No, this isn't going to be a swanky tale about why I keep going back to my ex-girlfriend I've dated on and off since I was 16. That would be silly, and a bit romantic, and a lot of boring, right? No my friends, this is a narrative about my dating life where I'm left feeling like I'm living my very own Groundhog Day. That movie with Bill Murray and the cute, fat groundhog where no matter what Bill's character does he can't escape repeating the same day, over and over. Well for me it's not that I'm not dating the exact same girl over and over, but rather, feel like I'm dating the exact same kind of girl over and over. So failed relationship after failed relationship has led me to some soul searching in my continuing search for my soulmate.
If you haven't figured it out yet from my blog, I'm not perfect, and the more I read self-help books about relationships, the more I realize how flawed I am. We all are, my exes are, and it would be easy for me to look at them with retrospecs (yes I just made that up, it's clever, no?) and put the preponderance of blame on them for our relationships failing, but it's not. I am just as much to blame with the way I was approaching relationships and the decisions I would make in them. Initially when choosing people to date I would be drawn to gorgeous women that made me feel desired and appreciated. And that's not necessarily a bad thing in of itself, but on a sub-conscious level I believe I liked the idea of being a knight in shining armor or prince charming. I savored the feeling of being wanted, or worse yet, needed by someone you're becoming attached to. That feeling of your stability and companionship being valued, and everyone wants to feel valued.
I attribute my emphasis on wanting to be viewed as good enough by others started when I was a youth and felt weak and inadequate: physically, emotionally, and socially. So as I grew older, I spent many years trying to overcome my perceived weaknesses and become a strong, complete person. Someone that I could be proud of and that other people could look up to, and even be a protector and helper to others in need. Not so much to feed my ego, but because I know the low points I've been at in my life. So even though I know I still have shortcomings, I now view myself as a capable and confident individual. And the way I found myself reaffirming this belief was through the validation of others, especially intimate partners.
Regardless of what your story is, the fact of the matter is no one can deny they want to feel wanted and valued, it's a basic human need. So being made to feel like a strong, desired person that your partner can depend on almost became like a drug for me. But as with most drugs, once the high wore off, I was left questioning whether or not this person was someone I actually wanted to spend my life with. And if I began to feel they weren't that person, or they made me feel like they weren't that person, I would quickly lose patience in them leading to eventual break-ups. And then would start this cycle over again looking for someone else that made me excited and believe.
The thing is, choosing a partner for life is about so much more than just having a good time. You should have great times with your significant other, a lot, but it's also about someone that will be there when you're low, and brings you up and makes you smile when you are. Someone who doesn't judge you, or ever try to tear you down, someone that you can talk about anything with, someone who challenges you to be your best, and is your best friend. Someone who is your equal.
Equal, in this sense, doesn't mean clone, that would be extremely boring if someone was exactly like you in every way. Equal just means someone that is at similar point that you are in your life and shares your philosophy about life. Philosophy simply meaning way of life, how you choose to approach it and live it. Wherever you are in your journey in life you need to find someone that is at a comparable place in theirs. The key is that you're both walking side by side, eye to eye, not one in front, nor one behind, but partners. So if you look at your partner with the realization they are depending on you for any reason other than love and support or you aren't good enough for them, then you are not with the person that you should be with.
Now I'm a firm believer in unconditional love, that's love without conditions. So you may be saying that this means I should have loved past partners for all their flaws and all, no matter what, and I do and I did in those relationships. The difference is you can never truly be in-love unconditionally with someone who you don't feel in your heart is truly your equal, or you theirs. Even if one person believes it, but the other doesn't, then it ultimately still fails because an imbalance has been established along with an acceptance of co-dependence, which will never go away. And from this spiderwebs negative relationship habits that people do like keep score and deflect/minimize blame.
It's like building a home below sea level and wondering why it keeps flooding and getting washed out every so often. It simply will never be this impenetrable fortress that a healthy relationship should be. The hardest part is knowing who to start building this foundation with, We all want love, to be loved, to know what all these songs, movies, and TV shows are talking about. So we start looking for it in the wrong places, or really any place. And sometimes we confuse love for lust, or love for admiration, or perverse it however else that isn't based first on mutual respect and then similar goals in life.
There is no denying that dating and love are hard, finding that one person you should spend your life with is like trying to choose one star amongst the millions in the sky. So many can look so beautiful and shine so bright but which one was made just for you, and you for them. It's easy to discouraged because we live in an instant gratification society and we all want our Disney fairy tale, yesterday. It's interesting when I think back on different points of my life and who I was and how I viewed relationships. I can look at someone I dated when I was 26 and think I would have been so lucky to be able to marry that person when I was the 20 year old me. Yet, her and I are no longer together now for a reason.
In his book Scary Close, Donald Miller says that all relationships are "telelogical ", meaning they are all going somewhere. Good, bad, or indifferent, relationships are fluid, and ultimately we have to find someone who is going where we want to go. As we are all constantly changing, we have to find that person whose soul is intertwined with our own and wants to change and grow the way we are.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Monday, November 2, 2015
"You Are Not Special" - Drasle Tome Volume III
Psssssst, hey you....yeah YOU, the person reading this, I feel I need to let you in on a little secret, feel free to tell whoever else you want though. *Ahem* I'll just give it to you straight: You. Are. Not. Special. No, I'm not saying this to just kick you in your ego and make you feel unimportant, I'm saying it for your own damn good. Stop living your life believing your soooo daggone important, and you'll be a lot happier. Why is that? Well first of all, nothing you're doing is anything new. Oh, you're pretty? You have a nice body? You have money? You have blah, blah, blah? So do 8 million other people, Congratulations! All the stuff your posting on the Facebooks and Instagrams trying to get likes from complete strangers, just stop, no one actually cares, they are just as approval-seeking as you are.
But wait, you say came up with some new idea like Ikea or sliced bread! What you really mean is all you did as improve upon something someone else already created. There is nothing truly new under the sun anymore, it's the same things as always in a flashier, convenience store package. Now if you find a cure for Cancer, I'll concede you're special, but until then, let's get back to the subject at hand.
At an early age most of us are told we are special and important, there's actually nothing wrong with that, that's what good parents and role-models should be doing, rather than the opposite. The problem is no one ever really tells us what that is supposed to mean in a practical sense. So from this most of us develop an ambitious desire to be "great": do grandiose things, change the world, matter to lots and lots of people. Now there are parents who do elaborate more and constantly tell their kids they are special when they notice, for example, athletic or singing talent at an early age and then put pressure on them to succeed in these fields. Of course the downside to this is shame and failure, so that's totally healthy for kids and their molding.
The point is this, once we become adults, everyone wants to be a millionaire. But if everyone was a millionaire, it wouldn't mean anything anymore, it would be the equivalent of being a thousandaire. So from this realization comes the "dog eat dog" mentality that we will do whatever it takes to achieve what we want to achieve because we know the space at the top is limited and vacancies don't come often. All this creates is very unfulfilling lives for everyone involved because if you're not using, you're being used. We all can't be special, to reach this exclusive status, there will always be someone else who is smarter, better looking, has more money, etc. So at the end of the day, those at the top aren't anymore fulfilled than those at the bottom.
It sounds all very depressing I know, but there is hope! We all need to re-learn what it means to be special, because you know what? You are unique, there is absolutely no one else exactly like you, but that doesn't make you better than anyone else, because no else is like anyone else either. So embrace this with grace, not arrogance. And instead of focusing on trying to be deemed magnificent and great in the eyes of the world, focus on being magnificent and great to those closest to you: your family, your friends,your co-workers. And stop with celebrity worship and putting other humans on a pedestal, because they are simply skin, blood, and bones; just like you. We get so caught up in trying to "matter" we forget what really matters. If you're focused on doing things for admiration and praise, you're already doing them for the wrong reasons and you should go back and re-evaluate yourself. Imagine what your world would be like if everyone took this approach, all the jealousy, bitterness, isolation, all these feelings would no longer have relevance because now there is no one to look up to, or down upon.
