Craig Tyson Adams

NAH, THAT COULDN’T HAPPEN TO ME Scammers are people too Amid searching for work online, an email finds its way to the inbox. Since it’s been weeks since the quest got underway, the message blends with the others seamlessly. The opening of missives rolls on and, inevitably, unbeknownst to the opener, the nefarious note makes itself known. By innocently clicking on the offending offering a Pandora’s box will be unleashed if executed upon. Information in it reads like a positive pronouncement of the reception of an inquiry of the application for employment. Human Resources has received the solicitation, along with the resume, and has ascertained that the applicant has met the basic requirement to move forward in the process! As they peruse the details of the offer, a swell of gratitude fills the job seeker. All the aspects of the overture check the required boxes. Remote location, adequate compensation and benefits that are requisite upon examination. They conducted the initial interview

Braves and Dodgers unceremoniously kicked to the curb Anything can happen in a short series A couple of months ago, I declared the San Diego Padres dead . This is a display of my overconfidence whenever it comes to prognostication. My lapse of reason for prediction is particularly painful when I’m in Las Vegas. It’s there when my penchant for being a prophet cannot turn a profit. I should know better by now, and I do, but that doesn’t stop me. In sports, there is always a chance. Sometimes the underdog overcomes all odds and shocks the pundits. That possibility has an ability to wheedle its way into decision making. There’s always a chance. That’s the tantalizing prospect. To be recognized as an oracle. A soothsayer of the science of sports forecasting. I didn't see this coming, and that's the problem with the Major League Baseball playoffs. The defending world series champion Atlanta Braves looked unbeatable. The same with the 111 win Los Angeles Dodgers. Both teams seemed to

Key to a happy life Amnesia is a gift Time passes for some of us like a sloth that has discovered and somehow took a drag off of a dank Indica blunt. We remember little foibles of people or persons that have mistreated us, real or imagined. We choose to keep this recollection in mind so that, when the key moment renders itself, we can exact our revenge. Such thinking can be a detriment, not only for our psyche but also for our physicality. Such willful, spiteful retrospection can manifest in ways that we cannot perceive, but the ones that can see us do. It may be a scowl that we hold facially, or a hunch that is developed by carrying too much tension in the shoulders making them stooped. Either way, it shows that having a memory that is too good is a detriment to a pursuit of happiness. In the United States of America , we’re given the privilege of pursuing happiness by the Declaration of Independence. So, in that instance, the concept of having an exemplary capacity for memory could b

  MASTER THE GRIND LIKE A GRIND MASTER Embrace the suck I’m writing this to you because I feel there has to be a need for this message to come to you this way today. Something tells me that a challenge is perplexing you. Don’t worry. A confrontation of this sort is precisely what a well-lived life is all about. Sure, it’s a pain in the nether regions, but the situation you find yourself in needs focus and motivation to achieve rectification. You need those two aspects to find the way out and on to a better time. Nothing can teach you better about failure, and resolution, better than my favorite sport,  baseball . In this most established of all sports, the way of playing is as venerable as the passage of time. It’s a game where success is as elusive as the time that passes as it’s being played. If a baseball hitter’s time at bat is fruitful three times out of 10, that would be 30% of the time. They consider the batter an enormous success! The powers that be would consider the ball whac

  You don’t know what you’re missing vs. dodged that bullet Ah, children. The future of civilization. We place our hopes and dreams on them even though they don’t deserve it. We make plans for them and when they find out about our plans, they plan on doing something completely different. That’s not to say that we shouldn’t be proud to have them. We are! Our hearts burst with pride when we see how much they look like us. You can spot features and actions that remind us of beloved family members. Your kid may have a gait like a treasured uncle. They may have a smile like a favorite aunt. A twinkle in the eye, like the mailman. All things familiar to us by the sharing of genetics. It gives us a bond that can never be broken until the day they pilfer the car keys and do donuts in the neighbor’s yard and take out the mailbox, or figure out your password and order a trombone and an entire collection of James Bond movies from Amazon. There are pluses and minuses Having one or two children, if

  Yeah, hate is a strong word, but it’s the only word that covers it.  Look, I’m an old-fashioned guy.   I root for my team, the Los Angeles Rams . It’s difficult, but I’m loyal like that. Sure, they somehow won the Super Bowl last season and that great. But mostly in the last few seasons, they stunk. The thing is, when I’m watching a Rams game, I don’t want someone to come over to my house and root for some other teams player or some other teams defense when I’m intensely concentrating on sending my overwhelming positive juju to the Rams so that they’ll theoretically do well. They create a make believe football team so that they won’t pay as much attention to their families for a few months. If they don’t heed my first admonishment, I will take away all beer and wings privileges. Even if they brought the refreshments themselves. Well, I’ll draw the line there. I’ll drink the beer, but I’ll do it with a sneer. If they don’t like it, they can get out! I realize that the corporate takeov

  My first payday was in the summer of ’78 Watching all the musicians at the Taylor Hawkins tribute concert today took me back. Joe Walsh is playing with a reconstituted James Gang. As music does, it took me back in time. Art has the innate ability to make us remember the time, place, and smell of when we first experienced it. Music in particular has the power to catapult our memory back if we like it or not. Some times were good. Some were bad. Sometimes it rained. But they are all ours, nonetheless. They were exhilarating and embarrassing and we wouldn’t be the same without them, however you choose your recollection to be. In the summer of 1978, I was 14 years old. That was the summer my father decided I would work for him in our family business. He owned a gasoline service station. My older brother had moved on, so now it was my turn to pump gas, mount and repair tires and change oil. It was an old-fashioned service station. People didn’t have to get out of their cars. While the gas