The Four Freedoms Under Attack

On January 6, 1941 President Franklin D. Roosevelt delivered his State of the Union speech that would forever be remembered for its central theme of "The Four Freedoms". He stated that the duty of government is to protect freedom of speech,  freedom of worship, freedom from want and freedom from fear. It was a stirring tribute to everything government is capable of accomplishing. What we see and hear from today's Republican party is a denunciation of everything aspirational in the words of Roosevelt.

This is now a party unencumbered by the truth or by facts, who believe that freedom of speech means the ability to invent and then perpetuate lies. The latest is the attack on what they derisively refer to as Obamacare and the $716 billion in cuts which, if the truth had any place in this discussion, would be shown to come not from the pockets of recipients but from providers (and oh by the way, which "cuts" are part of the "Ryan-don't care" plan).

This is now a party that uses religion not to promote healing of wounds and kinship, but as subterfuge to destroy a woman's right to essential health care services. Under the guise of an employer's  freedom of religion, this would have devastating consequence on so many women in need.

This is now a party that seeks to destroy the underpinnings that keep the underclass from falling further into the abyss. Medicaid, food stamp programs and other fundamental government assistance would be decimated, as the Republican version of fiscal sanity is merely leaving the least fortunate behind. Freedom from want loses all meaning when you perceive that these people are not looking for a hand up but a hand out.

This is now a party whose most basic tenet is to create fear in the populace. From the death panels to the debt ceiling, there's is a false message that government is only capable of destruction. They perpetuate myths about the worst in what we have to offer, rather than elevate by showing the most that we can do.

As I listen to the line of Republican speeches, filled with half truths and outright lies, distancing their party from the disasters they created and leaving the President and the Democrats without an ally to attempt to bring us to a better time, I think back to that speech of FDR, given at a moment when a worried and tired country was on the eve of the second World War and in the midst of trying to recover from the depths of the Great Depression. It is a long and sad fall from the heights of  those words of inspiration to these attacks based on untruths, desperation and hatred.

Grandma's Music Therapy

My dad and I went to visit my grandma yesterday. She's 94.5 years old, her eyesight is almost totally gone, and her hearing is not far behind. She has had dementia for nearly the past decade, and lost her ability to walk about half a year ago due to spinal degeneration and pain. For several months, due to severe pain and immobility, she was mostly bedridden, and so heavily medicated that she was either asleep or awake-but-not-really-there.

But when we showed up yesterday, we found her in the middle of a music therapy session. Funny thing about dementia: It saps you of your present, and most of your past -- but sometimes leaves intact very distant memories, like, in my grandma's case, her childhood home, filled with her siblings (she's 1 of 5), parents, and assorted other relatives.

And, it turns out, music: golden oldies and folk from her younger years. As soon as her music therapist starts to play, grandma lights up, and despite very poor hearing and memory, sings along, recalling (almost) every word. And after the song is done, grandma is clearer and brighter and more able to communicate, telling us how much fun she's having.

Richie Jay

A Letter of Explanation from David Brooks to Mitt Romney

Dear Mr. Romney,

I wanted to explain the rationale behind "The Real Romney". Your recent "birther" comment to your home crowd in Michigan (as opposed to your home crowd in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, California and Utah) not only made those in attendance smile, but showed you to be the master of the one liner. Why not inject some levity into this campaign after months of grueling  debates with the likes of Cain, Bachmann and other intellectual heavyweights?

Do I actually believe those acerbic comments I made about your political and personal shortcomings? How could I, for you have shown yourself throughout this process to be nothing short of an open book about your taxes, religion, business and governing. You have hidden nothing, except maybe anything to do even remotely with virtually any part of your life. And the fact that you have moved further and further to the right, abandoning principles you once espoused, only demonstrates to me that you are capable of evolution (or maybe I shouldn't use that word).

I await, with almost breathless anticipation, your speech later this week. I know that God is a Republican and that he has the good sense to spare Tampa from this storm, so your remarks will not be diminished by distractions (well maybe there will a levee or two in danger of breach in New Orleans, but I am certain the Federal government is fully capable of dealing with this, at least until you decimate it during your time in office).

So please don't take my words the wrong way like the thin-skinned Democrats did about your insinuation concerning the "foreign" President. Thanks for understanding. You are da bomb.

Your fellow Republican comedian,

David Brooks

A Bad Cup Of Soup

When I walked through the front door of the apartment, the box was there, unopened. My wife and son were busy with more important matters. "The books came today". This was not the fanfare I had long ago imagined. But who could blame them?

