Category: Think-Scobe

Not by Bread Alone

Look, I don’t hate bread. It’s the staff of life but most people don’t use staffs anymore and certainly one does not need a staff in a restaurant or bread before the meal. That no-bread-before-a-meal goes from dining out in a diner or going to the fanciest gourmet rooms.

But I may be alone in this because bread is almost universally served before diners even get to eat the real meal. And, my Lord of Hosts, people devour the bread as if it is the Eucharistic overload!

Come on, you can buy most of these loaves in any decent bakery and they certainly do not cost the ingredients and the artistry of the restaurant’s chef in the making of them.

Let us say you go to a gourmet restaurant and the price of an entrée is $30-$50, plus add an appetizer and a salad and maybe dessert; but you gobble down slices of bread and gobs of butter and/or oil before this great repast? Aren’t you just dulling your appetite and taking up room in your stomach with relatively inexpensive drivel as opposed to the sumptuous meal the chef is making especially for you?

What a waste!

Last night did me in at Uva Rossa, my favorite Malverne village restaurant. A couple seated at the table adjacent to me ate three loaves — three whole loaves! — of the Italian bread before the meal. They only ate one-third of their meals. Uva Rossa has great food but the bread is, well, just bread.

My grandchildren are bread freaks and my daughter-in-law and my son only allow them one to two slices. If allowed I think the two of them would wander the restaurant looking to steal bread from other people’s tables. Along with giant mounds of butter.

So here is my proposition: Eat the meal first. If at the end of it you feel the need for some bread, fine, eat some. By doing this you have experienced what you came to the restaurant for — some good food made by a professional chef. You can also tell the waiters that they can bring bread when you ask for it but not before. That will stop your reflex to eat some.

Remember: It is not by bread alone that man exists. Take that saying to heart.

[My new book is Confessions of a Wayward Catholic! Available on Amazon.com, Kindle and at bookstores.]

The United Kingdom

THE UNITED KINGDOM TOUR

“In thunder, lightning and in rain!” chanted Shakespeare’s three bearded, baleful witches in his masterful play “The Tragedy of Macbeth.”

Those lines and those horrifying characters were a part of the opening scene of the play. The witches’ intent was to lure Macbeth into thoughts of murdering the rightful monarch King Duncan, which Macbeth eventually did — the murderous thoughts and the actual killing. Obviously it didn’t turn out well for Macbeth or his wife Lady Macbeth since the play has “tragedy” in the title. That means the lead character dies. No spoiler there therefore.

Actually the witches could have just taken a vacation in Miami because if my experience of Scotland is any indication sooner or later Macbeth, Duncan, Lady Macbeth and all the Scottish characters in the play (plus the audience if the play were performed in Scotland) would have drowned. That’s how much it rained on our 17-day trip around the United Kingdom — and why it is called the “united anything” beats me. Ireland is its own country. Okay, so Northern Ireland isn’t but they aren’t a happy lot there. Scotland is taking a vote soon to leave the “united kingdom.” I know nothing about Wales except I met a lovely couple from there — Irish refugees fleeing the high taxes in Ireland.

Here is something fascinating to note: In Ireland and Scotland, many citizens referred to the American Revolution as an important moment in history — for them! I mean they just came out with it, just like that (snap your fingers), unsolicited, when they found out I was from the United States. “Your revolution paved the way,” one woman said.

The American Revolution is indeed a powerful emotional symbol for many in the United Kingdom. Truly, this is a marvel. Why? Because you almost never hear Americans talk about our “revolution” except when it comes to designer wear. Indeed in universities throughout our country the architects of our revolution are looked upon with disdain. Many professors and their lemming-like students refer to our founders as “dead white men” as if this appellation is a curse leveled on us by the bearded witches of our own past.

There were four of us on this journey; my wife the Beautiful AP and our friends Jerry “Stickman” and his sainted wife Tres (someday I will explain why she is “sainted”). Jerry and Tres have visited over 71 countries now. They have visited all 50 states. They are the adults of the travel world while AP and I are infants.

I spent so many days in casinos in the past 25 years, in the beginning mostly from economic necessity, that now I feel like a bull stomping down the streets of Pamplona. I am free! I don’t need to do the heavy casino lifting anymore. Our kids are grown men in their 30’s; our house is paid off; I have enough money (I hope) to last me till my last breath and my writing is going along just fine (thank you) so the advantage-play casino life has faded for me. I want to see the United States (38 states so far) and the world.

“Nothing is but what is not,” spoke Macbeth; a quote that fits both Ireland and Scotland. Beautiful greenery, scenery, great rolling country sides along with clouds, winds and rains almost every day of our trip to the hills, the dales and the shores. When the sun peeked out for a minute or two the temperatures soared by about seven degrees. Sadly the sun did not stay out for long.

We started our trip in London on May 31, spending four days there. Believe it or not (in fact, I couldn’t believe it) Jerry and Tres had never been to London so the Beautiful AP and I were the tour guides.

We toured Westminster Abbey. Mind blowing — next trip I take four full days and really read and see everything. On my two trips to Westminster Abbey I saw the graves or memorials of Chaucer, Shakespeare, Jane Austen, DH Lawrence, Lord Byron, Keats, Shelley, David Livingstone, Dryden, Faraday, Haden, William Blake, Churchill, Sir Isaac Newton, Longfellow, Noel Coward, Laurence Olivier, Tennyson, Alexander Pope, Charles Dickens, Lowell, Milton, A.E. Housman, Henry James, Thackeray, Dylan Thomas, Oscar Wilde, Wordsworth and most amazingly Charles Darwin, he of evolution fame. Oh, yes, there were notable English Kings and Queens, Princes, Princesses, Lords and Ladies, Prime Ministers, knights, Earls and religious leaders.

In London even if there for a day, go see Churchill’s underground War Room. We also visited the Tower of London (a must see — with tour guides who are not tour guides but military men in the service of the Queen and these folks actually live there), St. Paul’s Cathedral (a must see) and we rode the giant London Eye (a monstrous Ferris Wheel) with amazing views of all of London.

