El Gringoqueño

All a man needs out of life is a place to sit ‘n’ spit in the fire.

Page 40 of 51

RIP, my old TV

April 7, 2005 /

_tv.jpg

I know it’s a TV, but what a TV it was. That TV was over 15 years old. I bought it my sophomore year of college and proceeded to haul it with me literally all over the world for the next fifteen years. That JVC television went through a lot, but alas, all of this earth ­is mortal and it was handed off to the city disposal last week. It actually hurts a little bit. I’m a dork, I know, but bear with me as I recount our tale of adventure and perseverance.­

The TV started its life off in St. Louis Missouri, at Washington University where it endured three years in a Fraternity house, beer, room fire, smoke, and things unmentionable. It hung in there because it was young and full of life.

After college it traveled cross country in a U-haul to Boston, Massachusetts. It hung out with me for six months while I worked at a new job. We were single and loving it. I was then transferred to San Francisco in December of 1993 and my faithful TV tagged along as it was lofted up to the dizzying heights of Noe Valley, even putting up with my crazy rollerblade antics around town. We were still young and stupid, but we had fun.

Then Laura and I got married and moved to Oakland. She didn’t just get a husband, she got a TV, and what a TV it was. As she will tell you, she has some kind of jinxing field that follows her wherever she goes. Any home electronics equipment found within ten feet of her sphere of influence has a drastically shortened lifespan. I don’t know how, but the TV seemed to take to her, and like her tough husband, seemed none the worse for wear. Experience had made us tough, and we lapped it up.

After a few years, the time to move had come again. This time, we were to head to the Basque country of Spain to complete Laura’s doctoral research in Anthropology. Our NTSC buddy tagged along, never mind he did not speak PAL. It’s all PAL to me, he said, besides they don’t even have my kind of 110/120 V 60 Hz food. But like a trooper, with a weird pinched screen, strained to play VHS tapes of shows sent to us from various family members. Like seasoned competitors we pushed through and survived.

So after a couple of years, we moved to Puerto Rico to start a new life. Laura was pregnant with Olaia, and we moved into a little seaside apartment in the Condado. Our trusty TV was there with us, happy to be back on native soil, but cursing the sea air.

We were comfortable and safe, until that fall when Georges decided to pay a visit, a category 3-4 hurricane that knocked out electricity, water, cable for the better part of three weeks. Mr. TV was wobbly, but like us, pulled through, and we began to think we would live forever. You hit us with everything, and I’m still here.

Fast forward to our new house in 1999, and on into 2000. Olaia, ever our little helper, decided to dump Windex onto the screen of Mr. TV and with her trusty paper towel "clean" it. Mr. TV had had enough, and it was the first time we had indications he might leave us.

Two days, of patient waiting, hair dryer blowing, and sighing (or cursing), and Mr. TV came reluctantly back to life. Why do you molest an old man, he asked. Let me die in peace.

Sometime between 2000 and 2004, after staggering on creaking joints, he stopped responding to our calls for entertainment from time to time. Crotchety he had become, a withered old man who didn’t give a damn anymore. Make me care, he said to us. I could still smile and admire his spirit, but it was getting more annoying by the month. Make me miss one single Buffy episode and I will heave you into the trash.

Next came the trial by fire. Desperate to light a barbecue and without lighter fluid, I pulled out the only flammable liquid I could on short notice, 180 proof rum. Hmmm, rum flavored charcoal for barbecuing steak. In a Tim Allen moment while dumping alcohol onto the open fire, flames entered the neck of the bottle, ignited the vapor and shot fireballs across the patio, through the open door up the side of the TV, and up the side of the house. Airplane pilots mistook it for an SOS call. I quickly smothered what I could but let the rest burn itself out. "Guess what I just did?" I said to Laura laughing nervously. You married folks know the sigh, right?

So fire, flood – we just need plague and pestilence and this would be a complete Biblical tale.

Tropical Storm Jean paid a visit in late 2004, and Mr. TV finally gave up the ghost. I’m done, I’ve had a full life, let one who is young and strong and brave take on this family now. I have given you all my best, and he ceased to function for ever more.

There he lay in state for several months as I contemplated a fitting end. Should he be dumped into a landfill or be properly recycled with his heavy metals? Does Puerto Rico care that TV’s are being dumped into landfills? Well, I’ll keep you around for a little while longer until I figure out how to dispose of you.

And the day finally came. Friday, April 1st 2005, you finally made your way to your final resting place. I know not where, only the City of San Juan knows for sure, but good-bye faithful servant. They don’t make ’em like you anymore.

