Old Wisdom Twisted To Suit Me

Have you ever felt positive power within yourself so remarkably that you have willed a significant change in your life’s outcome? I’m attempting to describe the ‘top of the world’ triumph that comes in our lives when we truly believe in ourselves, our dreams and one another.

I know many of you know what I am talking about. Some of you may not.

I wanted to write a satire today about an author of self-help motivational ‘power of positive’ thinking books. In my satire he would be too depressed to write anything positive. I may get to that satire and humor before long, but I got derailed thinking along a different line.

Part of my mental wandering is being brought about by the fact that I am going to compete in the famous Penn Relays this Friday. I am going to run on a 4x100 meter relay team with my Houston Elite teammates. Normally when I compete I am not nervous at all; but in a prestigious relay like Penn a mistake or failure on my end will have an impact on three other people. There are high speed baton exchanges, take-off zones, drop dead zones, hand positions and enough other details to make what appears like a simple endeavor seem quite difficult.

And so I have been mentally working on staying positive and quite frankly there have been moments when my anxiety wrestles the positive thinking to the ground and gets in a few good punches. From that process developed a thought I don’t often see discussed.

The positive thinking evangelists take us to the doorstep, but once we are there we often wander astray at the smallest sighting of the negative or a failure from our ‘positive thinking’ to bring a suitable result.

How then do we distinguish between the fanciful ‘Pollyana’ type positive thinking as opposed to true belief in ourselves and the power of belief in a positive outcome?

How do we find the silver lining of the darkest cloud and cling tenaciously to it as if we were blind to any darkness?

Maybe our weakness is that we seek the improbable rather than the positive? With intent I did not use the word impossible in the previous sentence. Someone always corrects me that there is nothing impossible to us.

When I expect the improbable, do I concentrate so hard on the ultimate goal of my positive thinking that I might miss the alternate positive that knocks on my door? Is our vision of positive too narrow?

Maybe it’s only a larger Faith that we need. Faith that by believing in the ultimate good that awaits us all, we run in the proper direction, and find the world more palatable than if we embraced the negative; but knowing we should keep keen our senses on all things positive and good, not merely the good we have outlined in a static exogenous fashion.

The true test of our ability to seek the good comes when times are toughest; the most negative of all our experience. We all know that and I assure you I didn’t come up with that thought by having a genius philosopher pass me a note.

We all know this phenomenon, yet we still let failure to reach our preconceived notion of ‘the ultimate positive’ derail us.

I’m full circle here to understanding the old wisdom about silver linings on dark clouds. And I’m hoping to add a twist to the old adage. Hoping and working on the Faith to hold on to the slimmest of silver linings that surround the darkest of clouds; defining what Faith in all things good actually means when measured by the strong and determined.

Remembering to define the good not by what I might believe is good, but instead by what the universe offers to me in a positive spirit.

Please wish me well. I will find the good in Philadelphia around noon on Friday.

I know you will find the strength to hold tight to your silver linings too; and expect the best of all things by any and all definitions.

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

I'm reading some of the blogging girls talking bout 'checking out other girls', and I'm reading blogging girls talking bout how clothes and lingerie make them feel special and sexy....and I know the guys reading here have not a thing against pretty girls in pretty things...so today I am sharing a link for you all....it's here. Turn on your sound. Enjoy.

And oh yeah, the second music selection in the show is fun, I'm pretty sure it's the original Janis Joplin version of Summertime!

Well, Good Morning Rick!

The Texas night on Wednesday was filled with driving rain, high winds, and a power outage that left the devices in my house beeping and blinking at 2:12 am. I got up and tried to do something impossible. I actually tried to turn on a light even though it was completely evident there was no power. Why do we do that? Well, maybe YOU don't. But I did.
No lights. No air conditioning. No nothing.

I decided 'screw it' and just went back to sleep. Sometime around 5:30 am the power came back on and the normal world inside my house was revived. Cave man status had been dismissed once again by Texas Utilities.
About an hour later I got up and wandered through the house, went into the kitchen and started coffee. I looked out the front windows at the mess made by the storm. Small branches and dismembered tree bits littered the front yard.