We had delicious Pub lunches, great dinners; the best of which at an Indian restaurant Millbank Spice in a not-so-great neighborhood. Walking back to our hotel, we saw a guy bleeding from a small scalp wound as he sprawled drunkenly on the sidewalk while his blitzed “buddy” staggered around and begged for money. I also discovered that in this city of “no guns” there had been 125 murders using guns. But don’t worry you anti-gun people, only the criminals have guns in London.

At the end of this article I will give you the ratings that each of us gave the various things we did; the places we saw and the restaurants where we ate.

ANCHORS AWAY

Our cruise would be on the Ruby Princess and would encompass 12 days. Those of you who have been on these cruise tours know that what you see are brushstrokes of the places and countries visited. You don’t get to spend all that much time in any given place. It is the hors-d’oeuvres as opposed to a full meal.

On Wednesday, June 4 we left London and headed first to Stonehenge, where giant stones had been placed in a circle with other giant stones placed on top of some of those giant stones. We were not allowed to get close as folks did in the past. On this windswept (hurricane-like winds!) horribly wet day we trudged around the stones, our umbrellas turning inside out with every step since the winds came from every direction. Not pleasant.

Nobody really knows the meaning of the stones. It is possible that they represent some religious and/or sacrificial design. Or they may simply be primitive people saying, “Og, let us put one big stone on top of the other for the hell of it.” Some of the tourists were convinced they came from another world. I wonder if that other world is as wet as this particular place. I did buy an umbrella, a hooded sweatshirt and a shot glass in the gift shop.

Then to Southampton where the Ruby Princess waited. That ship was huge! It could house over 3,000 guests and had 1,200 crew members. It was as tall as a skyscraper and far longer than three football fields.

AP and I went on only one cruise before this, to Alaska, and it was not overwhelming. The scenery of Alaska was great, in fact at times it was overwhelming. But the shore excursions were mostly in towns that really don’t exist and are opened in the summer for the cruises. One town was almost nothing but dozens of jewelry shops. In short, no one lives there all year.

We had one amazing experience in Alaska, seeing a whale and her calf within three feet of our boat; you could reach out and touch it; and in one town we learned all about prostitution for the miners. Indeed, one woman in the 1800’s charged $1,000 a trick! The Beautiful AP and I commented that this woman must have been amazing. Then we saw a picture of her. One of the ugliest women ever; Guinness Book of World Records ugly. Burly, scowly, scary; she was more the monster under the bed than a woman you’d want in bed. Maybe the miners paid her not to have sex with them.

AP disliked the Alaska cruise quite a bit so I figured she’s dislike this one too. Thankfully that didn’t happen. All the sights we saw in England, Ireland and Scotland were real; they didn’t just exist for tourists. Some were actually amazing and overwhelming. Others were, well, disgusting.

The mini-suite we had was composed of two rooms with a real bathroom. A real bathroom means a real tub and a real shower. In our Alaskan trip we only had a balcony room and the shower could fit your leg and perhaps an arm. There was no bathtub. If you are going to cruise I recommend the mini-suite because it actually feels like a real hotel room.

Jerry, Tres, the Beautiful AP and I enjoyed sitting on the balcony, looking at the ocean and the land zipping by if we were close to shore. A fine bottle of wine, great conversations – as close to perfect as you can get. It was worth working like a dog since I was 12 to now be able to enjoy this.

Our first stop was Guernsey, a beautiful island owned by the Queen (I think that means it is not a part of the United Kingdom but is a part of the Queen’s “whatever”) that had been occupied by the Germans in World War II.

Okay, what follows is our individual ratings of the places we saw and the tours on which we went with some comments at times from me. The ratings go from F to A+.

May 31 to June 4, 2014 LONDON

WESTMINSTER ABBEY
Jerry: A
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

BIG BEN
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

THE LONDON EYE
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: A

THE TOWER OF LONDON
Jerry: B+
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: B+

THE SERVANT OF THE QUEEN (Tour Officer)
Jerry: A+
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

PRIME MERIDIAN

This was Jerry’s thing. The longitude equals zero here. My opinion? You walk up a long hill to see a golden line and then you wait on que to take a picture. There is a museum but it was closed when we went there.

Jerry: A
Tres: C
AP: B
Scobe: D

SHARD RESTAURANT

This is the new “in” place in London. It is an 87-story skyscraper that resembles a shard of glass. We went for lunch at the restaurant but we couldn’t get in because Jerry was wearing white sneakers. Then we went to dinner there that night. The view was amazing bu the meal and services were second rate.

Jerry: D
Tres: D
AP: C-
Scobe: D+

BOAT RIDE ON THE THAMES
Jerry: A-
Tres: B+
AP: B+
Scobe: A-

TRAFALGAR SQUARE
Jerry: C
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: A-

BOYDS RESTAURANT
Jerry: B
Tres: B+
AP: A-
Scobe: A-

ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL
Jerry: A-
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe: A

LES MISERABLES

I’ve seen this show three times. This was the best of the productions. Magnificent!

Jerry: A
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

RED LION PUB
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: B+

BLACKFRIAR

The tables were so small they looked more like Frisbees. The meal was so-so but we did get to see a couple sitting at the Frisbee next to us who went on a half hour orgy of foreplay. Drool was on their chins. They left at separate times so Jerry figured they were having an affair.

Jerry: A-
Tres: B
AP: B+
Scobe: C

THE SECRET LONDON WALKING TOUR
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: B+

DOUBLETREE WESTMINSTER HOTEL
Jerry: A
Tres: A+
AP: A
Scobe: A+

DOUBLETREE RESTAURANT
Jerry: B
Tres: B+
AP: B+
Scobe: B+

MILLBANK SPICE (Indian restaurant)
Jerry: A+
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

CHURCHILL’S WAR ROOM
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

June 5, 2014: GUERNSEY

TOUR GUIDE
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

NAZI OCCUPATION MUSEUM
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A+
Scobe: A-

(It depressed me seeing all the Nazi stuff and realizing these poor Guernsey folks were crushed under the boot of the monsters. The minus in my rating came from the mustiness of the place.)

UNDERGROUND NAZI HOSPITAL
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: B

(This place is nothing but huge, damp, wet underground tunnels that the Nazis built to cure their sick and injured. Almost no one survived a stay in these tunnels. You came in with a cold and died from pneumonia. Awful, awful place.)

THE ISLAND OF GUERNSEY
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

(Just beautiful even though the roads are so narrow that you have to sometimes drive on the sidewalks! Wonderful cliffs with the waves crashing on the rocks.)

