The Oppenheimer Report 3/1/10

As I begin writing this week’s report, the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics are winding down, and the last big event, the U.S./ Canada men’s hockey game for the gold medal, is about to begin. Of course, there is a rivalry between me, the American, and Shauna, the Canadian. Just to bug her, I am wearing the only article of clothing I have here which advertises my American roots: my 2009 Western New York Poker Run tee shirt. I’ve enjoyed this winter Olympics, as I have enjoyed all the past ones, and there were a lot of memorable moments, a lot of upsets, and a lot of excitement. I’ll always remember skier Alex Bilodeau hugging his disabled brother after he won Canada’s first gold medal ever in a home-sponsored winter Olympics. As it turned out, Canada set a record for the most gold medals won by one country, I believe in the history of the Olympic Games. By the way, can anybody tell me why each of the medal-winning athletes received what looked like a giant head of spoiled broccoli? Will there be cauliflower at the 2014 Olympics in Russia? I’ll remember watching Canadian figure skater Joannie Rochette skate her short program, shortly after learning that her mom had died suddenly of a heart attack. She went on to win a bronze medal. I think that takes courage! I am a little embarrassed to admit that I got (somewhat) excited about the Norway vs. Canada curling finals (o.k., maybe not so much), and am happy that Canada won gold in that event. Hockey is a little different, especially considering that Buffalo Sabres goalie Ryan Miller is in the U.S. goal. I’ll be happy for either team when they win; I just want to see a good, hard fought game, but I WILL be rooting for the United States.




To stave off the excruciating ennui of winter, last year I attended the Kearney Dogsled Races up here in the tundra. This year, in keeping with my desperate need to find entertainment during this grueling final stretch of winter, I attended the Katrine Winter Karnival. If winter is my enemy, I say embrace it! Stand back Vancouver, because Katrine, Ontario was the place to be last Saturday. I was not early enough to attend the parade; yes, in a town of perhaps sixty people, they had a parade, with floats (o.k., two, maybe three floats) and everything. There were, of course, no spectators; it’s a running gag that everyone who comes to the parade is in it. I DID make it to the community center, a little late for the frozen turkey toss, but in time for the very competitive, much-anticipated, and ever- popular bed races (see photo above)). This Karnival had everything: balloons, weiners, beer (huge plus), a small mound of snow for the kids to slide down, a bonfire (more of a small camp fire), a hammer-the-nail-into-the-log contest, horse drawn hayrides using real draft horses, and of course, the all-day party in the Katrine Community Center. The live entertainment was memorable, though after a beer or two it thankfully became a little less so. I didn’t stay for the $12 roast beef dinner, or for the big dance, although I did make my small contribution to the event. I am, after all, a member of this community now. As I was leaving, I caught a little of the bed racing competition. That alone was worth the price of admission. The only thing missing was the comprehensive CTV coverage.





As I finish this report, “golden boy” Sydney Crosby has just beaten my man Ryan Miller in overtime to win (3-2) the gold medal for the Canadian Men’s hockey team. It was a VERY close game, and the U.S. looked like they might pull it off when they came from behind with seconds left to go in regulation time. Clearly the game could have gone either way, and I admit I’m a little disappointed that the U.S. team didn’t win. They were not really favored to do well this year, and they far exceeded most people’s expectations. Still, Canada winning “Canada’s game” is I suppose a fitting way to end this winter Olympics, so good for you Canada. Right on, eh?!



I think the Town of Katrine should be considered for a future Winter Olympics venue. At the very least, I feel that bed racing should become a certified winter event. I also think they should include some kind of snowmobile competition. For instance, there is an event, ever popular up here in the Great White North, called “Puddle Jumping”. Basically, this involves hydroplaning over open water on a snowmobile at high speeds. Low speed is not an option due to the stubborn laws of gravity. There are a whole slew of crazy things people do up here on snowmobiles, mostly I think alcohol-inspired . If they ever give out medals for “most intoxicated snowmobiler,” I think someone in Katrine or the surrounding area might be a contender. Put those guys on a Wheaties box, why dontcha! Eh?!



Seriously though, way to go Canada. Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/22/10

Last Friday, while I was driving around Buffalo on one of my several trips from the lawyer’s office to the accountant’s, I listened to a little of the discussion on the radio about Tiger Woods’ public apology. There was comprehensive analysis of his body English, much discussion about the fact that he was reading from a script, about the fact that his wife Elin was not there by his side, about whether or not his apology sincere, speculation about whether or not he would rejoin the PGA tour this year, etc. etc. The big question on everybody’s mind … will Tiger have to be gelded? I think this is much ado about nothing. It occurs to me that the latest U.S. offensive in Marjah, Afghanistan is marginally more newsworthy than the sexual indiscretions of an obscenely rich American golf star, but then, what do I know? And who decided that celebrities and professional athletes should be our role models? I’m always pleasantly surprised when I hear one of those bozos speak and they AREN’T misinformed about their own importance. It should have been clear to me by now that in general, we Americans (read I) favor tabloid sensationalism and scandal over anything resembling “hard” or legitimate news.




As always, I’ve enjoyed watching the coverage of the Winter Olympics. Last night’s big hockey game between the U.S. and Canada was quite the upset. I understand that tickets to that game were selling on the streets of Vancouver for upwards of $6000.00 per ticket, and Canada was widely favored to win. Tickets are likely to go for double that figure if Canada does well in the medal rounds. Still, you never can tell who’s going to shine in the Olympics, and the Americans surprised almost everyone, cinching the game with a last minute empty net goal to win 5-3. There was tremendous pressure on the Canadian men’s hockey team to win gold on home ice, and yet the other night they had struggled with the Swiss team, whom they were favored to beat handily, barely winning that one on a shoot out goal by superstar Sydney Crosby. I think all the hype about hockey being “Canada’s Game” might have hurt the Canadian team. Indeed, Canada probably has the better team, at least on paper, but this last game was not another David and Goliath re-enactment of the Lake Placid “Miracle on Ice” … this game really boiled down to the stronger goaltender. Buffalo Sabres goalie Ryan Miller was simply better than Canadian goalie Martin Brodeur, in that game. It ain’t over til it’s over and nobody can predict what will happen in the medal rounds, but that game last night is what makes the Olympics so exciting to me. All this nonsense about Canada’s game on Canada’s turf is, from what I’ve observed about the country, in my seventeen years living there, uncharacteristic of Canadians. Canadians are, by enlarge, modest people. And yes, they are patriotic, but not jingoistic about their country. As an ex-patriot, living in Canada, I have cheered on and honestly celebrated many of the Canadian victories. I have quite reluctantly donned the cape of masochism and developed into a huge Leafs fan. I know, I know!! It’s fun to watch anybody win at the Olympics, especially when you think about the sacrifice most athletes make to become Olympians. This past week, dark horses have emerged in every event and from every country (well, maybe not Andorra)… from speed skating to ski jumping. Of course the big countries usually win more medals, but not always. I loved watching Netherlands speed skater Mark Tauter win gold the other night, beating out the American favorite Shani Davis, because he looked so exhilarated and excited. I really didn’t think an American had a chance in Men’s Figure Skating against the indomitable Russian Yevgny Plushenko, but then Evan Lysacek won the gold. I don’t deny that I sometimes grumble when one country seems to dominate a sport. In general, I’m rooting for the underdog, and in the Olympics, that can be anyone. So Canada, I say this to you … you still produce some of the finest hockey players in the world … but the world is a big place. Next game, less hype, more focus! By the way, you’re not out of it yet, and just remember, you’re something like 8-0 in Curling, so that‘s something (hee hee). Final note: answer me this, why are there two different one-man sliding competitions, the skeleton and the luge? Facing forwards or backwards … pick one. I think there should be a competition wherein the competitors go down the track standing on skates.



Final note … a moment of silence for former Secretary of State Alexander Haig who croaked last week at 85. When Reagan was shot he was the guy widely criticized for proclaiming “I’m in charge now!” Apparently he was a little unclear on the chain of command. As we so often say in politics … oops!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 2/15/10

As I begin writing this week’s report my father-in-law is getting his first decent haircut in perhaps sixty or seventy years. This is not to say that he has been growing his hair for that long, but for the last six decades he’s been doing it himself. The predominant flaw in his technique is that he employs the comb over, and my father-in-law is a textbook example for why the comb over does not work. The other day, the wind caught his hair and blew his six or seven strands of three foot long, woven, comb over hair into a hairstyle that would have made Cyndie Lauper blush. Finally, the other night, there was a family intervention, and the result is that he VERY reluctantly agreed to allow Shauna to cut his hair. During the haircut, he bitched so much that you’d think he was having his testicles lopped off. The mere fact that the comb over has now been removed is a remarkable improvement, and now that she has put the finishing touches on the haircut, I can see that the ridiculosity (new synonym for ridiculousness) is gone.



