I feel the need to take some time here and pat myself on the back for holding my tongue since the end of August on the Republican Candidate’s running mate. While the rest of America has been voicing their formulated opinions, justified or nonsensical, I’ve been sitting from afar (for once) to take it all in and really get a firm grasp on this so-called “Alaskan Hockey Mom.”

Now I’ve long-cemented my opinion on the woman. And I’ve still held my tongue, because my thoughts seem to be mirroring those of the pundits far and wide. So why comment if I can’t even host an original thought that hasn’t been projected in the media?

And yeah, the media blows most things outta proportion, but at the same time when you watch the footage of this AHMILF (Alaskan Hockey Mom I’d Like to… y’know) in action, it’s hard to at least not get a whiff of Kool-Aid in the air. Because she’s not only mixing it, she’s practically serving it up at the same time.

Like my thoughts on Governor Palin, I’ve had my mind made up for quite some time on my pick for the next President. Since the primaries, as a matter of fact. That said, I have nothing but the utmost respect for John McCain and his tenure as a U.S. Senator. He clearly has devoted himself to his party and his country, and that’s outside of his service to our nation during a most tumultuous war. But I cannot fathom for the life of me what he and his associates were thinking when they picked Governor Palin for his running mate.

There’s a multitude of bullets that just don’t add up. The immense lack of experience, the reliance on warm, fuzzy phrases and winks to entrap the soft-brained, the proficiency to dodge key questions with dainty-yet-vacuous responses, I could go on and on.

But in looking at the cold hard facts, any way you cut it, Senator McCain’s running mate is a walking, talking marketing decision. An attempt to lure in disenfranchised female voters who were internally crying the blues over Hillary Clinton’s loss in the Democratic primaries. A means to connect with Middle America vis-à-vis Governor Palin’s folksy tone and colloquialisms, bundled up in a voice that lies somewhere between Marge Gunderson in Fargo and the mother in Bobby’s World.

But this is not North Dakota, nor is it a cartoon. It’s one of the most critical eras in the 232-year-old history of this country, and certainly the direst period of the 21st century thus far. This is an important election for U.S. citizens. There’s a war overseas in a country where we have no right to be, and an even more vicious bloodbath on the financial battleground; one that could best be described as a “war of attrition.” This is not the time for marketing decisions.

Especially not marketing decisions gone wrong. Sarah Palin, originally viewed by pundits and commentators (and I can only venture to guess the inner circle as well) as the buoyant life jacket for John McCain’s hopeful presidential venture is now dragging down his campaign as though her offerings of “you betcha” and “don’tcha know” were loaded with concrete. To paraphrase her SNL doppelganger Tina Fey, this material writes itself.

But the humor only lasts so long. Much like the antics of the cast members of Jackass, it initially evokes peels of hard laughter only to soften as time marches on with the realization that something about this scenario is disturbingly sad. In the case of Governor Palin, the realization is that she has no business being in a post this prestigious, a mere rung away from the title of most powerful person in the free world. She can distance herself from the so-called “inner circle” and offer up cutesy zingers like “Say it ain’t so Joe” until the king crab fishermen come home, but it’s not going to up her stock any higher in a race this pivotal.

I’ve long felt the notion of electing candidates who are “just like” the public is a poorly-conceived concept. In electing a President, I yearn to see an individual who is above the general public. That is not to say a wealthy elitist, the sort of disconnected Jay Gatsby that John McCain has attempted to frame Barack Obama as being. But rather an individual of dignity, composure and savvy. Someone who can guide this country through difficult times while legitimately serving as a sound representative for our collective voice. This comes in stark contrast to the admitted firebrand that is Senator McCain and his bespectacled punchline of a running mate.

Given my uncharacteristic silence up to this point, with a mere twelve days away from the election, I’m sure one might wonder what brought on this outburst. Like a tick, this debacle has gotten under my skin and proceeded to burrow deep until the end result is a fire in the brain. Adding fuel to the blaze is the barage of shocking news stories over the last several days, resulting in a grand slam of shame that cannot bode well for the GOP candidate as November 4th draws closer.

First, the appearance on SNL in hopes to embrace the parodies that have propelled her very name into the buzzword of the year. One cannot blame her or the McCain camp for trying to capitalize on such rampant popularity. However, the end result comes off as the would-be Vice President embracing the caricature perfected by Tina Fey, and only reinforcing the comedic image rather than attracting swing voters.

Second, the answer to a third grader’s question regarding the VP’s job, claiming that the Vice President is more than just the Commander-in-Chief’s understudy, but that the role also includes running the Senate. Perhaps in some crazed Alaskan Bizarroworld this is the case, but not in the real, my friends. I prefer my candidates to understand the job description, not invent it.