June 6, 2014: CORK IRELAND

Rain, rain and more rain and then heavy rain in the realm of Noah’s flood. I kept looking around for Russell Crowe but I think he’s Australian.

KINSALE

Little waterside town. The Cathedral was closed so we went to a small café for breakfast (our second breakfast of the day — the motto on a cruise is “I eat therefore I am”). The name of the café was Mother Hubbard’s. We met a couple of older Irishmen there. We had a pleasant conversation and then we paid the bill. Jerry wound up paying twice as much as I did. He was shafted.

Jerry: C
Tres: A-
AP: A-
Scobe: B

BLARNEY CASTLE AND GROUNDS
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

Amazing grounds even though the rain was so heavy you tromped through tiny lakes. Beautiful (wet) estate; (wet) flowering gardens; (wet) small streams getting bigger by the second and a lake that seemed ready to break its banks. Just magnificent and did I mention wet?

AP, Jerry and Tres made their way to the top to kiss the Blarney Stone. I can’t walk those curving steps because of a horrible event in my childhood.

Now the Blarney Stone is supposed to give shy people the gift of gab. You crawl under the stone and then you kiss it. Hundreds of thousands of lips have kissed that stone. Lips with herpes; lips with pus dripping from them; lips with leprosy; lips with syphilis; lips that are bleeding; lips that…you get the picture. Thankfully the Beautiful AP only pretended to kiss the stone. Nevertheless I have been slyly checking to see if anything sprouts or cracks on her lips.

PRINCESS CRUISES SUPPLIED LUNCH
Jerry: B
Tres: C
AP: D
Scobe: C

We had a bad waitress. I told her I couldn’t eat mushrooms and she came back with mushrooms all over my chicken. When I reminded her of this she said, “Oh, yeah, right.” And left the plate! I called over the manager and told him I couldn’t eat mushrooms but I didn’t blame the waitress.

The cruise folks hired an Irish singer whose speaker system was so loud you could hear his heart beating; it was like being at a wedding. You could not hear anyone at your table speak. They did bring in two young ladies to do Irish step-dancing. They were good. The singer was louder as the day wore on. By the end of the meal it was unanimous that if we could put him to death we would.

THE SINGER
Jerry: C
Tres: D
AP: C-
Scobe: D

June 7, 2014: DUBLIN

The Irish like to drink. The Irish like to fight. The pub is as sacred as the church to them. Yes, stereotypes. And we in enlightened America know that all stereotypes are false.

But here is what I found — the damn stereotype might be true. Don’t just take it from me. The Irish men I talked to all agreed that they loved to drink; loved to hang out in pubs and loved a good fight now and then.

We toured Dublin, a city I totally disliked, a city with 1,000 pubs, a city with vomit trails in alleys and on sidewalks. A city that was like a dirty, crummy, crumbling neighborhood in Manhattan that tourists are told to skip.

Something else I noticed, a huge number of men seemed to have broken noses from (I guess fights in the past.). You could see those squashed noses flat against their faces, just like boxers’ noses that have been broken in fights. Dare I repeat el stereotypo here? (Look I am just telling you what I was told and what I saw.)

We visited St Patrick’s Cathedral — a truly dirty, coal begrimed house of worship for people not afraid of black lung disease. Either that or God must be very busy performing miracles in this Cathedral so worshippers don’t kick the bucket during services.

ST.PATRICK’S CATHEDRAL
Jerry: B
Tres: A
AP: B
Scobe: C-

CITY DRIVE TOUR (Jerry and Tres):
Jerry: A-
Tres: B+

DUBLIN CASTLE (AP and Scobe)
AP: A-
Scobe: B+

CAFÉ: LE PETIT PARISIEN
AP: A
Scobe: A

June 8, 2014, BELFAST

Northern Ireland, seat of “the troubles” for centuries. Catholics versus Protestants. Our tour guide Billy (an amazing tour guide; funny, witty, knowledgeable) said, “It got so bad that Jews were asked if they were Protestant Jews or Catholic Jews.”

This was a nicer city than Dublin but still it just didn’t have “it” as a city. Also, fewer broken noses than Dublin but there were still some. Not as much vomit either, although we did see some blood in an alleyway. “Ah,” said Billy. “Another broken nose!”

TOUR GUIDE BILLY
Jerry: A+
Tres: A+
AP: A+
Scobe A+

CITY HALL TOUR
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

CITY WALK
Jerry: B+
Tres: B
AP: B+
Scobe: B

PUB VISIT
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: B+
Scobe B+
(I saved one of our fellow tourists from standing in a puddle of vomit outside the Pub.)

THE CITY OF BELFAST
Jerry: B+
Tres: B+
AP: B+
Scobe: C

June 9, 2014, GLASGOW SCOTLAND

Okay, bottom line — rain. We did a hop-on, hop-off bus tour but it rained so much that most of the tour took place indoors although I foolishly tried to brave out the rain on the open air top of the bus. How do you spell S-T-U-P-I-D?

CATHEDRAL NECROPOLIS
(This is the “city of the dead” as there are tombs in the church, just outside the church and a cemetery on the hill next to the church.)
Jerry: B
Tres: C+
AP: B+
Scobe: C

ON AND OFF BUS TOUR
Jerry: B
Tres: B-
AP: B-
Scobe: C

CAFÉ SOURCE
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

THE CITY OF GLASGOW
Jerry: A
Tres: C+
AP: C+
Scobe: B-

June 11, 2014 ORKNEY ISLANDS

SKARA BRAE

This is what I love, ancient ruins. These are 5,000 years old. That’s three thousand years before Christ. This is a must see for anyone who has even the slightest imagination. You are looking at Neolithic life.

Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A+

THE STONES

These stones are pre-Stonehenge and we were able to walk around them. Our guide told us that many theories have been proposed to explain what these stones mean. He then said, “For all we know these were a part of a huge barbecue pit.”