In the living room, in the cabinet next to the television, there is vivid proof of the reach of my talents. Piled up are numerous copies of  past "Chicken Soup for the Soul" editions that serve more as reminder of the ego of the writer than contribution to the improvement of man's condition in the universe.

This week, the fourth of my stories made its way into print. In recognition of my accomplishment, the editors sent me (and I assume each of the 100 other authors) 10 copies to distribute as I see fit, soon to be followed by a check for $200. Too much good news at once could be overwhelming.

In an earlier time, when the first of these boxes arrived,  I immediately called my sister and then my mother, who though deep into her dementia and clearly without the ability to process this accomplishment, seemed very impressed. Books were handed out to them and to several others, including a few who got autographed copies, with personal comments. I waited for the tributes to arrive, and thought of the glory now permanently attached to my name.

I soon learned the reach of my fame. There was a newsletter published in my apartment building, giving all of us some insight into what was happening with the critical issues of the day, like a report on the gardening or the new carpeting. One section was devoted to interesting items on the occupants. I was left on the cutting room floor, never even warranting an interview from our own "reporter".

By this point, I understand my true role. Along with the announcement that my story has been chosen for inclusion, comes an instruction manual on how to hawk the book. Public readings, trips to the local bookstore, and a whole range of wonderful ideas about how, for my $200, I am to become a permanent assistant in the Chicken Soup marketing department.

We met my daughter for dinner the night that the latest book arrived. Joining us was another family with whom we have grown very close over the last few years, when my career as a writer has "flourished". I handed my daughter one of the ten copies, and she accepted it with a grace that was very touching. Our friends couldn't even feign interest when I told them what this was about.

I haven't called my sister yet to let her know that she will be the proud owner of another of my golf, dog, mother, political awakening stories. She, among all, I believe still gets a little thrill from learning of my accomplishment.

After my mother in law, my daughter and my sister, I run out of willing recipients. My mother, now virtually blind in addition to her other diminished capacities, will be presented with a copy. But that still leaves 6  unaccounted for.
 
And thus I ask those who might be reading these words to help me out in my hour of need. The bookshelf is now in danger of collapsing. It is weighed down with my ramblings. I will pay for the shipping and handling. I will deliver a book to you personally, with the promise that I will not inscribe it. I will do whatever you require, and may even consider endorsing over the $200 if you would consider taking the entire pile of neglected words. Give an orphan a home.

Extinguished

And so there is another star extinguished in our universe tonight.

Lance Armstrong has capitulated, given up the fight that has sapped not only him but us. In a sport not merely tainted with impropriety, but saturated in it, he has succumbed to the terrible seemingly inevitable reality that he was something other, something less, than what he insisted he was. Not an admission of guilt, for that is not the way of an Armstrong or a Bonds or a Clemens. Don't ever give them the satisfaction of saying I told you so. But, we know the truth.

There is a sadness, not so much for him, as for us. We have learned to question everything we see. Armstrong, like the others who have tarnished their  sport, has diminished the truly great, making it increasingly difficult to believe in achievement.Doubt has become a constant companion. We no longer trust our senses for they have too often been betrayed. There are asterisks everywhere we look.

Lance Armstrong was once deemed a force of nature, a freak who first defied death and then all logical limits to reach the mountaintop again and again. In the end, he was shown to be not a superman, but merely a flawed human who has now fallen to earth with a resounding thud.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

It is the invasion of the body snatchers. It is that insidious group who speaks always of getting out of the way so that we can govern ourselves but who wants nothing more than to mandate how we lead our lives. It is the end of freedom under the rubric of free choice.

It is anti-abortion, anti-gay, anti-immigrant. It makes us hide in shadows, unable to make choices on how to live.

It speaks in codes, with words that seek to diminish, that harbor hatred and bigotry. It talks of legitimate rape. It spews venom against the poor, against those in harm's way. It has lost all compassion.

It takes away our most basic freedom, the right to vote, using false ghosts as its foil.

It has taken over the minds and the actions of its leaders, and it is incapable of logic and debate. It is the invasion of the body snatchers. It is today's Republican party.

The Dark Side

("Obama's Perceived Transformation")

Mr. Coates talks of the President going to "the dark side". This is a man who for much of his presidency has been forced  to defend against the "birthers", who heard of his "death panel" health care legislation, who has been pushed around  by the obstructionists and threatened with our country's financial ruin in a manufactured fight over paying for those obligations we had already incurred in the ludicrous debt ceiling debacle. He has been confronted on a daily basis with a foe whose mandate was to make him a one termer.

