Except for sports, good documentaries, local news, weather reports, and a few others that are our favorites, i’ve pretty much quit watching television, smart or not (and i’m talking about the TV, not me).

And even those continue to frustrate me. Here’s why:

Any show i watch, there are approximately twenty or so commericials for injury lawyers. They are all bad and make some pretty doubtful claims. They all claim they are the best for acquiring several million dollars for a sore thumb or something. There is one that claims the firm was voted “The Best.” It doesn’t say who voted. I’m thinking they called their staff together and held a poll for the best law firm with the warning if anyone didn’t vote for them, they would be fired. One of these clowns, who along with his family of attorneys even as John Daly hitting balls for him.

Like i’m gonna hire a lawyer who relies on John Daly.

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Then, there about 2,636,800 commercials for prescription drugs. They show actors posing as old folks in their seventies performing acts that most people i know wisely gave up like i did when i was 46. And that was way too late.

They show diseased people recovering from incurable diseases saved by their miracle drug, which, of course, those watching can never buy. They must convince their doctor, who knows more about what is best for them, to order it. Finally, the commercial ends with a two-minute disclaimer spoken so fast no one can understand what side effects this drug might have, most of which can kill you.

Oh, yeh, i’m gonna tell my doc i want that drug and throw a hissy if he or she says no…even if it kills me.

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i wonder if any commercial tells the truth. i haven’t seen one. They all claim they are the best with no problems and show actors and athletes (who, i’m sure get a hefty pay check for lying) do really dumb things that are supposed to be funny. And even if they are funny, it is only once and not the infinite replays.

If some one ever shows their commercial that’s truthful and only show it once, man, i’m buying it regardless of the price even if i can’t use it.

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What about the new tactic on television of showing an commercial insert thats bigger than the program with the audio of the commercial. That is flat irritating and ensures i will never buy their product or service ever.

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How about the internet bombarding me in every fashion with ads of things i just bought…on the internet. Like i’m gonna fill my closet with several dozen of these things, or i’m gonna get a grunch of things, including internet products that i don’t need event though i just bought the ONE i need.

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i am old. Therefore, i don’t understand. i’m just tired of being manipulated by the marketing geniuses (not).

So, i’ll just whine.

After our close friend, Marty Linville, crossed over that bridge, July 5, 2024, the remainder of the Order of Curmudgeons, Rod Stark, Peter Toennies, Jim Hileman, and i, met in Coronado.

The grand old group of golfers have been playing golf separately or with some of the others for a long time. In May 1991, Marty and i began playing on Fridays, mostly at the Sea ‘n Air golf course on the Naval Air Station, Coronado. The others in the group began to play with us, and we added and subtracted members. Currently, we have a dozen golfers. We reserve two tee times each week, now on Thursdays, and usually fill with eight golfers. Rod is the driver for the tee times and counting heads.

Of the orginal corp group that were labeled curmudgeons by the Sea ‘n Air staff, it’s the five of us. At that meeting two years ago, we voted who would take Marty’s place as the Grand Whiner of the Order of Curmudgeons. i was surprised the other four voted for me.

i take this job seriously.

For several years now, i have been known by folks that read my posts, here and on Facebook, for riding sport casters hard. They deserve it. Several things have occurred over the past several months that made me decide to expand my curmudgeon comments.

i began a post about some irritations when i realized it would be a never-ending post. So i decided i would only whine about one or two in a series using the title above. The first of the series is below:

Lately, have you attempted to call a business or a service? i have. It is a most infuriating experience.

A recorded voice (or perhaps an Artificial Intelligence generated voice) takes you or me through an almost infinite number of steps to not reach what we sought: a real, live, human being. While doing so, this supposedly soothing voice that drives me insane, tells me many things i already know and takes his or her sweet time doing it before moving on to the next step. Often, i end up listening to a horrible quality tape of recorded music frequently interrupted with that voice telling me they value me as a client or customer before finally either disconnecting me or i choose to disconnect because i became tired of being on hold for half the morning.

Are these organizations really making more money by firing all of their basic staff? Has it ever occurred to them they might get more business, certainly mine, if they hired one person to answer the phone and direct the caller to the right person?

And why would i want to complete a survey after the call, a survey that doesn’t allow me to comment about how crappy my experience has been, including the survey?

It seems commercial America has decided customer service isn’t worth the time or cost. It seems they are focused on making me miserable.

when i was a lad, i went a’searchin’
though the hills and woods of Tennessee;
when i was a young man, i went a’searchin’
in the high desert brush of southern California;
when i was a mariner, i went a’searchin’
on the sea and found what i was seeking;
while i am an old man, i no longer search
for i found the sea: it gives me peace.

In my usual browsing this morning, i came across the word “scripturient.” From the Google dictionary it means “a strong, often compulsive, or even violent urge to write.” i am not sure i would ever have a violent urge to write, but i certainly feel a compulsive urge to write.

i wonder what wiring in my head produced this urge, but it has been a drive i’ve had since somewhere around the third grade. i’m glad it’s there.