Third, flipping the bill to the state she governs and adores so glowingly for her children’s transportation. Being a parent is a wonderful thing, but it is predicated on the ability to love and provide for your children along with your husband/wife and close relatives. Taxpayers and the general public do not fit into the equation, and this should be heavily weighed before decrying Senator Obama as a leftwing “elitist.”

Finally, and most damning in my opinion, the $150K receipt for Governor Palin’s wardrobe, including stops at Saks Fifth Avenue and Neiman Marcus. It’s great the Republican Party can spend $18K a week on fine attire while the rest of the nation is clipping coupons to shop for groceries. Perhaps this is why the McCain campaign is running in the red financially. It’s also further evidence that the ideological quagmire between the McCain-Palin ticket and the general public is greater than the distance between Anchorage and the White House.

In the tavern of the absurd and ludicrous, Sarah Palin’s cup runneth over, and the contents only threaten to drown any hopes Senator McCain has of becoming President. Indeed, one can only assume he is beginning to regret his choice more than Harry Frazee after selling Babe Ruth to the Yankees in 1919; an event that supposedly spawned a curse only slightly older than John McCain himself. At that age, you’d think he’d know better.

I guess you can’t blame him for trying to bolster his standing a bit. It’s only natural to work the public and try to connect with them. However, the plug was kicked out of the socket some time ago, and it will take a Herculean effort to reach the cord at this point.

Y’know, I actually feel sorry for Palin. Truth be told, I think she is on a plane different than the “Washington Insiders” she so frequently demonizes. It could be why she responds like a smiling deer caught in the headlights. She really has no idea what she’s stepped into, and hey, we’ve all been there. But about 99.9 percent of us haven’t experienced such pressure at the executive level. I wish her well, because in the event McCain does rebound, she’ll need all the luck in the world not to become the female answer to Dan Quayle.

Appearances only go so far, don’t they? It seems perfectly suitable that the decline in McCain’s numbers is now being attributed to Governor Palin… because if his decision-making process as President were to mirror the one he employed in selecting a running mate… well, I’m not sure I feel comfortable voting for that.

And given the projected record turnout for voters (that is to say, "highest possible visibility"), you can bet I'm not the only carbon-based lifeform drawing that conclusion.

Reading this piece, it's very hard for me to feel sorry for anyone on Wall Street who is suffering from the current economic crunch.

Now I'll be the first to admit, I know very little about finance. My brain is not structured that way, it never has been. However, I'm intuitive enough to recognize true crime when I see it.

The level of dishonesty, gluttony and monetary bloodlust has only escalated over these last few years in Corporate America. The Enrons and Wal-Marts of the world have proven this on countless occasions.

One of the biggest reasons I struggle with working in the corporate world is because I have these weird things called "ethics." Thankfully, I rarely encounter questionable practices in my line of work, but I'm sure dirty deals have gone down around me in my "past life" for sure. I'm so damned close to New York City, I know how the Big Apple's "business mentality" runs northward into Fairfield County, Connecticut. I'm not gonna be a Pollyanna about that.

I also know how art imitates life. So when I see Gordon Gecko in Wall Street, I know he's not a pure fabrication; a fictitious medium spurned from Oliver Stone's imagination. He's based on someone real, or a composite of true life individuals. So in perusing the headlines and seeing these would-be Boiler Room desk jockey's getting their asses handed to them, it's hard to have pity.

Many of them have admitted to criminal activity. Just because the collar is white doesn't mean it should be treated any differently than if the crime were committed in a blue shirt. If nothing else, I think it should be punished more severely. Maybe it'll serve as a nice wake-up call.

Want an idea of how far displaced these cash crocks have positioned themselves from reality? Visit www.bankergonebroke.com and view an entry dated 9/29/08 on cooking in your apartment. This lowly scab has to actually detail how to cook for oneself... not by giving a recipe, mind you, but by listing the standard issue household amenities one needs to actually prepare a meal.

How sad is it when you have to tell one of your own ilk they need to keep Saran wrap and tin foil around the house? Remind me not to cry when Nobu rejects your MasterCard.

Folks, whoever coined the phrase "money is the root of all evil" may have been far wiser a sage than Confucius himself. The amounts of cold hard cash these characters tend to have locked up may be enough to feed some needy families, cure a disease here or there, maybe even fund the war.

Yet they choose to squander it on whatever goods will tout their status the most. It makes you wonder what else Ellis got right when he wrote American Psycho.