Growing up I always felt I was different than other people and wanted to be special, but you know what I eventually realized, the only life I was living was my own so I really didn't have an accurate gauge for this. The more I lived and the more I learned, the more I realized that my basic composotion is really not that different than anyone else, for better and for worse. I have desires, insecurities, strengths, and weaknesses; no one is perfect nor has the perfect life, so the only thing that truly makes me different is the choices I make and how I treat people. So instead of wasting our lives trying to be viewed as special in the eyes' of others, we should spend a lot more time trying to do special things for others.
But wait, you say came up with some new idea like Ikea or sliced bread! What you really mean is all you did as improve upon something someone else already created. There is nothing truly new under the sun anymore, it's the same things as always in a flashier, convenience store package. Now if you find a cure for Cancer, I'll concede you're special, but until then, let's get back to the subject at hand.
At an early age most of us are told we are special and important, there's actually nothing wrong with that, that's what good parents and role-models should be doing, rather than the opposite. The problem is no one ever really tells us what that is supposed to mean in a practical sense. So from this most of us develop an ambitious desire to be "great": do grandiose things, change the world, matter to lots and lots of people. Now there are parents who do elaborate more and constantly tell their kids they are special when they notice, for example, athletic or singing talent at an early age and then put pressure on them to succeed in these fields. Of course the downside to this is shame and failure, so that's totally healthy for kids and their molding.
The point is this, once we become adults, everyone wants to be a millionaire. But if everyone was a millionaire, it wouldn't mean anything anymore, it would be the equivalent of being a thousandaire. So from this realization comes the "dog eat dog" mentality that we will do whatever it takes to achieve what we want to achieve because we know the space at the top is limited and vacancies don't come often. All this creates is very unfulfilling lives for everyone involved because if you're not using, you're being used. We all can't be special, to reach this exclusive status, there will always be someone else who is smarter, better looking, has more money, etc. So at the end of the day, those at the top aren't anymore fulfilled than those at the bottom.
It sounds all very depressing I know, but there is hope! We all need to re-learn what it means to be special, because you know what? You are unique, there is absolutely no one else exactly like you, but that doesn't make you better than anyone else, because no else is like anyone else either. So embrace this with grace, not arrogance. And instead of focusing on trying to be deemed magnificent and great in the eyes of the world, focus on being magnificent and great to those closest to you: your family, your friends,your co-workers. And stop with celebrity worship and putting other humans on a pedestal, because they are simply skin, blood, and bones; just like you. We get so caught up in trying to "matter" we forget what really matters. If you're focused on doing things for admiration and praise, you're already doing them for the wrong reasons and you should go back and re-evaluate yourself. Imagine what your world would be like if everyone took this approach, all the jealousy, bitterness, isolation, all these feelings would no longer have relevance because now there is no one to look up to, or down upon.
Growing up I always felt I was different than other people and wanted to be special, but you know what I eventually realized, the only life I was living was my own so I really didn't have an accurate gauge for this. The more I lived and the more I learned, the more I realized that my basic composotion is really not that different than anyone else, for better and for worse. I have desires, insecurities, strengths, and weaknesses; no one is perfect nor has the perfect life, so the only thing that truly makes me different is the choices I make and how I treat people. So instead of wasting our lives trying to be viewed as special in the eyes' of others, we should spend a lot more time trying to do special things for others.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
"The Illusionary Prison" - Drasle Tome Volume II
Life, an ever-flowing stream of conscious and unconsciousness. Intertwined and impossible to control, but one can't help but wonder if the current they are floating on is the right one. Forcing me to question whether or not I am maximizing my potential and abilities. I could have been a musician, or a writer - maybe. But would that have made me happy? It's impossible to know, which makes regret the most debilitating fear one can have. To believe you are wasting your life, or have wasted your life. Especially once youth has passed us by, and we begin to accept we can no longer learn, grow, change. You can't go back, you have to move forward. Yet it's a chain reaction, sometimes an unbreakable cycle; the decisions we make have consequences.
So we wander through life, always believing we are missing out on something, that there's more out there. While never taking the time to appreciate what we have right in front of us. We live the way others have made us believe we should, yet they can't live for us, and are probably emptier in inside than we are are. It's ironic that we all progress through life, yet so few of us ever really progress. The first step to enlightenment requires a moment where you ask yourself what you're doing and why you're doing it, then consciously no longer allowing the wants everyone else creates to force your way.
I eventually realized that the opportunities I didn't have, the things I didn't get or do, despite wanting them, were some of the best things to happen to me - by not happening to me. As if I had a guardian angel watching over me, protecting me from myself. Why did I deserve to be so lucky?
Or perhaps I just realized what I had in front of me all along, what truly mattered. Everything you do and experience in life contributes to the person you are, but you ultimately decide whether or not it will effect you positively or negatively, and to what degree.
So as I float along my stream towards self-improvement and enlightenment, I appreciate the person I have become. Though a lack of perfection brings mistakes, which breed regret, this provides me with the opportunity to force out negativity and other's false ideals, increasing my sense of fulfillment.
So we wander through life, always believing we are missing out on something, that there's more out there. While never taking the time to appreciate what we have right in front of us. We live the way others have made us believe we should, yet they can't live for us, and are probably emptier in inside than we are are. It's ironic that we all progress through life, yet so few of us ever really progress. The first step to enlightenment requires a moment where you ask yourself what you're doing and why you're doing it, then consciously no longer allowing the wants everyone else creates to force your way.
I eventually realized that the opportunities I didn't have, the things I didn't get or do, despite wanting them, were some of the best things to happen to me - by not happening to me. As if I had a guardian angel watching over me, protecting me from myself. Why did I deserve to be so lucky?
Or perhaps I just realized what I had in front of me all along, what truly mattered. Everything you do and experience in life contributes to the person you are, but you ultimately decide whether or not it will effect you positively or negatively, and to what degree.
So as I float along my stream towards self-improvement and enlightenment, I appreciate the person I have become. Though a lack of perfection brings mistakes, which breed regret, this provides me with the opportunity to force out negativity and other's false ideals, increasing my sense of fulfillment.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
"A Near Life Experience" - Drasle Tome Volume I
Recently I had a dream.......I should pause here because the fact that I am writing about a dream I had is amazing in of itself because I never remember any of them 5 minutes after I wake up. So the fact that I am recalling one probably means it was significant.
And it was. I vividly remember standing on a street like any other street with houses and cars. But as I was standing there a black tornado was approaching from the horizon behind me. And as it bore down on me, it was engulfing the entire sky and earth in its path. All I wanted to do was run and find a way to escape.......but I couldn't because there was no where to go. And I remember feeling the most emptiest, horrible feeling anyone could ever feel. But in that moment I saw life, and my life clearer than I have ever saw it before. Overwhelmed by shame for all the stupid mistakes that I have made and angered by all the time I wasted on meaningless endeavors. And the only thing I could have ever wanted or needed in that moment was to change my life, but I couldn't because it was too late. And I felt so hopeless.
.....And then I woke up and realized it was all a nightmare, yet the sense of despair still lingered. And I'm glad it did because even though I knew I couldn't undo my sins, I knew from that point on I had time and the opportunity to live up to my fullest potential. Of course if I allow myself to get caught up in everyday life it will only be a matter of time before I fall back into the same cycles of emptiness I've lived in. So the challenge is incorporating the theory into practice, easier said than done, right?
There's only been 2 instances in my life where I've felt completely consumed by dread: one conscious, and this one sub-conscious. Either enough to be life changing, if one could successfully change their life from it. I only wish it were possible to embrace this dire sensation whenever I'm once again falling into the trappings of this life and my mind and soul need clarity. So why is it that we can't learn how to live until we're face to face with death?
And it was. I vividly remember standing on a street like any other street with houses and cars. But as I was standing there a black tornado was approaching from the horizon behind me. And as it bore down on me, it was engulfing the entire sky and earth in its path. All I wanted to do was run and find a way to escape.......but I couldn't because there was no where to go. And I remember feeling the most emptiest, horrible feeling anyone could ever feel. But in that moment I saw life, and my life clearer than I have ever saw it before. Overwhelmed by shame for all the stupid mistakes that I have made and angered by all the time I wasted on meaningless endeavors. And the only thing I could have ever wanted or needed in that moment was to change my life, but I couldn't because it was too late. And I felt so hopeless.
