April, the fairest month of all

"April hath put a spirit of youth in everything." How sweet these words are written centuries ago by William Shakespeare. Not only sweet but true and relevant. April from the Latin aperire meaning "open". April "opens up" as in the radiant bloom of the Western Redbud tree which explodes with youthful vigor, brightness and refreshing newness. Is there a better month of the year for inhaling and exhaling than April? I don't think so.

April has always been my favorite month of year. Notwithstanding the pending annual tax doomsday of April 15, April rebounds and offers up several terrific "offsets" to that truly awful day.

For the believer, in most years, April is the month that Easter is celebrated by Christians worldwide. It is the holiest and most celebrated day on the Christian liturgical calendar. For believers, Easter Sunday joyfully proclaims the resurrection of Jesus Christ as saviour which is the cornerstone of Christian faith for millions. Truly, a day to rejoice.

For the sports fan, April is a feast. For baseball fans, our country's national pastime MLB baseball opens across this great land on city park diamonds with the World Series hopes of 30 teams in tow. For hoops fans, The Final Four of NCAA basketball showcases the best college athletes on the planet in new age coliseums in front of rabid fans across the country. For golf fans, The Masters at Augusta raises the curtain on the seasonal beauty of the enchanting American South and the rare talents of the professional golfer. For football fans, the televised National Football League annual draft from NYC's Radio City Music Hall trumpets the beginning of the new football year with the groans of the typically-dispirited and hard-hatted Jets fans. For the marathoner, the hills of Boston and Big Sur beckon all qualified comers in the two nonpareil back to back road races in the world.

For the gardener, the keeper of the planet, April is a glorious warmer month. The garden is in full springtime bloom, the birds tweeting have returned from a long winter's silence and the planting of vegetables, particularly, tomatoes begin in earnest. In some parts of the country, the first bloom (the best bloom of the year) of the rose bush arrives in hushed ecstasy. Sure there are garden chores associated with April such as weeding, hunting gophers, weeding, trapping moles, weeding, cutting grass, spraying and fertilizing but it's all good.

For the prankster, April Fool's Day or St. Stupid's Day, is a first day of the month and it's over fast thankfully, so as not to dilute the magic of the rest of the month.

For the fisherman, will it be red light or green light for the seasonal salmon fishing season on the West Coast? For the past two years, recreational salmon fishing has been prohibited in April. However, this year the game is on. What's that I hear? Ahabs in Moss Landing screaming with joy while dreaming of wild fresh salmon steaks.

For the businessman, the first quarter earnings report from corporations are presented to investors for better or for worse. Hopefully, this year's announcements will be more spring-like and less dismal-like than years past.

For others, April celebrates just about everything else: International Pooper-Scooper Week where "dog waste is no joke" about 4.4 billion pounds of it per year, International Louie-Louie Day (the most recorded rock song in history), National Wear Your Pajamas to Work Day (appropriately on April 16), National High Five Day (spread the joy even with people you don't like), National Licorice Day (red or black?), Earth Day (party at Al Gore's Tennessee cottage), Bob Wills Day (hoedown in Turkey, Texas with the Texas Playboys), and my all time favorite, the National Pot Smokers Day where everybody seems to be conspicuously high on something.

But the best thing for me about April is the 20th day of the month when a birthday is celebrated. For on that day, 56 years ago, God sent the world a jewel: a baby girl who became a daughter to loving parents, a caring sister, my faithful wife, a respected in-law, a loyal friend and an incredible mother to our four grateful children. For that one day in April, the other eleven months of year pale in comparison.

How 'bout you? What's your favorite month?

You're Gunna Love this Guy!

"Wrongway Corrigan". How many times have I heard somebody say those two words after hearing my last name? Countless times, by triplicate. Typically, I respond with a nod and a smile because of three things: I love being recognized as a Corrigan, I love being American/Irish-Catholic, and I love being stubbornly different. "Wrongway" was all of that and more.

Let's start with the genesis of "Wrongway Corrigan." His name was Douglas Groce Corrigan. Born in 1907 in Galveston, Texas. His father was a construction engineer and his mother a teacher. They moved alot when Douglas was young. The father was restless. A male Corrigan trait it seems. At some point along young Douglas's life, he was exposed to then hooked on aviation. He first soloed in Los Angeles on March 25,1926. It was love at first flight.