I watched this haircut with some satisfaction, because not long after Shauna and I were married, I agreed to let Dad Taylor give me a haircut. That was a terrible decision. I suppose I didn’t want to offend him, and thought I was being a good sport. With one sweep of his hair whiz, basically a comb with an attached razor, he hacked off a fist full of my hair, leaving a huge bald spot in my then full (if thinning) head of hair. It took a long time to fix that mistake. I now look upon the hair whiz as an instrument of terror, and to this day I have not completely forgiven him. He’s been using that thing on his own hair for years, which is somewhat akin to using a circular saw to trim one’s toenails.


Does anybody out there remember the “Flo-Bee”? That was a device that vacuumed and cut your hair at the same time. I used to love their T.V. ads, because it was just such a silly machine. There have been many crazy haircutting tools invented over the years, and I can’t think of one that really works. I still prefer the old fashioned way, and I leave my haircutting duties in the hands of a professional. Now that I am essentially bald, my haircuts are pretty simple; I keep my hair very short these days, and a haircut consists of five or six passes with the electric clippers, and then a little touch up with a pair of scissors. I could probably do that myself, with a little practice, but don’t feel like it. I’m funny enough looking to begin with, I don‘t need to compound the problem.


Friday night we watched the opening ceremonies of the Vancouver Winter Olympics, and short of a the indoor torch malfunctioning during the lighting ceremony (one of the hydraulic arms failed to lift), for all the world to see, I thought the ceremony was very entertaining. I could have done without the opera singer. K.D. Lang singing her version of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujiah” was my favorite part of the ceremony. That is a great song, and I thought she sang it beautifully. Certainly the excitement was tempered by the tragic death of Georgian luge star Nodal Kumaritashvili, who lost control on a practice run Friday morning and was killed instantly when his body slammed against a guard rail. I was shocked to see a video of the entire accident on the news that night. They figure he was going about 87 MPH when he flew off the track. Now there are questions about whether or not the track was too fast, and they‘ve shortened the run as well as raised the crash wall. I was amused to see that the Cayman Islands has  representatives at this year’s Winter Olympics. We were wondering in which events they were participating (winter banking??), at which point Shauna piped in: “frozen assets”. Hee hee. I’d never heard of one country before, The Principality of Andorra (dubious internet fact: population 83,888), stuck in the Pyrenees Mountains between France and Spain. I could have done without the ten minute coverage of Wayne Gretzky, standing in the back of a truck, driving through the streets of Vancouver to light the outdoor torch down by the waterfront. Now for the events. As I finish this report on Sunday evening, Alexandre Bilodeau has just won gold in the Men’s Freestyle ski competition, making him the very first Canadian EVER to win gold at home. Based on the fact that Toronto absolutely erupted simply because the Leafs made the quarter or semi finals of the Stanley Cup Playoffs (years ago), I think there will be some serious partying all across Canada tonight to celebrate this momentous event ...
right on, eh!
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/8/10

Well, it’s that time of year again, when we put our collective, misguided faith in a fat rodent to predict when winter will end. This year, I feel honor bound to at least touch on the absurdity of this custom, and on the shenanigans that yearly accompany it. I don’t know where the time has gone; it seemed like only yesterday that I was freezing my tuchas off. Wait a minute, that WAS yesterday! I don’t need some fat rat jiving me into thinking that this misery will soon be over. The other day, I heard something on the news that made me chuckle. Apparently, there is a new animal rights controversy brewing, this time involving groundhogs. The all knowing, all-feeling folks over at PETA (People who Excel at Thinking Abnormally) have decided that the whole Groundhog Day thing is traumatizing to Punxatawny Phil, America’s most famous groundhog celebrity. The PETArds (hey, sue me, I’m not the White House Press Secretary) are suggesting that Phil be replaced with a robotic counterpart, reasoning that the Groundhog Day ceremony is traumatic. With all those cameras flashing and people screaming, some suggest that all this fanfare is cruel and unsettling to the groundhog. You know what else is cruel and unsettling? Mother Nature! I concede that there is potential for animal abuse here, and groundhog handlers have been known to drop the ball. I remind you of Canada’s big groundhog scandal five or ten years ago, “Wiarton Willliegate,” wherein the town fathers of Wiarton, Ontario, accidentally murdered Willie, their albino groundhog weather animal, under suspicious circumstances. I can’t remember all the details, but there was a big cover up. Documents were shredded, drugs and alcohol were involved, child pornography was found on the deceased groundhog’s computer; it was a mess. Are we taking advantage of poor defenseless creatures here? I think not. I believe some of the responsibility lies with the animals themselves. I still maintain that Willie was a crack head. Phil has been perfectly willing to accept his town financed, solar-heated, cable-ready hibernation chamber, along with all the perks and endorsements associated with being America’s most popular groundhog weather forecaster, including but not limited to a monthly $500 credit at Whole Foods, and part ownership of a local carrot farm. If, in the course of his forecasting duties, he is forced to endure some of the indignities of celebrity, well, suck it up mister! If some drug-addled spectator, unhappy with the prospect of more than six weeks of winter should hurl a beer bottle at our furry rodent messenger, shrug it off. It happens to rock stars all the time. You should try being a weatherman in Buffalo … those guys constantly get death threats and abuse … You don’t hear any of them complaining.




Toyota was always considered to be one of the best automakers, so what happened? Problems with the accelerators on some of their vehicles have prompted a major recall and I just heard that the Japanese automaker has suffered over $1 Billion in lost sales because of the problem. Ouch. I’d still rather have a Toyota than one of those overpriced stool softeners on wheels that GM for so many years produced.



Last night, The New Orleans Saints beat the unstoppable Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts 31-17 in Superbowl XLIV, whatever number that is. Though I didn’t have a favorite going into the game, I think the Saints were the underdogs and, coupled with all the challenges that New Orleans has faced since Hurricane Katrina practically washed it off the map, I’m glad they came from behind to win so decisively. I watched The Who perform during the halftime show, and they sounded pretty good. I’m not a big Who fan, but I really like the “Who’s Next” and “Quadraphenia” albums. It‘s funny, because the other night I watched about fifteen minutes of a Who concert filmed at the Isle of Wight concert back in the Seventies. I think they sounded better last night. Back in 1977 when I was still “in university” as the Canadians say, I drove from Hartford Connecticut to Boston to see The Who perform. After waiting an awfully long time for them to come on, I heard them play one song, and then announce that they could not play anymore because wild man (and soon to be deceased) drummer Keith Moon “had the flu”. Moon was so drunk and wasted that he could hardly hold his drum sticks. I think he even threw up on his drum set, although we were too far away to see. The Boston audience was not amused, and there was a near riot. While there was a makeup concert scheduled, I never did get to see them perform live. Having watched some of the Isle of Wight concert, I’m not that disappointed. I guess Keith Moon and “Wiarton Willie” have something in common .

I can’t say it enough … showbiz ain’t pretty.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/1/10

I watched the Grammys tonight, so this report is a rant about today’s pop music, again. First of all, let me say I really like a lot of pop music. Realizing as I do that every generation thinks the music of the succeeding or preceding generation sucks, I still maintain that much of today’s pop music is truly horrible. I don’t particularly care for popular music from the 40’s or 50’s, but at least there was some variety, some hooks, some creativity. Though I never liked “Teen Angel”, I could differentiate it from “Leader of the Pack”. Whatever genre, from “hard” rock, to rap, to easy listening, today’s popular songs remind me of the soul-less housing developments north of Toronto; every house evenly spaced, exactly the same, and without even a trace of individuality … function and economy to the complete exclusion of form. It’s as if the all the people producing this music decided on one voice, one backbeat, one synthesized sound, and one theme. This style was a big hit with our main demographic, so let’s stay exactly in the middle of the box. The other day I found myself humming along to the song “Crimson and Clover” by Tommy James and the Shondells. I hated that song when it came out over thirty years ago, but flipping around the dial, that was a refreshing change over the songs on all the other stations. Go figure! This, along with my comment in last week’s report about Justin Timberlake likely has most of you wondering about my qualifications to judge music. Nevertheless, as an aspiring, hopefully growing songwriter, I am always interested in the music of the present generation. I’m sorry, but if Beyonce, Kanye West, or Taylor Swift are the hot new acts, I say ptoohey!