Now I know these things are cyclical. I'm not obtuse naive enough to think all these clowns will be forever bankrupt (though it sure is nice to dream). Even so, I certainly hope their shortcomings and faults in this life serve as lessons learned to the next generation.

And if you believe that, I've got a bridge to sell you. Given real estate prices right now, I don't even think you could afford it.

This past weekend, an interesting twist occurred in the increasingly popular and highly exposed sport of MMA (mixed martial arts). The UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) aired a free "Fight Night" event on Saturday in response to a pay-per-view supercard courtesy of former UFC sponsor and clothing manufacturer Affliction and its newest partner in crime, Adrenaline MMA. The event, "Affliction: Banned," drew roughly 100,000 buys and featured several former UFC competitors and champions. It was the first big swipe at UFC's PPV crown.

But, this was far from the first attempt at making a splash in MMA. UFC has reigned for the last three years since its rise to prominence, even earning enough monetary assets to purchase former rival (and purist favorite) PRIDE Fighting Championship out of Japan. Yet this was not their first acquisition. That would be WEC (World Extreme Cagefighting), a promotion focusing on smaller weight classes. Rumors are now abound that UFC will purchase IFL (International Fight League), a financially troubled promotion that offers a "round robin" approach to matches featuring teams of three.

So for a promotion to challenge UFC so boldly is a big move in the world of MMA. You can't easily move an 800 lb. gorilla. But despite UFC's powerful alphabet soup of promotions, there have been others besides Adrenaline MMA just this year to try and make a splash.

EliteXC (that's Elite Xtreme Combat) immediately comes to mind, as they have scored a deal with CBS and have tried to ride high off the brand equity of YouTube's favorite brawler, Kimbo Slice. Strikeforce has also struck up a similar network deal with NBC. HDNet Fights has been airing for almost a year now, and even one of UFC's co-founders managed to develop and establish YAMMA Pit Fighting in hopes of grabbing a piece of the pie his baby failed to produce in the early days.

This sport really seems to be taking off, huh? Used to be only the big names like Chuck Liddell were known in the mainstream. Now the likes of Anderson Silva, Fedor Emelianenko and Georges St. Pierre are trickling in as well.

It shouldn't surprise the unbiased observer too much, MMA is, for most intents and purposes, providing jaded, mostly casual boxing fans with an alternative to the sweet science. I know many boxing fans are die-hards never to be swayed, and that's great for them. For many others who are not loyalists, however, the sport is becoming a fair haven for fights. It's also generating a new generation of die-hards all its own.

But MMA serves as more than just a fun beat-'em-up sport for half-hearted fight fans. I don't think people realize, but it also provides an interesting metaphor for success in life.

Versatility and flexibility.

See, in boxing, there's clearly technique and different styles involved. But in MMA, it's more than just punching. It's Muay Thai (kickboxing), Brazilian Jiu Jitsu (submission grappling), wrestling and many, many more styles that go into the mix. To truly be a great competitor, you had best be versatile. There are a few guys who do one thing but do it really well. Then you take a guy like Anderson Silva who not only has great striking ability, but phenomenal Jiu Jitsu to boot, and you have a true winner.

Silva is a perfect example of versatility. Not only is he the current UFC Middleweight Champion (185 lb. limit), but he just made his Light Heavyweight (205 lb. limit) debut this past weekend in dominating fashion. You try packing on 20 lbs. of additional muscle in, oh, six weeks and see how it affects your speed and timing. It's not easy.

That is the thing we really lack in life: versatility. We do the same thing day in, day out with no adjustments to our routine. It makes for stagnation, which leads to mental, physical, even emotional atrophy. We need to stay sharp in all aspects of life. Sure, relaxing is great, but staying active provides many more benefits.

Most importantly, we need to be versatile and especially flexible in our thinking. If we become to structured, our brain becomes more of a template than a working tool, doesn't it? Sure it does. How hard is it for people of older generations to break the mold of "old school" thinking on certain issues. People, the times change, and we need to change with them or else you'll find yourself writing an early will.

It's tough to keep up with the technological and scientific advances in the world today, but keeping up with the thinking is a true challenge. There are no constants anymore, and really there never have been.

And we definitely need to be flexible emotionally. I mean, life throws you curve balls, people. You can't sit and wait for the ball to careen into your shoulder. You have to be ready to duck, catch, hit it, do whatever you can to avoid getting beaned. MMA teaches you there are more than one ways to skin a cat, but also more than one ways a cat can get skinned as well. If you find yourself in the middle of a clinch and then suddenly on the ground under pressure, you need to know the methods to escape or reverse your predicament. Sticking to "what you do best" won't always work.

