Party Time

My name is Sir Bacon.

And I am a Republican.

Well, registered Republican.

It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.

Even though I rarely seem to vote that way.

Obama.

Voted for him.

Kerry.

Voted for him.

Clinton.

Voted for him.

And I would vote for her too.

“So exactly what part of Republican are you?”

Good question.

Deep down, I think I believe in the principles of the Republican Party.

You know.

What’s mine is mine.

And what’s yours is mine.

But when it comes time to hang my chad, I just can’t pull the trigger.

And if you can’t pull a trigger, you are not a true Republican.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t play one on TV.

You see the Republican Caucus recently came to my town.

Specifically an elementary school right around the corner from my house.

The invitation was taped on my door.

It came from Ron and Steve.

And they shared the same last name.

I’m assuming they were brothers.

After all, they are Republican.

The invite said that the festivities would start at 7pm.

Sharp.

Which they did.

Unfortunately I didn’t arrive until closer to 7:20.

And by the time I got there, all of the Presidential talk was done.

I’m sure it went something like this.

I love Newt’s hair.

I love Mitt’s hair.

I love Mitt’s name.

Ron Paul has two names.

Let’s vote Santorum.

With that out of the way, we moved onto the other items on the menu.

Like... Who Wants to Be a Delegate?

Our version of... Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?

Only this room was filled with Republicans.

So everyone there was already a millionaire.

There were a total of 52 people in the room.

42 Men.

10 Women.

1 Asian.

The others were as white as they come.

In fact, the room was so white, there was even a couple there named White.

Now I’m not sure if the fact that 51 of the 52 in our group were caucasian is more of a sign of it being a Republican Caucus.

Or the neighborhood I live in.

But either way, I fit right in.

As long as I didn’t mention that I was Jewish.

The first step to picking our delegates was listening to a 30-second pitch from each of the dozen candidates.

Each candidate came prepared.

With a pre-prepared zinger.

“I want to fumigate the White House.”

“This is our country and we need to take it back.”

“I believe in the Constitution.”

“I used to live in Upstate New York.  That’s when I was a Democrat.”

“I was raised in Springfield, Illinois and I learned a lot from Abraham Lincoln.”

You mean the guy who freed the slaves.

Are you sure you are in the right place?

One of the speakers claimed to be an author.

He said he sold his books at gun shows.

And Tea Party rallies.

He didn’t look familiar to me.

After we voted in our delegates, it was time to propose some resolutions.

We were told that any passed resolutions would go directly from our dry erase board to our local Republican party.

Then to the state Republicans.

Followed by the federal Republicans.

And if any of our resolutions make it all the way to the Dems.

Then they would go straight to the shredder.

But it’s not about the end result.

It’s about the process.

“This is how you can have a voice in the party,” we were told.

“This is what the Republican platform comes from.”

And the whole time I thought it came from Fox News Channel.

From our room, there were three resolutions proposed.

One opposed “all forms of gun control.”

One wanted us to “repeal ObamaCare.”

And one said poor people should pay higher taxes.

Ok, I made that one up.

But it could've happened.

According to our master of ceremonies, all three resolutions passed.

“With very few no votes.”

I guess I qualify as very few.

The meeting lasted all of 68 minutes.

And despite what you’ve been reading for the last 664 words, I really did enjoy myself.

I’m not sure that I am any more Republican now than I was before the Caucus.

And I’m certainly not any more likely to vote Republican in the next election.

But it did feel good to spend an evening surrounded by people I have absolutely nothing in common with.

Safety First

The big winner in Sunday’s Super Bowl was not Eli Manning.

Ok, it was Eli Manning.

But it was also some guy whose name shall remain nameless.

That’s because we don’t know what it is.

In fact, we don’t even know if it’s a guy.

But I’m betting on it.

What we do know is someone stepped to the counter at the MGM Sports Book in Las Vegas before Sunday’s game.

And made a $1,000 bet.

Ok, a lot of people stepped to the counter at the MGM Sports Book before Sunday’s game and made a $1,000 bet.

But this was not just any bet.

This was a stupid bet.

Insanely stupid bet.