Jerry: B
Tres: B-
AP: B
Scobe: B+

KIRKWALL
Jerry: A
Tres: B+
AP: A-
Scobe: A-

June 12, 2014, INVERGORDON

Jerry and Tres went on a boat tour of Loch Ness and we wound up meeting them on the shores of that lake. Loch (Lake) Ness is a big lake and I could see how a monster could live there. I doubt that one does since it would need a whole bunch more to be able to keep reproducing. But it was fun to see and I also picked up four stones for my grandchildren from “the lake where the monster is.” I gave each of them one and I kept two for myself. I divided based on body weight.

BOAT TOUR
Jerry: A
Tres: A

CULLODEN MOOR
Jerry: A
Tres: A

URQUHART CASTLE
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: A

CAWDOR CASTLE
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

LOCH NESS
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A-
Scobe: A+

TOUR OF INVERNESS
Jerry: A
Tres: A
AP: A
Scobe: B

June 13, 2014, EDINBURGH (pronounced Edinboro)

This city blew AP and me away! It is magnificent with structures that are old and mind boggling. It has a huge castle on top of a high hill that also served as a city behind walls. We spent about three hours there (in rain of course) and barely got to see everything there was to see. Jerry and Tres went on a city bus tour; AP and I toured on our own. We did see them at the castle.

EDINBURGH CASTLE
Jerry: A-
Tres: B+
AP: A-
Scobe: A+

MARY KINGS’ CLOSE
Cities are built on top of cities. This is an underground city and fascinating to see.

AP: A
Scobe: A

CITY TOUR
Jerry: A
Tres: A

HOWIE’S CAFÉ
AP: A
Scobe: A

CITY OF EDINBURGH
Jerry: A-
Tres: A
AP: A+
Scobe: A+

On June 15, 2014 Jerry and Tres went to Paris. It was a three hour bus ride to Paris and a three hour bus ride back. You got to spend about four hours in the city. AP and I decided to have a relaxing day of swimming, eating and playing trivia with the few remaining passengers.

Jerry and Tres both gave Paris an A+. But they did get to meet a snotty French waiter who lived up to the “snotty-French-waiter” stereotype.

I never did get to see if the Scottish actually live up to their reputation of being cheap. So I can’t say of that stereotype has any truth to it. We didn’t see many men in kilts with the exception of those who were entertainers. The people were quite friendly and I had no problem with their accents. (They had no problem with my Brooklynese either.)

Of course, a cruise (as I said earlier) merely brushstrokes the places you visit. Of all the places we saw, Edinburgh and Orkney Island were the mind blowers (and, naturally, London as well).

And what of the Ruby Princess? A great ship with great entertainment, a great mini-suite, and our two favorite waiters Elvis (yes, his real name is Elvis) and his assistant Adrian. I also liked the head waiter who made sure that I was mushroom free!

All in all, a wonderful trip.

[Read my new book Confessions of a Wayward Catholic.]

Kars 4 Kids: The Dreaded Earworm

I hate the Kars 4 Kids earworm – or as its website calls it – the “jingle.” This charity asks you to donate your car for a tax credit to help the kids. May they be damned!

I went to the site looking to identify the songwriter of this horrifying “jingle” (the ultimate earworm), but the site merely says it was written by a volunteer sometime in the late 1990s. That volunteer was probably some malevolent kid who well knew that his great creative moment would henceforth bring misery to the world.

I did some other research discovering that the charity is a religious one whose mission seems to be to raise funds so that non-religious Jewish kids can go to a camp that teaches them to be religious Jewish kids who drive cars. I have nothing against such a camp; to each his or her own – as long as no “jingle” is associated with it. However, the Kars 4 Kids company has been sued several times and has been fined by the courts. (I wonder if K4K was able to pay the courts in automotive parts instead of cash.)

I never found what I was looking for – the identity of the misshapen monster that composed the “jingle.”

When I hear the opening bars on the car radio early in the morning as we are returning from the pool from our daily swim, both my wife, the Beautiful AP, and I quickly shoot out our hands to turn off the radio. We have injured ourselves many times when our hands collided.

But we must (we must!) shut that damn “jingle” off before it possesses us.

If you have heard the “jingle” (unless you are short of intellect and a common humanity) I am sure you hate it too. I am sure it grates on you and might even cause you to have hateful feelings toward that songwriter and this charity too. If not, there must be something wrong with you.

I am a non-hateful man and I am not calling for any harm to come to that songwriting snake (just yet); nor do I want him to be guillotined (at the moment) or executed by firing squad (soon) or sent to Guantanamo Bay (tomorrow) as the terrorists are being released.

I simply want him to apologize for writing that “jingle” and promise to nevermore write another one.  And, please, take the damn thing off the air – or else!

[My new book is Confessions of a Wayward Catholic!]

Income Inequality

The new buzz word is “income inequality” which simply means people don’t make the same amount of money or even close to the same amount of money for the various jobs they do or for the welfare and food stamps they get as other people do. In short, some people have a lot, some have enough and some income “equalists” believe others just don’t have enough.

The thrust of the argument is that the wealthy – meaning anyone who makes a lot more than anyone else – must fork over more of their money so that those who don’t make as much will start to catch up. After all, the heads of the giant corporations, domestic and international make a ton of money, far, far (add some more fars to this) more than someone flipping burgers at wherever-the-hell burger flippers flip burgers to earn their own burgers.

I recall when I was a young man – really young like 18 or 19, working in the New York City Housing Authority at a crummy housing project (Smith Houses) making $60 a week and the bosses, who wore suits no less, made far, far more than I did and just seemed to earn this money by walking around the projects watching people such as me and others breaking their backs.

Seriously, back to our burger flipper who might work exhausting 16 hour days (he’s madly motivated), seven days a week (he’s nuts), meaning putting in 112 hours of grueling effort (really, really nuts), more time spent than billionaire Bill Gates spends, but only earning (if he’s lucky) maybe $12 per hour. That comes to a mere $1,344 per week or almost $70,000 a year, far less than George Soros or either of the Koches. Come on. Is this fair to the flipper? Of course not. It’s income inequality all the way.

If we look at our flipper and realize that chances are he only works a 40 hour week (he’s sane) then his pay is a paltry $480 a week or about $25,000 a year. My Lord he must be starving on those wages as must his children – if he has children or if he’s even old enough to even think about having children since most burger-flipping jobs tend to go to the young, like high school and college young; that age.

