Its A Quarter To Three.....

The young guy bellied up to the bar and immediately ordered a straight shot of scotch. Now, scotch and me have never been friends. And, being the experienced drinker that I am all of these years, when a young guy---he had to be around 25--- orders such a shot before he gets some beer in him first, the juicers at the bar watch him closely. Clearly, this was someone who was drinking away some personal demon that was haunting him at this moment. The youngster took the shot [without chasing it with a beer, a cardinal sin, and, a sign of inexperience] threw his head back, closed his eyes [another red flag, there] and moped onto the bar stool....... The wise men at the bar let him sit there without paying much attention. So did the gal pal I was with. But, me, being me, sometimes does not know when to leave well enough alone. I asked him what his trouble was. He looked over at me with pained eyes, fairly red [not do to the shot but crying] and stated that he had just broken up with his girlfriend and he did not know if he wanted to go on living......Well, now, we had the standard, stereotypical bar patron. The guy that has been done wrong by love. It is in every bar in the world and has been glorified by the big silver screen in Hollywood. Love gone bad. And, alcohol to soothe the hurt of the broken hearted. Bogart famously sat at his gin joint in ''Casablanca'', wondering how of all the places to imbibe in the world, his lost love found her way back into his world and his heart. It is an unanswerable question--- maybe, in Hollywood they know--- but, in the real world we are stumped. Millions of people throughout history have swung open the doors to the nearest saloon and demanded a drink to be their tonic. I have done it. Perhaps, you have also...... Sometimes, it is good to be with a friend or group of friends when your heart is hanging low. They will listen to your story, and, if they are good enough friends, they will try to cheer you up. But, what they must never do is take sides in the quarrel!!! This is, as the Italians say, an ''infamita'', or, forbidden. Because, what if the desolate, after berating his or her love, decides to leave the bar and make up with the other person? You, as the alcohol sounding board who agreed with every point your lovesick friend made, now has egg on your face. You never take sides in a fight, even when you know which is the right side to take. Your words can be thrown back in your face. Demon booze can always loosen the tongue for a liquid confession, but, it can also say the harsh truth. And, most people do not want to hear the harsh truth. They want their truth spun to their convenience. Be supportive of your friend. However, watch out for the landmine that may be in front of you......Or, you can go to a bar by yourself, as the young man above did. This does not sound as pathetic as it does. A bar is one of the few places where you can walk in alone and not feel uncomfortable. Because you are alone with your own thoughts, taking stock of your relationship. If you are honest with yourself, then you admit things privately that you would never share publicly...... Two things go hand and hand when you find yourself feeling low. They are the booze, of course, and music. Lets start with the music. It must fit your mood. You are feeling the worst, self-pity mixed with your faults and insecurity So, therefore, the music must be your companion on the trip of sadness. Do not play a loud, happy song!!! What the fuck is wrong with you if you do that?!!!! A happy song will put you in a happy mood. You must never fall for this speedtrap!!! You are morose, let the tunes be morose also. The one and only King Of The Saloon Song, Francis Albert Sinatra, is the man you must instantly play. Frank made a career out of love found or lost. He battled the forces of love throughout his roller coaster of a life. You will need no other guide. He is the Padrone. He will cry out your pain for you. Play his music into the wee small hours of the morning. With each selection, Frank will get more intimate. Let this famously strong, virile man weep with you. And, always listen to the advice he is giving you....... With the music comes the booze. This is the tricky part of the evening. Why? Well, you have to walk that tightrope between drinking to feel good and drinking to stay in your cups. If you are doing the former, pay your tab and leave. You are taking up valuable space for a real sad-sack with a crippling love life. You are posing!!! Get the fuck out of my bar!!!........ But, if you choose the latter, to drink to elongate the sadness, then the booze choice is so crucial. Stay away from sweet drinks [a real bar and bartender doesn't like to serve sweet drinks. It is a pain in the ass to make those fruity drinks. Bartenders only make them because they are more expensive and it increases your tab and their tip. Or, they may make them because you have nice tits.  