Playing with the Language

As a PR guy and former journalist, I know words matter. That is why it bothers me to see the language manipulated by those who should know better.

Such is the case with the phrase “revenue increase.” You hear it everywhere in the media these days. It’s a happy euphemism for what used to be called a tax increase.

A tax increase sounds like something that hits your wallet. In contrast, a revenue increase sounds like some benign financial transaction that happens between accountants without impacting you. You might expect some congressional staffers to shade the language like this, but not journalists, who are supposed to be the referees … the seekers of truth.

It’s fine if you believe tax increases will help the economy, but just call it what it is.

If grandpa refers to his adult diaper “a personal protection garment,” then nobody gets hurt. But when you’re talking about public policy and our government spending, then it’s important to be more authentic.

Come to think of it, if George H.W. Bush had uttered the phrase “no new revenue increases,” then maybe he would’ve won a second term.

Vacation Brings Travel Travails

I just returned from a family road trip to Myrtle Beach, S.C. As usual, I have some important revelations to share from my travels. You might call them travel travails. They are as follows:

• There’s no cut-off age for getting those red or pink streaks in your hair. Your grandma used to have blue hair. Now she has blue hair with red streaks.
• If someone tells you to drive a Jet Ski faster to get better control, ignore them. It’s not true. You are only going to crash … and faster.
• If you are at any restaurant at Myrtle Beach, save yourself some time and order the crab cakes. Don’t even bother looking at the menu. Better yet, don’t ever leave the Noizy Oyster.
• If you are going to Pigeon Forge, Tenn., (our happy halfway point) always make hotel reservations. It doesn’t matter if you are arriving at noon on Monday. Make reservations. That mind-reading pig must be very popular.
• A frightening number of babies are wearing mohawks. Why do they make such daring hairstyle choices at such a young age?
• If you complain about your room, you’ll always get a better one. I was one grievance away from the Penthouse at Paradise Resort.
• Some jack ass with horrible hand/eye coordination is always going to hit you with a wet football at the pool.
• If you’re near the beach and someone tells you to go fly a kite, then you should do it. Really. It’s fun.
• If your wife asks if you are too tired to drive, then she is the one who is actually tired … tired of the way you’re driving.
• If you accidentally run a red light, your kid isn’t going to let you hear the end of it, particularly if you dumped him off a Jet Ski  … twice.

Tournament Bowling Is Child's Play

I just returned from Reno, Nev., for the USBC National bowling competition, which included some bad bowling, some good eats and some lively entertainment.

Bad Bowling: Earlier this year, my brother-in-law somehow convinced me to pick up a bowling ball for the first time in 20 years. He said plenty of people in his league were low rollers so I’d fit right in. That turned out to be a bit of salesmanship. My 149 average was easily at the bottom of the league, but I still took some modest pride in not totally embarrassing myself. Unfortunately, that would come later … on a bigger stage.

My brother-in-law’s next bit of smooth talking resulted in me traveling to Reno for the USBC National tournament. The first day we competed as a team. Aside from one game, no one bowled particularly well, but it wasn’t a nightmare either. That didn’t happen until the next day when I opened the doubles competition with a 94. To put this in perspective, let me explain that many children, including my nephew, can bowl a 94. And I did it in a national tournament … in front of an Internet audience. Before the day was over, I somewhat redeemed myself with a 171 and 176, but it was hardly consolation.

Good Eats: Although I always hear there are good cheap eats in Las Vegas, I can never find them. In Reno, they were everywhere, starting with the $5.99 prime rib special at the Cal Neva casino, which included salad and a potato. You could tack on a tall Bud Light for only a buck more. However, my personal favorite meal was the “awful,awful burger” from a hole-in-the wall joint called the Little Nugget. I went to Reno determined to hit my favorite fast food place, In and Out Burger, but the Little Nugget so satisfied my need for meaty goodness that I never made it. They throw in a pound of fries to boot.

Lively Entertainment: Two words: lingerie bowling. Our hotel, Harrah’s, welcomed USBC bowlers by plopping down a single, regulation bowling lane right onto the casino floor. If that wasn’t spectacle enough, they then invited a couple of special guests to bowl wearing less than my typical bowling shirt.

I don’t think either of them bowled as low as a 94.

That would be awful, awful … and I’m not talking about the burger.

Parents Gone Wild

The basketball fan was worked into a full frenzy before the game even began, perhaps enjoying some sort of adult concoction as part of his pre-game ritual.

Immediately after tip-off, his voice erupted throughout the venue. He originally rooted for his favorite team, but quickly degenerated to mocking the opponent. He even gave a false countdown at the end of a quarter, trying to trick the opponent into shooting too soon. The players were too smart to fall for it.

All of this might’ve been harmless enough fun if it were at the Yum Center or Rupp Arena. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Instead, the venue was a local church on a Saturday morning and the players were 10-year-old boys and girls. That’s right, this guy wasn’t hollering at Duke or North Carolina. He was hollering at a team called “The Blue’s Clues.” Granted, I’ve done my fair share of taunting over the years at sporting events, but I like to at least wait until the players reach puberty to do so.

Having been involved in youth sports for a long time, I’ve known parents to lose perspective at their kids’ games before, but never like this. Before it was over, parents were yelling at parents, coaches were yelling at coaches and at least one person was asked to leave, although the instigator somehow managed to stay. The teenage referees did their best to straighten things out, but were ill equipped to handle the mess.

It ended poetically enough with someone turning off the lights as they left the gym despite the fact that there was another game remaining to be played.

In this league, there are no standings, trophies or all-star teams. The purpose is to have fun and learn good sportsmanship.

So much for that.

How about you? Any good stories of youth sports “parents gone wild?”

Who's On Your Bucket List?

Seeing The Who was one of the things on my bucket list.

Ideally, I would’ve seen them in their heyday with their full lineup. With that no longer possible, I was looking forward to seeing Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend at Louisville’s KFC Yum! Center last weekend. I was not disappointed … and yet I kind of was, if that makes any sense.

For a couple of aging rock stars, Daltrey and Townshend had plenty of pep. They put together a show of sufficient length and energy. The problem is they did it while playing a bunch of songs I’d never heard of, and I’m a pretty ardent fan.

The Who could’ve easily filled two hours with their greatest hits. Instead, in pure, indulgent Townshend fashion, they featured their Quadraphenia concept album. Of course, I knew that going in and accepted it, but it still made for an uneven performance.

The show opened in familiar enough territory with “The Real Me.” But then it settled into the meat of the Quadraphenia story, accompanied by a multimedia presentation. I won’t bore you here with all the details except to say that Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters does a better job in the rock opera format with “The Wall.”

But then a funny thing happened. About the time the Who hit “5:15,” I was buying into Quadraphenia. I remained engaged until they reached a wonderful crescendo with “Love, Reign o'er Me.” Having finished the album, the Who then whipped the crowd into a final frenzy, running through such hits as “Who Are You?,” “Baba O’Riley,” “Behind Blue Eyes,” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again.”

Sure, Daltrey missed a couple words. And he can’t hit two big notes in a row anymore. But he and his long-term partner ultimately proved worthy of my bucket list status, even if it took them awhile to get there.