.....And then I woke up and realized it was all a nightmare, yet the sense of despair still lingered. And I'm glad it did because even though I knew I couldn't undo my sins, I knew from that point on I had time and the opportunity to live up to my fullest potential. Of course if I allow myself to get caught up in everyday life it will only be a matter of time before I fall back into the same cycles of emptiness I've lived in. So the challenge is incorporating the theory into practice, easier said than done, right?
There's only been 2 instances in my life where I've felt completely consumed by dread: one conscious, and this one sub-conscious. Either enough to be life changing, if one could successfully change their life from it. I only wish it were possible to embrace this dire sensation whenever I'm once again falling into the trappings of this life and my mind and soul need clarity. So why is it that we can't learn how to live until we're face to face with death?
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Hands Full of Nothing
The more I live life, the more I come to realize it will never make sense to me. Like how someone can have everything, basically, yet they can only focus on the things they don't have. And the fixation on these things make everything else seem irrelevant. This is how we live our lives: looking for something, chasing something, always wanting something more; never appreciating the things we have. We're taught to look negatively on complacency and praise ambition, but what's the point of being driven if you never embrace the destination? Of course life is about the journey, not the end, because the end is your end, the cessation of your existence, so your instinct is to continue to strive.
Thus we live like parasites and leeches, using each other for our own benefits and gains. I myself feed off competition, the exercise of winners and losers; it's an endless cycle because the stimulation of success gives your life purpose. But only a few can win, and many lose, and no one can win all the time, so the dire cycle eventually destroys us all.
So are all of our gestures in life just meaningless acts meant to delay the inevitable? Not if we learn to appreciate what we have and find a way to transcend our innate self-centeredness. No longer feeling like I'll be happy if I just had ________, because once we obtain these things, we're going to gaze around and the things that we had, and truly mattered along, will be gone. The relentless sensation of emptiness is only in our minds, we're trained to feel this way, to consume life, but in reality it's only consuming us. Everything we really need, we already have, and what we don't, we get by living, not hunting.
The happiest people in the world are the ones that live inside each moment instead of for the next. It's no wonder that when people are on the verge of death that they see life so clear, and few have no regret. When one can no longer look forward in life, they have no choice to look back, and it's then that they realize how much of it they wasted on frivolous things.
I've come to believe it is possible to be truly happy in life, accepting that I'm not there now, or perhaps that is just my ambition creating another destination. Or maybe I am already truly happy, at least have everything I need to feel that way, I just haven't opened my eyes yet.
Thus we live like parasites and leeches, using each other for our own benefits and gains. I myself feed off competition, the exercise of winners and losers; it's an endless cycle because the stimulation of success gives your life purpose. But only a few can win, and many lose, and no one can win all the time, so the dire cycle eventually destroys us all.
So are all of our gestures in life just meaningless acts meant to delay the inevitable? Not if we learn to appreciate what we have and find a way to transcend our innate self-centeredness. No longer feeling like I'll be happy if I just had ________, because once we obtain these things, we're going to gaze around and the things that we had, and truly mattered along, will be gone. The relentless sensation of emptiness is only in our minds, we're trained to feel this way, to consume life, but in reality it's only consuming us. Everything we really need, we already have, and what we don't, we get by living, not hunting.
The happiest people in the world are the ones that live inside each moment instead of for the next. It's no wonder that when people are on the verge of death that they see life so clear, and few have no regret. When one can no longer look forward in life, they have no choice to look back, and it's then that they realize how much of it they wasted on frivolous things.
I've come to believe it is possible to be truly happy in life, accepting that I'm not there now, or perhaps that is just my ambition creating another destination. Or maybe I am already truly happy, at least have everything I need to feel that way, I just haven't opened my eyes yet.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Wings for Julie
I've never been big on holidays. I'll celebrate them because they can be important to the people around me, but I don't get excited about them, it's just usually a process of going through the motions. There is one holiday that is special to me, however, Mother's Day, because of what it represents, obviously appreciation for my mom.
Who just happens to be the most important person in my life, my role model, and the reason I am who I am today (at least the good aspects). Of course there is nothing that I could do for her on this particular day to show the amount of love and appreciation that I have for her (plus make up for all the grief I'm sure I've caused), but I suppose it's the thought that counts. And though I unfortunately tend to take her for granted and lose track of the things that really matter in the fast-paced nonsense of everyday life, I'm glad there is a day that forces me to take a step back and realize how truly blessed that I am.
So on this Mother's Day do yourself a favor and tell the woman that gave you life how much she means to you, because you never know when you might lose her. And if you happen to be one of the unfortunate ones that that no longer has their mom, do something special in her honor, and let the people who you still have know how much they mean to you. Seize the opportunity to leave no regrets.
Who just happens to be the most important person in my life, my role model, and the reason I am who I am today (at least the good aspects). Of course there is nothing that I could do for her on this particular day to show the amount of love and appreciation that I have for her (plus make up for all the grief I'm sure I've caused), but I suppose it's the thought that counts. And though I unfortunately tend to take her for granted and lose track of the things that really matter in the fast-paced nonsense of everyday life, I'm glad there is a day that forces me to take a step back and realize how truly blessed that I am.
So on this Mother's Day do yourself a favor and tell the woman that gave you life how much she means to you, because you never know when you might lose her. And if you happen to be one of the unfortunate ones that that no longer has their mom, do something special in her honor, and let the people who you still have know how much they mean to you. Seize the opportunity to leave no regrets.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
The brittle dress we wear
A friend of some friends died in a car wreck this past week. She was my age, pretty girl, world at her fingertips I'm sure. I didn't know her personally, but I didn't need to, news like this is always hits home hard, when someone dies at such a young age. We all think we're so invincible, take so much for granted, yet the reality is in a flash everything can be gone. She probably woke up that day with everything on her mind but her own mortality, now she's no longer with us, loved ones never given the opportunity to say goodbye. So they'll grieve for awhile, eventually have to accept reality, and then go back to being self-consumed in their self-centered lives.
That's no knock on them personally, this is what we do as humans. I'm culpable myself. We waste away our days in a false sense of security driven towards empty ends till something like this shakes us up, offering the possibility of enlightenment, before we decide it's simply easier to assimilate back into the cycle of self-service and unfulfillment. So many of us, too many of us leave this life in vain, having lived for nothing and accomplishing nothing. But "something" isn't wealth, power, or accolades; it's leaving the world a better place than you were given it, even if that impact is only felt by one person.
So the point is to live each day to the fullest. Carpe Diem. Simple idea, yet I doubt many understand the concept for its true worth. It's not about hedonism and overindulgence, it's about spreading love and peace, and striving for happiness, true happiness. Not that stuff that wears off after the initial high of a 50" flat-screen or brand new car. Let the ones you love know you love them, treat everyone with respect, and have no regrets. Honestly, I don't understand the point in living any other way. Oh yeah, that's right, our egos and television tend to tell us differently. Of course the way it is, isn't the way it has to be, it only is, because that's what we believe.
To think it only took 25 years of me shifting from one desire to the next believing that each would make me happy, while all along only the opposite was being accomplished, and staring across this vast wasteland of an earth and seeing that the happiest people I saw were the ones that had essentially nothing in terms of wealth, looks, prestige, etc., to finally have an understanding what it actually means to be happy. Of course they are still plenty of people with "nothing" that waste their lives chasing after "something" and a few with "something" that are able to grasp a semblance of true happiness. It's all about how you live, and that's the only advice I'll leave you with, to live, truly. Live for the daughter that will grow up without a mother because of what happened earlier this week.
That's no knock on them personally, this is what we do as humans. I'm culpable myself. We waste away our days in a false sense of security driven towards empty ends till something like this shakes us up, offering the possibility of enlightenment, before we decide it's simply easier to assimilate back into the cycle of self-service and unfulfillment. So many of us, too many of us leave this life in vain, having lived for nothing and accomplishing nothing. But "something" isn't wealth, power, or accolades; it's leaving the world a better place than you were given it, even if that impact is only felt by one person.