Only problem is... it hit.

BIG.

One of the many beautiful things about the Super Bowl is the gambling.

You can bet on anything.

Literally anything.

You could bet on whether Madonna would wear an NFL Jersey during her halftime performance.

She did not.

You could also bet on whether the coin flip would land on heads or tails.

Remember, tails never fails.

Except Sunday.

You could even bet on how long Kelly Clarkson’s version of the National Anthem would go.

Now I love gambling as much as Kenny Rogers.

But some things just aren’t worth your time.

Or your money.

As Kenny said, you gotta know when to walk away.

Fortunately for our aforementioned nameless gambler, he didn’t know when to walk away.

In fact, thanks to his addiction he is $50,000 richer tonight.

Assuming he didn’t lose it all at the Video Poker machines.

You see our little gambler went all Phil Collins on us.

Betting against all odds.

The MGM Sports Book offered 50-to-1 odds that the first score of the game Sunday would be a safety.

By the Giants.

Not just a safety.

A play that rarely-to-never happens.

But a safety by a specific team.

As the first score of the game.

Now these “prop” bets as they are called are a lot of fun.

And there are a million of them.

Which team will call the first timeout.

Will there be an onside kick in the game.

Will Eli Manning make one of those goofy faces after his receiver runs the wrong route.

When it comes to the Super Bowl, you can bet on anything.

Now I must admit, I do love sitting in the sports book and throwing some cash down on those crazy bets.

$5 here.

$5 there.

20 prop bets later you’re down $100.

But you had a bunch of “free” drinks.

Inhaled a lot of second hand smoke.

And had a great time.

But to bet $1,000 on something that never happens.

Houston, we have a serious gambling problem.

Only this year.

It happened.

On the Giants first defensive play of the game.

They got a safety.

In a matter of seconds, New York’s first two points turned this man’s 1k into 50k.

Just.

Like.

That.

Now how unlikely was this occurrence?

Well, let's do the math.

This was Super Bowl XLVI.

And in the previous XLV games.

A safety happened just VI times.

That’s six times for those of you who don’t speak capital letter numbers.

Six times.

In 46 games.

And of those six times.

The safety was the first score of the game.

Just once.

XXXVII years ago.

Now just because I can’t afford to spend $1,000 on a prop bet doesn’t mean our little gambler can’t afford it.

In fact, the $50,000 he won might just be pocket money.

But I’m going to go out on a limb and say that his bet on the Safety wasn’t his only bet of the game.

For all I know -- he might’ve thrown 10 geez down that red would be the gatorade bath color for the winning coach.

Those odds were 13-2.

Or he might’ve bet 25k that Eli would have more completions on Sunday than LeBron would have points.

Which he did not.

Now I’m certainly not here to say that gambling is bad.

At our Super Bowl party on Sunday we sold Super Bowl squares to each of the guests.

And my 14-year-old daughter was the big winner.

She turned a 50-cent square into $20.

If only we would've raised those stakes.

Class Acts

Today is National Signing Day.

A day where thousands of teenage boys sign a piece of paper.

Announcing where they’ll be playing football next fall.

And sometimes attending class.

As a diehard Notre Dame fan, this is one of the most exciting days of the year.

One of the few days where we get ranked in the Top 10.

Annually, Notre Dame is on somebody’s list of best recruiting classes.

And annually these can’t miss prospects... miss.

But for a day, it’s fun to dream.

College recruiting is a game within itself.

Guys are paid big money to bring the best players to their town.

While some guys are paid even more money to come to that town.

If you’re not cheatin’, you’re not tryin’, right?

There’s no doubt that schools bend the rules as far as they can.

But some schools break those rules right in half.

I have this friend.

And this friend knows people.

And these people told him that a few years ago a school paid a basketball recruit $150,000 to come to their team.

I mean their college.

One year later that recruit was in the NBA.

Four years later that guy is making $231,000.

Per game.

Hey I get it that college sports is big business.

A multi-billion dollar business.

That’s billion, with a B.

The idea of getting the best of the best to play for your school is not only a good idea.

But it’s good business. 