If life really is a fight, permit me to put it in a context that fighters and fans can understand: know how to dodge a punch when you're standing, take down a problem when it's vulnerable and block when mounted fists are reigning down.

Sure, the violence in the cage can get ugly... but then again, so can life sometimes. Be prepared and stay on guard, folks.

And then there were none.

For once I'm really not sure where to begin. This is one of those moments for me where I struggle with structure in my writing, because it's just about pointless. I got emotional reading the headline today, and I don't do that often for anyone in the public eye.

I find myself thinking back to the first moment I encountered the work of the person in question. Perhaps it's best to start there.

I was working for my uncle in the spring of '96, helping him out at his restaurant in New Haven during a bad cafeteria worker's strike. I stayed with him that entire week. One night after a long day's work, we watched HBO together and happened upon George Carlin's most recent stand-up: "Back in Town" from that same year.

My uncle, not a fan of most stand-up, fell asleep. I stayed up laughing hysterically. I was entranced, just really taken by the material and how sharp Carlin was (he maintained that quality until his passing). It was his mastery of the English language, his way of tying things together seamlessly, his outright admonishment and disdain for authority and conventional institutions.

He was so goddamn cool.

From that moment on, I was pretty much locked. I mean, I had seen him in the Bill and Ted movies and had seen his short-lived sitcom for Fox a couple years prior, but to really appreciate the man was to see him unfettered: up on stage in his natural environment.

So from '96 on, I did what I always do when I have an intense interest in a subject or artist... I delve deep into history and pull up every single article or finished work I can find. With Carlin, it was no different.

I went back and found all his old album's on CD, some even on tape before his entire catalogue was reissued a few years back. I memorized his bits and can still quote them word-for-word, measure-for-measure. I laughed harder than I have at any other human being's material--short of my own father's.

And most importantly, I listened.

I paid damn close attention to what he was saying. Carlin was like stand-up's answer to Rage Against the Machine. He lured you with his song and exposed you to a bigger world. More so than any other human being in the 20th or 21st century, he cut through the bullshit with ease, using his mic as a machete to hack through the brush. He called it like it was, and much like the greatest comic minds of history, he served as a pundit as much as a comedian.

Honesty was the only policy. Nothing was taboo, no matter how suggestive, risque or outright disgusting.

His body of work stands for itself... I'm not going to sit here and sing its praises for the sheer humor involved. Rather, like John Lennon himself, the message came through loud and clear in the art form. This is something that very, very few comics could ever hope to duplicate in their careers.

Of the Holy Trinity--Bruce, Pryor, Carlin--I always favored Carlin. I still favor him. Sure, Bruce broke the ground that needed to be broken and Pryor exposed the societal and racial inequalities we all knew existed, but Carlin took taboos and made the term itself dirtier than his list of seven words. Just his "outside-the-box" look at life and the way it undulates into the weirdest, most fucked-up patterns of behavior and existence.

As gut-churning as some of his topics could be, they were also profound. You have to give humanity credit... He didn't come up with the material, we simply spoonfed it all to him.

And naturally, his stance on politics and the system in this nation (shit, in this world) is legendary. His honesty in life will hopefully be echoed in death, and his unique style influenced a generation of comedians.

Find me a comic who does not list Carlin as an inspiration and I'll find you someone who has no business being onstage.

And you'd be hard-pressed to find a harder working man in show business... certainly not in comedy. For a guy who spent 50 years plus in comedy, he toured, wrote and recorded relentlessly. That's impressive given his age and health scares over the years... in the mere 12 years since I could call myself a devoted fan, he's had five big HBO specials (each with a corresponding album), three books and has appeared in eight films (either onscreen or as a voice talent). Chances are if he remained healthy, he'd be doing this well into his eighties.

He probably felt there was just too much to say to stop. I'd tend to agree with the old fuck (not a slam on him... listen to his '08 special "It's Bad For Ya," you'll get it).

So things right now are a little blue for me. While I'm no comic (I sure don't get paid for this shit), I'm more than a fan and follower of Carlin's work. Suffice it to say were it not for him, I damn sure wouldn't be doing this blog. For that matter, I probably wouldn't write nearly as much as I do, vote the way I do, talk the way I do or think the way I do.

And to think, he's responsible for all that while still making me laugh.

My only regret is that I never got to see the man live. It was just one of those things I sorta brushed off. Either that or I consistently had scheduling conflicts during his many visits to Foxwoods. And one of the gifts on my longterm Father's Day wishlist was to always get tickets for me and Dad to go check out the Maestro himself. I'm beyond saddened that this will never happen.