In my opinion, a pop song should have at least one of two things going for it. Either it should have a serious musical hook (like “Super Freak” by the king of punk funk, Rick “Cleopatra” James), or it should tell an interesting story. Does anybody remember a song called “Timothy” which was a pop hit back I think in the late 70s? That song is about some guys who eat their donkey to survive. Now THAT is story telling … a little sick but interesting nonetheless. Brief aside, I actually saw the band who did that song, years ago in a bar called the Pickle Barrel, somewhere in Vermont. I listened to their whole set in this noisy bar and “Timothy” was their big finale. Talk about your one hit wonders … sentenced to an endless stream of bar dates, and your big hit, the one you do to leave ‘em smiling, is a song about eating a donkey. I bet Mariah Carey never does a song about killing and eating a pack animal. Proof positive that entertainment is not a pretty business. Perhaps those will be my new benchmarks for a good popular song … violent or disgusting. And no, I don’t condone rappers who brag about killing cops, or about abusing their women, but the seemy, lurid side of life can inspire interesting lyrics. Some unique pop tunes I recall from the pop music past: “D.O.A.”, about the dying victim of a car wreck, “Luca” by Suzanne Vega, about child abuse, “Fast Car” by Tracey Chapman, or even “Love Child” by Diana Ross and the Supremes. Everybody knows the song “Mr. Bojangles”? On the surface, it sounds like a touching story about a New Orleans street dancer, and countless singers have covered it. According to singer songwriter David Bromberg, who used to play with Jerry Jeff Walker, the guy who wrote the song, the story is true. Walker wrote “Mr. Bojangles” after some time in jail with the subject. Stripped down to the bare facts, this song is a story, written by a hung over drunk, in jail, about a drunk who shared his jail cell. Charming. One of the discarded lyrics from this song: “I met a man Bojangles, and he stunk real bad, covered in puke”. I think that most (not all) good songs, and probably most good art, comes from a hard place, or at least from genuine life experience.



A moment of silence for J.D. Salinger, author of “Catcher in the Rye” (required reading in most high schools) who died last week. That was a good book.


Last night I held Aladdin's lamp
And so I wished that I could stay
Before the thing could answer me
Well, someone came and took the lamp away
I looked around, a lousy candle's all I found

Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me little girl
On a magic carpet ride
Well, you don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes girl
Look inside girl
Let the sound take you away
- From the song “Magic Carpet Ride” by Steppenwolf



I want that magic carpet back.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/25/10

Where to begin. I’ve been somewhat pre-occupied this past week and have only peripherally glanced at the news as I was rushing from here to there. Once again, Mother Nature is front and center in the week’s news. Certainly there was much about the earthquake in Haiti. Not only were there powerful aftershocks from that quake in that beleaguered island, but I understand there was much seismic activity elsewhere in the world, including several quakes in South America. I read in the Saturday Toronto Star that work has begun to build new suburbs outside Port Au Prince. I watched George Clooney’s relief telethon last Friday and grudgingly admit that Justin Timberlake in a trio performing Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” was an amazing performance. I know, I know, he's the anti-christ, but he was good! Big storms last week on the West Coast of the United State. Los Gatos, California, wherever that is, received a whopping 14.7. inches of rain in one 24 hr. period. Up here in the GWN, we’re presently experiencing a January thaw.




The other news which kind of floored me is that, after only seven months on the air, talk show host Conan O’Brian in off the Tonight Show and Jay Leno is resuming his late night spot in March. Last Friday was Conan's last night. I think O’Brien is a good writer, but he just didn’t pull in the big numbers for the 11:30 PM slot. His severance pay? Over $40 Million! I’m not exactly sure what happened but I had heard that Leno’s 10 PM show wasn’t doing well. I had no idea Conan was bombing as well. I’m a Letterman fan. As far as I‘m concerned, this makes NBC look stupid … again. $40 Million for seven months ... yikes!When I think back to the Letterman debacle, when he was passed over for the Tonight Show, it looks like something is rotten in Burbank. Oh well, on to the next entertainment road kill.



In politics, the honeymoon is over, and one year in, President Obama is fighting for his political life. Pundits are saying that last week’s Massachusetts vote to elect Republican Scott Brown to fill Ted Kennedy’s Senate seat was a clear message that voters are dissatisfied with President Obama’s performance, and that they want him to focus more on job creation than health care reform. A Republican in Kennedy’s seat changes the mix and could scuttle the health care bill, not that I understand anything relating to politics. I not at all surprised that some of that Partisan-Pelosi-we-can-fix-everything-those-greedy-self-serving-Republicans-messed-up” arrogance is beginning to evaporate. As I predicted, the very voters who deified this relative neophyte are beginning to turn on him like a pack of wolves. So much for a fresh start in Washington. Still, it is with no particular satisfaction that I watch yet another starry-eyed politician fall into the quagmire of a Washington political system which seems to have more checks than balances. I’m disgusted with both parties right now, and I can’t see us digging out from this mess in my lifetime.

I'm a little late getting this week's report out, and now we are experiencing a mini blizzard. So much for the January thaw! 
 
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/18/10

This morning I woke up to a DJ on the radio informing me that today, the third Monday in January, is officially dubbed “Blue Monday”, so proclaimed by some expert because it is statistically determined to be the most depressing day of the year. It’s winter, it’ dreary, the holidays are over, the bills are piling up, etc. etc. Funny, I didn’t feel the pain, and believe me, I'm extremely receptive to the winter blues.


When one embarks on that long treacherous journey to build one’s custom dream home, cost overruns are a given. A developer friend of mine once quipped that he could build a perfectly good $300,000 house, for $450,000 … if he was careful. One of our many cost overruns was for electrical service. I remember that, after the demolition of our old cottage, we had only gas generators for several months until the new service was installed. Because we were living on site in the beginning stages of construction, the first sound we heard every morning when the workers arrived was the sound of those gas generators firing up. Eventually, Hydro One, as they call the electrical utility up here in the Great White North, came in and provided us with a proper electrical service, and therein began our first series of “surprises.” First, we found out that we required an enormous amount of electricity to power the lap pool in the basement. That required a beefed up service which, of course, costs more. Ca-ching ca-ching. Then, an unscrupulous electrician charged us about four times too much to run what amounted to a big extension cord to our trailer from the electrical panel, leading us to wonder for what else he’d overcharged. His theory seemed to be that we were building a large house, so we could afford to overpay for everything. This convoluted logic seemed to resurface quite a lot during the construction process. We fired his ass. In came electrician number two, who was more expensive, but the builder assured us this was a cost he would absorb. Long story short, he did not, so this was an added cost associated with bringing electrical service into the new house. There were many other added and unanticipated costs associated with the electricity, some of them the result of things we added.


After the service was in, we started getting monthly Hydro bills, but they seemed awfully low. We read the meter every month, but the bills were always the same, and always very low. Shauna assumed we just had a very energy efficient house, but I knew that one day we were in for a big surprise. Last month we got an electric bill more in line with what I expected to pay, and this month, we got walloped with an enormous bill. It turns out that Hydro One had made a big mistake which had something to do with how they calculate kilowatt hours from the meter. They had been vastly undercharging us for over two years, and I was afraid that they would try and recoup all their lost revenue. Thankfully, they did not, but they did back charge us to when they discovered the discrepancy, in early August. In short, we just got five months worth of our actual electrical cost sent to us in one big January bill. Happy New Year! Still, it could have been much worse. We had electrical heaters going in the house for the better part of two winters, and then add on all all the electrical costs associated with construction to boot, none of which is included in this bill. Hydro is sending us figures on what our real costs should have been during the period in question, while assuring us that they have eaten that cost. I’m so gun shy from all the surprises that I still don’t fully believe they will forgive this debt. By the way, if you call Hydro to inquire about your bill, good luck understanding the explanation. The formula for computing your usage is so confusing, with so many different variables, multipliers, and charges, it is almost impossible to figure out what you should be paying.

I could not believe the devastation caused by that big earthquake in Haiti last Tuesday. They are still digging out from all the bodies and rubble, and the video I‘ve seen is shocking. All those collapsed buildings … and estimates of one hundred thousand or more casualties … that’s such a huge number! Apparently, there is little regulation on building construction in Haiti, and many buildings were not built properly to withstand a substantial earthquake. Perhaps San Francisco would have fared better. I’m not sure anything would have prevented the destruction caused by an almost direct hit Magnitude 7 earthquake. So far America has committed $100 Million in aid, but that doesn’t include private donations. Didn’t Haiti get nailed badly during the last hurricane season as well? My heart goes out to those people.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/11/10

Because it gets pretty cold up here in the Great White North, proper winter apparel is essential. Even Jasper needs winter clothing. A lot of people don’t think their dogs need to keep warm, and while this is true for some breeds, Miniature Schnauzers get cold. I made a jacket for our last dog, fashioned out of polar fleece in the colors of the Canadian flag, but that coat doesn’t quite fit Jasper. Now she’s wearing a lovely little hand knit (not my me) ensemble when she goes outside. The big problem is keeping her paws warm. Her paws are very sensitive ice, snow and salt, and when it gets really cold, she simply sits down in the snow and picks up one paw in protest. When we were walking her around in Toronto, there was also a lot of salt, and salt really stings a dog's paws. Jasper does not like to wear boots. I bought her a pair of “MuttLucks”, which are the industry standard in K-9 winter footwear. They were the right size, but no matter how tightly I put them on, they kept coming off. I should say, she kicked them off. She’d stand in one position and kick her back legs out until they flew off. I tried cutting up small balloons and wrapping those around her paws, because someone told me those work. They didn’t. I even hand made a pair, but those were useless as well. Finally, we found a pair, at Wal-Mart of all places, that fit and stayed on. She’s much happier now when she walks in the snow, although it is still very difficult to put them on her. As soon as she sees them, she hides under the dining room table, where she knows I can’t reach her, and when I do manage to coral her, she is completely un co-operative. The other day, I noticed that the pads on two of these boots had worn through, so I bought a small piece of leather to patch them. The patch made those two boots stiffer, and now, when she walks around in them, they make loud clapping noise. It’s pretty funny to see her clomping around the house in these things, but they really do help. Last year, when I volunteered at the Kearney dogsled races, I noticed that many of the sled dogs wear booties. I can just imagine Jasper as a sled dog.