So the point is to live each day to the fullest. Carpe Diem. Simple idea, yet I doubt many understand the concept for its true worth. It's not about hedonism and overindulgence, it's about spreading love and peace, and striving for happiness, true happiness. Not that stuff that wears off after the initial high of a 50" flat-screen or brand new car. Let the ones you love know you love them, treat everyone with respect, and have no regrets. Honestly, I don't understand the point in living any other way. Oh yeah, that's right, our egos and television tend to tell us differently. Of course the way it is, isn't the way it has to be, it only is, because that's what we believe.
To think it only took 25 years of me shifting from one desire to the next believing that each would make me happy, while all along only the opposite was being accomplished, and staring across this vast wasteland of an earth and seeing that the happiest people I saw were the ones that had essentially nothing in terms of wealth, looks, prestige, etc., to finally have an understanding what it actually means to be happy. Of course they are still plenty of people with "nothing" that waste their lives chasing after "something" and a few with "something" that are able to grasp a semblance of true happiness. It's all about how you live, and that's the only advice I'll leave you with, to live, truly. Live for the daughter that will grow up without a mother because of what happened earlier this week.
Friday, January 25, 2008
So we meet again
Well, I decided to re-open Simon's Mind after a loooooong hiatus. I'm as surprised as you, but I got a lot to say. Plus 2008 is the Year of the Rat, which means absolutely nothing. Or if you prefer to follow the ICRI, it's the Year of the Reef, because they want to "raise awareness about the value and importance of coral reefs". Friggin' weirdos. Oh well, SIMON'S FREAKIN' MIND is back, ROCK YEAH!!!
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Shutting Down Operations
I'm sure you've already noticed I haven't posted in a long while, but in case anyone still checks back for updates (yeah right), I decided to make it official and announce that I will shutting down Simon's Mind for at least 6 months to focus on my career. If you see me back before then, it likely means I failed and have been relegated back to slightly lesser cooler and successful status, but in the meantime, take care of yourselves -- and each other. BYE!
Saturday, May 19, 2007
"I Love This Game!"
Sorry for the lack of updates, I was once again captivated by the NBA Playoffs, but now that they’re over, as far as I’m concerned, I am back. But speaking of the playoffs, how do the potentially best playoffs ever after round 1, suddenly become must not see TV after round 2? Seriously, what the heck just happened? The Baby Bulls had finally grown up, the Suns looked poised to win it all, the Mavs got roundhoused, and the Warriors were the greatest playoff story ever. It was freakin’ awesome.
Then over past 2 weeks, it was like someone changed the channel from Seinfeld to The New Adventures of Old Christine as Phoenix got a wicked knee to their package, the Bulls looked like bull deng, and Golden State looked like a bad intramural squad. (Note to the Warriors: you are allowed to shoot inside the 3-point line.) How do you dominate a 67 win team in Dallas only you get obliterated by the Jazz? The Utah freakin’ Jazz??
These guys were ready to enter a depression clinic after their first 2 games with the Rockets. You would think Carlos Boozer was 9 feet tall given the fact he alone grabbed twice as many rebounds as your entire team in the series. I guess it didn’t help that your true fans were substituted with bandwagoners and wealthy socialites disintegrating your home court advantage.
I loved the fact that a bunch of rich people in the Bay Area, like everyone else in the country, saw how amazing the atmosphere was at Oracle Arena during the 1st round series against the Mavericks, and were like I’m so going to be a part of that next round. And then next round came and all these duffers weeded out all the people that made the Oracle rock in the first place.
Nice job, guys. Next time just learn to enjoy the games from the comfort of your own home or local alcohole, I mean just because I’m absolutely enthralled by The Hills doesn’t mean I’m going to go and try to hit on LC and punch that one guy in the face to become a part of the experience.
You knew after the Warriors gave away Game 1 and 2 in Utah, the series was over. These were games they would have won last series, but thanks in part to that series where they just started throwing crazy haymakers as soon as the bell rang, they drained themselves so much physically, mentally, and emotionally they didn’t have the fortitude to sustain a 12-round fight. And how is anyone going to be able to essentially win 6 out 7 games? Golden State, however, can take solace in the fact they weren’t even supposed to be there in the first place and everyone knew they weren’t going to win it all anyway, so at least they were able to accomplish something special in the process.
Phoenix, however, was supposed to be there and thanks to the Mavericks’ early exclusion, were the frontrunners to take home the championship. That was until the Spurs reminded everyone that they own the Suns like a used athletic supporter. Not that their ownage is legitimate, thanks to them having the black Pigpen in Bruce Bowen, they proved it’s sometimes better to be bad than good. Unfortunately their badness doesn't end there as they also have Manu Ginobli who falls down when breathed on, a tear jerked TIMMAEEEEEEE! (seriously, everyone time a foul is called on him his eyes explode out of his head and arms go flailing like he was just accused of rape, clearly he has never committed a foul in his life, it’s impossible. Man, remember when Tim Duncan used to actually be respected for his class and skill?), and of course grandpa Horry who now takes his game winning shots on other players instead of the basket.
Yeah, it’s been filleted to death, but the fact remains David Stern isn’t fit to be running a Dairy Queen. You’ve got people getting feloniously battered on the court intentionally with no consequence, yet suspensions are handed out for walking a few feet away from the bench. I realize that’s “the rule” so you can’t make exceptions for star players, but the fact is once its proven how moronic a rule is, it should ripped out of the book and incinerated that instant.
You want to prevent bench-clearing brawls, suspend players who leave the bench and join the fray during a fight, simple as that. Why suspend someone for simply leaving the vicinity of the bench, that's pointless. But let's not forget this is the NBA, where David Stern is more worried about instituting a mandatory dress code than rules prohibiting players from intentionally trying to injure other players.
Despite being handcuffed for Game 5, the Suns still played well enough and should've, could've, would've won, if they hadn't let all their hard work fizzle away in the final moments. So in the end they have to ultimately blame themselves for losing the series. And Game 6 was just a joke, way to get some redemption, Phoenix. Besides Steve Nash, did anyone on the court even care? And for being one of the most nonchalant and positive guys in the league, as the series went on you could tell all the BS was even getting to him. By Game 6, the blood vessels in his head looked like they were about to erupt after every call and non-call (justifiably so though, he was getting molested out there). On the pissed off scale he was at 8.3, and at 8.6 he would have fired a bullet pass at Pigpen's dome.
I also bet Steve appreciated that he was just embedded in a war of a series only to look across the country and see Cleveland get a free pass into Conference Championship. A Gilbert Arenas-less Wizards team that stumbled into the playoffs by default and a .500 Nets team, are you kidding me? I like Lebron as much as the next guy and I want to see him flourish as a player, but these series shouldn't even have been series and he should have been torching these teams for 45-15-15 every night.
Let's be honest in a best of 17 series vs. the Suns, the Cavs wouldn't win a game. Can we like cancel the Eastern Conference or something and just compose the playoffs of the best 15 teams from the West and the Pistons? If I have to sit through one more 6 or 8 point quarter, I think I might start watching hockey.
It doesn't help when you're forced to sit through these exhibitions of ineptitude in order get to the real games, which subsequently don't start till 9:30 and 10:30 at night, which is simply torturous for people on the East Coast not on welfare. I get that Western Conference teams are in a different time zone, but we're already penalized by the caliber of basketball played in this region, why add insult to injury and prohibit us from being able to watch the games that don't suck?
I tried to do the responsible thing at first and just not watch the late games altogether, but as the series wore on and each game within got more critical, I justified my stupidity by saying if I see a great game and my squad wins, it will be worth. But when what actually transpired transpires, and the freakin' game doesn't get over till 1:30 and I have to get up at 5:30, my whole day at work is spent saying The NBA, it's FANNNNNNNNtastic!!
Then over past 2 weeks, it was like someone changed the channel from Seinfeld to The New Adventures of Old Christine as Phoenix got a wicked knee to their package, the Bulls looked like bull deng, and Golden State looked like a bad intramural squad. (Note to the Warriors: you are allowed to shoot inside the 3-point line.) How do you dominate a 67 win team in Dallas only you get obliterated by the Jazz? The Utah freakin’ Jazz??
