it has started to creep in
with tool's that rate people's influence and claim to show how much of
a leader a blogger is in influencing opinion or what consumers will
want to buy.”

I thought maybe I should put the Flogs back in purgatory. But Mean
Eileen said “You created your Flog long before this revelation about
“fake blogs.” You’re not trying to sell anything. You won’t wrap the
same old lies you’ve written before in new high-tech wrappings.”

She’s right. I am going to buck the money-addicts and spread my Flog as
soon as possible and as far as possible. I hope you’ll read it and that
I won’t lose my clean internet image as a flogger.

The Editing Queen Strikes (Ha!)

Mean Eileen has been on my case to write another Flog - while emphasizing getting to right to the point.  So:  Ten years ago we had Jobs, Hope and Cash.  Now we have no Jobs, no Hope and no Cash.

Response from Mean Eileen; 

I will remind you that ten years ago was 2002.  The Jobs, Hope and Cash you speak of must be Steve, Bob and Johnny (see how well I know you?).  By the way, I have a job which I like and hope to maintain, and just this morning I found cash on the sidewalk.

The Birds and the Bees - let this be a warning to you Dback foes



My last Flog referenced my cousin Hank Greenwald, the long-time color announcer for the San Francisco Giants. Hank's son, Douglas, is broadcasting Triple A ball and heading for the Big Leagues.

Ironically, Sunday night Doug arrived a late for dinner at my house with a lame story about bees interrupting the Diamondbacks/Giants pre-season game in the top of the second. Bees. Really?

"The huge swarm entered Salt River Field over the right center-field wall, flying directly over the infield and settling in the Giants’ dugout," Doug announced. "The Bee Team sent players scurrying from the dugout and fans from their seats and brought the Bee Squad running. It took 41 minutes to kindly and gently clear out the bees (maybe the umpires just asked them nicely) and get on with the ball game. Oh! The Dbacks graciously gave up a few runs - you know, 'cause bees aside, they're nice hosts. Record attendance: 12,675. Number of bees, uncounted.

So now we have the Birds and the Bees.

Back in 2005, Randy Johnson uncorked a fastball that was rudely intercepted by a bird flying into the path of the baseball. The bird exploded over home plate and a new catagory had to be added to RJ's statistics.

On March 25, 2005 after five innings, the Colorado Rockies and the Arizona Diamondbacks were forced off the field in Tucson by hundreds of angry bees.

ESPN reported after that game that “Darren Oliver, pitcher for the Rockies, was the first player targeted. The swarm apparently smelled hair gel and decided his head was the perfect place for a giant bee feast/orgy. No mention was made of the brand of hair gel, but I suppose it's probably not the kind of event that will score an endorsement deal.

The Diamondbacks tried to take the field in the sixth, but "by then the bees had spread over the entire field." The shortstop was chased into the far end of center field and, after a brief discussion, the humans elected to flee Tucson Electric Park. NO HITS. NO RUNS. NO ERRORS and incredibly, NO STINGS reported in the crowd of 8,029.

It should be noted that none of the bees, nor Randy's bird, had tickets to the game.

Stay tuned ... the Phoenix Zoo isn't too far away from the ball park ... who knows what will be taking the field next!

You Can't Be Too Careful



I got a call yesterday from my cousin Douglas Greenwald, who is following in the footsteps of his father, Hank Greenwald, the play-by-play voice for many years for the San Francisco Giants (with a two year stint with the New York Yankees).  I wasn't able to schmooze any seating out of Douglas for today's sold-out D-backs/Giants game, so I couldn't do any in-person research for this Flog - but it's early in the month and my editor/gallery manager/business partner assures me that she will harangue me daily about nepotism as it pertains to box seats.

It's March 3, 2012 - BATTER UP!

Last season was a year for the record books. At 15 teams strong, the Cactus League Spring Training season in Greater Phoenix set the all-time record for overall league attendance with 1,595,614 attendees at 233 games. The 2011 season also represented the first time all 15 Major League Baseball teams were consolidated in the Phoenix-metropolitan area and we saw the opening of the league’s newest stadium in Scottsdale, Salt River Fields at Talking Stick, home of the Arizona Diamondbacks.