It was for far too long a presidency on the defensive. Only recently, after practically begging his opponents  to no avail to join in moving this country out of the economic abyss, did the President have his "Network" moment. And so, conciliation with no reconciliation is now abandoned.

He is faced with a challenger who runs from his own past, who will not speak of his religion, of his governing in Massachusetts, of taxes sheltered or not. Romney has pandered to the most conservative wing of his party and chosen a running mate who embodies principles that  wrongly protect those least requiring protection, at very real expense of  those most vulnerable. The President is asking the questions that should be asked.

He understands that he will face blistering attacks, filled with the equivalent of death panel assertions in the coming weeks. He  now is portrayed as one whose health reform law takes  $716 billion from its recipients when the reduction is from the bloated and inefficiency of the providers. And he knows his presidency and the direction of the country in the years ahead rest in large part on who controls the message between now and the first Tuesday in November.

The most serious accusations will come from the Super PACs least constrained by the truth, in a party where truth is not a high priority.

Has the President crossed some imaginary line to the dark side in his attack on his adversary? Rather,  I think he has made a decision not to do battle against an AK 47 with a slingshot. The President has come to the realization that his presidency and this country are worth fighting for.

Ryan's Vegas Visit

("In Thrall to Sheldon Adelson")

This all seems like a scene out of "The Godfather".

Storm Clouds

The clouds were getting darker and closer, seemingly by the second. It was one of those "it looks like the end of the world" weather patterns nearly upon us. And yet, one of my oldest and closest friends was basically holding me against my will and mandating that I remain where I was, in the direct path of the oncoming fury.

I have been playing golf for almost 55 years. I began with near greatness but have long since settled, uncomfortably, unhappily but unquestionably, into many decades of something less.  My friend came to this sport much later in life. Whatever muscle memory I had incorporated given my early start, was not an attribute that he possessed. Progress came haltingly. It arrived and disappeared. Glimpses of what could be soon turned into images much more desultory.

And so, I have pounded on him relentlessly over all the years we have played together. The universe is made up of many things. One is that I was, and would always be, a better golfer than my dear friend. I had faced a similar ugly fate in tennis. Many years back, I took up that sport with a regularity that had been missing in my early days. I ended up in an ongoing contest with a buddy of mine who had been a high school and college tennis standout and whose life basically revolved around his tennis matches.  After many years of losses, many racquets thrown in anger and disgust, and not one victory to show for all my effort, I quit.  I could not face the prospect of a lifetime record of 0 and infinity. And so my racquet, beaten and bruised by my batterings, went into the closet and never emerged. Not so with my friend and golf.

As the storm clouds gathered, there was a cataclysmic event unfolding. My friend was clearly outplaying me and even more than that, he was outscoring me. After 9 holes, I was one shot behind on the scorecard, and miles behind in my enthusiasm for remaining on the course to face the hell that was descending from above and right in front of me. And I had a dinner date that I had to get to. And my toes itched. And I wanted to leave.

When we got to the 10th tee we were very near the clubhouse. Now, it seemed, was the perfect time for the horn to sound calling everyone off the course. Only it didn't. And my friend was absolutely not going to let a little thing like a monsoon get in the way of what had eluded him for the better part of 3 decades.

On the 10th hole he scored a par, with a wonderful chip and putt. I stood over a 3 foot par putt waiting for the obligatory "that's good" that has saved me, and those with whom I play,  from much aggravation and many strokes. Silence. This was his day, his time, and he was not going to let me off easily (I would have done the same had I been in a similar situation with my old tennis buddy). My putt inevitably did not come close to the hole. 2 strokes behind.

By the 11th hole it was getting so dark from the cloud cover that I wanted the course to turn on non-existent lights. Thunder rumbled in the distance. But for my friend, all he could see was the brighter weather that was was off in a remote corner of the sky. "That is the weather that is heading our way" he announced.

An errant drive by my friend, the first of the day, and I retrieved one of the strokes from him. 1 down and 7 holes left.

As we approached the 12th tee, another cart suddenly pulled up behind us.  "Too much bad weather coming." He passed us, accelerator depressed,  for the shelter of the clubhouse and refuge from what was moving ever closer. We began to see lightning. But that was of no moment. Not today. Not yet at least.