These guys were ready to enter a depression clinic after their first 2 games with the Rockets. You would think Carlos Boozer was 9 feet tall given the fact he alone grabbed twice as many rebounds as your entire team in the series. I guess it didn’t help that your true fans were substituted with bandwagoners and wealthy socialites disintegrating your home court advantage.
I loved the fact that a bunch of rich people in the Bay Area, like everyone else in the country, saw how amazing the atmosphere was at Oracle Arena during the 1st round series against the Mavericks, and were like I’m so going to be a part of that next round. And then next round came and all these duffers weeded out all the people that made the Oracle rock in the first place.
Nice job, guys. Next time just learn to enjoy the games from the comfort of your own home or local alcohole, I mean just because I’m absolutely enthralled by The Hills doesn’t mean I’m going to go and try to hit on LC and punch that one guy in the face to become a part of the experience.
You knew after the Warriors gave away Game 1 and 2 in Utah, the series was over. These were games they would have won last series, but thanks in part to that series where they just started throwing crazy haymakers as soon as the bell rang, they drained themselves so much physically, mentally, and emotionally they didn’t have the fortitude to sustain a 12-round fight. And how is anyone going to be able to essentially win 6 out 7 games? Golden State, however, can take solace in the fact they weren’t even supposed to be there in the first place and everyone knew they weren’t going to win it all anyway, so at least they were able to accomplish something special in the process.
Phoenix, however, was supposed to be there and thanks to the Mavericks’ early exclusion, were the frontrunners to take home the championship. That was until the Spurs reminded everyone that they own the Suns like a used athletic supporter. Not that their ownage is legitimate, thanks to them having the black Pigpen in Bruce Bowen, they proved it’s sometimes better to be bad than good. Unfortunately their badness doesn't end there as they also have Manu Ginobli who falls down when breathed on, a tear jerked TIMMAEEEEEEE! (seriously, everyone time a foul is called on him his eyes explode out of his head and arms go flailing like he was just accused of rape, clearly he has never committed a foul in his life, it’s impossible. Man, remember when Tim Duncan used to actually be respected for his class and skill?), and of course grandpa Horry who now takes his game winning shots on other players instead of the basket.
Yeah, it’s been filleted to death, but the fact remains David Stern isn’t fit to be running a Dairy Queen. You’ve got people getting feloniously battered on the court intentionally with no consequence, yet suspensions are handed out for walking a few feet away from the bench. I realize that’s “the rule” so you can’t make exceptions for star players, but the fact is once its proven how moronic a rule is, it should ripped out of the book and incinerated that instant.
You want to prevent bench-clearing brawls, suspend players who leave the bench and join the fray during a fight, simple as that. Why suspend someone for simply leaving the vicinity of the bench, that's pointless. But let's not forget this is the NBA, where David Stern is more worried about instituting a mandatory dress code than rules prohibiting players from intentionally trying to injure other players.
Despite being handcuffed for Game 5, the Suns still played well enough and should've, could've, would've won, if they hadn't let all their hard work fizzle away in the final moments. So in the end they have to ultimately blame themselves for losing the series. And Game 6 was just a joke, way to get some redemption, Phoenix. Besides Steve Nash, did anyone on the court even care? And for being one of the most nonchalant and positive guys in the league, as the series went on you could tell all the BS was even getting to him. By Game 6, the blood vessels in his head looked like they were about to erupt after every call and non-call (justifiably so though, he was getting molested out there). On the pissed off scale he was at 8.3, and at 8.6 he would have fired a bullet pass at Pigpen's dome.
I also bet Steve appreciated that he was just embedded in a war of a series only to look across the country and see Cleveland get a free pass into Conference Championship. A Gilbert Arenas-less Wizards team that stumbled into the playoffs by default and a .500 Nets team, are you kidding me? I like Lebron as much as the next guy and I want to see him flourish as a player, but these series shouldn't even have been series and he should have been torching these teams for 45-15-15 every night.
Let's be honest in a best of 17 series vs. the Suns, the Cavs wouldn't win a game. Can we like cancel the Eastern Conference or something and just compose the playoffs of the best 15 teams from the West and the Pistons? If I have to sit through one more 6 or 8 point quarter, I think I might start watching hockey.
It doesn't help when you're forced to sit through these exhibitions of ineptitude in order get to the real games, which subsequently don't start till 9:30 and 10:30 at night, which is simply torturous for people on the East Coast not on welfare. I get that Western Conference teams are in a different time zone, but we're already penalized by the caliber of basketball played in this region, why add insult to injury and prohibit us from being able to watch the games that don't suck?
I tried to do the responsible thing at first and just not watch the late games altogether, but as the series wore on and each game within got more critical, I justified my stupidity by saying if I see a great game and my squad wins, it will be worth. But when what actually transpired transpires, and the freakin' game doesn't get over till 1:30 and I have to get up at 5:30, my whole day at work is spent saying The NBA, it's FANNNNNNNNtastic!!
Monday, April 30, 2007
My Favorite Guys
(This article is part 1 of 2)
If you’re like me, you didn’t watch the NFL Draft, if you’re like one of my favorite guys, you went to the NFL Draft. Really, does it get any more hardcore than that? I love the NFL, and more specifically the Bengals, but these guys put my level of fandom to shame. That doesn’t mean I find it admirable, quite the contrary actually, to me hardcore football fans are some of the most ridiculous people I’ve ever seen in my life, yet I still love them, on a twisted, mocking level.
If you’ve never seen the draft, it takes place in New York every year, so it’s understandable that a few Jets' and Giants' fans may check it out if they have nothing better to do. Well not only do Jets' fans not have anything better to do, they’ve declared this day a gang green national holiday. These guys epitomize hardcore, not only by the fact they flock the draft venue in droves, but also because they are some of the most obnoxious and belligerent fans period.
The greatest thing ESPN has ever done is put together a montage of Jets’ fans reaction to their team’s 1st round picks through the years of 1980, ’81, ’83, ’87, ’89, ’90 ’92, and ’95. These were all years that Jets’ fans were less than pleased with their team's pick, so as soon as the commissioner read the Jets’ selection, the room exploded into shock, boos, and shear disgust. This was mixed with shots of other teams’ fans actually pointing and laughing at the Jets’ fans. It’s awesome. But one needs to actually witness each of these years to fully appreciate the moment.
Like in ’83 when the Jets needed a QB and opted for Ken O’Brien instead of Dan Marino. I love the eternally optimistic fan ESPN interviewed after selection, he’s like, “Maybe the Jets know something we don’t.” Yeah they know how to screw themselves. Or in ’95 before Paul Tagliabue read the selection, Jets fans are chanting “We want Sapp (Warren Sapp)”, and then you hear, “the Jets select Tight End, Penn State, Kyle Brady.” Before he could even finish his sentence you heard a collective moan of horror as the camera zooms in on a Jets’ fan whose head collapses into his hands before he likely sobbed uncontrollably.
But forget the Jets' fans for a minute, the one I really felt bad for was Kyle Brady, he’s on the stage with a look on his face like what the **** did I do to deserve this? That alone is enough to doom someone's career before it starts.
Could there be a worse venue to hold the draft, though? Year after year it takes place in a metropolitan area represented by a team that routinely makes some of the worst conceivable picks. Face it, due to their team’s draft selections, Jets’ fans are justified in their repugnance. It likely made them that way, or at least contributed to it. That’s why it’s so amusing now to seem them cheer for basically everything their team does.
It’s like they’ve decided after years of sucking, if they pretend to act excited, it may make things work out somehow. Like this year the Jets traded with the Panthers for the 14th pick and Jets' fans ignited like they won the Super Bowl. J-E-T-S, JETS!! JETS!! JETS!!! And at that point they had no idea who their team was even going to draft at 14 and what they gave up for it.
Jets’ fans have become the show, and the only reason to watch 12 hours of hearing people’s names being read. But the reality is Jets' fans aren't unique. You could move the draft to any other professional football city in the country, and the result would be the same: loud people whose only hobbies are football and alcohol. Can you even imagine what would happen if a draft took place in Oakland? The spotlight just happens to be cast on Jets' fans due to circumstance. So sorry Jet fan who attends the draft, while you're pretty hardcore, you're not the hardcorest. That distinction goes to those select few who actually make a trip to New York solely for the purpose of attending the draft. These my friends are the Real Men of Genius.
Everyone has seen them, the one Dolphins' fan wearing teal amidst a sea of green sticking out like a white person at a Roots concert. It's bad enough that someone would go the draft while living in New York, but it's unfathomable that someone would make a special trip across country to attend. It's even worse when the guy's team makes their picks and he's doing the Yung Joc rev your motorbike dance move while everyone else in the auditorium is just looking at him with blank stares.
I remember listening to a sports talk radio show a few years back when a caller was complaining about how much of a horrible experience it was when he and his family attended the Draft and how he actually feared for his family’s safety. Wow, really? You mean you didn’t have a blast with your wife and kids being around a bunch of inebriated, unemployed, middle-aged men wearing face paint and ridiculous headgear? Who in their right mind plans a vacation around attending a name-reading session at the end of April? That’s worse than sleeping in a tent in your backyard. Next year can we can attend a lecture on how they make cheese, dad?
Honestly, what were you expecting buddy? Party favors and the limbo? It’s the freakin’ draft, the only thing worse than watching it, is attending it, and the only thing worse than attending it or watching it, is living and dying by the results. For as much grief as fans perceive their teams subject them to, no one really knows how successful a player will be, so there’s no point of investing anything more than mild interest in your team’s selections 6 months before the season starts.
Could Ryan Leaf have won an MVP and Peyton Manning been a bust? It’s possible. There’s no such thing as a “sure thing”, and no one would draft players that didn’t believe had the potential to be productive. Yes, the draft can make or break your team for years to come, but there’s no way to tell now, so stop investing so much into such a pointless endeavor.
I realize there can only be one team that wins the Super Bowl each year, but I hope we as fans haven't reached a point where are we are so desperate to cheer for something, we cheer for literally anything? This is when know you have a problem and need to find a new hobby, or a life. It's like the gambler who refuses to admit his vice until he wakes up one day and realizes he just bet $8,000 on the coin toss before a football game. Get help my friend, get help. But in the meantime, feel free to keep making everyone else laugh.
If you’re like me, you didn’t watch the NFL Draft, if you’re like one of my favorite guys, you went to the NFL Draft. Really, does it get any more hardcore than that? I love the NFL, and more specifically the Bengals, but these guys put my level of fandom to shame. That doesn’t mean I find it admirable, quite the contrary actually, to me hardcore football fans are some of the most ridiculous people I’ve ever seen in my life, yet I still love them, on a twisted, mocking level.
If you’ve never seen the draft, it takes place in New York every year, so it’s understandable that a few Jets' and Giants' fans may check it out if they have nothing better to do. Well not only do Jets' fans not have anything better to do, they’ve declared this day a gang green national holiday. These guys epitomize hardcore, not only by the fact they flock the draft venue in droves, but also because they are some of the most obnoxious and belligerent fans period.
The greatest thing ESPN has ever done is put together a montage of Jets’ fans reaction to their team’s 1st round picks through the years of 1980, ’81, ’83, ’87, ’89, ’90 ’92, and ’95. These were all years that Jets’ fans were less than pleased with their team's pick, so as soon as the commissioner read the Jets’ selection, the room exploded into shock, boos, and shear disgust. This was mixed with shots of other teams’ fans actually pointing and laughing at the Jets’ fans. It’s awesome. But one needs to actually witness each of these years to fully appreciate the moment.
Like in ’83 when the Jets needed a QB and opted for Ken O’Brien instead of Dan Marino. I love the eternally optimistic fan ESPN interviewed after selection, he’s like, “Maybe the Jets know something we don’t.” Yeah they know how to screw themselves. Or in ’95 before Paul Tagliabue read the selection, Jets fans are chanting “We want Sapp (Warren Sapp)”, and then you hear, “the Jets select Tight End, Penn State, Kyle Brady.” Before he could even finish his sentence you heard a collective moan of horror as the camera zooms in on a Jets’ fan whose head collapses into his hands before he likely sobbed uncontrollably.
But forget the Jets' fans for a minute, the one I really felt bad for was Kyle Brady, he’s on the stage with a look on his face like what the **** did I do to deserve this? That alone is enough to doom someone's career before it starts.
Could there be a worse venue to hold the draft, though? Year after year it takes place in a metropolitan area represented by a team that routinely makes some of the worst conceivable picks. Face it, due to their team’s draft selections, Jets’ fans are justified in their repugnance. It likely made them that way, or at least contributed to it. That’s why it’s so amusing now to seem them cheer for basically everything their team does.
It’s like they’ve decided after years of sucking, if they pretend to act excited, it may make things work out somehow. Like this year the Jets traded with the Panthers for the 14th pick and Jets' fans ignited like they won the Super Bowl. J-E-T-S, JETS!! JETS!! JETS!!! And at that point they had no idea who their team was even going to draft at 14 and what they gave up for it.
Jets’ fans have become the show, and the only reason to watch 12 hours of hearing people’s names being read. But the reality is Jets' fans aren't unique. You could move the draft to any other professional football city in the country, and the result would be the same: loud people whose only hobbies are football and alcohol. Can you even imagine what would happen if a draft took place in Oakland? The spotlight just happens to be cast on Jets' fans due to circumstance. So sorry Jet fan who attends the draft, while you're pretty hardcore, you're not the hardcorest. That distinction goes to those select few who actually make a trip to New York solely for the purpose of attending the draft. These my friends are the Real Men of Genius.
Everyone has seen them, the one Dolphins' fan wearing teal amidst a sea of green sticking out like a white person at a Roots concert. It's bad enough that someone would go the draft while living in New York, but it's unfathomable that someone would make a special trip across country to attend. It's even worse when the guy's team makes their picks and he's doing the Yung Joc rev your motorbike dance move while everyone else in the auditorium is just looking at him with blank stares.
I remember listening to a sports talk radio show a few years back when a caller was complaining about how much of a horrible experience it was when he and his family attended the Draft and how he actually feared for his family’s safety. Wow, really? You mean you didn’t have a blast with your wife and kids being around a bunch of inebriated, unemployed, middle-aged men wearing face paint and ridiculous headgear? Who in their right mind plans a vacation around attending a name-reading session at the end of April? That’s worse than sleeping in a tent in your backyard. Next year can we can attend a lecture on how they make cheese, dad?
Honestly, what were you expecting buddy? Party favors and the limbo? It’s the freakin’ draft, the only thing worse than watching it, is attending it, and the only thing worse than attending it or watching it, is living and dying by the results. For as much grief as fans perceive their teams subject them to, no one really knows how successful a player will be, so there’s no point of investing anything more than mild interest in your team’s selections 6 months before the season starts.
Could Ryan Leaf have won an MVP and Peyton Manning been a bust? It’s possible. There’s no such thing as a “sure thing”, and no one would draft players that didn’t believe had the potential to be productive. Yes, the draft can make or break your team for years to come, but there’s no way to tell now, so stop investing so much into such a pointless endeavor.
I realize there can only be one team that wins the Super Bowl each year, but I hope we as fans haven't reached a point where are we are so desperate to cheer for something, we cheer for literally anything? This is when know you have a problem and need to find a new hobby, or a life. It's like the gambler who refuses to admit his vice until he wakes up one day and realizes he just bet $8,000 on the coin toss before a football game. Get help my friend, get help. But in the meantime, feel free to keep making everyone else laugh.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
The worst thing I have ever seen
It all started earlier this week when I just happened to be watching The Search for the Funniest Mom in America 3 on Nickelodeon (yeah, I do realize it’s MTV for pre-teens). And by “just happened to be watching”, I mean I have absolutely no good reason for why I was watching it and have felt guilty ever since. But despite the fact this show SUUUUUUUUUUUUCKS, I didn’t turn it off, does that make me a bad person? And given the numeral "3" in the title, I'd imagine it's safe to assume there have been 2 previous installments to this humorless charade.
Why? How? Who is watching this? Aren't there enough glorified, talent(less) shows already been televised; now we're even making them specific to certain demographics? I'm just waiting for Dancing with Blind Senior Citizens with Arthritis. But this is all beside the point, as this isn’t about that dumb show Search For..., it’s about a promo I saw during a commercial break during that dumb show.
It was announcing the arrival of America’s Funniest Home Videos to the 'Loden, and while I can’t say if was for a new series or reruns, it didn’t matter, what did matter is that what I saw had me mortified.
We all know watching someone get hit in the package is the quintessential “funny home video”, heck, the whole genre was established solely on the strength of it, so it goes without saying that the classic "kid swings a wiffleball bat at his dad’s crouch" and "kid punches dad in package" would make their way into the ad. But this particular commercial featured the cream of the crop, the haut monde, the freakin’ crème de la crème.
Picture this: guy is peacefully asleep on his couch, while his daughters are standing on the couch. Sounds harmless enough, but I’m not talking about standing next to him or on the armrest; I’m talking on top of the backrest. Yeah, high up. And these little girls couldn’t have been more than 5 years old, combined, but I could see it in their eyes, their pupils burned with the hellish flames of mischief. And I don’t know if one of them egged on the other or promised to let her play with her Tickle Me Elmo, but a moment later one of the girls took the plunge, like she was jumping from atop the Grand Canyon into the Rio Grande.
I don't know if the father screamed, there was no way I could have heard it over my shriek of horror, but like a heat-seeking missile, the little girl slammed feet-first into her father’s package. Instantly, his torso and legs sprung together like a vice grip; I had no idea flexibility like that was even humanly possible.
Unfortunately, I haven’t the slightest to what transpired after that. Whether the girl literally went through her father and the couch, or if the other little monster still perched atop sofa decided to finish her father’s vasectomy operation because my head refused to do anything but jeer away in horror. Even replaying the events in my mind now leaves me breathlessly cringing. And by the time my eyes returned to the television, they were showing this precious clip of a darling baby with food all over its mouth. It was cute. But back to the original topic, that was the worst thing conceivable thing a person, more specifically a man, could experience short of a sledgehammer to the same region.
What made it worse for this poor guy was that it happened when he was out cold. Here he is taking a pleasant stroll through dreamland before he's woken up to a shock of excruciating plain. If that were me, I would have thought I died in my sleep and woke up in hell. You can't breathe, you're seeing red, and there are two little demons prancing around you with delight, all they need is little pitchforks. Even if you were able to brace yourself, the pain would be unbearable, and here's this guy, totally relaxed, unaware, and unprotected, with his stuff just there.
If the government is looking for new ways to extract confessions from terrorists, all they need to do is tie them down and have a kid repeatedly jump on their junk from four feet in the air. I would spill my guts as soon as I see a rugrat thrust his arms back and bend his knees on the springboard. Now you maybe thinking "why not just have an adult jump on their junk, that would hurt so much more," but an adult's feet are too big. Tiny extremities are a necessity for pinpoint accuracy and absolute misery.
But then you might say, "why even have someone jump on it then, why not just smash it with a blunt object?" Fine, you got me, jeez, you've already made me think about this too much as it is. Let's talk about something else, like I dunno, HOW THIS ALL JUST HAPPENED TO BE CAUGHT ON TAPE IN THE FIRST PLACE!
It had to be by chance, right? I mean who doesn't tape themselves while they sleep on a couch? There's no way someone would script something as sinister as this for the chance to win a couple thousand dollars. Humans are waaaaay above that. Okay, actually that had to be exactly what happened, that or he cheated on his wife. Either way, it was soo not worth it.
Why? How? Who is watching this? Aren't there enough glorified, talent(less) shows already been televised; now we're even making them specific to certain demographics? I'm just waiting for Dancing with Blind Senior Citizens with Arthritis. But this is all beside the point, as this isn’t about that dumb show Search For..., it’s about a promo I saw during a commercial break during that dumb show.
It was announcing the arrival of America’s Funniest Home Videos to the 'Loden, and while I can’t say if was for a new series or reruns, it didn’t matter, what did matter is that what I saw had me mortified.
We all know watching someone get hit in the package is the quintessential “funny home video”, heck, the whole genre was established solely on the strength of it, so it goes without saying that the classic "kid swings a wiffleball bat at his dad’s crouch" and "kid punches dad in package" would make their way into the ad. But this particular commercial featured the cream of the crop, the haut monde, the freakin’ crème de la crème.
Picture this: guy is peacefully asleep on his couch, while his daughters are standing on the couch. Sounds harmless enough, but I’m not talking about standing next to him or on the armrest; I’m talking on top of the backrest. Yeah, high up. And these little girls couldn’t have been more than 5 years old, combined, but I could see it in their eyes, their pupils burned with the hellish flames of mischief. And I don’t know if one of them egged on the other or promised to let her play with her Tickle Me Elmo, but a moment later one of the girls took the plunge, like she was jumping from atop the Grand Canyon into the Rio Grande.
I don't know if the father screamed, there was no way I could have heard it over my shriek of horror, but like a heat-seeking missile, the little girl slammed feet-first into her father’s package. Instantly, his torso and legs sprung together like a vice grip; I had no idea flexibility like that was even humanly possible.
Unfortunately, I haven’t the slightest to what transpired after that. Whether the girl literally went through her father and the couch, or if the other little monster still perched atop sofa decided to finish her father’s vasectomy operation because my head refused to do anything but jeer away in horror. Even replaying the events in my mind now leaves me breathlessly cringing. And by the time my eyes returned to the television, they were showing this precious clip of a darling baby with food all over its mouth. It was cute. But back to the original topic, that was the worst thing conceivable thing a person, more specifically a man, could experience short of a sledgehammer to the same region.
What made it worse for this poor guy was that it happened when he was out cold. Here he is taking a pleasant stroll through dreamland before he's woken up to a shock of excruciating plain. If that were me, I would have thought I died in my sleep and woke up in hell. You can't breathe, you're seeing red, and there are two little demons prancing around you with delight, all they need is little pitchforks. Even if you were able to brace yourself, the pain would be unbearable, and here's this guy, totally relaxed, unaware, and unprotected, with his stuff just there.
If the government is looking for new ways to extract confessions from terrorists, all they need to do is tie them down and have a kid repeatedly jump on their junk from four feet in the air. I would spill my guts as soon as I see a rugrat thrust his arms back and bend his knees on the springboard. Now you maybe thinking "why not just have an adult jump on their junk, that would hurt so much more," but an adult's feet are too big. Tiny extremities are a necessity for pinpoint accuracy and absolute misery.
But then you might say, "why even have someone jump on it then, why not just smash it with a blunt object?" Fine, you got me, jeez, you've already made me think about this too much as it is. Let's talk about something else, like I dunno, HOW THIS ALL JUST HAPPENED TO BE CAUGHT ON TAPE IN THE FIRST PLACE!
It had to be by chance, right? I mean who doesn't tape themselves while they sleep on a couch? There's no way someone would script something as sinister as this for the chance to win a couple thousand dollars. Humans are waaaaay above that. Okay, actually that had to be exactly what happened, that or he cheated on his wife. Either way, it was soo not worth it.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
A rose by any other name....
If there wasn’t enough reason already to believe everyone but me, my mom, and that guy who plays the saxophone for change on the bridge has lost their minds, recently a couple, Michael and Karolina Tomaro, in Sweden tried to name their child "Metallica", yeah, in honor of that Metallica, being as that it's their favorite band of all-time (or at least right now). And if that wasn’t bad enough, it was a girl that they wanted to name this. Actually, I guess metallica is technically the effeminate equivalent of metallic, but oh yeah, that’s right, it’s still not a real freakin’ name for a human being. Heck, if you named your dog this you should be smacked.
I'd like to know how this can even come up anyway. Okay honey, we've narrowed it down to three names: Kim, Amy, and Metallica, which do you like best? Wow, I mean wow, what a hard decision. Let's just go with Metallica, they kick all kinds of ass and it's such a pretty name.
I'm a heavy metal guy myself, but I’m not going to start naming my offspring after my favorite bands. How would that reflect on me if I named my son "As I Lay Dying", or my daughter "Norma Jean" -- okay, bad example, but you get the idea. What did your infant do to you to make you want to punish them for the rest of their lives? If you really want to show appreciation to your favorite group, isn't there some fan club you could join or something?