Young people don’t make as much as older people so when you look at statistics that show you the fast-food industry or this or that company only pays thus and such an amount to their employees you do have to ask yourself this question: How old are their employees (on average)? Are these the type of people who 20-30 years from now will be quite comfortable in their lives?

Let me just point to myself for a minute as I am my own best example most of the time. When I was a little kid my family lived in a “cold water” flat. That meant exactly what it sounds like – a cold water flat. Indeed, two of the rooms were not heated in winter. Although both my parents worked, my mother and father really didn’t start making it until I was long-graduated from college. Thankfully my college was paid for with an academic scholarship. In point of fact, I was the first person in our extended family to go to college.

Still I did work during college despite having a scholarship because during this time my father and mother were in bad times, so I sent most of my paycheck home – in fact, come to think of it I’ve been working since I was 12 years old (I need a nap). Most of my jobs made me an income that was “in-equal” to all the people who hired me. Those people made much more money than I did.

And that’s the way it goes, to coin a phrase.

(My new book is Confessions of a Wayward Catholic!)

 

Free College is an Awful Idea

Some politicians (and student advocates) are proposing that we send people to college for free.

Dumb idea.

Aside from the obvious fact that it would cost a fortune and probably add to our almost $20,000,000,000,000 debt (did I get enough zeros in that? the number is so big I can’t comprehend it) it would probably add even more non-college-ready-students to the “how can such an idiot be in college?” ranks.

I am coming to the conclusion that we should eliminate about 50 percent of the college students from the college ranks. But what should we do with all those people?

Here is my plan (it does have some bugs I will admit):

*Anyone who serves four years in the armed forces gets four years of free college

*Anyone who serves five years in the military gets four years of free college and one free year in a master’s program

*Anyone who serves eight years in the armed forces gets four years of free college and one free year in a master’s degree program and three years in a PhD program

Who pays for all of this? The military through a (sort of) Medicare-type deduction from a soldier’s pay – maybe make it 50-50 with a government hand out.

I dismiss the idea that we would be dealing with individuals of more advanced ages in the general college population. Education at the highest levels should not be age specific. In fact, we could use more adults on our college campuses.

Now, we would have to come up with plans for married individuals and such but I think these plans could be easily worked out. Remember, we are having children later in life and we are living far longer than ever before. Going to college in one’s late 20’s or early 30’s is not a big deal anymore.

This plan would prevent those “I can’t believe that girl is in college” problem and probably cut enrollments quite a lot. When our members of the armed forces are ready to enter college they would actually be ready to enter college, having experienced the real world.

Rather than prattle on, that is my tentative plan. Could that work better than the absurd idea of sending everyone to college for “free”? Probably.

[Read my new book Confessions of a Wayward Catholic!]

 

 

 

 

 

Is America the Land of the Haters?

I know that many of my Facebook friends are quite liberal, some quite leftist, some so far left they are almost right. Others of my friends are conservative, some quite far to the right, some so far right they think of the members of the flat Earth society with love.

Here is my set up for my serious question:

There is a constant litany cautioning about the evils of the “other side” by all of my political friends over the political continuum. If you were to take all the words I have been reading lately from my friends, then add them to all the words of the famous political “talking heads” on television and all the political “writing pens” of all the people in various newspapers and magazines in our country and then shot all those words into space to some alien civilization (the “aliens” are advanced, they can understand English – they don’t have to press “2” for Spanish), those aliens would think, “What is going on in the United States on planet Earth?”

They would continue: “Everyone of any worth in the United States must be evil; the President, the arch-henchwoman Hillary, Dick Cheney, George Bush, people who want to own guns, people who don’t want to own guns, people who don’t want the people who own guns to own guns, the Tea party, the Occupy Protestors, bloated Al Gore, bloated Rush Limbaugh, rapidly losing weight Frank Scoblete whose books can be bought on Amazon and in bookstores. Yes, all the corporate heads are evil; so are bankers, so are small businessmen who must pay their fair share or are these people just little corporate heads in disguise? Donald Trump, George Soros, Sean Hannity, Justin Bieber, Beyonce?”

The aliens might add, “America is a land of racists who don’t like blacks, whites, Asians and ‘none of the above.’ They are haters.”

I am so confused.

Many think of Obama as a far, far leftist – quite close to a communist, a deliberate destroyer of the American dream and the Constitution. Others consider Obama to be a middle-of-the-road Democrat and rail against Bush and his evil company? Some think the right is lunatic; they are “Nutzis.” Hillary’s people think Sanders is a “doofus.”

Those aliens reading all this stuff — and certainly Mark Zuckerberg must have those aliens hooked on interplanetary Facebook (called Tentacle Book) — have to be confused. It seems everyone who claims to love America is pissed off about living in America or about others living in America. Americans are pissed off at politicians, newscasters, writers, talkers, other writers, fast food servers. It seems the United States is the melting pot of discontent. That seems to be the thing most of us have in common.

If so — a serious question now — is our country the most villainous in the world? If not, where do we rate? Is our land filled with devils looking to destroy us for their own good, for their own gains?

So what is the most villainous nation on Earth? If there are better nations than America how come Americans stay here? If it is filled with devils why do we keep letting them burn us?

Please anyone, anyone, please answer this question. Here’s another? Are there any countries so much less villainous than America?

[Read my new book Confessions of a Wayward Catholic.]

The American People

I’m bothered.

I love listening to the talk and news shows — Fox News, MSNBC, CNN and so on. I often have these networks in the background as I write.

Politicians delight me, much as horror movies delight me, and good bowel movements delight me.

But all the politicians will say stuff such as this: “The American people want…” “The American people don’t want…”  “The American people would like…” “The American people don’t like…” They drive me crazy!

Okay, the “American People” want gun control; but they don’t want gun control. They want abortion; but they don’t want abortion. They want Obama; but they don’t want Obama. They want entitlements; but they don’t want entitlements. They want big government; but they don’t want big government. The American people want to eat like pigs; but the American people want to be slim.

They want whatever the hell they want and simultaneously they don’t want what they wanted because they don’t want it even though they want it. There are no American people!

Obviously, all of the politicians are blowing smoke up your “you-know-what.” The American “people” don’t want this or that — I might want this and you might not want this. There is no universal agreement on almost everything. (Okay, okay, I am guessing the American people don’t want the flu – except maybe your weird Uncle Utrech.)