The Diamondbacks were supposed to be also-rans with limited fans in 2011. But with the super-enthusiasm of my editor and her family, attendance was up more than 90% from the previous year’s figures. Season-wide attendance was 2,105,432.  Eileen was personally responsible for D-backs winning streaks (those come-back games in late September resulted from the force of her will) and ignited my enthusiasm, taking me to Chase Field where I set a personal record, attending seven games, (every one of which the D-backs won). And, we introduced my fabulous 4-year-old granddaughter, Izzy, to baseball. She knew every word of Take Me Out to the Ballgame and sang it in preparation for the 7th Inning Stretch, although she didn't care much for the Legends (the giant heads that run around the bases and thru the concourse) - except for at a safe distance.

I grew up in Seattle, an avid fan of the Seattle Rainiers of the Pacific Coast League. I listened intently to the “recreation” off of a ticker tape of the incomparable Leo Lassen.

Leo was a sportswriter and publicist who became a living legend as a baseball radio broadcaster in Seattle. He covered the city’s Pacific Coast League teams from 1931 to 1960.  His glory years coincided with those of the Seattle Rainiers when they played at Sicks' Seattle Stadium.

Baseball was the biggest game in town, and Lassen was its voice. His distinctive rapid-fire delivery, packed with detail and baseball knowledge, was known throughout the city. His broadcasting career ended with a salary dispute and he withdrew into private life, never returning to the ballpark where he had earned fame. A lifelong bachelor, he spent his retirement caring for his mother and tending his roses at his Wallingford home. He died without any surviving family members but with legions of fans who remembered him with appreciation and affection.

When my cousin, Carla Reiter, married Hank Greenwald, my connection to baseball and Leo Lassen was renewed. I followed the SF Giants until Eileen introduced me to the Diamondbacks.

Hank Greenwald had the same kind of remarkable knowledge of baseball and there are myriad stories of his career. My favorite was his tradition of turning over the play-by-play for one inning in each game to his color side-kick, who one night became speechless when the grounds crew came out and the game was delayed. The surrogate play-by-play guy managed to tell the listeners what was happening and said he would send somebody down to the field to find out what was causing the delay and returned to the microphone minutes later to announced that there was a problem with the rubber.

Wherein, Hank leaned into the mike and announced:  “We practice safe baseball in San Francisco.”

I’ll return soon with a second inning of my baseball report.   Incidentally, the Diamondbacks beat the Giants 9-6 today.

Kismet, Karma and Google Maps

I recently pointed out to David that he has been falling down on the Flog.  Just because he spent the last few months traveling, opening an art gallery, convalescing from a nasty cold, moving into a new home (which involved consolidating three households), entertaining visiting friends and relatives, relapsing and re-convalescing from the nasty cold, attempting to ascertain how unpacked boxes in the garage  seem to propagate and failing miserably at reining in his entrepreneurial tendencies (investing in at least two other businesses that I know of), doesn’t mean he should abandon the all important Flog. 

After all, there are dozen(s?) of you faithful Flog-ites who have been waiting in breathless anticipation for David’s next observations.  Well, I have taken matters into my own keyboard.  I have had to put my editing axe…uh…pen down to step into the role of High Priestess of the Art Gallery, but unlike that slacker David, I can multi-task. 

What about David’s travels, you are wondering?  Keep wondering … that’s a Flog for another day.  Today, I will tell you of The Eye of the Beholder … David’s new art gallery near Old Town Scottsdale (5^th Avenue and Marshall Way).   The Eye, was born of a combination of David’s desire to display the portion of his massive art collection that would not fit on the walls of his home and some dumb luck in acquiring an ideal gallery space in an ideal location with ideal terms.

