Opening Day

There is a god. Baseball returns. Winter is finally over! Fans and players rejoice! What's that I hear, the organ playing Take Me Out to the Ballgame. Let's play ball.

Today the 2011 Major League Baseball begins. And here are my picks for the season:

National League
East Philadelphia Phillies
Central St. Louis Cardinals
West San Francisco Giants
Wild Card Colorado Rockies

American League
East Boston Red Sox
Central Chicago White Sox
West Oakland Athletics
Wild Card Tampa Bay Rays

World Series
Colorado Rockies v. Chicago White Sox

MVP
National League Carlos Gonzales
American League Robinson Cano

Cy Young
National League Doc Halladay
American League Trevor Cahill

World Champs
Colorado Rockies

Worst Team in Baseball
Cleveland Indians

So those are my picks, what are yours?

Baseball is back.

Batter up.

Enjoy.

The Black Swan (not the movie)

WARNING: If you're looking for a blog about the recent freaky movie Black Swan, do not read further. This blog has nothing to do with Natalie Portman and ballet.

What in the hell is going on in the world today and for the last few years? Is Chicken Little right, is the world coming to an end and is the sky falling? Is peace not of this world? Will the Dow Jones Industrial Average (DJIA) ever sustain a prolonged rally devoid of "corrections"? Will the Cubs ever win a World Series again? Who knows. Blame it all on the black swan. Read on.

About two years ago when the financial world was in a global meltdown and threatened the economic well being of the planet, I went searching for meaning as to what happened. I didn't seek out the Dalai Lama for reasons why. Nor did I write a letter to Oprah for the answers. Serendipitously, I was given a book to read by a financial wonk friend of mine. He guardedly told me this may help me deal with, as he put it, "the obfuscation of the moment." But he added don't try to understand it all because that's impossible. He added colloquially, "just roll with it". The book was The Black Swan by Nassim Nicholas Taleb. The book is 305 pages. After two years of labor, I'm on page 210. It's a rather tough read.

According to Taleb's interpretation, "a black swan or swans is and are events that are hugely important, rare and unpredictable and inexplicable only after the fact." Black swans can have good and bad personalities. The financial catastrophe of 2008 still reverberating around the world today is an example of a bad "black swan event." 911 is another bad "black swan event." The destructively bad black swans come like a thief in the night rape and pillage and leave detritus behind for all left standing to clean up. But the good and beneficial black swans are equally powerful. Taleb writes, "The computer, the internet and the laser were unplanned, unpredicted and unappreciated upon their discovery...they were consequential. They too were black swans." Seems like there are alot of black swans flying around out there these days. Staring to think they aren't that rare anymore. Everything around the planet is so connected. China sneezes and Wall Street heads for the ER.

The devastatingly sad earthquake/tsunami/nuclear plant tragic trifecta in Japan and the current Mideast people's revolution are the most current "black swan events" that are reverberating not only in those directly effected regions but in global markets around the world. The ongoing events in Japan and the Mideast will have huge influences on history, another tenet of the black swan theory.

The upside of the black swan phenomenon is summed up in one phrase "and this too shall pass." Take the financial markets for instance. Since the markets crashed to a new low of 6,469 on March 6, 2009, representing a 54% drop from a 2007 high of 14,164, the DJIA closed this past weekend at 12,220. In fact, the Dow's gain this past week was the highest since last July...even in midst of all the worldly chaos the Dow moves north. Since the March low, the DJIA has almost doubled it's value in two years of recovery. What's astounding are both the DJIA and the SP500 indeces are ascending monthly in a culture of a continuous litany of bad and sometimes good black swan worldly events.

So for you market watchers out there, "just roll with it" as my friend advised me. Nothing you can do about it the vicissitudes of daily life anyway and enjoy the ride of life where black swans are part of the fabric of life.