Drink what is in the bottles in front of you or in the keg]. Also, don't drink from the keg. A draft beer? Please!!! Grab a bottle of the suds so you can peel the label off the bottle while your are mumbling to yourself. Then, and only then, do you order a shot. And, it must be a real shot. Not something that sounds like a sexual act. Can you imagine Sinatra strolling in a bar at a quarter to three and ordering ''Sex On The Beach?'' Or, a Jello shot? No, you order something strong and bitter tasting. You are punishing yourself in one way, so, go for the jugular. Have the scotch, or the bourbon, or the brandy, or the whiskey. Cognac is acceptable, but, it must be in a snifter. Also, do not immediately overdrink and get drunk quickly. This is for losers. Drinking is a serious thing, not be be disrespected by some pussy chugging everything in sight and then ralphing it up at the bar. I have been at bars when guys cough it up. I don't wanna see that. Especially, since I will have my own bile to shoot out in a few hours...... The hours will disappear soon enough. You have your booze and you have your music. You could order food--- it would be the smart thing to soak up the alcohol--- but, food may make you happy. If you order food, don't order what you like. Order something that you know sounds revolting, like Blood Pudding or Calf's Liver. And, if those two items are on the menu at a bar, get out of that bar!!!What kind of place serves that shit?....... As your inhibitions melt with the soothing feel of real alcohol surging through your system, you might want to put your toe in the water and talk to someone around you. But, don't spill everything out. You will scare the person next to you and scaring drunks in a bar is a one way ticket to destruction. If the person next to you is a friendly sort, start rapping. Bar friends come easy. However, be prepared to hear THEIR sob story when you pause and take a sip of your drink. Then, you will feel even worse because you really don't care what is eating at them. You have your own problems!!!...... It goes without saying that when the place looks like it is going to close soon, say, in twenty minutes, you pay up and leave. There is no worse feeling to be sitting in a bar when the lights come up. Christ, you think, I'm still here!!! And, now you have to get home!!! Of course, you do not drive. Either walk or call a cab. [ One bar guy I used to know would call the police to drive him home, like he was Otis on the ''Andy Griffith Show''] Hopefully, when you leave, you will feel it was worth it being there....... The next morning, when you wake up feeling like death warmed over, make sure you have your work number by your bed. And, you are sick. You have all of the symptoms of the ''flu''...... These are just some of the things you may do when love kicks you in the ass. Or, you might just stay home and cry and then call the person to try to work it out...... When the 25 year old guy finished telling me his story, which, if you change the names, is the story we all have, I just asked him a few things. I asked him if she loves him? He said, yes, she does. Then, I asked the most important question: does he love her? Tears came into his eyes again, and, he answered that he could not imagine living life without her by his side. ''There'', I said, ''You have your problem solved. When real love is involved, there is no other answer. Go find her and work it out.'' He looked up at me and smiled. ''I will'', he replied....... I bought him one last shot and he was out the door......

19 Years

19 years. It still stuns me that it has been this long. Time does march on. There was a time, right after he died, that I thought the horror of gloom would never go away....... My brother, Tommy, died on September 22, 1995. The official cause of death was a suicide. That is what the police said to me on that long-ago phone call in the middle of the night. He jumped from a twenty-eight story building. It was his girlfriend's condo. Weeks after the event, my Dad talked to the girlfriend on the phone. She confirmed that he willingly jumped to his death. But, a few days after this conversation, the family received the police report. From what it said, Tommy accidently fell from the balcony when the police made a quick lunge towards him in an effort to pull him into the condo. So, we had two stories on how it ended. But, the outcome was the same. My brother was gone....... Out of respect to my family I will not tell what happened. Some things will stay internal. The people closest to me know the whole story. Obviously, it is not an easy story for me to repeat. Not because of shame. The story of his demise I keep at a distance, because, it is so close...... Thomas Forrest Scoleri would be 52 years old right now. His death at 33 forever locks him in time as someone young. When I look back on his life, there were signs to him that he was not to have old bones. He lived for the moment, as spontaneously as a person could. Both my brother and myself share the title of ''free spirits''. That generally means we cannot [and, will not] be put into any kind of pigeon hole of description. If one must be assigned to us, it is that we float with the currents of independence and inspiration. We live for the current idea or mood, not really concerned about what will be ahead. We say what is on our minds and damn the consequences. All ''free spirits'' are not bound by normal behavior of the brain, but, rather, the streams of feelings from the heart and soul. I have it. And, Tommy had it. In a macabre way, his death, while tragic, was appropriate for his life. He lived life with a big bang. And, his death was just as loud........ Tommy filled a room. He was over six foot tall, unusual for an Italian male. He was good-looking. My Mom always said that he looked like the actor Robert Urich. True. Tommy was classically handsome in a movie-star way. Beautiful hair and glowing teeth. He had an Roman emperor look that turned many a ladies head. And, he indulged his gift with many women. Tommy could work a room, whether he was seeking a female or to entertain with his charm. He also had a great natural ability to play any sport well. This was his true love in life, especially, baseball. Tommy was a damn fine player, with the sweetest swing imaginable. This was his life's dream, to play ball in the majors. He once was scouted by the California Angels baseball team. I remember he came home that night so excited that here was his dream coming true. Sadly, he never heard further from them. Or, anyone else. He would go through his short life always hoping for that phone call to come. It never did....... I have written before in other blogs about the difficult relationship I had with him. And, it was difficult. Painfully so. I never did find out what the source of his animosity towards me was. It went beyond sibling rivalry into a frosty dislike of each other. He had it out for me as long as I can remember. There were times growing up when I was genuinely afraid of him. We fought--- well, him being stronger and bigger and older, made it not much of a fight---- every once in a while. When we were kids, he sure as hell never wanted me around. I was a punching bag to him, both verbally and physically. As I got older and was able to hold my own with him, the fights stopped, but, the tension was always there. Occasionally, we would share a laugh or a good moment. But, the truce would be short-lived. The war would start up again very quickly........ Looking back at those times with the brilliance of hindsight, I see where the cracks were in my brother. He was quite hot-tempered, which led to errors of judgment. Him, on that balcony at the end, was a hot-tempered moment. Hand and hand with that temper came the internal self-hatred at not being a professional baseball player. Tommy was one of those guys that was the star in high school, but, once he left school and the cheers for him stopped--- when he went into the cold world that doesn't give a damn about a high school hero---resentment and depression seeped into his soul and poisoned his character. He became darker in spirit. Not just with me but the whole family, except our Mom. Mom and Tommy always had that special relationship. She was his anchor, his protector and defender against his actions. But, however much love Tommy was given at home, it never soothed his troubled soul. Because we were never close, I did not have the opportunity to share his confidences and his moods. Well, I did experience the moods, but, they were always dark towards me. I can only speculate this, but, I am fairly strong in my conviction that his depression at not achieving in life grew more pronounced as the years went by...... To fixate on his depression and darkness does not do complete justice to the man. Make no mistake about him: he was a damn fun guy to be around!!! He had miles of friends and many admirers. He lived life at full-throttle, never pausing to slow down. Live fast and leave a good looking corpse. You wanted him at your parties. And, you wanted him to be there for you in desperate times when no one else would. He would be there for you. That was a hallmark trait my sister, Lisa, Tommy, and I got from our parents: BE THERE FOR THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE. Tommy was. You could call him in the middle of the night to bail you out, and, he would be there. You also wanted him on your side if a fight was near. Strong son of a bitch, he was!!! For those reading this that did not know him, trust me, you would have liked him........ And, I did like him. And, I did love him. Although we had our moments, I never stopped looking up to the guy. He was my older brother, someone, I knew who would always have my back. I suppose I always thought, as us kids got older and more mature, that things would settle down between us. There would be a truce. I looked forward to growing old with my brother by my side, almost like, two war buddies who fought battles with each other and found a peace pipe to smoke. I imagined us sitting around watching sports and eating and drinking and looking at the pretty women. We were so alike in so many ways. He had the strong sense of family that Lisa and I do. He would be the family ''Don'' and I would be his able ''Consigliori''. I know it would have happened. I had the dream of it happening. That dream died with a phone that September night........ So, now, he is eternally young. Frozen in time. In my minds eye, I see the handsome young brother that I once knew. He is smiling that beautiful smile as he is strolling to the plate of a baseball game in Heaven. It is a big moment in the game, naturally, because my brother was all about big moments. I see my parents off to the left in the stands, cheering him on, along with other family and friends who are also now eternal. Tommy spikes his cleats in the dirt and chokes up on the bat. A couple of practice swings and he is ready for the pitch. Here it comes!!! Fast ball, right down the middle. But, the ball will not reach the catcher's glove because Tommy swings and connects. The ball rises swiftly, almost effortlessly, towards the outfield. The left fielder races towards the wall. But, the fielder will run out of space. The ball, superbly hit, goes past the wall and keeps rising. It rises and rises and takes off into the distance, zigzagging across the sky. Tommy rounds the bases. When he reaches home plate, he tips his hat to the crowd. The crowd applauds him. And, Tommy, forever the free spirit, smiles back.......'' Dear Tommy. I love you, brother!!!! When I get up there, we will have our quick talk and smoke that peace pipe. And, then, MY BROTHER, I expect you to show me the fun sights in Heaven!!! We will rock it hard!!!...... Love, Jimmy''.........