So why do we allow politicians, newscasters and citizens to have the gall to say “the American people” as if there really is an entity called The American People? And worse, that somehow in some fantastic way these ploppies actually speak for “the American people.”

When someone says “The American People” I want to hit them over the head with anything the American People can hand me that is available or not available!

[My latest book is Confessions of a Wayward Catholic.]

Cuba: The Triumph of the Revolution

CUBA: THE TRIUMPH OF THE REVOLUTION

[This article has gone through many revisions. My wife the Beautiful AP was of the opinion that it was mean and that I sounded much like Archie Bunker in it. I have fixed a few things but I just can’t run from what I saw and thought about Cuba and though my reaction is quite visceral, well, that is my reaction. So here it is. Comments are always welcomed.]

It was the “Triumph of the Revolution” as our Cuban state guides would tell us; as the signs would read in one way or the other on building walls and facades and under overpasses; the Triumph of the Revolution lead by Fidel Castro, Raul Castro and Che Guevara that destroyed the grip of evil capitalism on this beautiful, Eden-like island.

Young girls with flowers in their deep, dark, well-tended hair wearing new school uniforms romped and jumped rope in the friendly parks within view of their attentive joyous mothers and those solid, happy working men sitting on the benches during their lunch breaks. Young boys in their spanking-new uniforms played catch in those parks waiting for their fantasies of becoming major league baseball players as baseball is the “national pastime of Cuba” as our guides told us.

The magnificent historic buildings in Havana and other cities were all perfectly restored; delights to the eye and to those who know the amazing range of architecture that had been built in Cuba for almost 300 years prior to the Triumph of the Revolution. Huge monuments, stunning buildings, all beautiful paeans to the communist revolution’s desire to make Cuba a paradise that freed an enslaved people from capitalism to enjoy the full fruits of their labor and their history.

“Everybody is equal in Cuba,” our state guides informed us.

The streets teamed with well-dressed people content with everything they needed to enjoy life. Their houses were clean and safe and open and aerie. Crime was non-existent.

The air itself was crisp, engagingly warm and enchantingly wonderful; the island was truly a Triumph of the Revolution.

The Triumph of the…

The Triumph of…

The Triumph…

The…

Horror!

What We Really Experienced

Today’s Cuba is a torturously humid post-Edenic world; no other way to say it. The parks are not filled with flowered-haired little girls in their school uniforms jumping rope or energetic little boys in their school uniforms eyeing future major league contracts.

Instead, the parks are packed with lazy-eyed men who cannot find jobs and basically must laze the days away, and some poor women too, most looking down and out and (if not) homeless (then close to it); a hapless mob of the tired and the belabored, with also those shark-eyed legions of “beggars” and, if the protective-bars on the overwhelming majority of crumbling homes in the three cities the Beautiful AP and I visited (Havana, Cienfuegos and Santiago de Cuba) are any indication, Cuba has a serious crime problem.

“Everyone in Cuba works,” said our young (state) guide.

That was clearly not so. The older men (not elderly men; there weren’t too many of those) often schlogged along the streets tired of spending a lifetime schlogging along the streets; the younger men walked with purpose to find a place to sit out of the sun. Every hour of the day, countless thousands of people were outside, doing little or nothing because the communist state had nothing for them to do.

Even in the business districts — mostly what we in America consider second-hand stores — people simply ambled away the days of their lives mostly looking for shade from the repressive heat and humidity; shade where they could sit and spend huge chunks of the day. (The humidity in Cuba is unbearable. Breathe in deeply enough and you might drown from it.)

Many who did work had “sit-down” jobs where they sat down all day. The customs houses in Cienfuegos and Santiago de Cuba were more like two trailers end-to-end with probably 15 people lazing in chairs and one or two actually working.

You Gotta Tip Baby

We were told that we must tip for any services rendered – and that meant any and all. For example at the Castillo de San Pedro de la Roca in Santiago de Cuba (a huge fortress overlooking the bay), the Beautiful AP got into a conversation with two women who were hiding so they didn’t have to work. They asked AP for a tip because they spoke Spanish with her (they couldn’t speak English) and she, being kind, gave them such a tip. She should have tipped them that if they were being paid to work they should work and not hide.

We tipped just about everyone who did any kind of service for us. (“Hi, my name is Jim.” “Hi Jim; here’s a tip for you because your name is Jim!”) We tipped one Russian professor of note who took us around a “special needs” school in Havana where we danced to music by their counselors. He made it a point that they received no money from the state – he was proud of that! We gave his “special needs” school a huge tip.

We tipped a man who made cigars even though he didn’t make one for us. We tipped a man who made hand drawings of us even though we didn’t want one made. When in doubt we tipped; the workers we would tip in the United States and the workers we wouldn’t think of tipping such as two women who spoke Spanish in a Spanish-speaking country!

Wherever we went we saw men lazing away at the entrances to shops, churches, schools, cafes. People were shabbily dressed. Communist Cuba had very few job prospects and little new industry.

We did see buses loaded with people (somewhat ancient buses) going to work but you could see that whatever jobs they had were not paying enough for them to look the least spiffy.

Our guides constantly ushered us to vendors on the street to buy books, trinkets, clothes (those infernal Che Guevara t-shirts) and paintings (some of which were quite good — usually of Che Guevara).

Of course we tipped our guides (there were several of them each day) and our bus drivers.

Those Great Old Cars

The famed capital of Cuba, Havana, did have those old-time cars. It was like going back to the 1950s except that those cars often rode on rotted roads and many were in somewhat poor condition.

Our guide said: “The cars are often owned by the state. These are kept in good condition. If you work for the state, you do not pay taxes and medical care is free. There are also ration booklets to obtain basic nutrition. Working for the state you do not make as much money as private owners of stores or businesses but those people have to pay taxes. I will never be able to buy a house or a car but I have a good job and I do not have to pay taxes and I get free medical care. People who own private businesses must pay taxes.”

Cigars, Rum and Musical Theatre

Other than the standard cigars, rum and sugar, Cuba is not an innovative country that builds enterprises – those cigars, rum and sugar go a long way back, way before the Triumph of the Revolution. Foreign money has built whatever new buildings and businesses exist in Cuba. There is a “luxury” hotel being built in Havana by the French across the street from Central Park – a hotel surrounded by deteriorating decrepit buildings that had once been monumentally beautiful.