Douglas continued to fly his rented by the hour highwing monoplane Curtiss JN-4D Jenny, while supporting himself working as a factory worker for Ryan Aeronautical Company in San Diego. About that time a tall, handsome and young aviator, Charles A. Lindbergh, walked into Ryan Aeronautical for the express purpose of building a plane for a transatlantic flight. Not any flight, a transatlantic flight that had never been achieved. Ryan agreed to build the plane for Charles. Guess who worked on the custom built plane? Douglas Corrigan.

On 20 May 1927, Lindbergh, took off from New York City bound for Paris, France, 3500 nautical miles away, in a Ryan M1. This soon to be famous plane was a single engine parasol-wing monoplane with one open seat, named, "The Spirit of St. Louis." 33 hours later, Lindbergh lands his "Spirit" in Le Bourget field before 150,000 riotous Parisians. The first transatlantic non-government plane to cross the mighty and broad Atlantic Ocean from the United States to Europe. A new age in aviation and in the world was born that day.

Meanwhile back in the Ryan Aeronautical factory...upon the news of Lindbergh's crossing, Douglas and his fellow "grease monkeys" were in ecstasy. They were a part of history of the advancement of the world. Can you imagine for a moment that feeling? Wow!! Douglas was deeply effected.

From that momentous day, Douglas was hell bent on doing something like Lindbergh. Didn't know how. Didn't have the money. Didn't have the authority. But this was America. Douglas summoned up all he had: in one word, it was courage. In the late
20's in the USA, that is all one had to survive.

For the next 11 years, Douglas toiled in the shadows of others while he dreamed. Goethe, the German poet, wrote, "Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it." Douglas dreamed of doing what Lindbergh achieved. He was solitary in his quest. However, his dream was a bit different from Lindbergh's. Douglas's dream was of an Atlantic Ocean crossing to his beloved native land, Ireland, not France.

After countless attempts by Douglas to gain formal flight clearance from the federal "onlygetinthewaycrats" to fly across the Atlantic from New York to Dublin, the authorities continuously denied his flight plan. Why? Because he was of Irish descent? Maybe. Remember, this was a country that posted notices everywhere in the late 19th and early 20th Century, "Help Wanted. No Irish Need Apply." They didn't take him seriously. Big mistake, don't do that to an Irishman!

Douglas persevered amidst it all and did it his way. He set his clever plan in motion. He bought a plane for $325. A second-hand single-engine Curtis Robin J-1 monoplane(see masthead of this blog for picture of this plane). Named it "Sunshine." He modified it for his dream. Installed a bigger 165hp engine. Strapped on more fuel tanks. All the while whispering his mantra, "Columbus took a chance, so why not me?"

As part of his divine plan, Douglas secured an approved flight plan from the clueless authorities. It was from New York City to Los Angeles not Dublin. On July 8, 1938, Douglas in "Sunshine" took off in NYC in heavy fog. Somewhere in all that fog, Douglas lost his bearings, allegedly. Went east instead of west. 28 hours later, with gas leaking from his tanks into the open cockpit, Douglas, soon to be named "Wrongway", landed miraculously in Dublin, his homeland. With only 2 boxes of fig bars, 1 quart of water, 2 chocolate bars and 320 gallons of fuel, Douglas defied all odds and traveled 3,000 miles over a nasty sea and arrived in Ireland in "Sunshine". Safely on the tarmac in Dublin, he climbed out of his "Rube Goldberg" contraption and said, "Just got in from New York. Where am I?" Clever fool, he knew exactly where he was. That's audacity!!

The aftermath of this classic misdirection is epic: he was arrested, he was freed, he was celebrated in a ticker-tape parade in the canyons of heroes in NYC (larger they say than Lindbergh's parade), a book and a movie were made of his "wrongway" escapade. But through it all humble Douglas maintained till the day he died that the reason he landed in Dublin was because his compass was stuck.

I dedicate this blog to my alter-ego and my masthead, Douglas "Wrongway" Corrigan. Are we related? Very remotely, I believe. I sure hope we have the same genes. Who wouldn't want to claim kinfolk to this one-of-a-kind American hero.