I can at least take some solace in knowing that his material will be thoughtfully dusted off by longtime fans everywhere both casual and diehard. And even if they make the iPod playlists for just a month, that's more than enough time to get people's brains moving in the right direction.

The funniest part of it all is the fact so much of Carlin's material focused around death, including a piece regarding celebrity deaths. He grumbled profusely at the requisite outpouring of adulation in the wake of a celebrity dying. At the time he mentioned how much he wasn't looking forward to Sinatra buying the farm for this very reason.

Far be it from me to offer the very same sentiments he so strongly detested, but c'mon... he had to have some idea. Even for an old fuck.

I'll be sure to make it up to him, though... this week at the bank I'll ask if they can make change for a nickel. Just to jog some gray matter out there.

I recently had an invigorating conversation with someone about the state of the nation. I’m not just talking politically, I mean socially, economically, where we stand in the international scene, the full nine, cross-category.

It occurred to me at one point in this conversation, when we touched on the social influence of celebrities, that we don’t have those public figures to ignite our minds and educate us on the various inequalities we coast through daily.

See, at one point, the name John Lennon came up. His influence during the 60’s and 70’s as a driver for change was nearly immeasurable. Granted, his execution could sometimes leave room for consideration, but that said, his undying commitment to the peace movement drove people to protest and be vocal.

Do yourself a favor. Go rent The U.S. vs. John Lennon this moment. It’s a startling indicator of what can be (and has been) done at the executive level, but also provides substantial insight into Lennon’s influence during his lifetime.

Put it this way… the song “Give Peace A Chance” turned out to be the initial catalyst for Richard Nixon labeling Lennon a marked man. When you see the reasons why, you’ll be impressed.

Point is, in 2008, a point where America is facing new challenges daily, there isn’t a single public figure trying to energize the masses and make them understand the relevance of what’s happening right now. Nary a soul.

It’s interesting, back in the 60’s, there were a bevy of musicians who used their star power to inform the public on what was going on, specifically with regard to the Vietnam War. What amazes me now is that the laundry list of actors, musicians and socialites who spoke out so avidly against the Iraqi insurgence and the plight of the Bush administration have now gone largely silent. All those puppets who met their untimely demise in Team America haven’t made a peep since around the time that very parody hit the silver screen.

In fact, many of them and their kind have moved onto other causes. George Clooney has decided that Darfur is where we need to focus our efforts right now. Sharon Stone has spoken out so strongly against China’s treatment of Tibet that she’s proposed the recent earthquake was a Karmic force of destruction. Even the almighty Bono, once famous for prank calling the senior Bush during concerts and proudly bearing the stars and stripes in the lining of his jacket during the 2002 SuperBowl is fighting the good fight for South Africa.

Yet not a soul seems to care about what’s going on here. Gas prices are escalating while third world countries are paying mere pennies per gallon for petrol. The economy is taking a massive hit and people are losing their jobs left and right. And of course, our misplaced occupancy in the Middle East has cost us an unnecessary amount of loss with little relief in sight.

Have we all moved on? Do we just not care? Are we that apathetic that the pages of People magazine carry more importance than The New York Times?

I don’t necessarily think that’s the case, but I do think that as Americans, we tragically find ourselves constantly living and thinking within our respective silos. That is to say, we exist with little knowledge of what goes on around us, let alone outside our borders. I wish it weren’t so, but sometimes we need a wake-up call, and more often than not it needs to be very, very loud.

And very, very visible.

The days of the modern revolutionary are long gone. Figures like Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin don’t fit into the scheme of things these days. At least that’s what society tells us at this current point in time. And this generation has yet to have that Lennon-esque entity who can redirect minds into more selfless avenues. I personally wonder if it will ever happen at this rate…

It’s remarkable how far we’ve fallen. We’ve gone from hopeful musical artists like Lennon to entertainment showcases such as Hannah Montana. We’ve gone from purposeful, convicted athletes like Muhammad Ali to grandstanding showboats like Floyd Mayweather. And politically, we’ve gone from energetic, believable leaders like JFK to the sad pissing contest that is the current primary election.

I think that last comparison offers a nice segue in that it recalls my prior Hill-Dog-inspired rant, in which I lamented the “Cult of Me.” I really think that we allow our interests to become self-serving and hardly look outside to get a whiff of what’s wafting around out there. We need an observant parent to tell us to go outside and play sometimes.

Unfortunately, we’re beyond unsupervised at this point. And I couldn’t even point you to one public figure who could take the reigns and lead our carriage to the truth.

I wish I had a better ending for this entry other than to say I refuse to sing or quote “Holding Out For A Hero.” That song makes me nauseous.