This hotel is near the famed Gran Teatro de La Habana, the interior of which is swathed in marble but has had the floors in the theatre redone so that now they are uneven and eminently “trip-able” especially for the older members of our group. If you don’t look down as you try to get into the rows in this non-air-conditioned humid hot-house you might just go down (plunk!). Couldn’t the workers have made the floors level?

The Cuban ships in the harbor are rusted.

The Beggars

We were told by the Fathom Adonia’s mailings that we were not to give money to the beggars that would “occasionally” try to hit us up. These were aggressive beggars too; much like those squeegee men from New York City’s rotten days of the Dinkin’s era.

At the Catedral de San Cristóbal in Havana there was an old, withered woman with her hand out begging; I was so sad to see her ravaged face; she was looking for some money for sustenance, poor thing.

Now, the average wage of Cubans ranges between 10 to 15 CUCs a month. A CUC is worth an American dollar, so the average Cuban wage is $10 to $15 per month.

But this poor, withered, leathery woman with her hand out! My God how could someone not give this poor creature some money to satisfy her gnawing hunger and deep thirst? My soul went out to her.

I took three CUCs and gave them to her. Her face beamed as it immediately lost its leathery look; she straightened up and then she leaped off the Cathedral’s steps, giving me a “thumbs up” when she landed, and then she ran down the street. What the hell? I have a feeling this “old” woman drank plenty of rum that night to satisfy her deep thirst! She might even have smoked some cigars. We did see equal numbers of men and women smoking them.

So much for giving to Cuba’s militia of beggars. Is it possible that begging counted as work in Cuba so that is why there is no unemployment in this regime?

And the beggars were everywhere. In Santiago de Cuba a group of them came towards our party and that group did not look friendly. Luckily the four cops that patrolled that small park area came at the beggars who dispersed. The cops worked in teams; it was safer that way.

Bathroom Breaks

Let’s talk about bathrooms – a delicate subject but one that has to be (ahem) handled. You had to bring your own toilet paper with you when touring because many bathrooms did not supply such. At the huge Teatro Tomás Terry theatre in Cienfuegos, the Beautiful AP went to the ladies room. The attendant (all bathrooms have attendants that you should tip because they attend the bathroom) opened the door; AP entered, finished but when she flushed no water came out.

The attendant came in, carrying a bucket, and dumped water in the toilet. When AP tried to wash her hands, no water came out of the faucet. The attendant came over with a cup of water and poured the water over AP’s hands. AP tipped the attendant.

The auditorium was not air-conditioned (only one place we went to had air-conditioning, a privately owned restaurant in Havana) and we only saw a couple more air conditioners in our travels.

The choral singers of that place were quite good (though they sweated like crazy during their performance). The women wore what looked like second-hand brides’ maids’ dresses.

Jesus Christ and Che Guevara

On the first line on our first day to get on the cruise ship Fathom Adonia, we met a family of missionaries. They had just come back from some African country and they were really excited to see Cuba. The talk meandered all over the place from all the places they had visited and then we boarded the ship.

On the ship as we went over how to save our lives should it sink or hit an iceberg in the warm tropical waters off Cuba (this meeting was called something like the Muster Meeting), we learned how to use the life jackets and where to walk – not run – without panicking. I hate to tell the crew; I would panic.

On the ship we met a number of missionaries – husbands and wives and even some of their kids (adult kids). Some of these missionaries were nice people who did not push their religion on you too fiercely and some were your usual religious fanatics who understand everything about “God’s creation” and tried to shove it down your (and everyone else’s) throat.

In the Central Park of Havana, four of them were teaching me a holy lesson about how to save my miserable sinning soul. “All you have to do is accept Jesus truly in your heart and you will be saved. But if you don’t, at the ‘end times’ you will wind up in the burning fires of Hell.” That certainly made my day.

Then the missionary wife of her missionary husband said the only thing AP and I heard her utter all trip. “You…must…bring…Jesus…into…your…heart.”

This particular woman was weird, even weirder than the usual missionary weird. AP nicknamed her the “Stepford Wife.” The woman (maybe age 30) never had an expression on her extremely pretty face. She was a blank. She showed no emotion. In the brutally hot and humid weather she didn’t sweat (the rest of us were pouring gallons). Maybe she was one of those androids of the movies who seem somewhat normal but then go on a killing rampage.

Cuba is a largely a Catholic country while Santiago de Cuba tends to be Santerían as it seems Fidel’s legions did not try to stamp out religion as the communists did in Russia and China. I am guessing that these (what I took for) evangelical missionaries would not have much success if they were surveying Cuba for a conversion by divine invasion. The natives might not be interested.

But sans God, Cuba did have a secular pantheon. Using Catholic theological norms, if Fidel were Yahweh (who is God the Father), then Che Guevara was the Son of God, while communism was the Holy Spirit.

If the number of books, magazine covers, paintings, and photos that are sold at the great outdoor book markets and in stores were any indication, Che Guevara is their Jesus Christ. Walls are painted with his face; signs announce his greatness and even buildings have huge murals of him.

President Obama gave his “It’s great to be in Cuba” speech in front of a Che Guevara building. This was in a huge park devoted to the revolution. I would estimate that Che beats Castro by 15 to one in likenesses on any place that likenesses can be put. That’s amazing considering he died in 1967 at the age of 39 – killed by US-backed forces in Bolivia.

Che was a writer, a poet, a philosopher and thinker. Che was Castro’s second in command and was responsible for making sure their firing squads performed up to par. They evidently did. Che Guevara’s t-shirts sell like mad on college campuses and many leftist adults adorn themselves with them. (Hey, I read Free Inquiry magazine; I should know!)

Che’s facial image looms over neighborhoods that are so deteriorated that no one could possibly live in such surroundings (except they do). The Beautiful AP would say, “I thought those houses were abandoned, but look! They have laundry hanging out of the windows. People are living there!”

Is Cuba really that poor? From what I saw, yes.

Eating, Drinking, Music and Dancing

Cuban food is excellent although the Beautiful AP thought it was “heavy” as in too much meat and sauces for such a hot and humid climate. I liked it. We ate in three restaurants. The two privately-owned ones (in Havana and in Santiago de Cuba) were excellent (and the former was air-conditioned!) but the latter was hot and humid even though it was on the roof.