After all, schools can’t live on tuition alone.

Or can they?

I was talking with a close friend of mine this morning.

And this close friend has a daughter.

Senior in high school.

For the last few years, they’ve been looking at colleges for her to attend.

And after a long search, she’s narrowed it down.

To 15.

That’s the number of schools she applied to.

And we’re talking great schools here.

Stanford to Penn.

Vanderbilt to Notre Dame.

(GO IRISH!)

This girl is one smart cookie.

And she’s got the numbers to prove it.

Numbers I didn’t even know were possible.

A 4.6 GPA and 2100 on the SAT.

With stats like that, she should be the one featured on TV today signing a letter of intent.

But instead she’s still waiting.

After all, a 4.4 in the 40 beats a 4.6 in the classroom any day.

So far she’s heard back from three of her 15 schools.

And she’s been accepted to all three.

But she’s not supposed to hear back from the others for another month.

After college football recruiting is done.

The good news is she is going to be attending a great school in the fall.

The question is what school.

And for how much.

My friend says it cost him well over $1000 just to apply to her schools.

Some applications were free.

Others were up to $120.

On top of that, he had to pay $16 per school to find out if he qualified for financial aid.

You have to pay to find out if you make too much money?

That just smells wrong.

And we haven’t even touched on tuition yet.

Just one year at one her top choices would be $65,000.

Ok, that does include a bed and some hot meals.

But still.

There’s been a long standing debate about paying college athletes.

And like John Kerry, I see both sides.

But when you really break this down to dollars and sense.

The guys that are signing today are already making quite a living.

According to a recent headline from Forbes.com:

Value of College Football Scholarship Exceeds $2 Million for College Football's Top 25

The author of this article was Dr. Patrick Rishe, a college professor who is at least 742% smarter than I will ever be.

In the article, Pat makes quite the case for teaching your kids how to bench press instead of doing math homework.

He got to the $2 Mil figure by adding up 4-year costs at the school.

Tuition, Books, Room and Board, and School Fees.

Plus the average salary of the job you get coming from that school.

Of course the variable here is actually finding a job.

But you get the point.

A scholarship from Stanford, USC and our beloved Notre Dame would cost over $210,000 over 4 years.

And that’s before you make a tackle.

Or score a touchdown.

The message here kids is perfectly simple.

Don’t go to class.

Go to the gym.

Don’t study your school books.

Memorize your playbook.

Don’t worry about homework.

Worry about home games.

Pass those three tests and you are guaranteed an A in life.

Writing A Wrong

un·em·ploy·ment   [uhn-em-ploi-muhnt]

noun

1. the state of being unemployed, especially involuntarily

Before I became unemployed.

The first time.

I had no idea what the word meant.

I thought I did.

But I truly had no clue how many different emotions are attached to those four simple syllables.

But the only thing that really matters is reality.

The reality of being unemployed.

Whether that reality is an ego-check.

A financial hardship.

A change in careers.

Or losing the will to exist.

You can’t change reality.

But finding your best way to deal with your reality is the only way to combat this.

The Democrats can blame Bush.

The Republicans can blame Obama.

The Tea Party can blame Coffee.

At this point, blaming is all about the past.

And the present is what matters.

And the present is the reality.

And the reality is that as of a few weeks ago 13.1 million Americans are unemployed.

That’s the good news, I suppose.

Since that 8.5% unemployment rate is down.

Down from 10.0% in October of 2009.

That’s great news.

For the 1.5% who found jobs.

Unemployment is a topic that has captured the attention of nearly everyone in this great country.

And it won’t be going away anytime soon.

I don’t know anyone who doesn’t know anyone who hasn’t been bitten by the unemployment bug.

Do you?

Thanks to Sir Bacon, I have met some amazing people who have shared their stories with me.

Inspiring stories.

Sad stories.

Sometimes just stories.

A few days ago I was contacted by Lillian Swift.

She’s a creative writer from Northern Arizona University. 

“An aspiring writer who specializes in writing about community issues.”

Lillian asked if she could be a guest writer on my site.

The answer was YES!

Please CLICK HERE to read Lillian’s article.