Easy Come Easy Go

The bombing raids on Japan reduces the Pacific nation's industrial base to a near-neanderthal level. America mocked their first import offerings, although I loved the little radio labelled MADE IN JAPAN. No battery. An alligator clip attached to a piece of metal provided enough energy to allow a young boy in Maine the pleasure of listening to the Boston Celtics. Sam Jones and KC Jones were brothers and Bill Russell a greater hero than anyone else in my world. Bill Russell's starting salary was $19,000, whereas their recent star forward Antoine Walker was paid $14 million one season. This amount of money might seem enough to last someone several generation, however Douglas County police arrested the former All-Star at a Reno Casino for writing 10 bad checks for a total of $1 million.

The 33-year-old player had earned $110 million-plus during his career.

His reported worth at present is zero.

All that money is gone.

The price of living large and his difficulties are a common occurrence in the NBA where 80% of the players end up bankrupt after they quit the courts. Few fans sympathize with their idols, but this same rags to riches to rags equation plays out for mega-lottery winners. The money is easy come and easy go.

Mike Tyson broke.

"Serves him right."

Maybe so but ain't something right about this much bad happening to the nouveau-riche.

They just done got robbed and ain't no one saying by who.

Not ESPN or FOX Sports.

And not no one else either, because we love to see the might fall low.

"Serve them right for thinking they were something."

Truth is they were something and the NBA should have made sure they came out of it with something and that's the truth.

Raking the Fallen Leaves

My family home on the South Shore bordered on a small woods. Every October the trees would turn brilliant red, yellows, and orange. The glorious explosion of color lasted until the next cold snap and a good wind would rip the exhausted leaves from the branches. They fell by the millions on our back yard. My brothers and sisters loved running through the rustling piles, but come the weekend and my father would order my older brother and me to rake the leaves into piles. Once the lawn was visible my father would lit our labor afire. The smoke of those leaves filled the air with the fragrance of burnt autumn offerings.

The next morning the leaves would be replaced my their cousins. Less than before, yet millions still and my brother and I would have to reap the harvest of leaves. Another fire. The Sisyphean ritual was repeated until the trees were bare. I hated raking leaves. The task seemed as senseless as mowing the lawn. Something my father wanted done without question.

Living in the East Village as a young adult excluded my performing either of these chores. No lawns and the the wind disposed of the leaves. Municipal workers were confined to street sweeping duties, so our neighborhood depended on the wind to dispose of the leaves from the few ornamental pear trees on East 10th Street.

Most New Yorkers love this freedom from Nature, but my good friend AP was telling of an Easthampton client who ordered the landscapers to blow errant leaves from the estate's 20 acre lawn. Before the crew finished the billionaire came out of his mansion to request that the workers pick out the finest leaves for a pristine pile of leaves for his children to run through after school.

"That's the way of the rich." AP deals with such people all the time as a architect.

We laughed at their excess. That 1% knows how to spend the 95% of the wealth.

After hearing that story I went to shoot baskets at my local park on deKalb Avenue. No one was on the court, but several park workers were raking leaves. I thought about my father and the East Village and then the rich guy in Easthampton. Leaving the park I commented to one worker about raking the leaves and he said, "Yeah, we're bringing them to another park, so the kids can run through them. They love that."

Same as rich kids in Easthampton.

And me too.

It does make a pretty sound.

For the rich the poor and the in-between.

Aussie Rules

An Australian guy is traveling around the Greek Islands. He walks into a
bar and, by chance, is served by an Australian barmaid. As she takes his
order, a Foster's, she notices his accent. Over the course of the evening
they get chatting. At the end of her shift he asks if she wants to come back
to his place.

Although she is attracted to him she says no. He then offers to pay her $200
to sleep with him.

As she is traveling around the world, and is short of funds, she agrees.

The next night the guy turns up again. Again he orders Fosters and after
showing her plenty of attention, asks if she will sleep with him again for
$200. She remembers the night before and is only too happy to agree. This
goes on for 5 nights. On the 6th night the guy comes in again, orders
Fosters but goes and sits in the corner. The barmaid thinks that if she pays
him more attention then, maybe she can shake some more cash out of him. So
she goes over and sits next to him.

She asks him where he's from in Australia ..

' Melbourne ', he tells her.

'So am I. What suburb?' she enquires.

'Glen Iris' he replies.

'That's amazing,' she says excitedly, 'so am I - what street?'

'Cameo Street ' he replies.

'This is unbelievable.........' she says, her voice quavering;

'What number?'

'Number 20', he replies.

She is totally astonished. 'You are NOT going to believe this,' she screams,
'but I'm from number 22! My parents still live there!'

'I know...' he says, 'Your Dad gave me $1,000 to give to you'

HE WHO DRINKS AUSTRALIAN, THINKS AUSTRALIAN

How Love Works

Awful Afghan Autumn

October 2009 has proven deadly to coalition soldiers stationed in Afghanistan. The Taliban proved resilient and the populace resistant to appeals for peace from the occupation forces. Hardliners in the Pentagon are pressing President Obama for more troops. The C-in-C has resisted their demands, for the people of America don't have the heart or mind for a long war. Most couldn't located Afghanistan on a map or New York.

So what to do?

Pull out?

Not easy.

16,000 British troops withdrew from Kabul in the winter of 1842.

Only one soldier made it to safety.

Bomb the shit out of them.

The Russians tried that. The USA too.

I hate to say this, but the best policy would be to reinforce the troops there with a plan to get the fuck out in the summer and pay the right people bribes for a safe exit.

Nothing else will work.

Nothing.

Jailbait # 3

Need I say more.

Oi Yey Ist Mir Basketball

Tonight is the opening of the NBA season. The premiere match-up of the Cleveland Cavaliers versus the fabled Boston Celtics. Shaq and Lebron against the Big 3 of Garnett, Pierce, and Allen, combined age 100 plus. The score is tied with 2 minutes left in the 1st half.

real basketball as opposed to the exhibition trash of the past month and none worse than the charity event of the Knicks playing against Israel's #1 team, Maccabi. The result was never in doubt, however the visitor's coach exhibited classic Israeli stubbornness after being ejected by the referee.

He refused to go to the showers.

8 minutes.

A rabbi even came down to plead with the refs to let the coach stay.

The NBA security escorted the guest from the court.

Strangest of all was that the coach was protesting an offensive foul called on the

Go figure.

Several Sundays ago I was bicycling through Williamsburg. A group of young Hasidim were playing basketball. I watched for several minutes and one of them asked if i wanted to play. His friend had to go back home. finding a basketball game in Brooklyn isn't as easy as you would think, so i eagerly accepted thinking my ancient skills would shine against the Lubbavitchers. I was wrong. They were good shooters and keen foulers.

I love this game.

Go Celtics.