Yet the birds were singing and the air was clean as it filtered through the windows. It felt like a peaceful fresh happy morning to me all things considered.

I got some coffee, sipped it slowly and rubbed my eyes. I decided to visit the backyard to assess if the morning was as beautiful in the back as it appeared in the front.

Understand I don't sleep in pajamas or clothes of any type. Sometimes I go without clothes in the house for a percentage of the time in the mornings. (I run my business from my home)

It's not unusual for me to go into my backyard or into the swimming pool sans clothing. Or as my London blog friend Colin might say, 'starkers'. I have an 8' privacy fence shielding me from the neighbors.

So driven by my routine and without a care in the world, my coffee and my fully exposed epidermus opened the back door and wandered out onto the back terrace.

I was greeted by our behind the fence neighbor Tina with a surprised "Well, Good Morning Rick!"

The reason I was in view of said neighbor is that half of my 8' privacy fence was lying on the ground. Tina was assessing the damage. Her husband Roy wasn't out there; and somehow I was glad for that. I excused myself with an em-bare-assed grin and went back inside.

Once inside I looked out the blinds of the Breakfast room window.

Then I hopped up and down like Yosemite Sam cursing a mean blue streak of inventive and creative expletives.
Calmed down, I went outside (dressed) and looked at the damage. Tina had split, likely in gales of internal laughter. I figured the damage would be just short of my insurance deductible. Typical.

Here is a picture.

Then I rationalized how lucky I really am; as we all do when disaster strikes. You know the gap-toothed sweating idjits they always find after a tornado. The ones with the gimmme-caps and torn t-shirts? The ones that say, "I'm just lucky to be alive 'cuz' it 'shore' was a big ol bad storm." Now I know where they find those people.

And, yes the little pool angel you see in the bottom right corner is sitting on my pool. Thanks a hell of a lot, stupid angel! Good job.






Later. Have a great weekend. I'm gone to Houston today.

Here's Your Mail Back

I don't watch 60 Minutes, at least I haven't done so in a very long time. I guess it's a protest on my part from watching 80 year old men manipulate various subjects and interviews until the subject is portrayed as CBS wants the reality to actually become. Manipulators of the worst sort in my opinion, but it's not really the subject of this post anyway.

An idea from Andy Rooney is the subject. It's an idea I was told about by my wife; remember I don't watch.

Apparently Mr. Rooney was discussing a tactic for dealing with the avalanche of marketing created by companies that issue credit cards. Maybe you have heard his idea?

I receive on the average about 12 such solicitations each week along with the other miscellaneous trifles and worthless things that clog everybody's snail mail box.

Most soliciations come with a postage paid envelope to tell the company YES, I would definitely like to be in debt to you and 20 other companies. Mr. Rooney suggests we write a short note that sez 'No Thanks', stick it in the envelope and return it at the solicitor's snail mail expense.

I sent 14 this week; with a note of course.

Am I Handsome......Or What?

I had a handsome day yesterday.

You know, those days when the opposite sex is paying much more attention than usual?

You’ve had those days too. I bet you’re never really sure why though.

You get those extra long looks and smiles, the sort of thing that makes you feel like ‘really cool’ they do still notice me a little.

Then of course you start wondering; what is the deal with this particular day?

Is it these clothes? Or, maybe I got more rest last night and I’m looking a little better than my usual.

This has happened to you. Deny all you want, I know it has.

So my day was going quite well. I talked quite a while with the teller at the bank. Her long gazes and wide smiling made me feel that special confidence.

I took that confidence with me and went strutting about the grocery store. Same thing was going down on the grocery aisles. Women making face to face contact, checking me out, and smiling to top it off!

I flirted at a level worthy of embarrassment with the grocery checker. Same thing. Lots of long looks and smiling. She was almost tittery. I don’t know if that is a word. In my mind it means a little giggly.