We have been the closest of friends for almost 50 years. My teenage summers were spent, in very large part, at his parents' summer home by the beach. I was one of the best men at his wedding. We announced the pregnancy of our wives with our second children in consecutive sentences while unloading the cars on a ski trip in Vermont. We have each other's back in every crisis. But this was something different.

And then my friend played his first sloppy hole of the round and found himself one shot  behind after 12. The 13th hole did not change our position relative to each other.

The storm was now clearly almost close enough to reach out and touch. This was becoming something between foolish and dangerous. As we headed off the 14th green, the lightning now more frequent, the thunder ever more ominous, my friend finally relented. While our cart took us to safety (only seconds before the sky almost exploded with torrents of rain) he had one parting comment. "We come back next week and continue the round from exactly where we left off". 

The C and C Boys

He was a 21 year old switch hitting outfielder batting .385 in the minors when he was called up. I remember thinking that this might be the next one in the line of succession at the most storied position in baseball: center field for the New York Yankees. There was even a name that surfaced regarding the possibilities for this young man and the other phenom who arrived at virtually the same moment. The "C and C boys" were meant to conjure up images of Mantle and Maris. Cano and Cabrera were the future of the franchise.

But it never happened. They were too relaxed, too much into the night life, too much potential and not enough production. And after a few disappointing seasons, a still young Melky Cabrera was banished from the scene, so that his more talented best friend, Robinson Cano, could concentrate and flourish on the big stage.

When the greatness started to appear, first in Kansas City, and then in San Francisco, I thought that it was just another example of  the Yankees giving up too soon on a player. All those Jay Buhner like trades came to mind. I was happy that both of the C and C boys were making their mark on the game.

Now, Cabrera is making a very different mark. Now we look at his accomplishments and question whether he realized that he was just not good enough without a little help from "friends". A positive test for banned substances and an indictment for everything he has accomplished in 2011 and now. Cabrera received a $6 million payday for 2012 and is scheduled for free agency at the end of this season. Untold millions awaited.

There must be a tremendous pull towards doing whatever it takes to enhance your average, your reputation and your pocketbook when you feel that stardom is just out of your reach. Today, for Cabrera, that promise of 2006, when the future lay before him and Robby Cano, when the most vaunted position in all of baseball was firmly in his grasp, is but a distant dream. Today, he wakes up in the middle of a nightmare of his own doing.

Better Luck in Sochi, NBC

A post / rant by Richie Jay.

Ok, NBC. You took a lot of crap for your coverage of the 2012 London Summer Olympic Games.

Sure, you spent a ton of money producing literally thousands of hours of event coverage. Your primetime broadcasts received not only the highest ratings ever for an Olympics, but, if I'm not mistaken, collectively over the 2+ weeks, more people watched this Olympics in the United States than any other televised event in US history. The production values were, for the most part, very high, and for that your hard-working camera folks and producers should be commended.

But the shortcomings were real, and myriad, and the criticisms for the most part well-deserved.

But don't let that get you down, NBC. For better or worse, you're stuck with the Olympics through at least 2020, and we're stuck watching you until then. And, if we, the American public, have proven anything during this Olympics, it's that we will watch the Olympics -- lots of it -- and that you can make money showing it to us, even if you spend tons of it to bring us unprecedented amounts of coverage.

So, let's chalk the uneven quality of your primetime broadcasts this time to a 'trial run' of perhaps the first truly global, truly live-streamed (yet, simultaneously, tape-delayed, due in part to factors beyond your control like the rotation of the planet), truly instant, social media Olympics, give you a 'do-over' -- just like Tom Daley, perhaps you were distracted by all the bright lights and attention -- and we'll cheer you on to do much better next time.

You've got a year and a half until Sochi 2014, so there's no time to waste.

Here's a few ideas, in no particular order. This list is neither exhaustive nor authoritative, representing only my own non-expert opinions. Where applicable, I do compliment you on what you did right, and offer constructive criticism for improvements. I understand that broadcasting an Olympics is a herculean task, and I also understand that you can't please everyone all of the time. But, even so, I think you'd agree that there's room for improvement.

(1) Live-streaming every event in this Olympics was a great idea. How you did it, though, was not always so great.

