Shawn Peters: No Pun Intended

Critical Mass: One MA Voter's Take on What Happened

I do not blog politics. 

I don't pretend to think anyone cares what I think about health care, abortion, prisons, job creation or campaign finance reform. If I were smart enough to figure any of those issues out, I'd be a right bastard for not throwing away my writing/advertising careers in favor of serving the common good.

So this is blog post isn't about "politics." It is, however, about the Massachusetts special Senatorial election of January 19th, 2010, in which the course of the nation's lawmaking landscape was altered with monsoon-force winds of change. With so many of my friends from across the country wanting to know, and I'm not paraphrasing, "what the hell happened," it felt like it was time to dust off the keyboard and offer what it looked like from inside the storm's eye.

Day 4 - Kicking Lame

Over the years, when I've told people that I met my wife at age 19 and was married when I was 23, I've gotten many responses about the fact that I apparently majored in monogamy with a minor in "don't even think of looking at her."

Some of the common comments and questions include,  "How did you know she was 'the one' for you?" "Wow, that's a long time to be with just one woman." "Was it an arranged marriage?" "Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what you missed?"

Good questions one and all, but they pre-suppose the idea that had I not fallen in love forever at an age when most young men fall in love eleven times a day, I might've met someone else... or multiple someone elses... who would've wanted me. Maybe they're right. Maybe back in my heyday, I was a little bit of a catch. I was healthy, strapping, and totally supported financially by my parents. But even if that was true then, it ain't so now, and personally, I think I made a wise investment and "sold" when my value as a mate was at its peak. I may not have been Enron, but EnShawn ain't too far off.

Day 6 - Birthdazed and Confused

I think I'm ready to stop having birthdays, and believe it or not, it has very little with not wanting to get older. In fact, I think it's all about the inability to get younger, or at least reclaim a little of my youth.

There are entire schools of human psychology that  believe the personality flaws and quirks we have as adults are the result of what we wanted or needed but didn't get as children. That's certainly what Freud believed, though he mucked it all up with a bunch of stuff about pooping and eating and wanting to sleep with our mothers. But once you get past the gross stuff, there's no question he was definitely big into the whole equation of "unrequited childhood desire = grown up therapy sessions."

I'm not sure I agree across the board, but when it comes to my birthday, as the Monkees sang, "I'm a believer" because try as I might... and try as my wife and parents might... there's a better chance of me being named Head of Homeland Security and Bikini Inspection than there is of me being happy and satisfied on the day my age-o-meter turns over.

My birthday is this Sunday, August 30th, and I will celebrate it by boarding a plane to Los Angeles for work. It may sound like a downer, but it's actually more ironic than anything else, because from age seven on, through the rest of my childhood, adolescence and teendom, I lived in Los Angeles and usually celebrated my birthday by getting on a plane... to Boston. 

Day 14 - An Ode to... Oh Dear

95 Degrees and Golfing

With a simple shrug of my shoulders, 

I forget the balls I lost.

No ill will do I harbor towards

the water it failed to cross.

Magnanamous in defeat am I, 

I forgive the club I tossed.

I do not begrudge the unholy hole

For the three-foot putt I missed.

In truth the cup was merely amorous

The only lip I kissed.

No broken heart would I endure,

If I had not broken my wrist.

Nor malice do I hold tonight

though my swing, at times, did slice.

Causing me to roar a "Fore!"

Not once or even twice.

The fairway found was rarely my own

But I roughly pay that price.

So what, you ask, has left this man

With a bitterness his maw?

What injury did golf inflict

That's left him oh so raw?

The chafing... ay there's the rub

That's sticking in my craw.

Day 25 - If a Show Falls in the Forest... or Somerville...

This is going to be a short and (bitter)sweet one.

Tonight, I'm performing in The Ego and the Oracle at the Burren in Somerville's Davis Square. It's a great show with funny/fabulous music, thought-provoking  questions, and eerily random answers. The show is different every time we do it, so it's something you can see again and again. In fact, I've met hordes of folks who I'm not related to by birth, marriage or blackmail that love this funky little musical-fortune-telling extravaganza.

That said, of the several hundred people I know pretty well in the Boston area, I don't think any, other than my wife, are coming tonight.