When it gets down in the minus digits, I too don the heavy artillery. I wear my long johns, I own several good winter coats, and I have two, count ‘em two, trooper hats. Those are the funny hats with the flaps that come down over your ears. The first hat is made of some synthetic wool substitute, and I wear that one when the mercury drops into the single digits. The second one is leather, lined with genuine Pica fur (nobody’s thrown blood at me yet, but I’m sure the day will come), and that hat is good to forty below. These trooper hats are pretty silly looking when one wears them with the flaps down, but they’re even sillier when, as I do, one wears them with the flaps half down. In Buffalo, I found an army navy store that sold orange ones, and one year I bought them as gifts for all my friends. Nothing says “I care” like a bright orange vinyl trooper hat. Gloves are another story. Although I have a lot of pairs of gloves, but with gloves you sacrifice dexterity for warmth. Despite all the hoopla about Thinsulate, I have yet to find a thin glove which keeps my hands warm. Mitts are better, but then you really sacrifice dexterity. As for boots, I like the felt-lined snowmobile style boots, because they’re good in the deep snow. We bought a pair for my father-in-law the other day, but he finds them difficult to put on and take off. Any way you slice it, winter’s a big pain in the butt.



Body scanners in the airports? I suppose it’s not a bad idea. I certainly don’t agree with all those civil libertarian hose heads who claim this violates our rights to privacy. I maintain that one loses some of those rights when one elects to go out in public. If you wish to blow yourself up in your own home, without endangering the general population, go right ahead. Still, I’m not so sure these body scanners are going to solve the problem. When somebody figures out a way to scan for malevolent intent, then maybe we’ll be safer. Until then, I think we’re s-o-l.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/12/10

I'm the prisoner of low technology right now ... We are reduced to dial up service and to boot, I'm using a very old, slow, laptop computer. I wrote this week's report on my new laptop, and the word processing program will not read on this obsolete computer...

We are in a no man's land here in Katrine for internet accessibility - weak cell service and no DSL. I suppose we'll need to go to satellite but haven't yet.

I'll have to drive around looking for a wireless signal before I can post the report. Sorry about that.

Gone ice fishing, be back soon!

Jamie

The Oppenheimer Report 1/4/10

Happy New Year one and all! This New Year’s Eve, I followed the long line of cars heading up to cottage country from Toronto, and joined Shauna and her parents for a sumptuous feast at Jasper Bark Lodge. I even made it to the beer store in Huntsville five minutes before they closed for the holiday. New Year’s Eve without a sparkling malt beverage would have been a disaster. Not that we were completely without bubbly; I’d picked up a bottle of sparkling wine in Toronto (I prefer a decent sparkling wine to cheap champagne, and good champagne is way too pricey for a cheapskate like me). After dinner, we listened to the sometimes amusing banter of Anderson Cooper and Kathy Gifford, hosting CNN’s live coverage of the ball drop in Times Square. I used to watch Dick Clark‘s “Rockin’ New Year‘s Eve, but after Dick had a stroke, and that Ryan Seafoam guy took over, I lost interest..Frankly, all of the people involved with that American Idol show are a little dysfunctional. For some reason I can’t put into words, Seafoam irks me.


Brief anecdote about sparkling beverages … I remember that when I was about 11 or 12 years old, I celebrated New Year’s Eve at a friend’s house in Buffalo. It was a sleep over, there were four of us, and the big excitement was that we were permitted to drink Cold Duck, a very cheap substitute for champagne, to celebrate. I suppose the hosting parents presumed that, because we were confined to one room in the house, we couldn’t get into too much trouble. Clearly neophytes in the art of drinking, we did everything wrong. We drank much too fast (Cold Duck tastes like soda pop … and sweet, carbonated alcohol is a bad combination), and we drank much too much. To cinch the deal, we dined exclusively on potato chips and junk food, and ate nothing substantial or nutritious. By the time America’s Oldest Living Teenager was barking out the final countdown, all of us were quite inebriated, and one of us became very sick, projectile vomiting all over the T.V. room. It was like a scene from The Exorcist. Three of us managed to hold our liquor, but this one putz really drove the bus to barf town. As he wretched and gagged, and as gobs of drool streamed down off his beet red face, we had to endure an endless medly of “I’M DYING … I NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL BECAUSE I’M DYING … HELP ME, I’M DYING!” I must have heard him say that a hundred times before he finally shut up and passed out, still breathing very well I might add. The whole episode lasted perhaps ten minutes tops, during which the rest of us tried desperately to avoid the omnipresent and multi-directional backsplash. I and the host then spent the next two hours washing up this mob hit of puke. What a buzz kill! Most of it ended up in the victim’s sleeping bag, but a fair amount reached remote corners of the room. I learned some important lessons about drinking that New Year’s Eve. First of all, nothing will sober you up faster than the smell of barf. If you do barf, you should definitely be made to clean up after yourself. Finally, stay away from Cold Duck, that stuff is deadly. As for wretched excess, I’m still working on that lesson. Though there have been other stories about drinking in excess, that was the first and most memorable.


Right now (New Year‘s Day), I’m sitting at the picture window writing this report on my new laptop and watching the snow-covered lake and the storm brewing to the south. The weather has been mild this week, but we’re expecting a cold snap, and with it some lake effect streamers. Today, the news guys are reviewing the events of 2009 … Bernie Madoff the scam artist, the death of Michael Jackson and other celebrities, and of course, the devastating fallout from the downturn in the economy. And this was the year my Dad finally passed away. As I approach my fifty-fifth year, and I think back to the changes I’ve seen since my first memories in the mid-1950’s, I wonder what it must have been like to have been born in 1910 and to have watched the events of the past 98 years unfold. Good luck with your resolutions, and let‘s hope that 2010 is better than 2009..




Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 12/30/09

Hope you all had a very happy holiday. I spent the last week down in Buffalo attending to the various needs of my Mom and to visit with some cousins who were in from California. This year, we had rain for Christmas Day, but two days later I found myself driving in near white out conditions. Boy, do I miss those little lake effect snowstorms! It was a good chance to try out my new Blizzak snow tires.

I am writing this report on a brand new laptop I purchased on Boxing Day. We still need to get the other one fixed, but we also needed an upgraded computer, and this one cost about as much as the other one will cost to fix. Of greatest concern is the information we had not yet backed up from the old hard drive that crashed. Thankfully, our computer guru managed to recover most of it. I am constantly amazed by the relentless march of technology, and this new laptop, which cost about $500.00, comes with a large, high definition screen, a big hard drive, a DVD burner, and all the bells and whistles I‘ll never figure out how to use. My only fear is that Windows 7, the newest Microsoft operating system, will prove to be as much of a disaster as Vista was. I had no real problems with Windows XP, and wonder why Microsoft keeps screwing up their “improvements”. Really, all I use this thing for is to write my reports and to post them to my blog. As with any new software, there is a learning curve, but that's progress.
 

In the past six months, I have become almost completely reliant on reading glasses. The last time I went to the eye doctor, over a year a go, he said I’d need glasses to read from now on, but I didn‘t believe him. There were months of denial before the truth sank in. Then, I reluctantly purchased a pair of dollar store glasses, which worked great. The problem was that I never had them with me when I needed them. Subsequently, I have probably purchased at least fifteen pairs of dollar store glasses, and I have no idea where any of them are. I can’t stand those things that attach to the glasses and hang around my neck; I find them annoying. If I wear a shirt with a pocket it’s no problem, but often my shirts have no pockets. If I put them in my pants pocket, I usually end up breaking or bending them. Now my strategy is to have a pair in every room of the house, and to leave them there. I keep two pair in the car, because I can’t read a map without them. What really burns me is that EVERYTHING is in minute print these days. Instructions on frozen food boxes, directions for appliances …  have you ever tried to read the ingredients on the back of a shampoo bottle? Fuggetabottit.

As the New Year approaches, we are once again bombarded with reports of the omnipresent danger which surrounds us. Some would-be terrorist named Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab tried to blow up a Detroit-bound jet on Christmas Day by igniting a bomb sewn into his underpants. If I hear one more joke alluding to a “briefing” I’m going to puke. Luckily, no one was hurt, but certainly this was a red flag that airport security isn’t working. How did this bozo get on a plane wearing explosives??? I fear we will soon be awakened from our complacency when one of these zealous fools succeeds. By the way, I thought Reid "The Shoe Bomber" was bad, but how would you like to spend the rest of your days in prison listening to your inmates refer to you as “Umar the Underpants Bomber?”