On TV, you showed a large variety of events live, but the choice of what was broadcast and what was not seemed rather capricious. And hopping around channels was a challenge: random channel numbers, unhelpful and often incorrect on-screen guide descriptions, and no 'ticker' or info-box on any one channel telling you what could be presently found on any other channel. Some super-obscure events were not shown live on TV, and this sort of makes sense given the limited number of channels available on which to simultaneously broadcast. But since you were able to just suddenly create an extra soccer channel and an extra basketball channel for the Olympics, why not work with cable and satellite providers to create a few more next time (given the smaller size of the Winter Olympics, this probably won't matter until 2016, and by that time, I'm sure the technology to do this will be even better)? And then some high profile events were also not shown live on TV. This, to the viewers, was a transparent and greedy attempt to hold back the most lucrative stuff for primetime. But since you show us ads, no matter the time of the day, why not do a better job attracting and measuring viewership whenever it occurs, and working with advertisers to reach us both day and night?

Heck, why not create an on-demand Olympics channel, with clear timetables showing all events, past, present, and future. Let us LIVE-STREAM present events; watch past events from the beginning while they're in progress (Time Warner Cable calls this 'START OVER'), just after they end (REPLAY), and anytime thereafter (ON DEMAND); and easily see and schedule viewing of upcoming events, all on one, easy-to-use on-demand channel?

On other platforms, you provided live-streaming of what literally seemed like dozens of events at once. This was, to your credit, pretty awesome. But viewing them was a little bit less awesome. Logging into the live viewer through my cable company was cumbersome. It worked on some platforms and browsers, but not on others (My Google TV could not use either an Android app or a web browser to stream the Olympics, even though it has a mostly full-fledged, flash-supporting web browser and runs on Android. I can't speak for Apple TV, Roku, Boxee, or Playstation users, but I imagine they encountered similar hurdles.) Most web browsers worked fine, but I'd rather not be glued to my computer screen if I can help it. And the Android app for my phone was, at least for the first week of the Olympics, very buggy (it had a bit-rate error, forcing a full reboot, every several minutes). Perhaps you rolled out some updates, or increased streaming capacity -- good for you! -- because it seemed to be a bit more cooperative by the end of the Games.

But, no matter the platform I used, you separated scores, results, stories, highlight videos, replays, tv listings, and live streams in different and confusing ways. Android, for example, had two separate apps, one for live video, and one for everything else. So it was very difficult to determine whether or not I could watch a video replay of an event I just missed, while also trying to figure out what events I could watch live right now, and on which platforms I could watch them. Switching between the apps wasted time and led to confusion. Switching amongst streams, even after just a few seconds, usually subjected me to another ad roll, further delaying my viewing. How about combining all of these features into one, streamlined app next time (you can use different tabs or pages to hide 'spoilers'), and making sure that commercial breaks, like on TV, are always separated by at least a few minutes -- and that they don't interrupt key moments of events. Make your website and apps look and function similarly, so that switching amongst them is a breeze. Let me see a split-screen with multiple streams at once, so that I can make a more informed choice while jumping around, or even watch more than one simultaneously if that's my style. Heck, since you make me login to use your streams, remember me and my favorite sports, what I'm watching right now and what I want to watch later, and let me seamlessly jump from one platform to another, resuming exactly where I left off. If I miss 2 minutes of live coverage to make a sandwich or boot up my computer, let me pause and resume watching 2 minutes shy of live -- just like on a DVR or on-demand television.

(2) I'm not an idiot. Please don't talk to me like I am. Please don't make dumb jokes about what athletes are wearing, or the names of their countries, or the horrible dictators who used to rule those places. Find smart, informed people to give event commentary, even for the non-sporting events (like the opening and closing ceremonies). Teach me something I didn't know, or just help me to better understand what's going on in front of me. If I want to see dumb jokes, I'll watch a late-night comedy program. Or the Today show. Mercifully, I didn't catch a minute of the Today show during this Olympics, but given its propensity towards fluff the rest of the year, I'm sure it struck a similar tone during the Games. Relegate the silly jokes to 7-9AM, and then again to 11:35PM or later.

(3) This one builds on the previous point. Don't be afraid to spend a few minutes explaining the rules. I think it goes without saying that most Olympic sports are hugely unpopular in the US the other 3 years and 50 weeks that they're not taking international center stage. If I'm watching volleyball, tell me the difference between a dig and a block. Better yet, SHOW me the difference. If I'm watching water polo, explain why there's a whistle being blown every other second. If I'm watching judo, or fencing, or taekwondo, or any other lightning-fast combat sport, show me how points are scored (or not scored). I won't feel demeaned, I'll feel enlightened and informed. Use helpful infographics wherever possible. And exploit the high-speed cameras and state-of-the-art production equipment at your disposal. Show me replays complete with freeze-frames and mark-ups. Show me side-by-sides, comparing one athlete's performance to another's. Yes, you did this throughout the games. But only for a few lucky events, and almost exclusively in primetime.