Me? Like the Pope? Not So Much

April 2, 2005 /

“Man, I am so sick of this love affair with the Pope. Sheesh,
everyone wants to just bow down and worship this guy like he’s done
so much or something. What has he done?”

Laura, who is a fan of the Pope, answers, “He’s reached out
to other religions, healed some long suffering wounds inflicted long
ago. He’s reached out to the peoples all around the globe, and held
firm on moral conviction.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “He denounced apartheid, and it
is said is partly responsible for its fall by applying political
pressure. They like to give him partial credit for helping end
communism in the world too with his intervention in Poland. So I
guess he’s stood up for equality and justice during his papacy.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“So how come he doesn’t foster equality in his own
organization? Over fifty percent of his flock is considered a second
class citizen. Women are excluded from virtually every facet of
Church leadership, from local to national to international levels.
Woman serve a subservient roll to priests, bishops, and are
non-existent in the official Vatican power structure. The Pope
pointed out the speck in his neighbor’s eye, but failed to see the
timber in his own. Now I can’t necessarily blame him for all this,
after all he’s just following Church doctrine handed down to him for
centuries, and he’s human. In effect, he’s just going with the flow,
following the tried and the true. You can’t blame someone for that, I
guess. He implemented faithfully the tenants of the Catholic Church
handed down for centuries.”

Laura nodded, knowing I was setting her up for another round of
ranting.

“Let’s recap, shall we? Under the Pope we have the following
issues:

  1. Falling western church population, with growth in Africa and
    other third world regions.
  2. Falling membership in the religious orders, 40,000 Jesuits 20
    years ago has fallen to 20,000 today, all during the Pope John
    Paul’s reign. Why? An increasing number of parishes no longer have
    full time priests. There is a critical shortage of ordained
    religious servants.
  3. Church closings throughout the western world: my hometown of
    St. Louis is currently going through some ugly infighting concerning
    assets, closings, and consolidation.
  4. Church sex scandals: one of the most horrific and damaging
    scandals to ever break anywhere anytime. You think the Spanish
    Inquisition was bad? Try inflicting the same torment on children and
    remaining quiet about for decades. How long has the Pope been Pope?
    – Long enough for him take some responsibility for sure. I didn’t
    know or I wasn’t involved have never been nor will they ever be
    excuses.

You name it, and the Church has stumbled on it or is doing it
poorly. Don’t blame the parishioners, blame the leadership. It’s
always the leadership’s fault.

So if you were the board of directors of, hmmm, let’s say, Hewlett
Packard, and say Carly Fiorina had a strategy to increase profits
over a 6-10 year period, and say she didn’t increase them fast enough
or lost a little bit of share. Well, you’d take a hard look at her,
and you might fire her, right? Guess what? When you see your share
fall, and when corporate scandal reigns, and the company does poorly,
you fire management. A lot of the time, you hold them criminally
responsible. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve never heard a CEO
claim that he was just doing what his predecessor was doing. ‘Um, I
thought using my personal secretary as a sexual perk was okay. I
mean, hell, all the other CEO’s did it. Lots of low interest personal
loans to myself? Well, we’ve done that for decades.’

Well, guess what, Mr. CEO, the 1980’s and the 1990’s where great.
Profits were up, people were getting rich. Hell, the board got rich
on the stock. But Mr. CEO, it’s the 2000’s and we ain’t in Kansas
anymore. You have to be able to react. You have to be able to adapt
to a changing landscape. You’ve got to make hard decisions. What the
hell do we pay you for, huh?

So I say the same thing to the Pope. What the hell have you been
doing over there in your walled city while the Roman Catholic Church
has been falling apart? You’ve been issuing decrees on birth control,
abortion, secularism and burying your head in the “if it ain’t
broke, don’t fix it” mentality oblivious to the creaky rusty
corrupt bucket of bolts that is shedding it’s shit all over the road.
You issue a memo, take a drive in your Pope-mobile, or make a trip to
have throngs of poor Catholics in third world countries come in
droves to weep and feint at the site of your holiness? Bah! You’re an
idiot, and you got the basic stuff wrong, very wrong. You’ve been
denying half your flock the possibility of renewing the face of the
Earth, simply because they don’t have a penis. What kind of shit is
that? I would have said, grow a pair, but at this point, it ain’t
gonna happen.