It began with a bag of small petrified wood pieces purchased at the lone retail establishment at Ft. Courage (somewhere along the I-40 between New Mexico and Arizona).  I’d given them to my jewelry designing mother who decided to drill holes in them.  Thus began the search for drill bits that would cut thru petrified wood.  Mom handed me a bead magazine and pointed to an advertisement in the back for Diamond Drilling (or something like that).  I called the number which was disconnected, then noticed the magazine was five years old.     I Googled the company name and found a current number which was answered by a gentleman named Elliot.  He indicated he was no longer in the bead business, but after explaining what I was looking for, invited us down to his office.

We went, and got the grand tour of Elliot’s ginormous, un-named office building which housed his collection of collections (he collects everything).  Two hours later, we left with a set of hollow, diamond edged drill bits. 

Fast-forward six months.   David is in Old Town Scottsdale taking a look at a retail space that a friend has mentioned is for lease.  David doesn’t think too much of the space but continues looking around the neighborhood.  He comes across a vacant, dusty windowed building on Marshall Way and takes a photo of the “for sale” sign in the window.   When he shows it to me, I tell him I think I recognize the name and tell him about Elliot.  The phone number on the sign is disconnected and I couldn’t remember the name of Elliot’s business, but I remembered where the building was.  I Google-mapped it and came up with a business name (but no phone number), and give the info to David. 

A few weeks later, David calls me as he is leaving a hospice facility where he has been visiting a friend … which happens to be directly across the street from Elliot’s building.  David goes to the building and three hours later emerges with a new best friend – Elliot.  Two weeks later, we have a short term lease on the Marshall Way building and we are officially in the Art Gallery Business.  We have a Gallery High Priestess (me), a Gallery Master (Kris – although I tried to sell him on “Gallerina”) and Schlepper (David).    

Oh, and we have some art.   For sale.  Stop by, visit us on the web, or call us … we almost certainly have something you can’t live without (Eye of the Beholder).  You can thank me in person for updating The Flog.

Regards,

Mean Eileen, Editing Queen and High Priestess of the Gallery

Eye of the Beholder   4251 N Marshall Way  Scottsdale, AZ  85251

Semantics 101 for the Ultra-Crazy (with extra foam)

Letter to Alan Keyes

Dear Mr. Keyes,

I received your “urgent memorandum” which was enclosed in an envelope bearing the words JURY DUTY NOTICE in large bold letters affixed with a Non Profit postage stamp.

I assume your fund-raising  efforts have reached desperation levels,  thus the subterfuge required to get anyone to open correspondence bearing your name. 

The reason you have never been elected to any public office is that you are a whack-job (interpret that however you like – it’s such a conveniently flexible term).

I am impressed however, that you have managed to convey in writing a tone that can only be described as jet engine-like screeching hysteria.  Chicken Little would be envious.  Leaning so far to the right has its perils – you’ve obviously bonked that side of your head so many times that your creativity is limited to fake civic duty announcements.  That’s civic – as in U.S.  government – as in the one with offices to which you have never been and will never be elected.  Because you are a whack-job.  In consolation, if "Crazy Town" were an actual place, you'd be a shoe-in for mayor.

You are entitled to your insane rantings – this is America after all.    

However, I find it somewhat less than amusing that you point (excuse me, vigorously thrust) your finger at what you call Obama’s criminal behavior while actively evading taxes under the guise of myriad non-profit organizations.   You rail against “big government” while milking the system for your personal gain. 

You don't really deserve it, but I have decided to enclose the "generous gift" you begged for; two pieces of embossed copper bearing the profile of an original tree-hugging liberal. 

But I am reporting to the U.S. Postal Service that you are abusing Nonprofit postage, the deceptive words “Jury duty notice” on the envelope and eight pages of irresponsible and extreme statements demeaning the President of the United States and the Office of The President of the United States.

It appears to me that you,  Alan Keyes, may be in violation of False or Deceptive Representations, the Postal law (TITLE 39 > PART IV  > CHAPTER 30 > Sec. 3005) prohibiting false or deceptive representations made in an attempt to obtain money or property through the mail.  This section was amended a few years ago to authorize the Postal Service to impose significant monetary penalties. The law now permits an administrative penalty for deceptive mailings of up to $1,000,000 for the first offense depending on the volume of mail.

Shame on you, you selfish hedonist.