(4) Primetime is MY time. Unfortunately, most Americans don't get 2 weeks paid vacation to sit at home and watch the Olympics, and most employers generally frown upon sitting at your desk and live-streaming the whole thing. So, by and large, we come home and watch your primetime broadcast, hence the unbelievable ratings. Even though primetime is but a few short hours, I'd really like to get a sense of everything that happened at the Olympics that day. I'd like to feel like I could simultaneously be in 6 places at once, and get at least a brief overview of all the sports, from the hot ticket to the what-the-heck-is-that.

This means that you have to get much better at managing your time. No dilly-dallying. Less Ryan Seacrest. No 30 minute to hour-long documentaries at the beginning of your primetime broadcast, no matter how genuinely moving and compelling. Broadcast those earlier, or later, or on a different channel, or on-demand.

Be very judicious about showing prelims. Frankly, as great as the track and field and diving events are (and they are great), do we really need to see the same divers and runners doing prelims, semis, and finals? Unless you plan on showing us additional athletes during those earlier rounds, or unless something very unexpected happened, why not skip those, or at least shorten them into a fast-paced highlights reel. Especially during qualifying heats, don't show runners or swimmers hanging out by the starting line for 3 minutes. Edit those clips much, much more tightly, so we get about 15-30 seconds for you to introduce the event, and then show the event. Since most of the events go by so quickly anyway, you're going to replay them several times in slo-mo, during which time you'll go into much more detailed analysis, so we really don't need to watch athletes pacing and stretching for 3 minutes before each heat.

With the time you save, introduce us to a few more sports that you otherwise would have left out of primetime. I understand that some sports are more popular than others, but, to be honest, I feel like part of the reason for that is that you frame them that way for us. If you showed us a greater variety of events in primetime, you might find that we're interested in a greater variety of sports, and I highly doubt that your ratings will suffer for it. You already chopped up Misty and Kerri's volleyball matches, and cut dozens of nameless, faceless divers out of the diving competitions, so why not edit that stuff even a little tighter, and sneak in some wrestling, and judo, and kayaking, and fencing, and handball, and cycling, and soccer, and basketball, and stuff involving horses, or boats, or weapons, or heavy objects, and other events into primetime? Even if you just give us a 30 minute "Around the Games" feature each night, with brief highlights from the more obscure events, you could still devote the overwhelming bulk of your primetime coverage to a few high-profile sports, but leave viewers feeling like they've gotten a more complete picture of the day at the Olympics.

Yes, it's inevitable that Americans are going to want you to focus your coverage on American athletes -- especially American athletes who win medals -- but this doesn't necessarily force you to exclude losing athletes, or athletes from other countries -- as, to your credit, you sometimes did in primetime. If there's a really fantastic match between two non-US opponents or a really breathtaking performance by a little-known athlete in a poorly-understood sport from a tiny little country, find the time to show us at least a few minutes of it in primetime. Let us root for phenomenal achievement, even if it's not by an American, and especially if it's by someone not already known to the whole world.

(5) Which brings me to another related point: Profiles, features, and lead-ins. The Olympic games are filled with incredible people doing incredible things, often overcoming incredible odds to get there. It makes for a beautiful, tear-jerker narrative, and the producers at NBC do a pretty phenomenal job tugging at those heartstrings with moving athlete profiles at the beginning of many primetime events.

Keep doing these profiles. I do want to learn about the athletes, their struggles, and their triumphs. Since most Olympic athletes are nowhere near being household names, and their sports are equally obscure, without these profiles it would otherwise feel like I'm watching a bunch of strangers play an odd sport with confusing rules.

But, don't patronize me. Tell me the truth, even when the story isn't quite as fairy-tale. And, more importantly, don't let the profiles 'give away the endings.' Almost as a rule, NBC only showed profiles of athletes who went on to win an event minutes later. Show me profiles of losers. Show me profiles of people from other countries, even when they're not the fastest person in the world. Don't make this us-against-them. If you're going to humanize the 'good guys' (aka the Americans), I want to see profiles of America's fiercest competitors (aka the 'bad guys') as well.

(6) And let athletes catch their breath before you interview them. Yeah, it's cool to run them down for instant feedback on the pool deck or the race track or the field, even before they've had the chance to hug their coaches or take a shower. This is pretty neat on a live broadcast. But if you're tape-delaying it anyway, you might as well give them a few minutes to compose themselves, sit them down in a studio, and ask them some more compelling questions.