As Taleb concludes, "Imagine, a speck of dust next to a planet a billion times the size of the earth. The speck of dust represents the odds in favor of you being born: the huge planet would be the odds against it. So stop sweating the small stuff. Don't be like the ingrate who got a castle as a present and worried about the mildew in the bathroom. Stop looking the gift horse in the mouth - remember that you are a Black Swan."

Babes Gone but Not Forgotten

This past week I lost the third beauty of my raging testosterone youth, Elizabeth Taylor,who died at age 79 of congestive heart failure. The other two beauties, also pictured above who preceded Elizabeth in death were, Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell. Marilyn died prematurely in 1962 at age 36 to an accidental overdose of prescription barbiturates. Jane died on February 28 of this year at the age of 89 of natural causes. All three were mythical goddesses for me...a young scrawny kid dreaming about what life is like beyond the banks of the muddy Mississippi. Thinking about these women in my youth gave my dreams alot of amperage.

First of all, I thought Marilyn was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen (before Marian). God could not have created a more comely woman. Her untimely death shocked me. I remember the day vividly when Marilyn died. My father, Jim, my mother, Ruth, both devout Catholics, a couple of my siblings and I were on the way to visit the Shrine of Our Lady of the Snows in Belleville, Illinois, on that fateful Sunday August morning. (How's that for an oxymoron...snows in August and a shrine in Belleville. But that's what it is. Almost million people a year visit this shrine.) And a CBS bulletin came over the car radio that Marilyn had died in Los Angeles. All of us were stunned by the news. Instantly, I thought of her cutesy cowgirl role in River of No Return with Robert Mitchum. I asked my Dad, "how can we go to the Shrine on such sad news?" He said, "she'll need our prayers to get into heaven." But I said, "we're all sinners, aren't we?" We continued on to Belleville...in silence.

The news of Jane's death was not as shocking as Marilyn's was because of Jane's mature age. But I was saddened nonetheless. Frankly, she was a B-movie type actress. Montana Belle and The Outlaw did not win any Oscars. But boy was she a doll and she had every GI in WWII drooling. Whenever I thought of Jane Russell I thought in twos. Her abundant shelf of a bosom were "bs" perfect, "before silicone." Her lips were as delicious as a double scoop of peach ice cream. Her hourglass figure made you forget about the hour, minute and the second. Amidst all her native beauty, Jane had another side to her, a side few knew about. She was a devout Christian who gave her heart to the Lord daily and her body to Hollywood.

The third goddess, Elizabeth, left us this week past. Another beauty with violet eyes, curves beyond measure, and a face and body made for Rubens paintbrush. When I think of Elizabeth I think of one role of her many superb acting roles. Her screen role as the gorgeous Maggie the Cat in Tennessee Williams Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Paul Newman as the broken and drunken Brick was amazing. In the movie, Maggie pleads with an angry Brick about making love to her like before, she says, "I feel like a cat on a hot tin roof." Brick coldly rejects her love and declares, "then jump off the roof." The sexual tension inside that room between Elizabeth/Maggie and Brick was palpable. She made every scene she was in mesmerizing. She was a superb actress. A rare and talented beauty. A tortured soul. A kind, charitable and lovable person. All she wanted, other than the largest jewels in the world, was "someone to love".

In my mind, these three women will always have a special place at the table of my mental wanderings. They all may be gone from this world but will never be forgotten while I'm alive.

St. Patrick

On this fine day each year, we celebrate the death not the birth on one of the greatest Saints in the Catholic liturgical year. St. Patrick of Ireland.

"In Christian parlance, a saint's birthday is not the day of his earthly birth but the day of his new birth into heaven. After 30 years as bishop of Ireland, Patrick died on March 17, 461AD." And why does the world celebrate this day with such vigor? It seems that after 1,550 years, Patrick and his life in Ireland gives those of Irish descent and those who wish they were Irish great cause to pause and celebrate the enduring story of this remarkable man in this remarkable country. For St. Patrick not only drove the snakes out of Ireland but also drove the Devil out of Ireland. Read on.

