Germanwings & the art of living suddenly

(776 words)

“Anytime we hear of anyone dying suddenly, it should reinforce the need we all ought to be living suddenly.”

Is that the best line I’ve ever written? It’s one of them.

I can’t remember what national tragedy inspired the notion. There have been so many it’s hard to keep track.

I can’t tell which is more surprising: That anyone follows the news or that anyone who follows the news is ever brave enough to step outside.

Our tragedies are so redundant we barely have time to grieve and the never-ending grieving crowds out what little time we have left for living.

That’s not going to happen to me.

So right after I heard the news, I drove straight downtown for lunch with Pittsburgh Mayor Bill Peduto, Allegheny County Executive Rich Fitzgerald, and Chris Jamison, the Pittsburgh singer who did so well on “The Voice.”

Sounds like a real power lunch for such an underachieving blogger, huh?

Well, there were 495 others in the room, too, but what’s a little resume inflation among friends? It was the VisitPittsburgh annual meeting at The Westin Hotel.

Why all these prestigious organizations keep inviting me to their lavish soirees is a mystery.

Doesn’t anyone ever notice all the missing silverware?

I was very happy to be there. I’ve made some bone-headed career decisions, but picking up stakes and moving to New York or California for illusory professional improvements isn’t one of them. I never wanted to be more than an hour from the Golden Triangle.

I’ve been for 20 years telling everyone Pittsburgh is the greatest city in the world. Now, as we learned at the banquet, everyone finally agrees with me. The presentation was a greatest hits package of all the publications that over the last year have touted Pittsburgh as the coolest, hottest, hippest, most livable, etc. I can only hope it’s not another 20 years before everyone thinks my blog should be profitable.

The lunch put me in a perfect frame of mind to enjoy Pittsburgh. And that’s what I did.

One of my A-Team drinking buddies had called the night before to say he was in town. Was I free?

It was a silly question. Much to my professional detriment, I’m always free anytime anyone calls with time to giggle. We commenced at the Oyster House.

John’s my old college roommate. I love him because he has a very clever mind, says whatever he thinks, and he’s perfectly corrupt.

Example: He yesterday initiated a conversation about if we could go back in time would we save Phil Hartman or would we save the 149 victims of the plane crash. He had pity for the victims, sure, but he really loved Phil Hartman.

I wish I didn’t so enjoy the company of someone so utterly tasteless, but I’ve always found it mentally invigorating to be in the presence of anyone who just doesn’t give a shit. That’s John.

So we had a good buzz on and were strolling down the street when someone inside Sonoma Grille on Penn tapped on the window. 

A man was giving me the finger.

It was Buck!

Buck owns the Tin Lizzy, the outstanding three-tavern bar/restaurant that would be my go-to bar if I didn’t already have an office above another go-to bar. (Note: Tumult among local bar ownership led, in fact, me to me moving my office onto the 3rd floor of the Tin Lizzy three months after this was written. I'm still here.)

I love it that my friends feel at liberty to insult with such a public gesture. I choose to view it as a sign of affection. That’s a helpful attitude because if I let every time  someone who shot me the bird hurt my feelings I’d often be in tears.

So we stopped in for a chat with him and wife Louise. We told them we were heading to Nadine’s on the South Side. It’s kind of hard to find, and we didn’t think they’d show.

They did!

There was a lot of great conversation but what I’ll remember most from our afternoon is Buck sliding up to the internet jukebox and finding the 1949 Guy Lombardo version of “Enjoy Yourself.” We all knew the words.

First verse:

You work and work for years and years, you’re always on the go

You never take a minute off, too busy making dough

Someday, you say, you’ll have your fun when you’re a millionaire

Imagine all the fun you’ll have in your old rocking chair

Chorus: 

Enjoy yourself. It’s later than you think!

Enjoy yourself. While your still in the pink!

The years go by as quickly as a wink

Enjoy yourself! Enjoy yourself! It’s later than you think . . .

So cheers, my friends, to sudden living.

May you make sure it is among your life’s priority.

Related . . .

My gay friend John

Pittsburgh: Overcoming my fears of public speaking

Boston: I read the news today, oh, boy . . .

How old will you be in heaven?

A Pittsburgh weekend in my hole-y shirt

Where have you gone, Ross Perot?

It pains the academic in me to realize the best way to educate a forgetful America on the folly of the Tea Party simpletons is to urge them to seek a classic 1992 clip from Saturday Night Live.

It may have been the most uproarious skit the show’s ever done. It features the late Phil Hartman (oh, how I miss him!) and Dana Carvey.

Hartman played Bill Clinton and Carvey incumbent President George H.W. Bush.

But Carvey had double duty. Through split-screen chicanery, he also played a man who at the time surpassed even the current Tea Party in political impact and sound-bite stupidity.

That would be H. Ross Perot.

If you’ve become fired with political passions in just the past two years it probably means two things: One, you’re a Tea Party Patriot convinced you have all the answers; and, two, you’ve likely never heard of Perot.

And that’s a pity.

Just five months prior to the ’92 presidential election, he was leading in the polls over both Bush and Clinton.

The Texan became a self-made billionaire through founding Electronic Data Systems. And he oversaw a daring a rescue mission of two hostage employees from Iran in 1979, an operation that became the basis for Ken Follett’s “On Wings of Eagles,” a best-seller and eventual miniseries.

He was one of the most admired men in America.

Then he made a crucial tactical error.

He opened his mouth. And America learned the only thing more entertaining than hearing Carvey lampoon him was hearing Perot speak for himself.

He was folksy. He got $5 haircuts. He talked about going to Washington to clean out the barn and giant sucking sound we’d hear if we elected anyone but him.

He just made it all sound so simple.

And he wasn’t interested in compromise and would mercilessly ridiculed as elitist anyone who disagreed with him. He made his operatives sign loyalty oaths.

Any of this starting to sound familiar?

I remember one presidential debate in which Perot -- I swear to God -- held up a poster of an outline of Arkansas with the silhouette of a chicken dominating the entire state.

He was saying if we elected Arkansas Governor Bill Clinton president we’d all wind up plucking chickens.

To quote Secret Agent Maxwell Smart, “Missed it by that much!”

Clinton took over a sluggish economy, raised taxes on the rich (Perot, to his credit, was perfectly okay with this), and launched one of the greatest job-creating economies the world has ever seen. It was eight years of peace, prosperity and all that other stuff.

He left office in 2000 with a balanced budget augmented by a $230 billion surplus. Economically, his presidency was such a success it’s surprising the Republicans haven’t tried claim him as one of their own.

But what happened to Perot?

It’s like he rode that giant chicken into the sunset never to be heard from again.

His near complete disappearance from public life is incredible.

At 81, he has a net worth of $3.4 billion and Forbes ranks him the 99th richest man in America.

Yet the man who once had all the answers today refuses to address any of the questions.

John McCain, who as much as any man alive helped conceive the Tea Party, yesterday on the floor of the U.S. Senate denounced them as “hobbits” inhabiting a “bizarro” world where they are “deceiving” their constituents.

The few grownups that remain in the Republican Party look feckless and scared in the face of the Frankenstein monster they raised up on birther hysteria, anti-tax mania and the demonization of the government they view the way the rest of us view the Taliban.

Yes, America, just as that Moses of the Tea Party warned, there is indeed a giant sucking sound.

And it’s becoming increasingly clear as to the identity of the ones who suck the most.