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Like I said, this list is not exhaustive (in fact, as I think of things, I reserve the right to add them later). And, I understand that resources are limited, broadcast rights, tape delays, and quick editing are complicated, and Americans like our fluffy reality TV as much as anyone else.

But I know you can do better next time, and I'm sure you agree.

So, get cracking! I'll be rooting for NBC to pick itself up, dust itself off, and do much better at the next Olympics!

Why Ryan?

AN EDITED VERSION OF THIS POST APPEARS IN THE THE NEW YORK TIMES  LETTERS TO THE EDITOR ON AUGUST 14, 2012

("The Romney Package")

It is Romney at his equivocating best. Paul Ryan is chosen for the VP job because of his "bold" vision on economic reform, but then Mr. Romney advises that it is his own still unrevealed plan on which he is running. Like almost everything else in this universe, there is an absence of definition.

Mr. Romney appeases those extreme voices on the far right by adding Ryan's name to the ticket. However, Romney is clearly uncomfortable playing the role of right wing idealogue. It does not suit his personality or his past politics. And so, Mr. Ryan is given the task that is seemingly second nature to him.

The putative choice for the Republicans must have felt his campaign was floundering, and without an injection of someone with big, if very flawed ideas that his would be an ineffective, defensive and unclear candidacy.  While the choice of Mr. Ryan does not project the same desperation of Sarah Palin four years ago, it does speak to the concern within the party that their presidential candidate, on his own accord, was not strong enough to dethrone the current occupant of the White House.

Shut Out in the Medal Count

I understand that soon the Olympic distractions will be but memory and we will be faced with the awful reality of the political Olympics commencing with the Republic crowning of someone seeking to be the bane of my existence for the next 4 years. But, next time that the summer games returns and gives us refuge from the political storms, I ask that I be in charge of the remote control. Enough with beach volleyball from beginning to its Misty conclusion. Lay off the preliminary, beginning, commencement, starting, first round triple spins and belly flops in the pool. Myopia does not even come close to describing what we missed.

I get that there are 3 million hours of broadcasting, and that I can watch badminton somewhere on the dial or my phone or computer until I see birdies (or  triple bogies, in the case of this year's calamities in that venue) in my sleep. But life, and my own limitations, direct me to NBC and the prime time viewing as my source for Olympic coverage.

These games are intended to showcase the best in all fields of athletic endeavor. They are meant to acquaint  and enthrall us with demonstrations of brilliance by men and women who have devoted most of their lives to being able to reign supreme in this tiniest sliver of time. Why can't we be educated and engrossed in the art of fencing or archery, sailing or rowing? What makes these undertakings of so little prime time merit? Like so much else in our existence, I feel like I am being led to my conclusions rather than reaching the answers on my own.

I fully comprehend that an evening of handball, boxing and weightlifting might not seem like the most compelling. But that is not because my years have been spent in passionate pursuit of everything volleyball or10 meter diving. Even the wonderful US women's soccer team got short shrift.

These 17 days of coverage should be as breathtaking as the events. They should make us feel the magic and understand the merit of as many of these athletes as the screen will hold. I want to be seated in the kayak as water and boat do battle, and stand 20 feet from the table to retrieve a smash from a table tennis wizard. I want Bob Costas to devote time to the trials and tribulations of weightlifters.

So,yes, Misty is mystical and Gabby is glorious. Michael is unmatched and Usain monumental. But the Olympic coverage is none of these things and is less than it can and should be. NBC, you have 4 years until the Summer Games return. I would suggest that you spend that time, like all of these athletes, in practice and more practice so that when the next time comes around, you can go for the gold.

I Am Going to Be on Television

I am going to be on the Charlie Rose show this Thursday.

Ok, let me rephrase that slightly. I am not going to be on the Charlie Rose show this Thursday, but I have a plan to market myself there and then.

You see, my cousin is a very smart man. Like in EF Hutton kind of smart. His chosen field is unimportant to this discussion, and even the reason he is scheduled to appear on television this week is of no consequence. What is critical is how this can help me and my dismal readership numbers.

My cousin appears void of ego, which is itself a very egotistical thing I think. He never promotes himself in conversation,  mentioning only as an afterthought the latest book he has written or edited, the speaking engagements around the globe or the elevated positions within his field that have been offered to him. So, since self aggrandizement is not his dominant gene, there is a large chasm of opportunity that needs to be filled. Like on the Charlie Rose show.