The Pope should’ve spent eighty percent of his time with the
problem children of the worldwide Church, eighty percent of his time
on the tough issues, eighty percent of the time going after the lost
sheep. He can then spend twenty percent of the time tending to his
flock of believers. Wasn’t that Jesus’s message? – The sheepherder,
upon losing one of his flock leaves the rest to go and search for it.
The prodigal son? Wasn’t this the lesson? I understand the Pope is
beloved by those that are with him, but what of the lost sheep, the
disillusioned Catholics, those for whom this bloated bureaucracy has
ceased to be relevant? It’s easy to preach to those who love you.
This Pope’s challenge was to preach to those that had gone astray,
the fallen away Catholics, the disillusioned, the angry, the hurt,
and the lost.

Mr. Pope, I will grant that you’ve done more than your cowardly
predecessors. You’ve perhaps done a satisfactory job these 27 years,
but I don’t expect a satisfactory job from “Jesus’s
representative on Earth.” I expect an extraordinary job. Mr.
Pope, this is one Catholic that won’t miss you a bit. I wish we could
have fired you a long time ago, but Pope for life is the way it goes.
Ain’t tenure a bitch? You can’t fire the incompetent, and they hang
on long after they’ve ceased to be even moderately productive.
History seems to be whitewashing your papacy for political reasons
(especially those shills at Fox News), but I know what you did not
do. Shame on you for your inaction and blindness.

I’m a bit scared for who’s coming next though. Might we go from
bad to worse?

Be afraid, be very afraid.

Product Translations

March 30, 2005 /

You know how there are various funny websites making fun of numerous
English product translations to Chinese? For example, Coca Cola comes
out "happiness in the mouth" as its literal translation. I sometimes
think it helps fuel our distrust or timidity over these alien Chinese
and their weird language and their body lotion translated as "imposing
lavish experience focus and well-being for your dermis." They’re weird,
otherworldly. Whatever.

I was driving the other day and one of
those local radio station vans passed me. You know, the ones with the
KROCK 100 "all the hits fit to play" or WLOVE 103 "We put your groove
on french toast" or some such nonsense. Well, I saw the following, ONDA
94 "Toca lo que Pega" or literally: WAVE 94 "(It) plays that which
sticks". I swear I almost had an accident. Now, comeon, Spanish isn’t
that different from English, but you’d be amazed how much goes into a
translation to make it palatable to its audience. For example, if I was
to translate ONDA 94’s slogan to English, I’d just say, ONDA 94 "We
play the hits", not "The hits are played" or "We only play what sticks"
neither of which actually capture the exact phrase in Spanish.

In
Spanish, I might come up with the following: ONDA94, "Tocamos los
grandes exitos" which means "We play the greatest hits." It’s simpler,
more literal. But for some reason, "Toca lo que pega" has more
immediacy, more puissance. It sounds hipper, more local, less about
waiting for something to be a hit and then playing it like a follower.
"Toca lo que pega" connotes leadership. It makes me think that they
know what holds up, what people like, and they play it because they
KNOW.

In Spanish I instantly understand the phrase "Toca lo que pega" but when put to translating it, I have to think about it a bit.

Anyway, back to sticking to my popular tunes of "prevailing essense" or something.

Nació Javier Ignacio O’Malley Gorbea

March 19, 2005 /

javier_ignacio_birthday_0008.jpgJavier Ignacio O’Malley Gorbea was born at 5:22 am on the 19th of March 2005 weighing 7 lbs 14 oz with a length of 21 inches.

From an email I wrote to my brother-in-law in Iraq, Carlos.

The little tike shot out like a rocket, 10, 9, 8 … 1 Ignition (Ignacio)
*hehe*. He cried more vigorously than the other children and when placed
on the little delivery table he tried to hide in the corner, pulling the
blue paper wrap over his face. I’m thinking he’s going to be a snuggler
like Olaia. He is already feeding with his mommy and has taken to sucking
quite well just minutes after birth. Yes, he’s a healthy happy, vigorous
little spark.

Laura is doing fine – delivery was quick and without complications, in
fact, I was still checking us in at the main desk when they paged me,
"Mira, Laura está a punto de…" I ran to the delivery room and there was
the little fireball in the hands of the doctor. (I almost missed it). They
handed me some sissors and ordered me to cut, "Entre ellos, aquí, rapido."
I cut the umbilical cord and looked upon the little explosion of cuteness
that was Javier Ignacio. So far as I can tell, he’s got a Gorbea butt,
Gorbea ears, O’Malley chin, and Gorbea fingers and toes. Their little
faces are a little swollen when they come out so it’s tough to say who he
looks like, but he’s bright, luminous, and healthy and a Mr. Chispa o
Señorito Chispito. Hey that sounds good, my little chispa, muy vivo y
despierto.