As we bid adieu to another year, there will be the lists of famous people who died and a reprise of all the year’s momentous events. For me, 2009 will be most memorable as the year we finally moved into Jasper Bark Lodge. That little project consumed the past three years of our lives and there is still work to be done. May I suggest that if any of you decide to embark on a journey to build a custom log home … don’t do it. You might lose your mind. As we approach 2010, I generally resolve to be a good son to all my remaining parents, and, once again, not to say nasty things about the French. Happy New Year. Watch your balls drop, whack your piñatas (oh my), and let professionals do the driving. Have a happy healthy 2010!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 12/21/09

Ho friggin'ho! Up in the Great White North we've recently had the deep freeze that so paralyzed the western provinces last week. I heard a statisitic on the news indicating that, one day last week, Edmonton, Alberta was the coldest place IN THE WORLD. Last Thursday was one of those deep freeze days here in Ontario, and we had some difficulty getting in and out of our long driveway. Though we are regularly plowed out, temperature fluctuations left our drive icy. Because I was testing out our new snowblower, I think our plow guy thought we didn't need him that day, and consequently, we have a driveway which is, at present, icy and unevenly plowed. Two wheel drive vehicles will get stuck, and even my four wheel drive was having some trouble. I finally bit the bullet and bought a set of Blizzak radial snows for my vehicle. All season radials are fine for the city, but they don't really cut the ketchup in the Great White North. As a friend pointed out from personal exoerience, one wants all the traction insurance one can get up here. I'm impressed with the new Blizzaks; they seem to grab even on ice.

Someone told me this was going to be a milder winter than the past two were, but so far, other than starting a little later (is today the official winter soltice ... I know it's soon?), the bad weather seems to be about the same. I read that Minden, Ontario, not so far from us, received about 140 centimeters of snow in one 48 hour period. Yowza, that's a lot of snow! Now the East Coast is getting hammered. Perfect timing for Obama's recent trip to Copenhagen to attend the climate change conference. Amidst violent protests in the streets, leaders came away with some kind of (likely unrealistic) agreement to lower greenhouse gases, measured I think by a goal to lower the global temperature by 2 degrees C. And it will only cost $800 Billion and bankrupt most Third World nations. This all sounds great on paper, but so far, nobody seems to have figured out how we go green AND grow our voracious economies. Does anybody in their right mind believe that the U.S. and China will comply? I wonder how much jet fuel is sucked up flying all these world leaders to their respective summits in order to decide how to save the world. Ever hear of video conferencing? As I was waiting for my new snow tires to be installed, I picked up a recent issue of Road and Track. Clearly GM is not completely on board with the concept of reducing our carbon footprint. Take Chevy for instance ... they're putting out a new Corvette that delivers over 700 hp, and the stock Camaro V-8 puts out over 400hp. Our bailout dollars at work.

And speaking of conspicuous consumption, director James Cameron's latest mega-movie "Avatar" was released last weekend. His last big flick, "Titanic" was certainly a box office success, but this latest big budget monster opened to mixed revues. I understand the movie, a 3-D sci-fi epic (2hrs and 40 min.), was 15 years in the making and cost around $250Million to produce (chicken feed for the U.S. Treasury) ... not including the ADDITIONAL $150 Million for MARKETING. Doesn't almost half a billion dollars seem a bit costly for one movie? I wonder how much it cost to make "The Big Chill" or "Little Miss Sunshine"... and were there even marketing budgets for those movies?? Hel-lo ... less special effects, better writing!

Final Christmas tip: if you still haven't bought your loved one something for Christmas, may I suggest one of Tiger Woods' Gatorade drinks ... very collectible amd soon to be rare. By the way, Merry Christmas to the PGA! Seriously though, may you all experience peace and contentment this holiday season, and may that peace and contentlment spread like wildfire through the hearts and souls of those who need it most. Hug your child, share some humor, shovel your neighbor's walk, or, as in my case, just try not to be as miserable and ornery as you usuually are. And Santa, remember, no booze on Christmas Eve.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

The Oppenheimer Report 12-14-09

It’s the deep freeze out west and here in Ontario we’re getting record amounts of snow. At present, I am writing this report on an old laptop I used to use only for travel, because the good laptop up north crashed last week and with it our email and internet access. In speaking with our computer guru in Toronto, it is clear that this isn’t one of those problems he can walk us through over the phone. Last Wednesday, I was going to drive the machine down to him, but low and behold, there was a winter storm warning and predictions of seriously bad weather around and due south of us. I’ve driven through enough whiteouts and squalls to know I didn’t want to deal with that. We then had the brilliant idea to send the computer down to Toronto by Purolator, so I packed it up and left it at the designated location nearby for a Friday pick-up. Friday morning I got a call saying that the package was not picked up, because all deliveries were cancelled due to ANOTHER major storm. Apparently, the Town of Huntsville got walloped with around 80cm of snow and much of the town was closed, as were parts of Hwy 11, the main route down to Toronto. It’s very odd, because I’d been to Huntsville about five hours before this storm hit, and while there was snow on the ground from the last storm, there was no sign of the impending squall. When I was walking out of Shopper’s Humungous Drug Warehouse, I overheard two locals talking about the warnings of the imminent major snowstorm, and they were shrugging off the warnings as a “sky-is-falling” prediction. Guess they were mistaken. These storms are lake effect squalls or “streamers”, not unlike the lake effect storms I used to experience in Buffalo off Lake Erie. They set up over Georgian Bay and what is unusual about these storms is that they often travel in narrow bands. Huntsville and south to Gravenhurst were hit badly -- some places got over 100cm of snow -- and the storm extended east in a narrow band about 80-100 kilometers. 30 kilometers to the north, in Katrine, we didn't have nearly as much snow. We were out of that band.

Back about twenty-five years ago, when I was still an avid skier, one Friday night I and a friend were driving down to ski country south of Buffalo in my little Ford Fiesta, and we drove into one of those lake effect streamers. It came out of nowhere and before we knew it, we were in big trouble. Visibility was nil, the wind was blowing strong, and road became so covered with snow that it was impossible to tell where we were going. All road signs were completely unreadable, and the drifting snow was almost to the top of the mile markers in the side of the road. At one point, I stopped the car, on a major highway, got out and unfroze the wiper blades. When I looked around, I could see that we were the only car on the road. I nervously got back in the car and crept to the next visible exit. As I pulled off, I could see the blinking yellow lights of ten or twenty other cars and trucks in the same predicament, parked and waiting for the storm to abate. You’ll probably laugh to hear me say that one of the best cars I ever owned for driving in the snow was my 1970 VW Beetle. That thing had great traction, and if it did get stuck, it was light and fairly easy to move. The worst car for snow was my AMC Hornet station wagon.

Last Friday night we lit the first candles of Chanukah, so Happy Chanukah to all the members of my tribe. Only ten shopping days left until X-mas. If you’re at a loss for what to get that not-so-special someone who is nevertheless enthralled by your unfailing sense of humor, fear not! Google the Museum of Bad art, or MOBA for short; those guys have a slew of tacky gifts. If you don’t like that idea, there’s no finer gift than a Weekly World News Headline tee shirt. My favorite headlines: “BatBoy Lives!” and “Woman Killed by Mink Coat”. Seasons Beatings! Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

The Oppenheimer Report 12/8/09

In the news last week, President Obama announced plans to send 30,000 U.S. troops into Afghanistan to fight the Taliban. It’s interesting to me that he can on the one hand decry the troop surge in Iraq and then turn around and endorse essentially the same thing in Afghanistan. The more I watch and read about this situation, the more I don’t like it. More troops in Afghanistan puts more pressure on Pakistan, and America already has a public relations problem there. I don’t think we need more terrorists mobilizing in a country that has nuclear explosives. Speaking of PR …

Stateside, the big news last week was a scandal surrounding golf celebrity Tiger Woods. First, I heard that Tiger had been in a car accident and was “seriously” injured. Then, I heard he’d been almost immediately released from the hospital, and I thought, “o.k., it couldn’t have been all that serious.” Afterwards, I heard about a National Enquirer story alleging that Woods had cheated on his wife, and the plot thickened. The alleged mistress denied having an affair with Woods, but then out came Jaimee Grubb (appropriately named?), who claimed SHE had had a two and one half year fling with Tiger. That revelation prompted a public apology from Woods for his various “indiscretions”. Of course, there was rampant speculation about the car crash near his home in Orlando. Did he have a big fight with his wife Elin Nordegren over the infidelity, prompting him to storm off in his Caddy SUV and crash into a fire hydrant? Did Elin smash out the back window of his vehicle to save him or bash his head in with his own golf clubs? Who cares? Well, I do; I live and breathe to find out how rich and famous people sabotage their good fortune. Tiger should have followed the teachings of Dave Letterman and nipped the whole thing at the bud. Letterman was a master at disarming a potential public relations nightmare when he immediately confessed to his wrongdoings and publicly apologized for all the people he’d hurt. All Tiger had to do was bite the bullet, and say “Yes, I was a hound dog, yes, I cheated on my wife, and yes, we had a fight over it. Now the story is metastasizing. Other women are coming forward with allegations that Tiger slept with them. There was a big debate on CNN yesterday about whether the private lives of celebrities is any of our business (the same CNN that basically paid the bills for years by covering the O.J. trial). It probably isn’t, but we as a society (read I) have an insatiable appetite for reports of human failure. Tiger bogeyed big time when he attacked the press. Sorry, bad press is an unfortunate by-product of celebrity. Once the scandal is revealed, lick your wounds, lay low until the dust settles, then work on damage control. Eventually, the hyenas will move on to the next carcass. It’s amazing what people will forget given enough time. Do you think anyone besides Ken Starr is still talking about Bill Clinton’s oral adventure?