My, my, what’s up with me today? Am I handsome…or what?

When I got back home, I decided it would be a good idea to check myself out in the mirror. I thought it wise to try and isolate whatever special quality was raising my stock today.

The man in the mirror staring back at me had one of those toilet paper blots that men use to stop a bleeding spot after they shave. You’ve seen those, right? It usually has a small blood spot at the center.

Well, yes indeed, I had one of those little thangs stuck tight to my chin.

Crap.

On second thought, maybe I’ll go with it again tomorrow, the attention is nice.

Now I Get It…….maybe

Elvis Impersonator Confesses to Burnout

Rick Satire Report News
Las Vegas, Nevada

Elvis impersonator Johnny Hey-man sat with his head down. Patrons in the local diner took notice of his elaborate Elvis costume, but elected to steer clear of his table.

In the past two weeks Mr. Hey-man had been in a depression and had confessed to me over the phone that he was just plain ‘burned out’ with the whole Elvis thing.

I agreed to meet Johnny at the Dennys on Tropicana Trail in Las Vegas to hear his story.

“Man, it seems like yesterday that it was all so fresh. All I ever wanted to be was the best Elvis impersonator ever. All my life that’s all I ever really wanted. When I was on stage I was Elvis and the crowd knew it” said Hey-man. “Now look around you and you see dammed Elvis impersonators everywhere. I’ve even seen some chicks trying to do Elvis. For God’s sake man, one of them was wearing red fingernail polish and doing the Man!”

I looked around the Denny’s and just like Johnny was telling it, there were two other Elvises at the back of the dining room. They looked happy though, and Johnny was clearly a man in a free fall.

Johnny went on with his story, “I mean I know all the lyrics to every song and I used to practice all day on Saturdays in my garage when I was young, nowadays these kids don’t even really know the songs. You know for sure things have hit the shit fan when you see some fat Japanese dude singing Blue Suede Shoes, except the dumbass is singing Brue Suede Shoes. I can guarndamntee you that the Man never said Brue Suede Shoes!”

“I’m tired now, too many high school gyms playing to kids that never saw Elvis. I even took a birthday party not long ago and one of the kids asked me if I was Paulie from the Sopranos. It wears on you man, you know? I mean like I’m just burned out with the whole Elvis thing, and I never thought that would happen.”

The waitress came over and and with a big Nebraska corn fed grin asked Johnny, “Say there Mister Elvis Presley, would you like some more coffee?”

Johnny raised his head slightly and mumbled “Thank you, thank you very much.” But from this reporters perspective it was clear that his heart just wasn’t in it.

“Now I know why the Man did all those drugs” said Johnny, “Being the Man is hard hard work.”

After a long pause Johnny looked up at me with sad tired eyes and asked, “You ever think about dying while you’re sitting on the pot, man that’s the way to go aint it?”

I picked up the check and told Johnny this one was on me.

Good Friday On Catholic Crutches

I have debated for a while if I want to write about the Catholic Church situation. Specifically, I am referencing the situation they find themselves in with regard to their priests and their rampant abuse of young males. I am using the term ‘they’ because I am not Catholic. I am married to one however; which reminds of the tag line to the Holiday Inn commercial “No, but I did sleep in a Holiday Inn last night.” Being married to a Catholic probably does not qualify me for this discussion, but being a middle-aged male and having a sense of natural order and natural desire certainly does qualify me.

Do I have an issue with the Catholic Church? I do. I have been watching these stories of the priests and their predilection for sex with young boys as it has unfolded and made national headlines. I recognize that I am making a declaration of judgment here and I accept the consequences in doing so. I do believe this is an unnatural behavior, a behavior pattern being driven by the failure to develop a healthy sexuality. Central to the development of the unhealthy response lies the initial denial of the sexual response in specific. I do understand intellectually that the vow of abstinence involves sacrifice and commitment to an ideal; that concept and church legacy is not lost on me. But it appears also that the vow is nevertheless being broken in a wholly unnatural manner, rendering the vow moot and broken into tiny shards across these mens robes as viewed through anyone’s rosy set of glasses.