The Caca Diaries

December 13, 2004 /

I’ve mentioned it
before, touched on it
but not fully developed the details of my relationship with my son’s
excrement. Or rather, let me say, I haven’t delved into fully
illuminating just how much Jaimito’s poopies mean to me. Err, can I
say that again? That didn’t come out right. I’ve thought about this
for a while, not knowing how to approach it, not being able to find
the courage. Thanks to her, I
think I’ve found my voice.

My son’s love for his daddy and his daddy’s love for him as
explained through changing poopie diapers.

Hmm, still sounds wrong. It’s not so much really the poopie,
but rather the poopie as metaphor for being a parent. Wait, don’t
run off, I didn’t mean that either. Geez, you people with no kids
are awfully squeamish. Get a back-bone. No, what I am trying to say
is, the act of changing a diaper, if appreciated properly (all inhale
now – again, kidding), can reveal corn, raisins, spinach…
sorry I can’t help myself. Really, this is hard. There is a reason
that love and caca haven’t been paired together in any romantic
comedies (well, Ben Stiller aside).

Bah, just breathe in this example:

"Daddy, I bring you da diaper an’ da wipes." Jaimito
placed a fresh diaper and a container of wet wipes under my nose and
announced, "Daddy, I caca!"

I am, for the first time, truly impacted by this announcement – and the odor.
After all the diaper changing in his short life, Jaimito
has selected me to be the honored bearer of the royal caca, cleaner
of his little derriere, preferred ass wiper, trusted cleanser of the
cheeks.

Is this how you moms feel all the time? Hey no more kudos for
you… you’ve just been hogging all the fun and pawning it off as
"sacrifice." I know the truth now.

My son prefers me to his mother for poopie changing. Mommy asks,
"Jaimito, do you want me to change your diaper?"

Jaimito responds, "No! Daddy do it!"

"Okay little boy, I’ll do it." I grin, truly warmed and
appreciative of his little needs and that I can fulfill them. I’m
not kidding. I’m not being sarcastic. It’s the greatest feeling in
the world.

Fear not the caca, for it will lead you to a profoundity of love
the likes of which you have never experienced… just follow the
smell, and you shall find it.

The New Vietnam

November 20, 2004 /

Sometimes I long for a bit of drama in my
life, something with which to struggle, a worm, a trojan, or a virus or
two. Linux is boring, and I am feeling a bit of guilt for my Microsoft
brothers fighting Charlie in the jungles of the third world, while I
cool my heals in Canada. I feel this guilt purchasing with impunity
online, surfing freely, accessing remotely.  Will my conscience ever be
free and clear again?

I do feel I should do more for our
boys. I should do my duty and get infected by spyware or something, do
it for honor, do it for my country.

Show your patriotism and get infected by spyware today! Use Microsoft software!

Jaimito’s Greatest Hits

November 15, 2004 /
  • The cross-over classic, "Clean my manos."
  • and the ever popular, "I spilled da’ agua."

Hits
both in both the Spanish-speaking and English-speaking world, these
refrains have found universal appeal in America’s new multi-ethnic brew.

Jaimito words to remember

November 11, 2004 /
  • Lolipop = Lopa-lop
  • Ketchup = Checkup
  • Papi Tito = Papu -> and now Pito
  • Mami Nelli = Mele
  • Superman = Weederwo
  • Hotdog = hot-got

Laura words to remember:

"What am I? Chopped potatos?"

"What?"
I laugh. "I think you mean chopped liver, or small potatos. Haha, I
love your mixed metaphors." Laura can’t contain herself , and she is
rolling on the floor in tears.

Olaia’s Sixth Birthday

November 7, 2004 /

olaia_6th_bday_0014_sm.jpg

Laura and I constantly revel in the wonderful sweet little girl
that is Olaia Kathryn. A more thoughtful, respectful, and
engaging little person we never could have imagined. Here are
two brief tiny looks into her personality:

When her first tooth fell out, she was excited. "Mommy,
mommy, my tooth fell out!" she exclaimed, a little bit
scared, a little bit elated. "Mommy, I’m going to put it
under my pillow and when the Tooth Fairy comes she will leave me
money?"

"Yes, Olaia, the Tooth Fairy will bring you money for your
tooth." She beamed.

Later, when the time came for bed, Olaia ran up to me
with a quarter in her hand. "Daddy, I want to leave this
for the Tooth Fairy. She works very hard, and I want to give this to her."

I laughed. What a sweet little girl. So empathetic.
I believed it had something to do with a TV commercial for a change
consolidation service in which there was depicted a harried, tired
Tooth Fairy weighed down with a huge bag of change. She falls
down the stairs and all of her coins go flying all over the
house. Later, while buying band-aids to patch up her scrapes and
bruises, she notices a change machine where she is able to
consolidate it into more easily carried paper money. I thought
to myself that Olaia must have remembered this and wanted to say
thank you to the Tooth Fairy for her hard work. She made sure
the money and tooth were carefully placed under her pillow and she
drifted off to sleep.