Cali's 8th Congressional District

I'm hearing alot of brickbats from the right about Nancy Pelosi lately. I tell those people don't blame Nancy Pelosi for everything happening in our nation's Capitol lately...if you want to play blame game fine then blame those who have elected and re-elected her to Congress for the last 23 years. If Nancy Pelosi fails to win her congressional seat in SF almost a quarter of a century ago, chances are we never hear of her. So who is her constituency?

Since 1987, the electorate from the socialista coastal enclave known as San Francisco, have sent their emissary, Congresswoman and now Speaker of the House Pelosi, to DC to represent "The City" in the United States House of Representatives. The California district she represents is the 8th Congressional District. Tell me about this district you may ask?

For those of us that live close to Pelosi's district it is a well known area. Friends and family alike live there. For those of you who don't know, the 8th District covers most of San Francisco City and County. Some facts about the district: geographically it is the second smallest congressional district in the United States (NYC is the smaller); 639,000 US citizens live in the district; $52,000 is the median income; $700,000 median home price; an ethnically diverse population of 42% white, 8% black, 28% Asian, 16% Hispanic, 6% other; highest same sex couples percentage in the nation at 10%; it is one of the most reliably Democratic districts in the country having had liberal Democratic congressional representation since 1949; in recent presidential elections the 8th voted 84% and 85% respectively for Kerry and Obama; and, it is home to The Castro. In a nutshell, the 8th is one of the most racially and sexually diverse, well educated, wealthy and politically charged congressional districts in the country. The Castro was the geographic epicenter for the national gay rights movement fostered by Supervisor Harvey Milk in the '70s. Is the 8th a microcosm of the United States...well, not exactly. Is it a microcosm of a liberal beachhead on the West Coast...exactly squared. And this is Pelosi's beachhead. This tiny district is her power base from which the SF voters have empowered her all the way to DC in '87 and subsequently to becoming the first woman Speaker in that chamber's history. Quite a journey and quite a story. How did this happen?

Nancy Pelosi's iron will to lead a rabid rainbow coalition of folks from the 8th is how this happened. She is one tough scrappy woman. Tough but paradoxical. A loving grandmother but a brass knuckle negotiator. Tactically brilliant but a dimwitted gaffe machine. A Catholic yet pro-choice. An advocate for the least amongst us yet one of the richest members of Congress. A parlour socialist crying for social reform while living and cavorting in luxury in Pacific Heights, the St. Helena vineyards and private jets. An anti-war and anti-terrorist water-boarding champion yet is conveniently silent against the relentless CIA drone killings of terrorists and murders of civilians in Pakistan. A health care reformist yet a regular in the esteemed UCSF's plastic surgery OR. But whatever you may think about Pelosi, you must give her "her props". She gets the job done for her party. She is a pit bull for what she believes in. Regardless of her present dismal CBS News approval rating at 11% (even the political pariahs George W and Dick Cheney have higher marks) but with the hearty 93% approval backing of the contentious ACLU, she is full steam ahead for her district and for her party. And the 8th adore her.

Face it, you gotta respect someone with that kind of moxie. For those of us who are right of center folks, maybe we're a bit envious of her success and seeming happy and confident detachment from those of us that have divergent views. Frankly, she doesn't need us, and, more shockingly, she doesn't care what we think. In her world, she has the full-throated support of the 8th behind her which has gained even more volume in the halls of Congress and even in the White House.

So what to do if you're on the other side of the argument? Simply this, the Republicans better find a worthy adversary to Nancy real fast. And one who will hopefully possess more smiling chutzpah than Pelosi. Please don't suggest Sarah Palin. She needs to stay in Alaska...her family needs her more than the country does.

A Love Song

Danny Boy. Those two words together make music. Oh, sweet melodious music. On St. Patrick's Day, wherever you wander, chances are, you will hear this beloved Irish ballad, maybe more than once. Quite possibly, you will be swept up into the mournful yet stirring singing of "Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling..." The melody is voluntary, the words remembered, the sadness suddenly revisited, "from glen to glen, and down the mountainside..."