So, it is now the evening of the morning where i had these rambling thoughts. i’ve spent the day clearing items from my administratrivia to-do list, many bringing about frustration with the new fangled, technological maze in search of solutions without finding them, like following the instructions to locate an item, which is not on the menu list the web gave me.

But i actually got quite a bit off my to-do list.

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When not being frustrated with webology, i was confronted with choosing what to watch in sports: Olympic Men’s ice hockey championship, Padre pre-season baseball, Vanderbilt women’s basketball, or the PGA golf tournament.

Note: Maureen is a very understanding wife and she likes or puts up with watching a lot of sports. She’s even become a knowlegeable baseball sports fan and enjoys me watching Vanderbilt sports.

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i did not watch the replay of the hockey game. i knew the USA had beaten Canada, 2-1 in overtime. i will watch when i sit in front of the television the next time. But it took me back to 1980. On this date, February 1986, the US men would play the USSR in the championship game.

Two Navy SEALS and this surface warfare guy decided to watch the game together. Al Schaufelberger invited us and Peter Toennies’ wife Nancy to his house for dinner and the game. Since the game would not be televised until the evening, we also agreed not to listen to any reports of the game before we watched.

Pete, Nancy, and i drove to El Cajon and knocked on Al’s front door. Greeting us at the door, Al asked Nancy if she would like to bet him on the game. He volunteered to take the Russians. Pete and I immediately knew Al had listened to the earlier broadcast or heard the score. We beseeched Nancy not to bet.

We watched the entire game with Pete and i were sure the Russians would win even with the US ahead in the last minute. It was only when Al Michaels made his famous call, “Do you believe in miracles” we realized the US really did win. Al had played a great joke on us.

Al was a great guy. Three years later, Al was the SEAL advisor to El Salvador’s military fighting drug gangs. He was assassinated while sitting in his vehicle awaiting his fiancè to return from a college class.

i don’t think i will ever watch a hockey game without thinking of Al.

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Saturday, i watched the Vanderbilt men’s basketball team lose to Tennessee, 69-59. Today, i watched the Vanderbilt women beat Kentucky, 89-61. Both games were extremely well played. i enjoyed them both although i did cuss a lot watching the men’s game. It was more like a wrestling match than a basketball game.

If the rules when i played and watched in the 1950/60s were evoked, the Commodores or the Vols would have had every player on the roster fouled out before half way through the first half, and the ball would have been handed to the other team on almost every possession for carrying the ball or traveling.

In the women’s game today, the amount of fouling was a bit less, but in my opinion, every tie ball call was preceded by a bunch of fouls in the old days.

If there have been rule changes like the “Euro step” in the game, they neverless had made officiating a subjective impact on the game. i think that is sad. The old style of the game was artful. Now, a great part of it is how much a player can get away with without getting caught.

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That’s enough. It is this old man’s bedtime. i suspect you are worn out reading this…if you actually got through all of it. More later.

And sleep well.

By happenstance, i wandered into a file folder yesterday while i continue to toss stuff and organize the remainder for the ones i leave behind…eventually. It is a job that will never be finished.

But the contents of that file folder put a halt to my efforts. i spent a huge chunk of the rest of the day remembering the legend. My association with JD Waits began in Perth, Australia in the autumn of 1981. We became shipmates when i reported aboard to relieve the USS Okinawa (LPH-3) weapons officer.

An aside: For some strange unknown reason, Okinawa was the only ship of the class that titled my position “Weapons Officer.” The six other LPHs titled my position as “First Lieutenant.” i preferred the latter, but i was the Weapons Officer.

i will not elaborate on the many adventures (or misadventures as some might call them) of JD and me. To cover them all would be longer than War and Peace. i plan to address many of them separately.

JD and i shared apartments twice in that wonderful period from December 1981 until May 1983, one apartment in Coronado proper and the other in the Cornado Cays with a boat slip for JD’s 25-foot Cal sailboat.

We both worked hard on Okinawa, JD in his role as Assistant Aviation Officer, and I, as mentioned earlier, as Weapons Officer, and then Overhaul Coordinator toward the end of my tour. We were admired and respected for our work ethic, knowledge in our craft, and considered leaders on the ship.

But when we were on liberty, we were acknowledged as the kings of fun, the “Booze Brothers,” the Navy version of the Blues Brothers. The file folder captured that crazy, glorious time of our reign. JD was a Chief Warrant Officer 4; i was a commander. We were single.

i am having trouble writing this because i stop and think of yet another crazy stunt we pulled off, often with the help of members of the OKI wardroom.

Of course, we blew it. JD married his first wife, Mary Lou, again. i married Maureen. Both marriages ruining the perfect bachelor existence. But it worked out. Maureen and Mary Lou became great friends, and JD and i continued our exploits, only fewer because it is a significant distance between the Southwest corner and central Texas. This, too, worked out, and we remained close, the four of us.

JD turned 82 today, just over a month younger than me. Knowing him, i think he is smiling and thinking of another outrageous idea yonder over that rainbow bridge.

Happy Birthday, JD…i cleaned this up for our wives.