Still the churches rose colored gasses remain glued to their resolute faces and priests are moved from parish to parish to evade conviction and to enable the behavior in another place and another time. If you search the facts of these cases many of these men have not been charged, let alone convicted, despite practicing the abuse for many years. A man without a priestly standing engaged in these criminal acts is typically convicted, publicly persecuted and stigmatized for the rest of his life; offered up as a sex offender complete with neighborhood handouts declaring his offense and containing his photograph. Those with the priestly standing often go right on ‘priesting’ and as history illustrates they continue abusing.

Now change directions with me.

Would we not be startled to see geese fly north for the winter?

Nature has a progression and order that is not easily confused, disguised or distorted. This fact, in my opinion, is too often overlooked as we explore situations like the one above. The naturalness of a feeling or action may vary from individual to individual, reflecting the unique circumstances of that persons understanding, education and history, but the global natural order of things does not materially change in my opinion.

This path of course leads to examining the naturalness of grown men of alleged spiritual power having sex with under age males. It calls into question the recent flurry of female teachers having sex with their early teens students. Are these natural acts? I think they are distortions of a natural desire suppressed, then acted upon in an unnatural manner. The writings of Wilhelm Reich come immediately to mind, but remain to be explored in a separate post. Priests without an outlet, female teachers out of touch with their adulthood and fearful of inordinate adult male controls. The audio tape of Florida teacher Deborah LaFave asking her 13 year old victim to make a ‘pinky promise’ in a little girl voice is chilling and illustrative of this point.

The resolution to the abuse of these young boys is complex in application and worthy of an entire book by someone with credentials suitable to the task. I do not pretend to lead the elephant from the room, but only to point at the pachyderm and declare it real; a beast that has left enormous droppings on the floor.

I do offer two personal thoughts.

The discernment of natural order from the unnatural is difficult with one’s eyes and minds closed tightly shut; or through rose colored glasses permanently stuck to the face.

and

The geese will not be flying north for the winter anytime soon.

May Take A Few Minutes

I'm telling you I am buried in work right now. Because I am happpier when my clients are happy I have to keep it short today.

However, after yesterdays post, I could not help noticing the Blogger message when we publish a post. For all of you non-bloggers this is the message that pops up when publishing....

"This may take a few minutes if you have a large blog."

But remember I'm keeping it short for today. I'm off to bust rocks now.

Blog is a Funny Word

Blog is a funny word. A lot of folks I talk to don’t know a blog from a frog.

I learned this weekend that the lists of those that don’t know include my 76 year old mother. She can do email with help.

I was having a conversation with my sister and my mom. It went like this.

……………………………………………

Sister: Mom, have you seen Rick’s blog?

Mother: (after a few seconds of silence) Well, that’s a bizarre question. I guess I haven’t actually seen it in many, many years.

Sister: I don’t think he has actually had one that long.

Mother: What? Are you thinking that he just started developing one? This is embarrassing anyway, why would you ask me that?

Sister: Well, I guess I just wanted to know if you had seen it. I was looking at it the other day and I really enjoyed it.

Mother: Oh My God, what are you trying to tell me! And why on earth would Rick show you his blog! He doesn’t have any reason to do something like that!

Rick: No mother, I don’t think you understand. Beth saw my blog on the internet.

Mother: Well, My God in heaven! You put your blog on the internet! Why don’t you just walk around naked all the time so everybody can see your stupid blog! No sireeee, thank you, I don’t have any interest in looking at your blog! You just keep that thing in your pants, you’re not too old to spank you know!

Rick: But mother, I’m 54 years old.

Mother: Honey, NOBODY is interested in your blog anyway.

…………………………………………..

Well, that’s true I guess. Using either meaning. But, how did she know that?