First of all, Ireland is the land of stories, myths and music. Famed mythologist Joseph Campbell told a story about an American delegate from New York who stopped a Shinto priest in Japan and said to him, "I've been to many of your ceremonies and have seen quite a few of your shrines. But I don't get your ideology. I don't get your theology." The Japanese priest paused as though in deep thought and then slowly shook his head. "I think we don't have ideology," he said. "We don't have theology." he added. "We dance" he concluded. For Campbell, mythology and the stories of such are "the songs of the universe and the music of the spheres." Campbell may have been talking about Ireland. Ireland is a treasure trove of stories and music. There is no better place on earth where this embrace of the song and of the dance is more profound than in Ireland. Here's a doozie of a story for you on the legend of St. Patrick on his day.

One day in Ireland, Bishop Patrick was making the rounds in the countryside preaching the gospel. He met a man named, Gara, a horse breeder, a worthy occupation for any Irishman. Gara told Patrick about a mountain in northern Tipperary near the town of Templemore. The locals today know it as "The Devil's Bit". Gara told Patrick that inside the mountain, in a cave, lived "a great force of evil." This force created all sorts of discord and mayhem on the island. Patrick without hesitation said, "He'll flee the word of God. I'll confront him." Gara told him to take the young drummer boy with him "you'll find him useful". So off Patrick went with only a boy drummer in tow to have a sit down with "the evil one."

After days of a great walk over tough terrain, Patrick and the drummer boy arrived at the entrance to the evil one's cave. Meeting Patrick and the boy at the entrance of the cave was "the smell of hell." The smell was acrid and debilitating. Suddenly, Patrick heard hissing noises. Snakes. One sprung and attacked Patrick. In mid-flight, Patrick grabbed the lunging snake and dashed its head against the wall of the cave and flung it away. A second huge snake attacked Patrick. Again, Patrick courageously grabbed the slimy snake and flung it far down the mountainside. ("As legend has it, that second snake survived and slithered off and told other snakes to leave Ireland...it is far too dangerous for snakes. And there have been no snakes in Ireland since.")

Finally, through the smoke and darkness of the cave, Patrick sees the evil one. The sacred meets the profane. Conversation ensues. Good versus evil that sort of thing. Patrick tells the beast, "I give people hope." The beast retorts, "I give people enjoyment for their sins." and so forth... At that moment, the evil one seals the cave from Patrick's advances. An invisible but impenetrable shield protects the entrance. Patrick is stymied. All of a sudden, the little drummer boy starts rapping out a heartbeat powerful rhythm on his drum. Patrick recites the "Breastplate" chant. The evil one...the Devil can't tolerate the drum beating, the music and the chanting any longer. The shield collapses. The devil flys past the startled Patrick and dumbfounded drummer boy. Patrick gives pursuit of the evil one along the mountainside.

Patrick giving chase to the Devil grabs his tail but it is too hot to the touch and lets go. But the Devil's escape path is blocked by Patrick. In a desperate move to get away from Patrick, the Devil bites off a huge chunk of the mountain and carries it off in his mouth. He then escapes and flys away through the new gap in the mountain. Patrick astonished, lost his advantage.

Moments later, as the legend grew, the Devil loosened its grip on the boulder in its mouth and dropped the boulder to the ground which became the Rock of Cashel, the most famous site in Ireland. To this day, the Irish say, that if you put the Rock of Cashel into the gap of the mountain now known as "The Devil's Bit", it would be a perfect fit. Thus adding some credence to this rich Irish legend.

Knowing that the Devil lost his fight with St. Patrick in Ireland, he left Ireland by changing his shape to a gentleman and boarded a ship from Waterford and headed for England...where he lives to this very day.

In Frank Delaney's brilliant book, Ireland, he writes: "And that's the story of how St. Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland forever and banished the Devil to England. Some people say that explains why there has been such trouble between England and Ireland. The Devil stirs it up."

So wherever you might be on this fine day, enjoy a pint, toast brave St. Patrick and say a prayer for Ireland. The Devil is never too far away.