Day 33 - Off to the Races

The subject may be political, but this post isn't. It's social... "demented and sad, but social" as Judd Nelson once said.

I'm putting that disclaimer first since I recently dedicated  a few thousand words to the fact that I don't blog politics. I'm not here to foist political opinions on anyone... but I do like to observe, and that's what this is: an observation.

The media is still abuzz regarding a story out of Cambridge, MA last week, where an African American Harvard professor was arrested for disorderly conduct by a White police sergeant after the cops were mistakenly called to the professor's home with a report of an attempted break-in.

In an effort to grossly simplify and summarize:

Professor Henry Louis Gates claims that when the police arrived at his house after receiving a call from a neighbor reporting a possible break-in, he identified himself, then argued with the police, followed them outside, and was placed under arrest.

Sergeant James Crowley, of the Cambridge PD, claims... the exact same thing.

So where is the conflict? 

Day 36 - Political Incorrections

By my count, I've written over 500 online columns, blogs and articles in the past decade.  I've expanded upon having sex in hotels and not having sex because of facial hair. I've posted about hating leaving Los Angeles for Boston and hatting Manny for leaving Boston for L.A..  I've compared basketball teams to sexy actresses and used the metaphor to successfully pick the eventual NBA champion. I've even been quoted in newspapers for making fun of Phil Mickelson's man-boobs.

Clearly, I'm not concerned about political correctness. 

But the one thing I do not write about and have no interest in writing about is politics. In fact, the closest I've ever gotten was during a fantasy football column for ESPN.com where I compared the bad year being had by running back Reggie Bush with the bad year being had by then president George Bush. I got hate male for making a last-name joke. Whatever... with a capital "get a life."

Stick it "Back-Up" Your... Well, You Know

In New England, when Patriots' quarterback Tom Brady went down with a season-ending knee injury this past Sunday, you could hear the collective moan go up from Rhode Island to Maine. But I understand that in the rest of the country, where rooting against the Patriots come as naturally as rooting against the Germans in a WWII movie, Brady's ligament-tearing turn on the turf was met with cheers. 

Poor form rest of America. That's Philadelphia fan stuff, right there. 

However, in the midst of the turmoil and hand-wringing, there seems to be little attention being paid to the fact that Patriots head coach Bill Belichick is truly great at two things. 1) He knows how to film opposing coaches. 2) He knows how to turn any sort of slight into turbo-charged motivation for his team. 

For years during the ascent of the Patriots dynasty (yes, it's a dynasty), Belichick somehow convinced his team that they weren't getting enough respect. Even when they were favored, he talked about the opposition as if they were some sort of modern hybrid of the '85 Bears and the '94 Niners. When they had everything but an elite receiver, the entire team rallied around the disrespected receiving corps. When the Pats were stacked everywhere except at cornerback, where they were starting guys like Hank Poteat and Earthwind Moreland, the rest of the defense stepped up so quarterbacks had no time to throw. 

Of course, the task of convincing his team that they were the underdog got much harder for Belichick as they become more dominant. One might even argue that by going undefeated in the regular season a year ago, the Patriots robbed Belichick of his greatest motivational weapon, which is why they couldn't match the intensity of the Giants in the Super Bowl. I dunno for sure. But what I do know is that Brady's injury has turned the Patriots from prohibitive Super Bowl favorites to "bubble playoff team" in many people's estimation. 

Now I'm not even hinting at the possibility that the Patriots will be a better team with Matt Cassel calling the plays instead of Tom Brady. They won't be. They can't be. But I will argue that every single veteran on that team feels like they have something to prove because they have to feel like their contribution to the Patriots' success this century is being minimized or even forgotten. I'll also bet every dollar I have wrapped up in the house I'm trying to sell that the Patriots head coach is feeding that fire like it were a hungry baby at the Gerber factory. 

