Respect has a Pricetag


A radio commercial running lately has an exasperated mother demanding of her child, “You’re going to start respecting me!” It’s about a program that guarantees it will instill respect in your children. Silly me, I just thought the little rug rat in the obnoxious ad just needed a spanking. Oh, did I say spanking? I meant, a specific behavioral modification.

I thought I understood the definition of respect, but apparently I’ve been way off the mark. Websters says the word is defined this way:

  1. esteem: a feeling or attitude of admiration and deference toward somebody or something
  2. state of being admired

I don’t see a price tag mentioned here do you? Yet that is the definition Baltimore Ravens quarterback Joe Flacco gave this week when he commented on a new contract that now makes him the highest paid football player in the NFL. The Super Bowl MVP now receives a $29 million signing bonus and $52 million in guaranteed money. He will also be paid $51 million in salary and incentives over the first two years of the deal making it over a $120 million dollar haul.”

I don’t know about you but if I received a payday that big, I’d thank everybody from the hot dog vendor to the public address announcer at the stadium. I’d act grateful. I’d thank the fans. Not Flacco. Instead of saying words that would foster respect, he said this, ” (This contract isn’t) necessarily about the money. It is, at this point, about earning that respect and feeling like I was respected around here.”

News bulletin: for a $120 million dollars I’d wear a tutu to work and make everybody coffee. Haven’t we become a tad bit self absorbed if it takes $120 million dollars for a person to feel respected?

Hey Joe, I want to help you understand what respect is. Respect is giving your hardworking wife a back rub after a long hard day at work. It’s playing ball with your kids and spending time with them when it’s not convenient for you. It’s foregoing something you’ve always wanted so someone less fortunate can have it instead.

If respect is earned, why did the team have to buy yours?

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Passing in the Airplane


Talk about a lot of hot air! If the TSA hasn’t made you leery of flying, now add something else to the mix. This past week a Danish gastroenterologist has come out with a study that advocates you not travel with discomfort. No it’s not what you think. He’s actually advocating that if you suffer with intestinal gas while flying, you should not be shy about sharing your southerly breezes. I kid you not, the Doctor went so far as to actually say, “It’s healthy”.

Researchers bolster his claim by stating when you hold your gas, it can cause a lack of concentration. While they don’t advocate pilots participating in this activity yet, it does shed some light as to why on my last long flight with my wife, I bombed in our game, “Words with Friends”.

Despite the all-clear for passengers, pilots and co-pilots are urged not to install their little tree air freshener on the plane’s rear view mirror yet. They fear that if the practice becomes a habit among the flight crew, it could make the cockpit crew’s eyes water hampering their skills.

While you may scoff that this story is all hot air, ( it did appear on the CBS news station in Charlotte, NC) the recommendations are real. Researchers are asking that airline seats be imbedded with activated charcoal to minimize unpleasant odors.

Intestinal gas affecting concentration and thought processes? I think we may have found our ” smoking gun” in the US Congress. They all walk around as if they are in a fog and they seem extremely incoherent most of the time.

I suggest we send them charcoal activated suits and IV bags of Beano. Who knows, we may get something “passed” after all. And it better be good legislation!

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This was an article I wrote on my web for August 11, 2012

enthusiasmiscontagious's avatarEnthusiasm is Contagious

This morning in the wee hours before sunrise, I rose early to make the finishing touches on my sermon for the day. It’s title, “Finding your Passion”. I know for some, that elusive passion at 5:15 in the morning, doesn’t even stand a chance of gaining traction until the eye sockets spring open from coffee that tastes like it was strained through a sweat sock. Not me! I live on a road that has so many screaming ambulances and firetrucks that I feel like a regular on ER. The one that passed my bedroom window at such an ungodly hour was so loud, that it subconsciously found me reaching for a fire pole to slide down that didn’t exist.

After I was rudely awoken, I reflected on the words of my sermon. It only reinforced my premise that real passion for life and God are missing today. I found it…

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Whoa, a New Meat Scandal!


Whoa, a new horse meat scandal is beginning to stirrup controversy. Somehow an unscrupulous company has tried to “foal” us with a new beef substitute. This explains why the last time I had a steak it tasted like the saddle horn was included. If it’s tough enough to be served with a shoe horn, gulp…the reality is it may have been Mr. Ed. I guess I’ll be thinking twice when i “harness” my tastebuds.

So, what iconic food could be next? Is The dancing rabbit on the front of my Cocoa Puffs box, really offering me genuine corn puffs or something more sinister like rabbit pellet puffs? We already know that hamburgers contain no ham, that devil’s food cake is devoid of ….well you know. However I must admit the last sponge cake I ate, actually tasted like a sponge. Even my fruit of the looms contain no fruit except for the unique individual who wears it.

Where will this madness end? I’m going to have to be more selective each time I shop. I’ll be crushed if I find out that Juan Valdez really didn’t pick my coffee beans? That Eskimo’s can no longer get the credit for making my pies? That I will no longer have to fly to to the Philippines to purchase my large envelopes?

Nope, nothing is truly authentic anymore. I guess I’ll be purchasing Neighbelline Cosmetics for my wife now. When I hoof it to Burger King, trot down to the local meat market, or get a Filly Cheese Steak sandwich, I’ll be asked a question by the sales clerk that will make me cringe from now on. Do you want to purchase this, yea or neigh?

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