In the days preceding Halloween this year, Olaia, spent the
afternoons making many copies of a drawing. On one side was a

nighttime scene depicting a scary house, and on the other was a happy
house. She made ten copies of the drawing. I guess I was distracted, because I never asked her
directly what they were for. I mentioned that they were nice
though.

At our first trick-or-treat house, Olaia said, "Trick or
treat." After the woman had given out the handfuls of
candy to Olaia, the witch and Jaimito, the ghost, and turned to go
into the house, Olaia called out, "Wait. I have something
for you. On this side is a scary house for Halloween, and if
that’s too scary for you, on the other side is a nice house."
The woman was confused for a second. I stood there a bit
confused as well. Ahh, Laura and I thought at the moment.
"It’s a thank you card for the candy," we said. I remarked
that Olaia’s depth of consideration was so profound that she had even
given the card an alternative depiction for those easily scared.

The woman was most amused and grateful. "How beautiful
was the drawing. Thank you."

I wonder if anyone has ever thought to bring thank you cards
around with them on Halloween? I never did. Laura never
did.

Olaia did.

She is such a joy, Laura and I thank God every day that we get to
spent with her.

Why China / Russia / Middle East / Insert-your-boogie-man-here is Not Going to Destroy You and Never Could

November 4, 2004 /

Frequently I write up responses to things that interest me or pursue a
thought that pops into my head during the day. More often than not, I
write it up in a hurry, reread it, and discard it. Occassionally, I go
back and check out the drivel that I had written and think, "Hey that’s
not so bad, why did I throw it away. Good thing I saved it." This is
one such occassion, and the theme a recurring one. China’s growing
economic might and progress. Chinese technology

Go ahead and read it. It’ll sound about the same as every other
thinly veiled awestruck/fearstruck warning to the western world, to
"get off yer duff and take these bastards seriously, or they’ll run the
world in a few decades, while you and your familly drown in your own
excrement." You’ll find things like, "There are 300 million cell phone
users in China." "If even 10% of the Chinese population did _blank_
then that would turn the word market for _blank_ on its ear." They
always talk passingly about "our market opportunity" but belie it with
"if only China would open its doors to the west." Sprinkle in "human
rights," "nuclear weapons," and "communism" and you’ve got the makings
of a nice little pseudo cold war in the brewing, a nice sun brewed ice
cold war.

You see, our problem is that we are really afraid of China, but
it’s not just China. Before them (or concurrently) it was Russia.
Before that, it was the Vietnamese, Native-Americans. Before that, it
was the Turks… It’s always somebody, and hindsight has always proven
our fear was all for naught.

So, back to China. What was it about this article that irked me? –
Cell phone users – I got this image in my head of 300 million folks
walking around with little black gadgets stuck to their heads. I see
them, a sea of thin, slight, Chinese people hustling and bustling with
little portable hot-pocket roasters yibber yabbering away about
important stuff concerning world affairs and their plans for global
domination and our own subsequent subjugation.

Unfortunately, their plans are probably more in line with, do you know
who X has a crush on, or did you get the new album by X, or hon, pick
up some rice on the way home from the office, or hi, mom, the phone
company told me that it would be another ten years (or never) before
they extended service to our area, so I just got this cell phone.

So people aren’t doing anything but using these cellphones to perform
the same things that you or I do in the same circumstances. But what if
the Chinese dumped cell phones onto our markets, got a lock on the
global cell phone market, why, they could… hello? These are cell
phones, people!! These are communication devices. Like ALL tech, it
doesn’t have the ability to DO squat by itself. It can’t invent
anything new. It can’t create. It can’t motivate. It can’t thrust. It
is a TOOL, a tool for people, subject to their follies, their
strengths, their weaknesses. A cell phone cannot DO anything to you. It
cannot change your way of life. It cannot subjugate you. Unless…

And that brings me to another point. If technology is essentially
impotent, what CAN China possibly do with it or any other piece of
technology they acquire? The short answer is this: What their president
tells them to do.

We should not fear a people without true freedom, for it is the most
important attribute of success. One person cannot make decisions for 2
billion people. He can’t even begin to comprehend the lives of his
living relatives. The only way China can succeed in any lasting way is
if they are free to pursue their inalienable rights of life, liberty,
and the pursuit of happiness. Will they pursue folly? Sure. Will they
do great things? Sure. Will they be a threat to us? Surely not.

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