One more factor, and that's the Matt Cassel story. Think about how many people would've given up their dream of being a big-time quarterback after ending up at USC behind Carson Palmer, the eventual Heisman Trophy Winner. Then consider how many individuals would've had the resilience to stick with it after his chance to start at USC and showcase his skills was deferred again by the slimmest margin when Matt Leinart won the position and also ended up with a Heisman Trophy. And finally, how many of those true few, who had persevered through all that, would still remain undaunted when drafted by a NFL franchise featuring one of the most dominant and durable quarterbacks in the history of the league. Realizing that Mr. Cassel has some quality that kept him moving forward despite all that... do you think he might be "ready" for this opportunity? Seriously. If Tom Brady famously had a chip about being taken in the 6th round, couldn't Cassel be sporting a mission of his own? 

I really have no idea what Cassel will do with his big chance. It's very possible he will come in and look like a guy who hasn't started a game under center since 1999 and the Jets will vanquish the Patriots, announcing to the world that the Ivan-Drago-esque Patriots are just a man, capable of bleeding. But maybe... just maybe... Cassel is ready for his moment in the spotlight, and he'll be efficient, poised, and do just enough for the Patriots to win on the road in the Meadowlands, upstage Brett Favre and the Jet Favres. Maybe he'll be better than Brady... not the Brady we watched last year, but the Brady we saw in 2001, who didn't throw a TD until his third start and finished the year with 18 scores and 14 games. Maybe he'll prove Bill Belichick right for seeing something special in him and sticking with him all these years. And if that happens, there's one thing I know. Another moan will go up... and this one will be coming from Patriot-hating nation, from sea to shining sea.

Tip of the Iceberg-Gate

I'm all done with the media's practice of taking any conspiracy, cover-up or scandal and adding the word "gate" to the end. 

The Watergate Scandal wasn't about a secret agreement to put tap water in Evian bottles or to kill a candidate's houseplants by withholding H2O. It was the name of the hotel where the break-in occurred. Adding "gate" is just a lazy way to avoid coming up with a real and appropriate name for the scandals of the day. Worse, it trivializes real controversies by making them sound like country club communities. Seriously, if it was revealed that Microsoft's newest operating system was a failure because of corporate sabotage on the part of Apple, we'd all be hearing about "Vista Gate" for a year. Heck, I'd love to live in Vista Gate. They have 27 holes of championship golf, banquet facilities and three community pools. 

That said, all the "Spygate" talk in regards to the New England Patriot's proclivity for taping opposing coaches (contrary to the NFL's rules) has my ass chapped both as a fan and as someone that wants to slam the "gate"isms once and for all. However, now that Matt Walsh, the Patriots' former video assistant, has spoken to NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell as well as Senator Arlen Specter, it appears that the Commish and the Senator have opposing views of what happens next. Goodell says he has closure, while Specter wants to open an independent investigation. 

I'm not sure which is the right path, but I do have strong feelings about what's really going on in this whole deal. NOTE: The following is utter conjecture and meets no journalistic standard. 

What seems most likely to you? A) The Patriots are the only team that has ever taped an opposing coach and they have turned over everything the have, so the league has punished them and is ready to just move on. B) The Patriots are the main or sole transgressors in this regard and probably have many more infractions than have been let on, but the Commissioner has decided to turn a blind eye to any new findings because the Patriots are a marquis franchise. C) The Patriots, when they got caught, turned over evidence that not only incriminated themselves, but also included video of several other teams doing the same thing to them. A deal was struck wherein Goodell would take away only one pick from them and some money, destroy the tapes, and the Patriots agreed not to implicate any other teams so the NFL could sweep it all under the rug without having to punish several franchises. Personally, only C passes the sniff test for me. 

However sticky things have gotten for the league and the Patriots, surely the NFL would rather deal with this recent morass than hosting a rookie draft where a quarter of the first-round picks have been forfeited by camera-happy teams. Imagine the ugliness of Gridiron McCarthyism running through the 32 teams, with each accusing another, refusing to go down alone. It actually is one of the few explanations that makes some sense. Why does Goodell destroy the Patriots tapes? So they have no hard evidence they can use to reveal other teams doing the same thing. Why does the NFL act hostile at first and then take so many legal steps before talking to Matt Walsh? Because they want to make sure he isn't going to talk about anything but what the opposing coaches he taped for the Patriots. If he captured a few frames of other teams' video assistants, that would be bad. Why have the Patriots been allowed to keep proffering the lame alibi that they "misinterpreted" the rule? Because they can say whatever they want as long as they don't say "Everyone is doing it." 