Now I Get It…….maybe

Sarah Is Weary Of Long Walks Along The Beach

Rick Satire Report News
Savannah, Georgia
April 11, 2006

Savannah Georgia native Sarah Parker is sick and tired of long walks along the beach with men.
Parker, a divorcee and mother of two placed an ad in the Heart-Link Personals looking for available single men. After reading several of the personals by other women she was surprised by the number of women that said they like to take long romantic walks along the beach. She also noted many women said they wanted to become friends before becoming intimate with their new dates.
Typically the ads were worded something along the lines of “I enjoy long romantic walks on the beach at sunset. Friendship is a requirement to earning my heart; I am not looking for a one-night stand.”

So, Sarah worded her ad similarly thinking there was wisdom in following the path of others. She also included a photo illustrating her striking prettiness and petite figure.

Today Sarah regrets the ad, but her email is full of proposals every day. I sat down with Ms. Parker and asked her to elaborate on her ordeal.

“I had no idea”, said Ms. Parker, “that men took the ads quite so literal. I just assumed this damned beach thing was code language for a romantic setting. I have now walked on the Savannah beaches for miles and miles, often with balding fat men with bad breath. The walks go on and on and on till I feel like there is sand all over me and the damn wind has blown my hair to smithereens. Then, I find some guy whose bones I want to jump the minute I see him, but hell no, we have to take stupid long walks on the ignorant beach, then after the mandatory beach walk they tell me it’s a good idea if we are just best friends first.”

Sarah took off her shoes and shook beach sand from them before continuing.

“I’m so sick of those stupid noisy seagulls and the dad-gum seaweed getting caught in my sandals I could just scream.”

Heart-Link Personals spokesperson Jenni Hart responded “What’s wrong with a walk on the beach? It sounds very romantic to me. That’s what everyone wants. She should count her blessings.”

The House is Quiet

The house is quiet. Everyone is asleep except my small dachshund Harrison. He thinks he needs to do whatever it is I do, at all times, but he’s rolled up in a tight little ball in his bed, both eyes closed, one ear alert to me in case I move elsewhere.

All the rooms around me are dark, a small lamp is softly lighting the room where I am sitting. My office window is open to a mild Texas evening and a temperate spring breeze is bringing the exterior smells and sounds to my senses. The sounds from outside the window are those typical of deep evening in an urban setting. The smells are those of fresh spring growth from the tress, shrubs and flowers just outside the window’s view.

Somewhere down the street a lone insomnia stricken dog is working his way through a series of barks and howls as though he isn’t sure if he’s upset at a perceived intruder or if the moon seems too mysterious to let it hang peacefully in the sky.

The wail of a police siren made it’s way to my window a few minutes ago, that far away siren sound that signifies business is good in the policing enterprise somewhere in the late night of Texas urban sprawl; yet its distance renders it unimportant to my room and my mind apart from knowing it existed in that moment and was then gone again.

Occasionally I hear the sound of jets overhead, still 30 miles from the DFW Airport when they pass over my house, yet they are low enough to register their existence into my room, and I wonder where people are going on a Sunday evening so late. I’m wondering if they are lonely, or maybe solving loneliness by coming home to the ones they love. Then there are those individuals that fly away and back home again and remain lonely in either case; victims of a temporary relationship society that has misplaced their families, spouses and friends.

I sat down tonight to write about the idea that some people around us are givers, and others are takers. Some of us fall into a middle ground of giving and taking. Today I was given to. The gifts came from the person that has made a daily habit of spending her time and energy toward my comfort and happiness. She has been doing it for many years. And I am concious, though it’s not a proud confession on my part, I have learned to take more than I give.

And so I am keeping the dachsund up late while I sit and think about why some give and some take, and why some seem to get it just right. And I’m wondering if one attitude might be better than the other. But I have realized that the exercise is daunting, the hour late and my brain seems to be running in slow motion as the smells of spring and the quiet sounds of night after the world has retired interrupt my intentions and my concentration. For now, I’m going to go peacefully into the night with this puzzling mystery unsolved. Maybe tomorrow the truth will show itself to me. And if it doesn’t then perhaps its not my time to know.