What is the meaning of this most-recorded song? Contrary to popular opinion, I think Danny Boy has very little to do with the IRA conflict, mother losing a son, or Mother-(blank)England. You see Danny Boy to me, is a love song, shockingly written by a British barrister. Oxymoron right? What does an Englishman know about Irish love? Maybe that is the reason the words are a bit confusing. However, looking beyond that, I see an unrequited love between a living woman and a deceased man warm in the grave or is it the other way around? Whichever way, it works. "And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me and all my dreams will warmer sweeter be and if you'll fail to tell me that you love me I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me." Can you not feel the intense love these two now separated souls once shared with one another expressed in these words? So much so that the deceased hopes that the living will come to the grave and "kneel and say an Ave there for me" , in an Irish winter no less.

I know St. Paddy's Day is a day when the world celebrates in a rather oddly sanguine and reckless way for all reasons Irish. For in truth the day belongs to lovers of all disparate clans. An enduring love that is defined by gains and losses. Joys and sadnesses. Danny Boy is a musical interpretation of that love. To quote 1 Corinthians 13, "In a word, there are three things that last forever: faith, hope and love; but the greatest of them all is love."

So on St. Patrick's Day, when you join in the chorus of singing Danny Boy with your loved ones or others after having wee drams of Irish whisky or whatever your choice, remember those who you truly love or loved. And raise a glass to them...in thanksgiving...in gratitude. For that will make your day and your occasion that much sweeter. Cheers, my friends.

The Gorilla Without Fur

Finally, "the Gorilla of Wall Street", Alan Fuld, Jr., the disgraced ex-CEO of the fourth largest US investment bank Lehman Brothers R.I.P., was exposed in the just issued US Bankruptcy Report as one of the main reasons for the largest corporate bankruptcies in the HISTORY of the USA. Fuld has been described in the report as "grossly negligent" and "breached his fiduciary duty" for knowingly "cooking the books" in leading Lehman to destruction. Lehman filed for Chapter 11 on September 9, 2008 with $639BILLION in assets. Barclays Capital bought Lehman Brothers US Operations for the paltry sum of $1.75B. According to my math, that is about a $637BILLION LOSS. That singular failure almost systematically brought down the entire financial system of this country. If not the world.

For the past 16 months, Fuld has blamed others for the failure of Lehman Brothers. Short sellers. Korea Development Bank. JP Morgan. Bank of America. Hank Paulson. The Government. Ernst and Young. "They failed me and Lehman Brothers." Always him first. In his fantasy world, it was never about him even though his white knuckle grip on the Lehman steering wheel had it headed directly and recklessly into the perfect storm. Well, truth be told. It was mostly your fault, Alan. You were in charge. You were paid ungodly sums of money to lead. You were accountable. Your dreadful leadership caused this calamity. No one else. End of story!

Before Fuld packed up his belongings in chilly NYC and headed for his Western outpost, his last public words in front of a stunned Congress were, "This is a pain that will stay with me the rest of my life." From what my contacts tell me you're dealing OK with your pain in that ghetto called Sun Valley. Skiing in winter and golfing in the summer. If that's pain, I'll take two. But what about the pain you caused on thousands of employees that lost their jobs and pensions overnight and those hundreds of thousands if not millions of investors that lost life-building fortunes and retirements. What about those folks, Alan? I'm sure they don't live next to you in your tony mountain hamlet.

Honestly, I hope your words, Mr Fuld, in front of Congress were not your last words uttered on the public stage. Even though you will mount a rigorous defense based on the failed Ken Lay's Enron tactic "I'm not an accountant", I trust our system government to exact some fair measure of punishment for you and your kind. And that your final public words after a criminal prosecution verdict may go something like this, "I'll have alot of time to think about what I didn't do honestly while I'm in the cell next to Bernie." Lights out Tweedledee and Tweedledum!!!

Eschew Obfuscation aka Simplify "ObamaCare"

Eschew Obfuscation Chew what? I saw those two words on a bumper sticker recently. Had to look twice and then ran to the dictionary. Avoid confusion was the translation. Hmmm. File that one away in my little book. Well the file didn't stay closed for long. I think of that bumper sticker regularly now as I try to understand the proposed health care bill(hcb) or "ObamaCare."