The state-owned one was what you would figure a state-owned restaurant would be like. There was no water served and there was a mangy cat roaming under the tables looking for scraps. Pieces of plastic blew across the floor. The napkins were as small (actually smaller) than cocktail napkins. We were given one free drink at this place but water counted as that drink!

Across the street from this restaurant a man slept soundly on an abutment. He was the valet parker! (I kid you not; dead asleep – or maybe he was just dead.)

I love the Cuban music and their singers and dancers. The music is energetic and driving – something strange in a hot and humid country where the weather can make you logy. We gave big tips to the musicians.

I also enjoyed the dancing and I even got to dance with a beautiful professional dancer at a cafe. Although she didn’t speak English she was able to count the steps for me so I didn’t make a complete fool of myself (I made an incomplete fool but, hell, I like getting up on stage). When we finished there was thunderous applause – mostly for her having to dance with a lumbering foreigner.

We gave her a big tip. We gave everyone in the café a big tip.

The Internet Arrives!

In Havana as our bus went down one of the streets I saw a large crowd, maybe a couple of hundred people, all holding cell phones or Ipads. Our guide explained that WiFi was available on some streets and the Cubans who had the technology could tap into it.

This may wind up being the door opener for Cubans to enter the 21st century.

What We Didn’t See

The British and other Europeans do vacation in Cuba but we did not see any resorts or beaches as our trip was strictly an educational one. Americans are not yet able to just go and let it all hang out. Perhaps that is soon coming and maybe boatloads of U.S. dollars will supercharge the Cuban economy so that the wasteland I saw will change and become a beautiful country. The Internet might well be the trigger.

As stated, I did not see anything other than the three cities that the government of Cuba allowed us to see. Most of the Cuban people were friendly and many celebrated the arrival of American tourists.

I am sure there are some beautiful areas of Cuba and that Europeans romp happily in them singing songs about the Triumph of the Revolution.

Or not.

Slavery, England & the Noble Savage

Slavery is a somewhat delicate topic if someone wants to tell the truth about it. The United States would not have been the “united” states had the non-slave states stood up and said to the slave-owning states, “Buzz off; all men are created equal so we will not have any slave states in our new country.”

Inevitably the slave-states would have walked out (as they ultimately did in January 1861); the colonies would have remained the colonies of England and that would be that. Slavery ended in England around 1834-38 (without a Civil War – just think of the song “Amazing Grace” written by one of the leaders of the anti-slave movement ) and the British Empire went about its empire-ish ways right up until that skinny Gandhi sat on the railroad tracks (so to speak) to demand human rights or get hit by a train.

The “united” states (that were not to be) would become (a kind of) Canada today but there would not have been a bloody Civil War (I’m guessing here).

So you, my Facebook friend, are at the Continental Congress and the Southern colonies are saying, “We keep slavery or we walk,” what would you do?

England is a great country (in my opinion). Still, it did build an empire through war and intimidation. Would you stay as an English colony way back when in order to not have slavery in your new country? Or would you bite the bullet and go for it knowing that slavery was a great evil?

In the United States the religious excuse for slavery was that the Negro was black because he was the offspring of Ham, one of the sons of Noah who removed Noah’s blanket exposing his father’s nakedness. (Actually the better version of the story has Ham cutting off Noah’s dick after Noah got sotted one night.)

Since Ham was dark-skinned and God’s punishment was for Ham’s offspring to be the slaves of his brothers — well, you get the picture. Black people were born to be slaves. This is, of course, total bullshit but those good old religious folks needed some religious excuse for keeping slaves. (Many of you might not know this but there were some white slaves too — evidently not enough to matter.)

THE NON-NOBLE SAVAGE

Today we have movements that try to mush white people’s faces in the fact that blacks were slaves in our country; as if to say that this is the only time and place where slavery existed or to make the existence of slavery elsewhere not as rife. (One of the biggest slave owners in America was a black man.)

Historically slavery was everywhere in every time of which we know; in every tribe and civilization.

I find it funny (actually snickeringly funny) that so many of my Facebook friends will put up pictures of the American Indian (often calling such people Native Americans as if those of us born in the Americas are not “native” to it) saying something to the effect that “it was their country and the Europeans and Americans” took such a country away from them, never noting that tribes often took other tribes’ land from them as well.

These postings often refer to the whites as immigrants to the Americas as if the American Indian was always here and did not themselves migrate to the Americas.

The American Indian is often portrayed as the “noble savage,” a phrase incorrectly attributed to Jean-Jacques Rousseau. This noble savage could be found wherever savages existed (savages being those primitive tribes). These tribes were innocent and pure and lived much like Adam and Eve in a garden of earthly delights. Certainly this is a total B.M.

Even a superficial reading of research books shows the American Indians to be no more peaceful or noble than any other tribes anywhere else in the world. Brutal wars were fought among amongst them and genocide, rape and slavery were not unheard of or unpracticed or rare. These things were par for the course.

(An interesting aside here: Those tribes that gave out identity based on being born to a mother of that tribe as opposed to the father did so because they were constantly being invaded and enslaved, with their men killed and the women raped. To continue their culture, the woman had to be the port of ethnic call for them regardless of who the father happened to be.)

Go to the tribes of Africa who enslaved their enemy tribesmen and raped and pillaged and also sold their hated enemies into slavery to the Europeans and Asians countries. Go to Asia and…you are beginning to get the picture, yes? — I don’t want to list every place on Earth.

Take a time-travel trip to ancient Greece and Rome. Everyone knows that the Romans had slaves aplenty. But so did Greece. Beloved Athens, the lauded “golden civilization” of true democratic ideals, was composed of 10 percent citizens and 90 percent slaves. Ouch!

Certainly slavery is an abomination and we are well rid of it. Slavery (from the word “Slav”) is still practiced in a couple of countries but it has seen the last of its days. Good riddance.

Should those whose ancestors were enslaved be given reparations for such enslavement? No. You can’t move forward if you are constantly looking backwards. The slaves of the United States had ancestors who enslaved others; the slave owners of the United States probably had relations who had been enslaved sometime in the distant past as well.

The horrors of mankind can be found in every nook and cranny of human experience.