Blog from the Future Past

A few years ago I had a business association with a guy who was CEO of a national chain of theme restaurants, one of those with talking animals up on the wall and changing indoor weather conditions. Our business together wasn't related to the restaurant chain, but we had a few meetings at the headquarter's office and I became intrigued with the whole idea of theme restaurants. I had the bug, and set out to design my own theme restaurant, which I called Testosterone's. Our corporate motto: "Food for Real Men and Those Who Love Them". Here's a couple of select items from the trial menu I've been working on: (take a peek at the entire menu)

Chicken Albert DeSalvo	Chicken Albert DeSalvo - Before slow curing, our chefs strangle elderly hens right in our own kitchens and soak them in a heavy cream shower. Served with cadaver wine sauce.	Blazin' Saddle Beans
	Blazin' Saddle Beans - Six bottles of Bad Ass Hot Sauce in every pot make this the favorite pre-event meal of the last four Gold Medalists at the Greater El Paso Open Wind Break.

This is still a work in progress, however I'm trying to interest early investors. If you'd like to get in on this at the ground floor, email me and I'll tell you where to send the check.

Over Memorial Day weekend, CNN ran a segment on an Iowa-based National Guard unit sent to Iraq. Most came from close-by, small-town farming communities, where apparently it's seen as a wonderful thing to serve in the Guard. There are brothers and sisters, fathers and sons, even husbands and wives, together serving their country. In such a place, hardly unique in America, the Guard is as much a part of the local culture as church, the Grange, or the Rotary Club.

CNN followed both the soldiers in Iraq and the families back home, highlighting the stress on everyone and how they coped with separation, the casualties, the funerals. I was saddened, later angry. There was a lot to admire about these folks. Their life and beliefs are uncomplicated; their passion for their country and trust in its leadership religious in nature, more than anything. It's almost like The Museum of the Great Generation, with all those WW II era words and sentiments carrying them through a life running supply convoys through some of the most dangerous territory in the country.

In ceremonies at Arlington cemetery every year, our President places a wreath on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, but a few things about the body in the grave are known. He's a boy from someplace like Iowa, the salt of the earth, someone who placed their trust in the American system and paid the ultimate sacrifice. George Bush, as President, dishonored that trust and misused that faith by ignoring the heart and soul of our American values, thereby changing the deal with those our country depends on to defend it. When this President places the wreath before the grave and utters holy words of loyalty and sacrifice, it is a national disgrace.

Guest Columnist Annie Whiplash

Today we mourn the death of a man who, as vocal leader of his Moral Majority, changed the landscape of American politics by guiding the deep spiritual side of the Reagan Revolution. Thanks to Reverend Jerry Falwell, instead of addressing mundane issues such as the economy, the environment, health care, or national security, our political focus shifted onto more important, though long-neglected issues. How long after conception does life begin? Seconds? Minutes? Should we allow our sacred red, white and blue banner to be desecrated? How often should we pray in our schools, and to whom? How many guns should people be required to own? Should homosexuals or other Democrats be allowed to vote? We owe the man a tremendous debt. Thanks to the good Reverend Fallwell, sick hungry children can now pray for a brain transplant and pledge allegiance to the flag before they sit down to study creationism and Moses. This, ladies and gentleman, is truly what America is all about.

( Annie Whiplash is a regular contributor at Blog from the Future Past )

In 1978, the Red Sox were 14 1/2 games ahead of the Yankees on August 15th and actually fell behind New York before they managed to force a first-place tie on the last weekend of the season. This was well-prior to the current Divisional Playoff format, and one game with the Bronx Bombers the day after the season ended would decide the American League pennant.

At the time, my two best buds at work were native New Yorkers. Our company had just moved to new facility that weekend and the place was a mess, but someone brought in a TV and we spent the afternoon on the floor watching the Bucky-Bleepin'-Dent game--the Yankee's winning home run produced by a guy who only hit a total of five homers during a mediocre ten-year career.

The Big Apple boys tortured me endlessly on that one. To this day, whenever I see them, we'll hardly get by 'hello' without one of them mentioning it. "Hey, Bill... remember sitting on the floor watching the '78 playoff. Bucky Bleepin' Dent. Who could believe it?"

With just over 20% of the 2007 season now in the stat sheets and only an 8 game lead, we have historical reasons to look over our shoulder.

That said, 'when you're hot, you're hot'; and right now the Beantown Gang is torrid. Yesterday they came up in the last of the ninth trailing 5-0. The hits, errors and fortunate accidents kept coming, capped by a Julio Lugo bases-loaded slow bouncer the Orioles missplayed into the tying and winning run.

I was impressed by the show of emotion, elation, from the Red Sox players who rushed the field... slappin' fives and pattin' asses. They looked like kids, was what it was. As Major League Baseball looks more and more corporate and star players gross more than the GNP of some small countries, a professional team acting like kids can be a good thing: an edge, provided you use it right.

I credit Tito Francona for this, in large part. Oh, he manages the game pretty well, but he also manages the buzz around the team and the mental-health of his players, guiding them by example on how to deal. Now, after a few years under his belt, he's read the whole book on the Boston fans and their phantom menace, the Hub media. There's a lot you can't control, but some you can. Patriots' Bill Belichick survives by saying as little as possible and raising high walls around his private football Fort Apache. Francona is just as effective, but accomplishes it by being open, honest, accessible, and likeably human.

How long can it last? Right now the L family plans our day around the games so we can watch the kids play ball.

Within a decade, genetic scientists will theorize that the rate of human genetic mutation has increased precipitously since the early 20th-Century, in all likelihood the cause behind many of our modern maladies and medical conditions, including autism, peanut allergies, depression and rapidly lowering IQ's. After years of bungled research by the FDA focused on environmental influences that began with the Industrial Age, the increase in mutating human genes will eventually be blamed on the weak electromagnetic field produced by the alternating current used in the public electrical power infrastructure.

A public panic ensues, as people cut off power to their homes or relocate far from populated areas. Batteries become a scarce and expensive commodity controlled by quasi-governmental cartels, as political and economic upheaval spreads across most of the developed world.

Eventually, after methods are developed for mandatory testing and screening, only those with 'genetic purity' are licensed to breed offspring.

Thus Speaketh The Oracle