Actually he coulda.

If his parents had been prize fighters would it have mattered? Depending on the latest research it might have helped, but then again, it might not have.

It seems what he really needed to do was practice. A lot. Doing something scientists have designated as  “deliberate practice”. 

That would be ‘deliberately practicing’ for at least a decade. At least four hours a day. It probably explains why I am an expert in endless blabbering, but I don’t think that is what the researchers meant.

One of these researchers, K. Anders Ericsson, from Florida State University, is an expert in the field of Expertise. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? It would be really sad if he was mediocre in Expertise.

Anyhow, the scientific community is trying to help us figure out whether we should shrug our shoulders, give up on our aspirations, simply because…name your wanna be talent…doesn’t run in your family. Except if you want to play pro ball, then hope your parents shop in the big and tall shop.

So then. What to do?

Write a lot if you want to be Shakespeare? Draw often if you think you are the next Picasso? Fool around with the local talent, and swing a club if you think you’re Tiger?  Maybe.

But we all know the old joke of the tourist asking “how do I get to Carnegie Hall?” don’t we?

Practice, practice, practice.

Not a good time to be the Colonel.

 I’ll tell you about his continued troubles forthwith, but tell me, does he look a little cross eyed to you?

Anyhow, if their fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, mashed potatoes and other calorically laden sides isn’t enough to have nutrionists up in arms (legs and breasts) they now are being slammed by the environmentalists.

It appears that they are accused of helping to destroy southern forests here in the United States with their buckets, napkins, bags and cups.

Not sure who their PR guy is, but I can assure you that this following comment is a doozy. ” We’re very much looking at how to save costs, not exactly looking at how to improve the environment.”.

In KFC’s defense, they did start grilling chicken to lessen the effects of the rest of their menu clogging your veins and killing you.

So for the next time, if you decide to go, order the grilled chicken, bring your recycled paper towels to wrap it in and your WholeFoods bag to carry it home.

Kill a chicken save a tree. See the irony? How about save a tree, have a salad?

Can you guess?     Give you a hint?        Nah.

At this time of year some of us are confronted with a myriad of challenges.

Your spring/summer lighter seasonal clothing comes out, but…oh my….will it fit? One could blame it on the freshman 15, but not having been to college in 40 years that stretches beyond credibility. And besides, why would you want to wear last years fashion, it is after all so last year.

And the shoes. What shoes does one wear now? Too soon for flip flops or those fab strappy sandals. The boots that you have trudged around in all winter clearly feel all wrong. If it is a rainy season one can make do with those ridiculous rubber galoshes, it levels the playing field, no one looks good in those.

So, I am going to take the advice of my friend here.

It absolutely solves a myriad of concerns. Remember Tom Hanks in whatever that movie was called, where he morphs into a Robinson Crusoe like character?

He went down at least 4 sizes, if I recall.

Avoids all of the current fashion conundrums. And eating grains and nuts is so very much the right thing to do. Except for those who really don’t look good in green, it’s a great plan.

Wanna join?

How much do you think a Ruckus is worth?

It seems pretty evident that a good many States are frantically trying to figure out how to bring in more revenue by taxing just about anything. And I mean anything.

Clowns. Clowns? 

Yup, seems to be what Maine is proposing. Ironically, Nebraska has proposed a tax for dating services. Had they joined forces they could have had a twofer. I am not exactly sure how it would work, but I am pretty certain that participants in the dating services would have the opportunity to report the clowns they have run into who slipped through without being surcharged. 

We are all watching with bated breath, that would be really deeply, inhaled, bated breath, for what California is going to do. A referendum is on the table for the legalization of marijuana for recreational use (with a limit on the amount one can have in their possession). The amount of revenue that it is believed this would generate is one billion dollars. One billion dollars! 

Tax your clowns, jugglers and comedians or roll a joint, munch a bunch and get the giggles. 

You decide which is the more sensible tax revenue that will aid and abet the coffer in your state.

Move over Judge Judy. There's a new kid in town. His name is Robert Hansen and he's a Psychic. 

Not only can he get in contact with the dearly departed, he apparently can settle disputes between those still here and those on the "other side."

Settle disputes, you see,  like in take sides. He is interpreting for the side that no one can hear. Except, of course, him. 

Judge Judy, you understand, has you watching and listening to the two opposing sides go at it, while she is snickering, sneering and rolling her eyes. While you don't get to decide their fate, you can make a fairly informed guess as to what the outcome, and her decision, is going to be. 

Here sits the hapless family, sniffling, snorting and sobbing, while Mr. Hansen informs this broken hearted crew what the deceased really wanted them to do with…the jewelry, car, cash, house, in question. And, for agreeing to participate in this activity, they have to abide by what he says the other side said. 

This is, without doubt, the ultimate he said, she said.