For the past year, I have heard and read endless explanations and opinions on the perils and the merits of the plan. Too much really...it's all so tedious. I understand the country needs some health care reform. "Some, if not all, of the present health care system doesn't work", some say. But others say, "...some parts of health care works well and don't screw it up". But that's the key word in the debate, "some." The liberals and the conservatives in the process have very different opinions on that word "some." After witnessing all the vitriol spewed at this issue from both sides, I am evermore frustrated and weary on the subject of what is truly needed and where do we go from here. The more I read and listen, the more confused and conflicted I become. Frankly, my brain is "wrapped around the axle" on this one. Even my doctor friends whom I consider experts on this topic (maybe too expectantly) exhibit a wide range of opinion. Their opinions without solutions don't help. By blogging, maybe just maybe I can unravel "some" of my own internal confusion of what is truly needed in this reform measure.

After a year of rigorous debate on health care, it's clear to me that the hcb effort has not been advanced to the degree that the American people expected. Therefore, I submit to you, my faithful readers, some curbside analysis and suggestions that hopefully does not resemble the 2,000 pages of bureaucratic claptrap of the hcb.

The central facts from The Write Way's Health Care Manifesto are the following. First. There is an immediate and obvious need for some health care reform in the USA. Second. All USA citizens should have adequate and affordable health care. Third. The entire health care delivery system does not have to be scrapped fundamentally to accomodate one and two above. Fourth. The government needs to represent the peoples concerns and not their own political interests. Fifth. Figure out a way to flatten the cost curve. Sixth. Tort reform must be employed.

One. The need for health care reform is obvious. One phrase says it all: "Pre-existing conditions". God help you if you have a history of one illness (which is most of us)or many illnesses and lose your medical insurance for some reason. You become a medical liability and no insurance company will insure you. You are uninsurable everywhere in the USA until you reach age 65 in which case Medicare kicks in, hopefully. If you are destitute and unable pay medical bills, Medicaid will pay for your expenses, hopefully. "Pre-existing conditions" need to go away forever.

Two. All citizens of this great country should enjoy the benefits of having some sort of health care. Presently, there are over 31 million Americans without health insurance. That represents 10% of our total population without an insurance plan. With the recent increases in outrageous premiums and the economy and employment in stagnation mode, that number is sure to grow. But there are no free lunches in this world. Everybody should pay something (a sliding scale relative to income) if they want health care. No health insurance = pay full.

Three. For professional care of patients, the USA health care system is the best in the world. The total system is not broken. Albeit, the system's weak points as noted above need fixing...now. But someone needs to extol clearly the virtues of what we have and then propose how to fix what's wrong in 1000 words (not pages) or less.

Four. The government, with original good intentions, has completely lost its ability to write, to articulate, to deliver and sell effectively a plan that the American people understand and support. They have failed us all miserably with this issue. However, at some point, the government must play the grown-up role in all of this but not a controlling be "everything to everybody" role. To quote the late U. of Chicago economist Milton Friedman, "If you put the US government in charge of the Sahara Desert, in 5 years there would be a shortage of sand." By the way, look how well the government has run the US Postal Service...into a debt abyss. Government should enforce the laws, not control the entire system and get out of the way.

Five. Plans and revisions are great only if the costs can be controlled and managed effectively. Government, insurance companies, tort lawyers, pharmaceutical companies, doctors, hospitals and yes, reckless patients all must be held accountable to some degree for this mess we're in. Their practices must be tightened up, their books balance, their overheads thinned, their delivery product improved across all fronts, and their personal daily health maintenance improved. Everyone involved should be held accountable in holding down costs for the greater good. If malfeasance occurs in any of the above camps, the accused parties are called before Congress and are subject to civil penalties or worse.

Six. Tort reform must be enacted. Pharmas, doctors, hospitals and their patients have been easy targets for clever attorneys. Those huge plaintiff jury awards reward the attorneys mainly and those costs are handed down the line to the patient consumer in forms of inflated premiums, pricey medications and exorbitant care. Malpractice happens. Some patients are damaged by poor decisions. But there should be a ceiling imposed for plaintiff awards so that the system can operate fairly for all and remain affordable for all. How to solve tort abuse? Hire Patrick Fitzgerald, US Attorney for the Northern District of Illinois, who will take on all miscreants aggressively as chief tort czar.