In anticipation of the horrible winters we had in the past two years, we bought a snow blower for the house in Katrine. Based on recommendations of local residents, we purchased one with a 27” cut. We had a pretty good dumping last Friday, and it seems to do the trick. Of course, we have a guy to plow as well, but the snow blower is insurance. According to my nephew the weatherman, it should be a milder winter than were the past two, but I’m shell-shocked. Final note , I was in Wal-Mart the other day and noticed they now sell an IPod Touch with 64 gigabytes of memory. Great gift idea for the holidays, but does anyone really have 6000 record albums they listen to regularly? Hey, it beats a salad shooter. Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

The Oppenheimer Report 11/30/09

I just returned from Buffalo where we celebrated the American Thanksgiving with my Mom, my sister, and her family. The newest addition to the group is Nadia, the two month-old baby daughter of my oldest nephew and his wife. Hands down, the most energetic member of the family, and the one with the best lungs, is Samantha, the now-toddling 18 month-old daughter of my younger nephew and his wife. Last Thanksgiving, I posted a photo of Samantha and her dad, posing with my dad. My mother’s house is full of rare and fragile china, and almost everything had to be moved to a higher level when Samantha, the little whirling dervish, spun through the house like the Tasmanian Devil. I actually caught one rather valuable piece of glass as it was capriciously flung through the air. Thanksgiving dinner was bittersweet as our patriarch, my father, was conspicuously absent for the first time ever. We decided to commemorate him by laying his silly red Cornell sherpa hat across his chair at the head of the table. I had the benefit of his presence for fifty-three Thanksgivings, and he gave great toasts. He couldn’t carve a bird to save his life, but boy did he have a way with words. There have always been three generations at our Thanksgiving table, and this year was no exception. With Samantha and Nadia at one end of the table, and my Mom at the other end, there was plenty reason for joy and laughter. The circle of life continues. As I have often said, Thanksgiving is by far my favorite holiday of the year, and I realize that I have plenty for which to be thankful. I prefer holidays that have nothing to do with religion, and this is the one holiday every year when my family gathers together. It’s also when I choose to re-connect with friends and relatives I might not speak to during the rest of the year.

As I write this entry, I have just returned from court in Sundridge, Ontario, where I was subpoenaed as a witness in an assault case. Last May, the guy who was hired to plow our driveway last year assaulted and injured one of our employees, at our home, when we disputed one of his overcharges. Not only did he charge too much, but he always came to plow at the end of the day, long after we needed his services. After delaying several court dates, and after making every attempt to manipulate the system, he was finally forced to face the music. Shauna and I had witnessed the assault, and this guy was claiming our employee initiated the fight. Nothing could have been further from the truth, and I was worried that the charges, brought by the police, not us, would be dropped if we did not pursue the matter. As it turned out, the schmuck ended up having to sit in the court room for over an hour, along with his skanky girlfriend, waiting while the court scrambled to find a court recorder. I think that, having to sit there for an hour, and seeing the three of us, prepared to testify against him, was enough to give him and his attorney pause. Had he testified to what he’d said in his police report, he would likely have been forced to perjure himself on the stand. Anyhow, he caved and pled guilty, and now he will spend the next six months under house arrest, after which he will be on probation and likely attend anger management classes. Merry Christmas! What a hoser.

Yes it’s once again that time of year, when little people all over the world dress up like elves and endure the indignity of capitalism gone mad. It should be a better year for the beleaguered retailers than it was last year, and you should look for my holiday suggestions in the coming weeks. If you crave visions of sugar plums dancing in your holiday-addled heads, nothing says “I’m a holiday-induced nutcase” like Jamie’s famous “High velocity 151 Eggnog”. Hide the car keys and prepare to get naked in front of complete strangers, we’re gonna break dance under the mistletoe tonight. You won’t know what hit you, but make sure someone has a camera. Nobody says celebrating has to be pretty.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

The OppenheimerReport 11/23/09

I was in Toronto last weekend and I called my friend Bob at the last minute to see if he could drive up from Buffalo for our annual boys-night-out weekend of depravity and debauchery. Last year, the event was to be scheduled around the Toronto International Boat Show, but when my dad got sick we had to cancel. In years past we have often chosen to spend the weekend in Niagara Falls, Ontario. You hear and see a lot of ads extolling the excitement you’ll experience when you drop your life savings at the Fallsview Casino, but Bob and I are not big gamblers. We choose Niagara Falls, Ontario because we can’t get enough of them chamber of horror wax museums.

This year, we did a walking tour of Toronto’s several entertainment districts. We walked from our apartment down to University and Front to a sports bar, where we watched the Sabres succumb to the Bruins as we dined on bar food, then watched the thrilling conclusion to a Raptors/Heat game, wherein the Raptors won. That’s right, I watched part of a basketball game. The thing about Toronto is, it’s such a great sports town that one can get vicariously caught up in the fan frenzy, regardless of the event. I’m not a baseball fan either, but I was up here when the Toronto Blue Jays won the World Series back in the early 90’s, and the town just erupted in unbridled glee. I, along with tens of thousands of jubilant fans walked up Yonge Street to celebrate that momentous event, and it was an experience I will never forget. As a Bills fan (and a Leafs fan … ugh), I’ve learned to take what I can get.

Because the Air Canada Centre is close to the bar we were in, when the Raptors game was over, the bar filled up rapidly with Raptors fans. Nothing makes me feel old (hey, I’m like only 54, and that is totally not that old)) like finding myself in a sports bar surrounded by twenty-somethings … six hundred young-uns with their beers in one hand and their Blackberrys in the other. Bob and I joked about how there was clearly a buffer zone between us and everyone else; as if they feared they might catch some virulent strain of old age if they ventured too close. “Stay away from the creepy old guys, I think they’re like, narcs or something!” The only time anyone came near us was if they became so mesmerized by the text message on their personal communication devices that they strayed into our circle of fossildom. Brief aside, I realize this is the age of texting, but does anyone else find this a strange social phenomenon? Was this bar full of young, single adults, texting other young, single adults at other bars, presumably to let them know they were somewhere other than where they should be? Decades ago, when I was a young, wild, and crazy playboy (hah!), I didn’t call people from bars, I went to the bar WITH them, and then talked (or didn’t talk) TO them, FACE TO FACE. There is some kind of weird social disconnect going on here.

A nightcap at the legendary Horseshoe Tavern on Queen Street, my Mecca of dive bars, and then back up to the apartment, again on foot, with a few stops along the way, mostly to relieve myself. The older I get, the less booze I drink, and the more I brag about “the experience” afterwards. Next time, I’m wearing “Depends” … those bar bathrooms are deeesgustin’. Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/16/09

The weekend before last we had a warm spell, and we were able to get done a lot of the outdoor chores we needed to do before the onslaught of winter. After cleaning up the property a bit, burning some brush, and splitting some more firewood, I surprised everyone with my stupidity by putting on my swim trunks and jumping in the lake … but not before insuring that the event was photographed. Of course, with all the cold weather we’ve been having, the lake was ice cold, and my dip lasted about ten or fifteen seconds. When I saw the pictures, I realized that there is nothing in the shot to signify that it was taken in the first week of November; it looks as if it could have been a warm summer day. If the shot was panned out, the viewer could see that all the trees were bare. One thing in the picture indicates the season: the dock is up. It’s a digital shot, and I’m pretty sure the date is recorded, but it doesn’t matter. I know I did it, and I have four witnesses. I never understood those polar bear clubs, where crowds of crazy people, jump into ice water in January, but now I think I could probably do that. Yes, I am an idiot … and proud of it.

Last week, our long absent builder showed up and dumped topsoil on our front and side lots to bring us up to finish grade, and he also spread gravel on the lower drive and under the carport so that we will no longer be constantly tracking sand into the house. After he was gone, Shauna and I seeded the topsoil so that, come spring, we might get an early start on some grass. I can’t imagine what that will be like because, for the past three years, this place has been a construction site, covered in sand, mud, clay, and construction materials. Now we’re slowly beginning to reclaim our property. Though it will be a long time before this place is landscaped the way we envision it, just getting all of the construction debris off the premises has made a world of difference.