Not A Man

So, now, the NFL is contrite about domestic violence. In the wake of the not-so-shocking revelations that some professional athletes have abused the women in their lives, now the media, the beloved media that swoops in like vultures smelling blood, is crying holy hell about this very real and dangerous issue. Apparently, the years of sweeping the evidence under the carpet about these so called ''men'' and their abuse because it made bad copy to report, is now front and center. And, the mega-powerful NFL, which also has its hands dirty in covering this up, now feels it must bow its head and do the public penance...... Ray Rice beat up his fiancée, at the time, in an elevator. This abuse happened last February. Which means, the NFL was aware of it last February. Nothing a professional athlete does in any sport is not unknown by the league the player is in. There are spies among the team that report to that team's owner and also to the honchos in charge. The media follows these most public of figures very closely. And, the fact we live in an age of instant contact thru the Internet and cell phone pictures, makes an athlete even more open to disclosure. The footage from that elevator scene is shocking. Rice beat up his fiancée, plain and simple. Now, right away, since it happened in a hotel elevator, the hotel knew instantly. She was battered in plain sight. There is the constant security monitoring of all spaces in a hotel, save the privacy of a room [which, there are stories about]........ Rice and his fiancée seem to make up very quickly from this exchange. In fact, the couple decides to forget the whole thing and get hitched soon after. No doubt this is because of finding ones ultimate love in life and forgiving the fact that your lover beat the shit out of you. My guess is the fiancée also remembered the large paycheck that is deposited every once in a while into the bank account. So, while rumors swirled for a few months, Ray Rice continued to live carefree of his actions...... Now, you have greed involved in the next part. Not a belief in punishing the abuser, but, plain old human greed. Someone, probably from the hotel, leaked the footage to TMZ, the vile entertainment watchdog. Harvey Levin, who runs this operation with all of the ethics of the Catholic Church, knows a juicy story when he slithers around in its muck. And, Rice, while not superstar level in terms of fame and ability, does play for America's favorite Sunday afternoon TV show, the NFL. Levin shows the video and outrage comes of it. Suddenly, this ''minor'' incident blows up in the face of the National Football League. Roger Goodall, the commissioner for the league, at first, denied any knowledge of the league hearing of the video. He was as shocked as everybody else, you see. Had he known earlier he would have taken appropriate action against Rice. But, the evidence of him knowing soon leaked out. The spies in the NFL knew. The lawyer for Rice also had a copy of the tape. For the NFL not to be aware of this footage, while TMZ was, is not believable. Clearly, they knew. But, they decided to take a page from Penn State and their horrible scandal a few years ago, and, sweep it under the rug...... No sooner than this sordid tale unspun then came another, equally shocking case of abuse. Adrian Peterson, one of the best players in the league, was suspended for child abuse. In Texas!!! At first, this ''man'' said he was giving his little boy a good old-fashioned spanking. With a small tree branch. Like the Rice case, the real story soon came out. He beat the little boy so severely that there was blood on the boy. Open wounds. And, today, a new revelation has come forward about Peterson saying he may have abused another child of his--- from a different mother---- by banging his head against a car. Peterson was suspended for a game and now is unsuspended, as I write this. My guess is he will get more suspensions, or, possibly, be thrown out of the league as the case moves forward......... Athletes beating up women is nothing new. And, we should not be shocked that higher authorities feign ignorance and cover it up when it is necessary for their own selfish interests. Politicians and actors do it. Alec Baldwin is famous for using his fists on women, including ex-wife, Kim Basinger. And, Baldwin is also famous for the audio a few years ago of his yelling profanities at his daughter on her cell phone. Verbal abuse. And, what is the result of his actions? Why he is allowed to ply his trade in show