For today, I am thankful for those special people that keep giving to me; and find their own happiness in doing so. I want to go there some day. Just for a change you see.

Suspender Association To Aid Chicago’s Underprivileged

Rick Satire Report News
Chicago, Illinois

The Elderly Men’s Suspenders Association is riding to the rescue of what they have identified as a pressing need in America.

Elbert Springer the Association’s president for 2006 says the group has decided to aid the youth of urban America in keeping their pants up.

Springer said numerous members of the association noticed the common sight of underprivileged youth walking the streets, forced to hold up their pants with one hand while they walked, and quite often, according to Springer “Half of their underwear in the back is exposed to view.”

Springer continued, “Obviously these poor kids are being forced to wear pants handed down from their fathers and older brothers and the pants are much too big. The thought of Chicago families not being able to afford a pair of pants that fit their children properly is heartbreaking.”
The association which meets on a weekly basis at the Elks Lodge is well known around Chicago for its efforts to promote the use of suspenders and it’s one of a kind National Suspender Museum. The museum is not actually in a facility as yet, but is displayed at the yearly officer election meeting. Springer seems quite serious about providing suspenders for the youth of Chicago, including the implementation of a ride around program where members carry a box of used suspenders in the car and make them available to all the kids they encounter wearing pants that are ‘too big’.
In his yearly address before the membership in late March Springer ended his speech with the stirring oratory, “We look for a day when all the youth of Chicago can hold their heads high and use both hands for making progress in the world, instead of using one hand to hold up their pants. We pray and trust for a day when the embarrassment of having your underwear showing is eradicated and these kids dignity is restored.”
Several club members were seen wiping away tears as Springer left the podium.

The Coach is Hard to Catch

I went to a Texas Rangers baseball game last night and got home late so I have very little for you today. Remember I talked about my legendary track coach and teammate Bill Collins a week or so back? I thought you might like to watch the widely acknowledged fastest human over the age of 50 in action. My wife took the video of Bill racing in the 200 meter race in Boston two weeks ago. He had broken the existing world record for men over 55 in this distance in Linz, Austria the weekend before and ran just a hair slower in this race. For a guy that is 55 yers old you may be surprised! The video has sound also. Just click the icon if you have any interest in this sort of thing.
You don't even want to know what his workouts are like; they are legendary. I have been doing my training per his instructions and schedule for nearly a year now; and dang am I ever tired! At the end of this month I will run in a relay race in Philadelphia (Penn Relays) where I get to hand the baton to Bill for the anchor leg. I'd say we have a good chance!



And I should add that Sandra and her blog "Not That Desperate' have been added to my blogroll. I'm very tardy on that one; apologies to Sandra whose posts and comments are always very thoughtful and interesting.

Zoos, Roos and Zebras

Laughing keeps us healthy and of course it means we are happy. I have always assumed the Creator has a sense of humor. On Monday I went to the zoo with my 20 month old grandson and decided my reasoning about the Creator's sense of humor is sound.

We were staring at a Zebra while my grandson gave us his version of the pronunciation of ‘zebra’. Reading the text that the zoo places at each exhibit I learned that the hoofs of a zebra are made of the same material ‘keratin’ as human finger nails. Then I could not help but notice that the zebra pattern looked familiar. The familiar look came from my years of fingerprinting suspects and viewing print cards of offenders during investigations. I know fingerprints, and the zebra markings look just like fingerprints. I have the impression the Creator may have been making zebras while having human fingers still running around in his brain or whatever a Creator uses to create with. Or maybe he was just wondering if we could put it together?



I walked around more, and noticed all of the tiny children being pushed in strollers by their mothers. Then I came upon the Kangaroos and this mother with baby roo ‘in pouch’ scene. It brought another smile.



Then in a very strange coincidence I ran into my Uncle Max (pictured below) who went to the zoo on the very same day!



I'm out.

Thanks Ginger!