And thus, I suggested to him, after he casually mentioned the upcoming event,  that I had a perfect idea for his choice of attire. "You should wear a tooearlytocall.com t-shirt".  I thought, if he did so, there might be a small subliminal message to the audience.

When I mentioned this concept to my children, I was shocked to learn they were not appalled by the thought of turning my cousin into a billboard. In fact, they suggested to me that I should consider asking all the panel members to wear similar shirts hawking this mysterious site. No mention or discussion about the specifics should occur, thus enhancing the intrigue (kind of a "Ing" thing). I would be sure to go viral by the first commercial.

I am not sure how best to revive this idea with my cousin. "I just wanted to make sure you were still on for Thursday. I am so excited for you. And, oh by the way, what size t-shirt do you normally wear." Or maybe something like, " Don't you agree that Charlie Rose is a little too intellectual and boring? It needs a common man touch, and I think I have the answer."

The last time I was in joint enterprise with my cousin we dropped my aunt's air conditioning unit out the window, destroying the heating system below in the process. This idea couldn't be as bad as that one.

Conflated and Confused

("The Credit Illusion")

I don't blame you for being "Confused in Columbus". You have conflated the noble concept of shared enterprise and common purpose bringing elevated dreams to reality with the ignoble ramblings of a man engaging in ethnic stereotyping in the hopes of garnering a few more votes and few more dollars. To bring the ideals expressed by President Obama down to the level of the divisiveness and hatred of Mr. Romney's diatribe demonstrates that you, Mr. Confused, are wholly deserving of your name.

I am just glad that Mr. Brooks got to straighten you out with his (as always) condescending lecture, this time on who all of us really are, in the course of this seminar serving to make us seem wholly predictable and shallow.

Mr. Brooks, why did you not point out the fallacy in the logic in the letter written to "Mr. Opinion Guy"? Could you be a little "confused"?

19 and Counting

("19 and Counting: Phelps is Most Decorated Olympian")

His medal count is indisputable testament to his greatness. Sports immortality is inextricably linked to numbers and 19 is an enormous number. So why am I not feeling more overwhelmed?

 Jack Nicklaus is the holder of wins in 18 Grand Slam events,  while Roger Federer has captured 17 singles titles in the majors.  They stand at the pinnacle of their chosen endeavors, and their dominance evokes a much deeper response than I get from reviewing the accomplishments of Mr. Phelps. Why?

First, as much as Phelps has dominated his sport, along the way he has received assistance from others. The medal count for him is not only for individual achievement but for effort exerted with teammates in various relay wins.  While tennis titles come in both singular and plural, Federer's figures are his own. As for Nicklaus, there is no team in I, and we is a foreign term when speaking in the grandest of slams.

Second, win, place and show is for horse races, not medal counts, at least in determining dominance. Phelps has, at this juncture of this Olympics, either by age or by having made a deliberate decision to reduce the effort required to succeed at this level, suddenly found himself at unfamiliar levels on the podium.  He seems vulnerable, even as he adds to his total. Of his 19 medals, 15 are gold.  Nicklaus, in addition to winning 18 majors, finished second an astonishing 19 times. In gold and silver terms, he has no rival.

And speaking of rivals, one of the most compelling aspects of  being the best, is fighting off those who nip at your heels. For Nicklaus, there was a Palmer and a Player. For Federer, there were worthy names throughout, no more so than Nadal and Djokovic, who now stand directly in his way to further titles. Who has there been for Phelps?

Swimming struts and frets its 15 minutes every 4 years. In between, their universe disappears from our sight. Federer and Nicklaus were in our living rooms week in and week out.  Four times each year, their enduring greatness was on display in the majors.  And whereas Phelps can be in and out of the picture in a matter of seconds,  the exploits of Federer and Nicklaus were sustained  for hour upon hour. The struggles play out for triumph in tennis over 7 matches and 2 weeks. We are exhausted just watching.  There is nothing between Phelps and the finish line except water.

So, as Phelps peered out from the top of Olympus last evening, my thoughts were not even principally on him and the enormity of what he had just accomplished. Instead, my eyes and my heart were focused on 5 little girls, some barely in their teens, who risked failure on the smallest of beams and who cried and smiled their way into our conscience and onto the top of the podium.

Whatever the reasons, 19 and counting emotionally seems to me an exercise in mathematics, even when intellectually I understand that it is so much more.