This is all brought to you in living color. On the TLC network. Heretofore The Learning Channel. Now, the acronym is up for grabs. 

The Lunatic Channel, The Lets be Crazy Channel, The Left of Center place to go.

"Or, physically demonstrate that…" That's what I would have said to you, as I always thought that's how I learned stuff. 

"Just, tell me, and I will get it"… apparently, not so much. So sad to learn that. My well honed excuse for why I am not understanding what new information you are imparting has been, poof, dashed.

At least that is what I think I understood…note the think part. A noted cognitive psychologist named Daniel Willingham has somewhat refuted the conventional wisdom that some people are auditory learners, some visual and some kinesthetic learners. He proceeds to explain why. I listened raptly, attentively, and really focused on what he had to say.

I still didn't get it.

This is why I love ATM machines. They tell you exactly what to do. I can read my next steps. If they only spoke to me, I'd never deposit or withdraw or transfer anything. Or my GPS device. Glancing at it, no doubt potentially wrecking havoc behind me as I slow down to see where the turn is coming up, works better than being talked to about making that turn in 500 feet. We have already established, only avid football fans have any sense of how far 500 feet might be.

Put together a disassembled cabinet. Comes with a video…no problem. Comes with a carpenter, better. Comes with a written description, it is hammered into submission, if it holds things afterwards, that's a bonus.

So then. Listen, read and view Dr. Willingham's page. Then, make me an illustration so I know what he said.

Thanks.

Checking emails. 
Easy. Delete or respond. Respond later, waver about deleting. Get pissed at friends who request that you forward their epistle to everyone else in your address book, definitively not the definition of what friends should do.

But, for a brief and fleeting moment this morning, I became another person.

The email read: Hello Richard, welcome to your weekly Ticket Alert!

About to push delete, I hesitated. Since Richard was receiving an email about what Tickets he might be interested in receiving, I thought, why not? A little innocuous voyeurism into Richard’s life. Or, a chance to get a jump on the latest, greatest, upcoming, soon to be a mega hit, production.

Or, realize that I am living my life, less on the edge, than my alter ego Richard.

He, you see, has the possibility of participating, on April 6th, in the semi finals of a “talent contest.” I imagined that we were wildly successful in the quarter finals. This Friday, we are going to hear SpaceHogs, featuring Dead Celebrities. Perhaps, not a name for a group I would have chosen, but if you want a sampling of their music, here goes. 

Finally, because Richard and I share an appreciation for art, apparently, we’re going to the Cloisters, any Sunday we choose, over the course of the next month.

So, I wondered, if Richard received my Ticketweb selections, would he think about broadening/changing/challenging his conventional tastes and participate in what moves me?

Or not.

Not that.

Knowing where to go and what to do next. Or ants. Them too. I have to believe that both species of bug must have teeny tiny cell phones with teeny tiny apps giving them their marching orders. Just like, it appears, humans are now doing.

Except for me.

But that’s because I am still getting up to snuff with the whole app world in general. The app “Where”, for example, letting me know exactly where I am at any given moment in time, is only starting to make sense, let alone an app telling me where I am supposed to go next.

But for those of you cutting edge types, the latest thing I heard of is something called Foursquare. I am pretty certain that it isn’t the newest, or the only one in this field, it’s the only one I could pronounce and spell.

I suppose the upside of this app is not only does it let you know where to go next, but which of your friends are also going to be there. Which, I imagine is really helpful if you know who you don’t want to see.

The article I read seemed to liken this kind of monitoring to wearing an ankle bracelet, the next step up from house arrest. Decidedly unattractive concept, don’t you think? 
I get the upsides of this technology for the media world, advertisers and the 20 something year old audience that is subscribing…in droves…to this. 

Or is that subscribing in drones? Bzzzzz.

Remember these?

Still have a pair somewhere in your box of memorablia? Nestled, perhaps, next to your slinky, mouseketeer ears, and pogo stick.

I don’t.

But, I am pretty certain that I am going to save the current 3D frames that are being dispensed everywhere. It appears they are the thing to have these days. Chic and hip, black rimmed, very au courant.

Not just for the latest cinema spectacular, you understand. The newest look in 3D is now being sported by, can you imagine, Anna Wintour, sitting as she always does, front row.
Burberry’s, you see, decided to stage this seasons collection in 3D. If you had your 1950’s pair handy, and lived in either Paris, New York, Dubai, Tokyo or San Francisco you could have watched it in all it’s living third dimension.

And you would want to do that because?

I don’t know, wild stab here. Like to reach out and grab the buttons that are a popping? Caress the jutting hip bones of the models? Belt buckles just a grab away?

Doesn’t matter.

Burberry’s was the first to jump on the 3D block and I am reasonably certain more will follow.

What’s old is new.