I'm hoping you like the new look of my site. The credit goes to Ginger who runs a blog design biz called Baby Jane's Blogs. She's a real pro and delivered (as we say in the biz world) on time, in budget with professonal results. She's a pleasure to work with and I recommend her. So if you want a new face for your blog then just take a look to the left side of my site where you will find a Baby Jane's Blogs link.

Thanks Ginger!
____________________________________________________________
And here is the scoop on my new design:
I chose the red doors slightly opened because it plays well with the nature of my site. I like to think we are all searching for new meanings and fresh understandings. Sometimes we have to look in places we have never looked; a sort of looking into the darkness behind the slightly opened doors if you will. The door is my reminder that what we search for sometimes requires looking beyond what is immediately observable. A chance to say...Oh...Now I Get It.......maybe.

You will notice a weathered cross on the door. Those that read here regularly know my site is not about religion particularly but does occasionally head off in a spiritual or philosophical direction. I like to think we all aquire our spiritual life in this 'living it and learning it' fashion. Therefore I used photoshop to dodge in the cross symbology on the door, implying it has weathered in place on the door over a long period of time; as our own spritiuality often does in our lives as we age, learn, evolve and hopefully fully transcend to where we stand completely on the other side of the door.
The stone/adobe walls represent the fortresses we all build around ourselves, reducing the original innocent child into a stone fortress in our attempts to keep the mean world at bay. But there is always a door that can lead us outside ourselves; and sometimes the doors are partially open, waiting patiently for us to look beyond.

What's just beyond your doors?

National Enquirer Losing Credibility

Rick Satire Report News
New York, NY

National Enquirer executives are steaming mad. According to a new study the venerable magazine’s hard earned journalistic credibility is being eroded by bloggers.

The problem began with bloggers that are undermining the stories written by Enquirer reporters, often without even knowing it. The study cited a recent example where the National Enquirer claimed an exclusive scoop by reporting to its readers that Oprah Winfrey had recently gained 32 pounds because she was mourning a lost romance from her early teen years.

However Phyllis Schneider of Elk Grove, New Jersey, author of a blog that prides itself on reporting the very latest about celebrities changed things for the Enquirer in a dramatic fashion. Phyliss had been in the Oprah studio audience just the day before and Phyliss blogged that the Enquirer news account was false and that it did not appear Oprah had gained even one pound. She lambasted The Enquirer for its sloppy and willfully deceptive reporting. She also said “Oprah looked pretty as a picture, not a thing like that awful fat picture the Enquirer used.”

In another example cited in the study, the Enquirer reported in February of 2004 that American astronaut Michael McNamaran had mated with a moon person on his last trip to the moon and not told anyone, including NASA, about the clandestine affair. According to the Enquirer story McNamaran was heartbroken and drinking heavily as a result of his inability to return to the moon and the love of his life.

However the study also reported that a lady friend of McNamaran’s, a Houston neighbor writing a blog about the ‘goings on’ of her neighborhood, posted that McNamaran was just fine and had been openly flirting with her when her husband was on out of town trips and had recently asked her to play tennis.

According to the study the unnamed blogger did not even know about the Enquirer story when she posted her story of McNamaran’s advances. “If Michael has a girlfriend or whatever on the moon you sure wouldn’t know it. He chases after me like a duck after a fat June bug”, drawled the pretty Texan blogger.

How much longer before bloggers destroy the ironclad credibility of the venerable National Enquirer? The Enquirer has vowed it will print an upcoming exclusive story on bloggers gaining weight and having secret love children with Muslim terrorists as a means of fighting fire with fire. According to the spokesperson that should set off a new round of explosions here in America.

The National Enquirer refused additional comment other than to say its reporters were very busy covering a new Jennifer Anniston story. They hinted that Jennifer was seen on a date french-kissing her father and that she also appeared to be pregnant or at least gaining weight rapidly. This reporter advised the Enquirer spokesperson that there are currently over 7 million blogs devoted to posting about Jennifer Anniston. The spokesperson appeared to pale and she began hyperventilating. She also indicated the interview was over since she needed to call some of her reporters immediately.