Final thoughts … I went in for my annual physical a few weeks ago, and the doctor’s office was pandemonium. Phones were ringing off the hook, and though the office had just opened, the waiting room was full. Apparently, there was a lot of concern about the shortage of flu vaccine, and people were scrambling to find out if they qualified as “high risk”. I usually get a flu shot, and I’m not sure if it helps or not. Knock on wood, I don’t get sick that often. I’m certainly in no hurry to get the H1N1 vaccine. Save it for the people who are more vulnerable. While this swine flu does not particularly scare me, the word “pandemic” does. Based on the fact that there is a shortage of this H1N1 vaccine, at a time when it is probably needed the most, I am concerned that some more virulent and deadly virus might some day shake us out of our delusions of control. We in the West spend so much of our energy obsessing over our health – don’t smoke, don’t drink, disinfect everything, eat less salt, lose weight. What is becoming increasingly clear to me is how out of control we really are over our health. Sadly, in many cases it boils down to who inherited the best genes. Science has advanced considerably since the last deadly flu epidemic, but are we any safer now? Yes and no.

I’ll tell you this … there’s nothing like a dip in an ice cold lake to cure what ails you.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/9/09

Last Thursday morning we woke up to a brief snow flurry and a blanket of wet snow on the ground. The lake was barely visible, and then, suddenly the flurry was over and the sun broke out across the lake. The snow-covered trees were absolutely spectacular to behold, and there wasn’t a sound to be heard. This log home is situated in a place of such beauty and serenity, that one glance out the window calms the soul. On the other hand, there has been so much trouble associated with the actual building of the house, so many loose ends, and disputes with contractors, suppliers, and builders, that it is difficult sometimes to see the forest for the trees. Though we are essentially done working on the house, at least for this season, I wake up every morning anxious about what must be fixed or changed. I wrote a song a long time ago entitled “The Curse of the Sea”, and there is a line in that song which speaks to the issue of contentment:

"Everybody has a hideaway, kept under lock and key
In our mind’s eye we’re all travelers to where we’d rather be
Anxiousness can imprison you, you don’t know what you need
You just know you haven’t got it now, call it the curse of the sea…”

A week ago, while I was down in Buffalo, I took Mom out for dinner to a Chinese restaurant that had been recommended by one of the nurses. Mom had a craving for Chinese food, and whenever she is willing to venture out, we encourage her to do so. The trouble was, because her favorite nurse was not on duty, she wanted me to take her out, alone. On top of her litany of other chronic illnesses associated with old age, my mom was recently diagnosed with a not-so-well known and very challenging form of dementia known as Lewy Body Disease. For years we thought she had Alzheimer’s, but Lewy Body is quite different. The good news is that there can be long periods of lucidity. The bad news is that, one never knows when those will be. One moment she’s Mom, and the next she can turn into an entirely different person. It’s a bit like a geriatric multiple personality disorder, and it’s very strange to behold. Needless to say, I am wary of taking her anywhere without professional assistance, and yet, she was adamant about wanting to go with just me. The nurse on duty seemed to think I could handle the task, so out we went, with the implicit understanding that the nurse was available if she was needed. It was a cold, windy, miserable evening, and when we got to the restaurant, I realized it was a bit of a dump. That didn’t seem to bother Mom, and we decided to give it a try regardless. The food was quite good, and we had a very enjoyable time together. Most of my trepidation about the outing had faded away by dinner’s end, then, as we were leaving the restaurant, she seemed to get very winded from almost no exertion. I feared she was having some kind of coronary event, and by the time we got to the car, I was running through various disaster scenarios, involving nurses, ambulances, and a nearby hospital. Thankfully, she stabilized and we were able to go home. I dodged a bullet there, but that was probably my last dinner alone with Mom.

Having just watched my father slowly pass away, I am now watching it happen to my mom. In her moments of clarity, I see glimpses of the woman I once knew, but that woman is almost completely gone now. While I will not mourn a life well lived, and she’s had a pretty good life so far, I do find myself with ambivalent feelings about this difficult end stage. For my own peace of mind, I know I need to be there for her. For her there is ennui, and confusion, and anger, and a whole host of other emotions going on. For me there is only the futile effort to help her face this last challenge with as much dignity as she can muster. For her, dignity is in short supply these days.

“In my mind I travel distant lands, to where the mountains meet the sea
To Africa, to the South of France, to Ireland so green
And you can call me a fool to worship the adventure of uncertainty
But my life is filing papers, I prefer the curse of the sea …

Infatuation, imagination, no destinations,
Call it the curse of the sea”



As the late Warren Zevon once said, “you’ve got to enjoy every sandwich”

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/4/09

Hope you all had a happy Halloween. I was in Buffalo last weekend to see my mom, and once again, I did not dress up. I wonder how many people went with the ubiquitous “balloon boy” theme. I like topical costumes. Once, many years ago, there was a news story about some whales that got stuck in a block of ice, and I remember some girl coming to our Halloween party dressed as the whale. She used a giant piece of Styrofoam for the ice and made a whale with its head sticking out of it. It was hilarious, and very creative. One of my more elaborate costumes was a tuna fish. I spent a long time on that costume – I hand-sewed the whole thing - and it WAS amusing. Unfortunately, it looked nothing like a tuna fish; everybody thought I was a sea monster or a shark. The problem with Halloween is that we always have candy left over, and I feel obliged to eat it. To make matters worse, this year we gave out Reeses Peanut Butter cups, and those are my favorites.

While I was down in Buffalo last weekend, I stopped at one of my favorite fast food restaurants, Mighty Taco. Mighty Taco is a Buffalo phenomenon, and they’ve grown considerably since I started eating there. Mighty Taco is far from the best Mexican food available in Buffalo, but as fast food goes, it’s pretty good. They may have locations all over the Northeast for all I know. When I first started to eat at Mighty Taco, back in the early eighties, they had only one or two locations. Their first location, a little hole in the wall on Hertel Ave., was walking distance from one of my favorite bars. Many a late night was capped off with a garden burrito and a Super Mighty Taco (my particular favorite). Mighty Taco also had the rudest ads on radio, which, of course, appealed to me. One ad in particular involved someone farting loudly on a bus. You hear all the other passengers groan, but then someone comments that the gas smells pretty good, and he asks the gas producer where he ate. Why, Mighty Taco, of course! I think the owner of the company had a recording studio in his basement and he created his own very off color ads. Whatever he did seemed to work, because Buffalonians have been consistently loyal to Mighty Taco. Years ago, when Taco Bell, the great Satan of TexMex food, invaded Western N.Y with multiple locations, Buffalonians voted with their wallets, and within a few years Taco Bell closed most or all of their locations. Brief aside … the best burrito I have tasted to date is available at a little restaurant on College St. west of Bathurst in Toronto.

In the news last week, Hillary Clinton was in harm’s way when terrorist bombs went off in Kabul. As the U.S. contemplates sending another 40,000 troops to Afghanistan, there seems to be quite a lot of debate about what is the proper course of action for that war torn country. I like the strategy of winning the “hearts and minds” of the people, but I think maybe that will require a little more understanding of their culture than we have the patience to develop. I’m afraid it’s a pipe dream to hope that some of the billions in American aid will be used for anything other than fighting the dreaded Taliban. I wonder if anybody has actually done a cost benefit analysis. Which is more effective: $5 Billion for guns, tanks, and ammo, or $5 Billion for improved health care and the rebuilding of infrastructure? We lost seventeen or eighteen men last week along with two helicopters. And what about reports that Afghan President Karzai’s brother is on the CIA payroll? Yikes, are we now in the opium business? If that guy really is “on our side”, he’s a dead man now that his cover is blown. Remember when Geraldo was drawing maps in the sand during the Iraq war, revealing sensitive information about U.S. troop positions? War is hell, especially with guys like Geraldo in your side. Michael Jackson’s movie was released last week, and I had to laugh when I read an explanation for why the movie was rated PG-14 … apparently “crotch-grabbing” is considered something which requires parental supervision. Who knew? I do want to see the movie, because, like many other people, I want to see footage of that last rehearsal. Train wrecks R Us.

Finally, and with reference to last week’s report about the old T.V. programs, how could I have forgotten, “I Love Lucy”, Mr. Ed, and one of my favorites, “Green Acres”? I loved that double-dealing Mr. Haney character, remember him … and the scatter-brained Mr. Kimball …and Fred Ziffel’s pig “Arnold? I wonder what ever happened to Arnold. I hope he didn’t end up in a taco. Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/26/09

I heard on the news the other day that comedian Milton Supmon, AKA Soupy Sales, had died, and that made me a little nostalgic. I am just old enough to remember watching his show when I was a little boy. Back in the dark ages of black and white television, Soupy made me laugh , the good old fashioned way, with cream pies in the face and puppets. I watched a lot of kid shows back then … Kukla, Fran, and Ollie … Sherrie Lewis, with that annoying sock puppet Lamb Chop … Howdy Doody … Uncle Milty. I watched a lot of T.V. in general, but the T.V. shows I remember most fondly are the local shows from Buffalo.