In sum, it has been ordered by President Obama to Congress to have a health care bill to sign into law on his desk by March 18...gulp...in 10 days. The only way this can happen is if the Senate enacts the "reconciliation" majority vote tactic which avoids the crippling filibuster manuever. If the government follows through on its plan to impose the current Senate bill on the backs of the American people through the "reconciliation" process, I fear a terrible backlash and a further erosion of trust for our leaders. And that is not good! Good grief!!

Capisce?

Postscript: Since the hc issue will be resolved soon for better or for worse, Mr. President, when can we get the 15,000,000 plus unemployed people back to work? Frankly, that seems a helluva lot more important than all of the above.

Titanic Upset...Indeed

SHE DID IT!!! Hurt Locker and Kathyrn Bigelow defeats Avatar and James Cameron for the coveted Oscars. David slays Goliath. Unbelievable!!!

It was an authentic Hollywood script last night played in front of an international TV audience where fiction and fantasy became instant reality. In movies, conflicts and achievements of the heart and soul played by real actors will always conquer the technical brilliance but heartlessness of the fake computer theatrics. In light of this movie-making contrast, two previous Oscar examples for Best Picture pitting human story v. sci-fi/computer story come to mind: Ghandi over ET and Annie Hall over Star Wars. Actors emote. Computers calculate. The public will always feel the difference. And feelings are what the Academy always look for. Bravo to all the winners and to all those nominated. It was fun to watch.

A Titanic Upset?

Lights! Camera! Action! A Sunday evening television offering in early March from Hollywood can only mean one thing...The Oscars. I don't know about you but the lead-up to that nonpareil annual occasion is a major improvement over the lead-up to most anything I can recall, particularly, the build-up to the always "over-hyped, seldom-delivered" Super Bowl games.

Historically, the "Oscars" presents all that life can offer for those of us in want of more. Dreams. Escapes. Fact. Fiction. Computer animation. Love. Hate. Friendship. Betrayal. Comedy. Sex. Violence. Redemption. Success. Failure. Intoxication. Titalation. Discovery. I can go on for awhile... The Academy. The nominations. The intrigue. The gossip. The finagling. The theatrics. The Money (of which it's all about). The competition. The phoniness. LA...lovely LA. The Kodak Theatre. The red carpet. The gowns. The beauty. The vulgar. The grace. The not so graceful. The seldom erudite. The who's sleeping with whom speculation. The altered. The pure. The awkward. The golden moment. The commercials. Price Waterhouse Coopers. The sealed envelopes. The maudlin speeches. The music. The history. The golden Oscar statuette. It's all so silly. So petty. So bourgeois. So American. Nevertheless, it's all sooooooo delicious for us "moviephiles". I can't wait. Can you? Someone get the popcorn.

Each year, we the adoring but skeptical Missouri-like "show-me" public await what Hollywood offers. We read reviews. We buy tickets. We commit to the investment of time and money and settle into our comfy Century Theatre or at home seats and say to the screen "Ok, now entertain me." We invest and expose our raw and innocent emotions to the art of moving pictures. This year, we who were interested in movies, invested in a broad pallette of silver screen magic. This year's Oscars hopefuls are varied and wonderful. From the science fiction world of Jake and Neyteri to the Iraq battlefield of war-addicted William James and back to a grumpy old man's disconnected home floating around the globe by balloons but tethered to the lumpy ground by a young overfed boy, Russell.

Of particular papparazzi interest this coming Sunday evening is the OK Corral-like standoff between two dissimilar best nominated pictures and directors, respectively, Avator v. Hurt Locker and James Cameron v Kathryn Bigelow. Avatar. The tortured story of 12' tall blue skinned native creatures from the planet, Pandora, living the simple life and suddenly invaded by the imperial looters of the dark world, USA. Hurt Locker. The twisted story of a iconclastic defuser of deadly "ieds"(improvised explosive devices) in war torn Iraq while sponsored by the capitalistic promoters of democracy around the world, USA. One thing in common, both bash or glorify the USA depending upon your perspective. Sounds like Congress is in session...is Pelosi a Na'vi? James Cameron. The Canadian director who spends more money (other people's money, opm) on making movies (about $700M combined on Titanic and Avatar alone) than what the US Postal Service loses in a quarter. Kathryn Bigelow. The gutsy Bay Area divorced woman who spent $15M of "opm" on Hurt Locker , which is less than Tiger's annual tithe to the Bimbos Not-so-Anonymous Fund. Between these two movie favorites, they are up for 9 Oscar nominations apiece.

Seems like an obvious mismatch to me between Avatar v Hurt Locker, Cameron v Bigelow for the holy grail for best of movie and director. Avatar has grossed an astounding $2.5B worldwide and still raking it in theatres in 3D. Cameron has a huge resume of film success (Titanic, Terminator franchise, Alien). Hurt Locker has been on Netflix for months. Bigelow's (a second or even third tier director of previous forget-me-not films) claim to fame before Hurt Locker was that she was once married to Cameron. Wow, she must have learned something at the side of the self-anoited one. But, all that contrast aside, I reflect back to a sporting moment as an emotionally spent 1999 USA Ryder Cup captain Ben Crenshaw who faced and pointed his bony finger at the media and prophetically stated of his downtrodden team on the night before the decisive final day against a formidable European team, "I have a good feeling about this (the next days final matches)". USA won. I too have a good feeling about underdog Kathyrn Bigelow winning for Best Director and maybe just maybe Hurt Locker wins as Best Picture. Now that would be something!

You see, I've always sided with the Davids or the Kathyrns against the Goliaths or the Camerons of the world. In the 82 year history of the Oscars a woman has never won for Best Director. A deserved win for Kathyrn is not only a win for her and for her movie team, but, more importantly, it is a win for capable and courageous women worldwide who have been marginalized generationally by the male dominated world. At last glimpse of the news of the day, we have unbridled insane wars and genocide around the world, economies failing around the world, corrupt governments who cannot govern around the world, esteemed universities teaching "unethics" around the world, religious groups who practice hypocrisy and intolerance around the world, sexual depravity and imprisonment imposed on humanity around the world...worlds all dominated by men. The world is a mess. As Chairman Mao Zedong said, "women hold up half the sky." Hummm...maybe it's time for women to show their stuff and lead. Maybe it begins Sunday night...in LA.

Marian, I'll bring you the popcorn.

Rickie Fowler Update

About a month ago I blogged about a 21 year old PGA rookie pro, Rickie Fowler. When I first saw Rickie last year at the November Pebble Beach Callaway tournament, I was captivated not only by his obvious golfing skills and course management but also by his seemingly unflappable demeanor...a rare gift for a professional golfer. All this coming out of a 21 year old young man. I was bullish on him then and even more so now.

In six events this year, Rickie has made the cut three times. In those three tournaments, he has two top 10 finishes. He is #14 on the money list with earnings of $875,000 after two months of work. This past week at the worst-named venue in all of sports, the Waste Management Phoenix Open, Rickie finished -15 below par and one behind Hunter Mahan, a talented Ryder Cupper and fellow Oklahoma State cowboy, who fired a blistering 65, six under on the final day to win the tournament.

Down the stretch, Rickie failed to birdie some "birdiable" holes. One particular hole, the 15th a reachable par 5, Rickie decided to lay up instead of going for the green in two which was well within his range. He ended up parring the golf hole and missing out on probable birdie maybe eagle. His approach on this hole seemed odd simply because I thought he had a very almost reckless attitude toward his golf shot selection. I'm sure at the time of decision, he felt that he could still birdie the golf hole while laying up and thus tying for the lead with three holes to play. Well it did not work out that way. That's golf. Given the same situation next time, I suspect Rickie will go after it with his more customary aggressive gusto and sit fatefully with the outcome.

As the tour swings from the West to the East, I look forward to more tourneys in which Rickie is in the hunt. He is a dashing and colorful character out there amidst all those robotic golfdroids. He is very good for golf. Refreshing. Singular. Young-fast-powerful. With Tiger out, the stage is clear for a new generation of talent to make their mark. It is their time...now, and they know it.

On the final day of the ATT-Pebble Beach tournament last month, I ran into Rickie's Dad, Rod, who was in the gallery. I told Rod that Rickie's OSU orange may replace Tiger's red on Sundays. A bold statement made by me. Without missing a beat, Rod looked at me and said, "yeah, why not." Why not, indeed.