business. In fact, Alec Baldwin has never been in more demand for his services. A hit TV show, countless appearances on ''Saturday Night Live'', and movies all came after he started to abuse women years ago. When his producers and agents are asked about how they can employ such a brute, they call on the time-honored feeling of forgiveness and absolution. Everybody makes a mistake and must be forgiven....... Well, not in my book. I believe many people do deserve a second chance and repent for their sins. But, not all people. There are some crimes that never must be forgiven or forgotten. Abuse of women and children is front and center as examples. ''Men'' who hit the weaker opponent are the true bullies in life. My God, little kids are afraid of thunder and lightening, or, of monsters under the bed, or, of being left alone in the dark. They are the most vulnerable in the world. They trust and belief. They love unconditionally and they fear the unknown unconditionally. And, for someone like Adrian Peterson to take the anger issues he has out on a child is beyond repulsive. Abuse comes in different forms, physical and mental. The child's wounds will heal physically, but, will they fully heal mentally?........ I have known several women who have been abused, again, both physically and mentally. The scars recede rather quickly on the body, but, not in the mind and soul. The mind spins many dark thoughts to the victim. Many women and children come to believe that they deserved this abuse, in some way. Their mind tells them that it is all their fault. Or, it is the price they must pay for staying with the ''man''. In the mind of the abused is the very real voice of guilt: ''I must be a terrible person and deserve this'' is the unforgiving and cruel thought of some from their unconsciousness. It all has to do with low self-esteem, which the abuser is a master at driving home. Of course, the abuser, the ''man'', is really taking out their own self-hatred on someone else because they cannot stomach the fact that the real problem is them. So, the women and children become--- and  I don't say this to be glib--- the ''punching bag''. They beat and humiliate their victims. And, all the while, a sad seed is planted in the mind of the poor victim: ''It is my fault'...... Another major problem of domestic abuse is the seemingly automatic solution by many to seek ''counseling''. They get some charlatan, hiding behind a diploma, to tell them their problems and what a solution must be. Family therapy........ PEOPLE, IN ADDITION TO KNOWING MANY ABUSED WOMEN AND CHILDREN, I HAVE ALSO KNOWN THOSE PEOPLE THAT DEAL WITH THIS PROBLEM. THEY ARE THE DOMESTIC ABUSE EXPERTS WHO ARE THERE FOR THE VICTIMS. AND, THEY ARE OF THE UNIVERSAL, FIRM BELIEF THAT THE VERY LAST THING A FAMILY OR COUPLE SHOULD DO IS GO TO COUNSELING!!! THEY ADVISE IMMEDIATE WITHDRAWAL FROM THE ABUSIVE PARTY!!! GET AWAY!!!..... Sometimes, though, you cannot. A young child cannot run away. It is up to some adult to rescue the victim, either by taking away the child or reporting this son of a bitch to the proper authorities. And, the woman must be strong enough, despite her fear of the unknown, to walk away. This applies to all women, be they famously rich or barely scrapping by. The abuser only gets stronger by constant contact with the victims....... I write this, not only because of Rice and Peterson, but also, remembering a woman I knew years ago. She was a friend of a friend and lived with an alcoholic husband. He regularly beat her, sometimes when he had been drinking, sometimes, because he was stone sober and felt like it. A true monster this ''man''. Despite repeated efforts by those around her, the wife stayed with her husband, hoping to change him. But, the true story was that she was afraid to be by herself. It is understandable. She relied on him, regardless on how he so abused her. The beatings got more frequent. The police were called on occasion but they were powerless to do anything because she refused to press any charges. So she stayed......... One night, high on coke and booze, the husband beat her to death with his bare hands. No other way to term it. He killed her with his own two hands. Then, he put the end of a shotgun in his mouth and blew away the side of his head. When the police found the couple a few days later, they found a note from the husband. Hastily scribbled after he murdered his wife. The note said he could not take his life any more. It was a complete horror show. This, he blamed on his wife........