There was a local Buffalo children’s show called “Rocket Ship 7” and it was hosted by Channel 7 weatherman Dave Thomas, along with his sidekicks Promo the Robot and Mr. Beeper. Mr. Beeper went on to gain notoriety as a popular tool of drug lords. I watched Rocket Ship 7 every morning when I was a kid. I guess my imagination was better in those days. One day, my dad took me to the Channel 7 studio in Buffalo, because he had to do some community welfare thing on T.V., and he brought me along because he thought I might find the experience interesting. When we got there, the first thing I saw was the set where Rocket Ship 7 was taped. My bubble burst the moment I saw that set because, even as a little kid, I realized how cheesy it was. Promo the Robot was in fact just a refrigerator box spray painted silver with some coat buttons glued on. I think his mouth was made out of a cheese grater or something. It was awful; I have never trusted the reality of television since. Other local shows I remember include “The Commander Tom Show”, featuring yet another local weatherman, Tom Jolls. He was no Bob Keeshan (AKA Captain Kangaroo), but he was alright. I remember watching a show called “Dialing for Dollars”, which was basically a show which aired a movie, and after each commercial break, the host, Nolan Johannes, would call up some lucky person and ask them a question about the featured movie. If they were watching and knew the answer, they won the “jackpot”, which rose every time someone didn’t know the answer. The best (and most ridiculous) part about that show was the musical accompaniment by the Johnny and Jimmy Duo. One guy played the accordion and I think the other guy played the organ. It was horrible, polka-like music, and probably very popular in Buffalo. “Strikes, Spares, and Misses” was another one of my local favorites. That was a bowling show, hosted by Buffalo sportscaster Chuck Healy, and it featured only women bowlers (hence the Misses). The winner earned prizes like a refrigerator full of unnatural luncheon meats, courtesy of the local supermarket.

Other black and white T.V. shows I remember watching, which were not local include, in no particular chronological order: “Make room for Daddy” with Danny Kaye, “Father Knows Best”, “Hazel”, “Leave it to Beaver”, “Gomer Pyle USMC” “My Mother the Car”, “My Favorite Martian”, “Rawhide”, “The Rifleman”, “Gunsmoke”, “The Big Valley”, “I Dream of Genie”, “Car 54 Where Are You”, “The Patty Duke Show”, "The Twilight Zone", “Dragnet”, “The Red Skelton Show”, “The Jackie Gleason Show”, “The Jack Benny Show”, “The Ed Sullivan Show”, “The Addams Family”, and “The Munsters”, I’m sure there were more, but those are the ones I can summon up on a moment’s notice. Last night, I watched an episode of “Law & Order” with my mom, and it was about a rock star accused of murder. In one episode, the following subjects came up: drug abuse, child molestation, homosexuality, infidelity, and statutory rape. Soupy Sales would not have been amused. Television has changed.

Written By Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10-19-09

Indignation is the sentiment du jour… Last Thursday afternoon, as I took a break from the chinking, I turned on the T.V. in the kitchen and was presented with the latest as-it-happened catastrophe featured on CNN. It was the now infamous “balloon boy” story. Six year-old Falcon Heene was believed to have crawled into the experimental helium-filled Mylar weather balloon that his father had made, and set it afloat. Fears were that he was in the balloon when it took off. The media circus that ensued was unbelievable. There was constant video coverage of this balloon, which looked like a big tin foil mushroom, filmed as it blew through the sky at 7000 feet. This was the exclusive story on CNN for almost the entire day, even after it was discovered that the little boy was NOT in the balloon. Then, the focus became the search for his spattered remains on the ground, before it was learned that he had been hiding in his parent’s attic through the entire fiasco. Even before they discovered that the kid was safe, I thought this was an awful lot of national attention on what amounted to a local story. I mean, look at what’s going on in Pakistan and Afghanistan right now, or the eight hundred other worthy stories worldwide! The Colorado National Guard was called out, and police in several Colorado counties were chasing this unmanned balloon for miles from the ground. Would the little boy freeze to death at the high altitude? How strong IS Mylar? Balloon experts were assembled and interviewed. It was insane. I can’t imagine how much money was spent on this story but it was probably in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. As of Sunday, they’re still talking about it, and little Falcon and his family were by then making the media rounds. His father seems like a bit of a flake, especially after I saw some clips of his “performance” on the reality show “Wife Swap”. I have no idea whether this nonsense was just an unfortunate accident or a media stunt (the father is presently being charged with causing this hoax)), but it certainly seemed like a waste of airspace. CNN, the very network that gave this story “wings” now calls it “hot air journalism”. Hmm.

There’s a new movie coming out later this month called “Vampire’s Assistant” and I’ve come to the conclusion that vampires are the new dinosaurs. Remember when Spielberg made the first “Jurassic Park” movie and suddenly, every kid wanted to have a dinosaur? There were dinosaur shakes at McDonald’s, and dinosaur lunch boxes, dinosaur pencil cases, dinosaur-shaped pasta in soup – dinosaurs were everywhere. Even Barney got a pay raise, and he’s not even really a dinosaur … more of a fat, purple hippo. I got really sick of all the dinosaur crap. Now it’s vampires. Suddenly it’s hip to be a vampire. I remember when I was young and there was only one true vampire; his name was Bela Lugosi. Bela may have been a drug addict, but he was one scary Dracula, and I had many a nightmare after watching his films. These days, vampires are the subjects of Harlequin romances. They fall in love, they have feelings, they have integrity, and virtue (ugh!), and they look like Tom Cruise. I take that back, I just watched “Interview with a Vampire” again … the new vampires, like the ones in the HBO series “True Blood”, are BETTER looking than Tom Cruise. Does anybody remember that Werner Herzog film “Nosferatu the Vampyre”? Now that was one ugly ass vampire, and that’s what they should look like. They are the undead; they are vermin who suck the blood of the living for heaven’s sake; they are evil beings from the underworld, they sleep in coffins! They should not look like Zack Efron.

It’s been a frosty October up here in the Great White North, and it was below freezing every night last week. I think I’ll pull the retractable dock up this week, because boating season has decidedly ended. The chinking work on the house should be done in the next few days, and everything else will likely have to wait until Spring. Time to go sharpen the chainsaw, something I just learned how to do, so I can cut up some more firewood for the imminent winter. Watch for those vampire blood milk shakes at McDonald’s. And to the balloon family, and to the news organizations who covered this non event as ad nauseam, I offer this bit of advice: get a friggin’ life!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/12/09

Last Thursday marked my 54th birthday and for the first time in a while I had a really good one. Shauna threw me a surprise 50th and that was a good memory, but for the past few years, on my birthday I have moped around complaining about the passage of time and my general stagnation relative thereto. October 8th, 2009 started with Happy Birthday banners all over the house. The carpenters gave me a couple of very cool tools for my cordless drill. The lighting guy finally showed up and fixed the glitches in the kitchen lighting, hopefully for the last time, reprogrammed the fancy computerized lighting control system in the bedroom, and also installed the exterior dark sky, low voltage lights which softly highlight the back of our house at night. That lighting does the house justice. I got a call from my mom, albeit because Shauna called her to remind her it was my birthday (she’s a bit foggy these days), but I got a call nonetheless. That was a bonus, as were calls from several other friends with whom I’ve lost touch. I spent most of the day cutting and splitting firewood, which I enjoy doing. There’s nothing like spending a little time with a chainsaw to purge the demons within. My birthday present to myself this year was an electric wood splitter, and that worked like a charm. Everyone told me the electric ones don’t work, but this Ryobi comes with a two year warranty, and so far I am impressed. I’ve got two years to break it. Finally, I ended the day with a couple of glasses of red wine – o.k., more than a couple – and Shauna and a friend took me to Huntsville for dinner. I even got a birthday ice cream sundae, compliments to the restaurant. Nothing says VIP like a complimentary dessert.

The one thing that is just now beginning to catch up with me and remind me that I am no longer the rebel without a clue I once fancied myself to be, is the gradual and widening separation between what I think my body can do and what my body can in fact do. Of course, in general, I’m a little stiffer these days than I used to be, but after the latest wood cutting session, I was a hurtin’ cowboy. Knock on firewood, so far I have avoided many of the crippling injuries my peers have sustained by ignoring their limitations or denying their waning co-ordination. I haven’t broken my leg on an ATV like one of my contemporaries recently did, or screwed up my back shoveling snow as another friend did. Nevertheless, I do finds that Ibuprofin has become my new best friend.

The weather has been, as the Irish say, desperate; very rainy, with temperatures hovering around the freezing mark. We’ve even had a bit of the white stuff, though thankfully none that stuck to the ground. We’re making good progress on the chinking, and we’re over halfway done. As always happens in the fall up here, I delude myself into thinking that there will be a few hot summer-like days before the onset of winter. I leave the boat at the dock, thinking we’ll have that last fall foliage cruise, which turns into, why-didn’t-I-take-the-boat-in-and-put-the-dock-up-when-it-wasn’t-cold-and-miserable …again?! As the Canadian geese point south in their triangles of exodus, and the wind begins to blow the trees bare on this the weekend of the Canadian Thanksgiving, I am surrounded by the things for which I have reason to give thanks: an almost finished house, the love of my friends and family, the comfort of knowing that at least for five or ten more years I can indulge in the delusion that I am still a young man … and oh yes, I give thanks for electric log splitters.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED