Ranting

Forgive me, but I need to vent. Roverine has become hooked on Grey's Anatomy. It is a sad commentary on our society that anyone watches this show. Even more pathetic is the fact that it isn't even the worst show on TV! I've long since refused to watch Desperate Housewives and The O. C. Although I still say that those Orange County kids are alright in a very twisted sort of way. Anyway, back to Grey's Anatomy. What is the appeal of this show? It is about a bunch of self obsessed brats who pursue the most frequent occurrence of inappropriate sexual relations possible, and practice some medicine in their free time.

In what world does it make sense that cheating on your wife because she cheated on you mean that everything will work out? And that work of genius only covers the first episode. In Grey's world you would then realize that cheating on your wife was fun, so you do it again. Using your logic, your wife then continues her affair. This angers you. Did I mention that you are cheating on your wife with someone you supervise at work?

Or, you are a doctor who really likes one of your patients. They like you also. The relationship progresses until you get engaged. Your fiance is sick, but not sick enough to get a needed transplant. To help out, you intentionally make them worse. They die. You quit, saying you feel bad about the whole thing when in actuality you were about 30 seconds away from getting fired. You get depressed, lay on the floor for awhile, makes some muffins, go to the bar, etc. Meanwhile your supervisor feels guilty because she should have told you not to kill your patients, and begs you to come back to work.

Let me tell you something. At my job, if I intentionally do anything that ends badly I will not be given the opportunity to quit, and will not be begged to return regardless of how tasty my muffins are.

In short, Grey's Anatomy has been added to the list of shows I refuse to watch.

Quote of The Week

Overheard at work:

"Who the heck is Gaudi paying off to keep getting a mistrial?"

Well, considering that Antoni Gaudi died in 1926 after being run over by a tram in Barcalona, I would imagine he would be paying God. Additionally considering that he was so ragged and unkempt at the time of his death that he wasn't recognized as the great Gaudi for days, I don't think he had enough money to keep God at bay for eighty years. I love the guys architecture though. John Gotti however, is probably paying off a series of jurors in New York.

The Bizarreness of My Life Knows No Bounds

For some reason the people I work with have strange relationships with their dogs. One coworker felt that his dog was becoming too aggressive, so he took it to the shooting range and, well, shot it. It didn't survive. Another coworker arrived at work one morning and stated that when he woke up his dog looked "a little sluggish." At 11:30 he took the rest of the day off to have the dog put down. Ok, so these guys border on the far end of "a little off," but they pale in comparison to what I heard today.

About a year ago, in an incident unrelated to the ones listed above, another coworker was advised by his veterinarian that his dog had reached its expiration date, and should be put down in order to save it from undue pain. The coworker refused and kept the dog alive for 8 months. During this time period the dog had days where it would not move, and had long lapses of unconsciousness. When it finally died, my coworker took an entire week off of work to mourn its death. If the dog meant so much to you, why did you torture it to death?

Two months ago, the same coworker's printer stopped working. Last night he finally got it operating again, and it immediately printed out a picture of his, now deceased, dog. A picture that he claims he never took, even though the picture is saved on both his home and work computers. Upon relaying to the story to his neighbor, my coworker was informed that his house emits strange noises in the middle of the day. Coworker's conclusion? He is being haunted by the ghost of his dead dog, and it may want to hurt him. I wonder why it would want to do that?

Imagine that you are in a situation where you believe that the ghost of your dead dog is out to do you harm. How would you handle that? I think I would try to keep it quiet, assuming that people would judge me poorly for those beliefs. My coworker obviously viewed things differently and has told everyone he sees about it. He even went so far as to suggest that the haunting was a type of karma for the time he criticized a female coworker for attempting to contact her miscarried child via a psychic. Initially I thought he was nuts for doing so, but now I see things differently. If not for his bold leadership involving this important issue I would still, to this day, have no idea how to handle a situation of this sort. How could I go through life without his exemplary handling of a canine haunting? I applaud his work and appreciate the life experiences he has shared with us all.

Regarding The Matter Which Must Be Addressed

In the fall of 1996 I was a young High School Senior enjoying the rigors of Cross Country running. My coach had a poster on his office wall displaying a red racing car and the name "Michael Schumacher" in bold print. Despite having no knowledge of racing I distinctly remember the poster because my coach and his wife frequently lauded Schumacher as "the greatest driver ever born." In my ignorance I took their word for it.

Fast forward four years. Lounging in my college dorm with nothing to do I found that my remote control had led me to an auto race. A surprisingly familiar red car shot across the screen and the announcer screamed something about "Schumacher." The red car, soon to be identified as a Ferrari, was holding a marginal lead over an ominous looking black and silver car. Behind them there was nothing. 52 seconds of nothing. The third place car was nearly a minute behind as these two masters grappled with each other. Although I didn't know it at the time I had stumbled upon the 2000 Italian Grand Prix and was witnessing a battle that had been raging for months. Michael Schumacher and Mika Hakkinen had been climbing over each other for the Formula One Driver's World Championship, the most coveted title in the most watched sport in the world, since early March. Both driver's had already won the title twice and neither was willing to lose their third to the other. As I said, I didn't know any of this at the time. All I knew is that the mysterious "Schumacher" won the race by three seconds and was so happy that he cried. Hakkinen also looked to be on the verge of tears, albeit for opposite reasons. Most bizarre of all was the third place car that finished 52 seconds back. It was driven by Ralf Schumacher. Michael had gutted his own brother on his way to victory. I was hooked.

In the coming months I went on a Formula One binge. If I wasn't watching the sport I was reading about it. Apparently Schumacher was considered by some to be the greatest driver ever born, and was well on his way to proving it to all doubters. Schumacher won the World Championship in 2000, followed by 2001, 2002, 2003, and 2004. He took me and tens of millions of viewers on a whirlwind ride the likes of which had never been seen before. I learned to eat and sleep Ferrarri red, and cheered as rival after rival fell to the wayside in defeat. I shouted with him in victory and wept with him in defeat. Secretly I prayed that Schumacher's era would never end. But alas, at 9:30 this morning I finally cursed me ears as they delivered the news.

It has been an exceptional time the last thirty years of what motorsport has given to me. I've loved all the good and bad moments and they've made it so special.

With those words Michael Schumacher announced his retirement from racing. Fittingly, the announcement came at the Italian Grand Prix just moments after Michael had clinched his 90th victory. He isn't done quite yet, there are three races remaining in the 2006 season, and Michael is in a strong position to win his 8th championship. However, for me, the racing world will never be the same. Ferrari have announced that Michael will not fully retire, but will take up "another role within the team." In the same breath they announced that Kimi Raikkonen, a driver both Michael and I hold in high regard, would be filling the vacancy in the hopes of keeping the dynasty alive. These statements have given me hope to continue watching the sport, but I ask that you join me in savoring these last few moments of the great man's career.

Crikey!

So, I'm apparently out of the loop. I didn't know until I got to work today that Steve Irwin had died. Some of you may remember that Steve and I once spent several weeks tracking Brechty's Mom through the Pennsylvania woodlands. Sadly, we had to put her down. The tranquilizers just weren't getting the job done, but that's a story for another time. I always loved "The Croc Hunter." In my younger years I could do a pretty good imitation of him. His show was one of the best on television, because you always got the feeling that he was about two seconds away from instant death. Apparently he was. I must say that taking a stingray barb to the heart while diving off of the coast of Australia is a pretty good way to go. Rumor has it that he even pulled the barb out himself before dying. That's hardcore. I loved that khaki look too. We'll miss you buddy.

Updates

I've performed some long overdue maintenance today. You will not that some of the links at left have been removed and replaced with new ones. The old links were to blogs that either didn't exist anymore, or ceased to entertain me. The new blogs are ones that I check frequently, and am sick of getting to through roundabout means. Most importantly though is the demise of Rover's Racing World. I haven't been blogging frequently enough to justify two blogs. I will still keep you updated with racing topics that catch my fancy.