Arlen Specter wants an investigation. He wants one bad. He's waving his Congressional powers around like they're a billy club and he's the cop. Maybe it's because he smells a rat. Maybe it's because he's from Pennsylvania and the Patriots have beaten both Pittsburgh and Philadelphia in key playoff and Super Bowl games since the cameras started rolling New England. Maybe, as some have asserted, it's because he's in bed with Comcast and the cable giant has a beef with the NFL over the NFL Network. All speculation I admit. But if Specter gets his way, and this cover up is a case of the Goodell protecting the league, rather than one team, it will surely open the flood... gates.

Present or Payoff?

"Have you ever heard of a 'Push Present?'" my co-worker asked?

The guy is a Yankees fan, so I take everything he says with an ounce of suspicion and asked him to repeat it.

"A 'Push Present.' You know, as a thank you to your wife when she gives birth?"

At that point, I nodded, even though I hadn't heard it called that before. His wife is due within the week and I could tell he had plenty on his mind.

I didn't tell him that I thought a "Push Present" sounds like a present you re-gift and then force on someone who you know can't return it.

When Sara was pregnant and I was reading my soon-to-be-a-father books – "Congratulations: Your Boys Can Swim" and "The Difference is You Can Unscrew a Lightbulb" – it was called a "Birthing Gift" which seemed a little less blunt.

The idea is that the father-to-be buys his wife a trinket or bauble or vacation chalet to thank her for going through 40 weeks of morning sickness, bloating, medical prodding, constant urination, swelling, soreness and then, of course, hard labor. It's a sign of appreciation, respect, and male guilt.

That said, I did not buy Sara any sort of gift to thank her for delivering Hazel or Teddy into the world. It wasn't that I wasn't grateful for everything Sara did and went through. I wouldn't have traded places with her even if such a thing were possible outside of the pages of the Weekly World News.

It wasn't a financial decision either, although I have to admit, I can think of few things less fiscally responsible than deciding, "We have just brought a new life into the world that we will feed, clothe, house and nurture for decades to come, so let's drop a grand on sapphire earrings when that money, properly invested, could pay for her first year at state college."

For me, it was a philosophical disagreement with the idea behind the "birthing gift." I don't think buying things for spouses when they do exactly what they promised to do when you got married is a good precedent to set.

After all, I'm not expecting a sleeve of golf balls for making soup and grilled cheese sandwiches when Sara's sick. It's covered in the "sickness and health" clause in the marriage contract.

Ditto in terms of me not sleeping with women who aren't Sara. Not that my monogamy has been all that difficult to maintain, but still, I'd feel strange if Sara presented me with a new 40-inch plasma screen with a note, "Thanks for not screwing around."

When Sara and I got married, we agreed we were going to have a family. Sara wanted one, I wanted one, and thanks to 7th grade health class, we both knew what that entailed. Did we know how ill Sara would feel for those first three months? No. Did we have any idea how much Sara's ankles would swell? Not really. Could we have predicted that Teddy would try to exit the womb in a "Superman" position, outstretched arm first? Even the ultra-sound didn't pick that one up.

But we knew it was going to be hard and scary and fraught with risks and emotions. That's why I didn't buy her anything. Because to me, spending money on something (money that we share equally for the record) suggests a form of payment. "Nice job with the whole giving birth project, honey. Should I give you this tennis bracelet now, or would you rather invoice me?" To me, sacrifices one spouse makes for another don't require payment. They require repayment, with a lifetime of returning the favor the best way you can. For me, that means taking turns changing diapers, getting up with pre-dawn rising children and staying home from work with sick kids on days that Sara doesn't feel comfortable calling in a sub.

Of course, every relationship is different and every couple has their own rules. If I'd gotten the feeling Sara was looking forward to receiving something more than her first sushi and wine dinner in nine months, I probably would've done it. After all, you're better off taunting a pit bull while wearing beef jerky boxer shorts than you are disappointing a post-partem mommy. But I was glad that wasn't the case, because I wouldn't have felt great about it. Of course, just because I didn't "buy" Sara anything after either of the two children she bore me doesn't mean I didn't "get" something for her. I got a vasectomy… and I didn't even ask for a "Snip Gift."