Where did this whole naming kids after things you like start anyway? It's ridiculous and pointless. Like the person/thing you're trying to honor even knows or gives a crap you named your child after them. And what are you hoping to accomplish by it, like if you name your daughter "Betty White", she's going to grow up and transform into Betty White. We all wish, but it's not happening.
Remember those weirdos that named their kid "ESPN" after the sports channel? Did they think the actual ESPN was going to come out and do a story about them? Come on. Oh wait, that's exactly what happened, but ESPN is a self-consumed, publicity whore, and that doesn't change the fact that Child Protective Services should have taken ESPN away from the parents, the kid and network.
But I can't decide what's worse, being named after something relevant, or something that people know of but no longer care about. Like in little Metallica's case, already the band Metallica is basically garbage, but by the time Metallica is in elementary school the band will probably be freakin' horrible and she'll have to walk around hearing:
10-year old jerk: Hey Metallica!
Metallica: What?
10-year old jerk who has a point: You suck!
And if the teasing wasn't bad enough, can you even imagine this poor girl trying to get a job? Who in their right mind is going to hire someone named Metallica, an employer will take one look at her resume and play wastebasket ball with it because he thinks it's joke. And who the heck would marry the chic? Steve and Metallica Jones? Dude, all I can say is she had better be really freakin' hot. Nice going Tomaro's, you have all but assured your daughter will be a future, lonely employee of the waste company.
I guess if they actually gave her a decent middle name she could go by that and be able to somewhat hide the fact her parents hate her. That's unless Mike and Karol decide to get really unique and choose "Rocks" as her middle name, in which case, should we schedule the therapy sessions now?
There is one upside to this story, however, if you noticed in the first sentence I mentioned they tried to name their baby this, that's because the Swedish National Tax Board is refusing to allow them to use this name. Thank you Sweden, the last thing we need is for this to be deemed acceptable and have other people follow in their crooked footsteps. It's too bad US officials don't have a similar viewpoint, maybe there wouldn't be so many strippers named after feminized sports cars. Some people may scoff at the importance of a name, but it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, what else can someone named "Porscha" do besides dance on a pole, work for Porsche?
Unfortunately, it seems that the Tomaros want to persist on the name. Come on guys, the Swede officials are doing you a favor and are trying to do what's in your best interest, and more importantly, what's in the best interest of your daughter. I know it will be hard to find something else to name her given that there's only tens of thousands of other genuine names to choose from, but in the long run it will be worth it when your daughter doesn't try to kill herself, or you.
I'd like to know how this can even come up anyway. Okay honey, we've narrowed it down to three names: Kim, Amy, and Metallica, which do you like best? Wow, I mean wow, what a hard decision. Let's just go with Metallica, they kick all kinds of ass and it's such a pretty name.
I'm a heavy metal guy myself, but I’m not going to start naming my offspring after my favorite bands. How would that reflect on me if I named my son "As I Lay Dying", or my daughter "Norma Jean" -- okay, bad example, but you get the idea. What did your infant do to you to make you want to punish them for the rest of their lives? If you really want to show appreciation to your favorite group, isn't there some fan club you could join or something?
Where did this whole naming kids after things you like start anyway? It's ridiculous and pointless. Like the person/thing you're trying to honor even knows or gives a crap you named your child after them. And what are you hoping to accomplish by it, like if you name your daughter "Betty White", she's going to grow up and transform into Betty White. We all wish, but it's not happening.
Remember those weirdos that named their kid "ESPN" after the sports channel? Did they think the actual ESPN was going to come out and do a story about them? Come on. Oh wait, that's exactly what happened, but ESPN is a self-consumed, publicity whore, and that doesn't change the fact that Child Protective Services should have taken ESPN away from the parents, the kid and network.
But I can't decide what's worse, being named after something relevant, or something that people know of but no longer care about. Like in little Metallica's case, already the band Metallica is basically garbage, but by the time Metallica is in elementary school the band will probably be freakin' horrible and she'll have to walk around hearing:
10-year old jerk: Hey Metallica!
Metallica: What?
10-year old jerk who has a point: You suck!
And if the teasing wasn't bad enough, can you even imagine this poor girl trying to get a job? Who in their right mind is going to hire someone named Metallica, an employer will take one look at her resume and play wastebasket ball with it because he thinks it's joke. And who the heck would marry the chic? Steve and Metallica Jones? Dude, all I can say is she had better be really freakin' hot. Nice going Tomaro's, you have all but assured your daughter will be a future, lonely employee of the waste company.
I guess if they actually gave her a decent middle name she could go by that and be able to somewhat hide the fact her parents hate her. That's unless Mike and Karol decide to get really unique and choose "Rocks" as her middle name, in which case, should we schedule the therapy sessions now?
There is one upside to this story, however, if you noticed in the first sentence I mentioned they tried to name their baby this, that's because the Swedish National Tax Board is refusing to allow them to use this name. Thank you Sweden, the last thing we need is for this to be deemed acceptable and have other people follow in their crooked footsteps. It's too bad US officials don't have a similar viewpoint, maybe there wouldn't be so many strippers named after feminized sports cars. Some people may scoff at the importance of a name, but it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, what else can someone named "Porscha" do besides dance on a pole, work for Porsche?
Unfortunately, it seems that the Tomaros want to persist on the name. Come on guys, the Swede officials are doing you a favor and are trying to do what's in your best interest, and more importantly, what's in the best interest of your daughter. I know it will be hard to find something else to name her given that there's only tens of thousands of other genuine names to choose from, but in the long run it will be worth it when your daughter doesn't try to kill herself, or you.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Where are they now?
Every once in a while I like to do a little research and discover what my favorite actors as a child have been up to since I last saw them. And since I’m pretty much out of touch with pop culture, I usually have absolutely no clue what I will find.
Jeremy Miller – Jeremy is most well-known for his forgettable role as the youngest Seaver boy, Ben, in the forgettable series Growing Pains; he seemed poised for greatness. But when the series was unfortunately cancelled in ’92, I, along with the rest of the world, wondered what would become of such a promising young star.
It turns out since Growing Pains, growing up has been a pain (ba-dap-psssh!) as Jer and I have had the exact same number of professional acting roles, zero. I mean what the heck, I do more acting at my crappy job on a daily basis than this guy has done in the past 15 years; someone give this man a job. Am I the only one that remembers that phenomenal scene in that one episode of Growing Pains where he did some emotional acting well? I’m sure there was one…………..apparently McDonald’s took notice, because I think I literally just saw him in a Dollar Menuaire’s commercial. A little bit older, a little bit harrier, a lot a bit heavier, but that is definitely him. Wow, that commercial is horrible, I hate McDonald’s.
Jodie Sweetin – Jodie played Stephanie, the cute-as-a-button little girl who always got overshadowed by that adorable little angel Michelle (I wonder whatever happened to the actress that played her?), in the seminal series Full House. I always felt we had this special connection being that she's only a month older than me and we both like to do jazz dance (what?). But it seemed as she went, the show went, so it came as no surprise when she hit puberty and made the show awkward for everyone involved, it got cancelled. I cried.
Since the show, it turns out Jod separated from acting in pursuit of a normal life. She went to college, joined a sorority, formed a crystal meth addiction, got married...wait.....formed a crystal meth addiction?!……..HOLY CRAP!! This is exactly why I love to find out what my favorite actors of yesteryear have been up to after all this time. This was the same girl that wouldn’t take a hit of a cigarette in the girl’s bathroom, how does she end up getting addicted to crank? And here I thought Uncle Jesse fell onto hard times when he started appearing in 10-10-987 commercials.
Thankfully Jod is now clean and sober and appears to have gotten her life together. But in another shocking revelation, Jodie recently announced that she was adopted. Well duh, I think everyone already knew Bob Saget wasn’t your real father, I mean the dude IS Bob Saget after all, that would just be creepy. What’s next, are you going to drop another bomb and tell us that the role of Michelle in Full House was actually played by a set of twins?
Christine Lakin – Christine played Al in the awful series Step by Step. The only reason I cared about this show was because Christine was freakin’ HOTT (yeah, two “t’s” for emphasis). Which proved how stupid this show was because she was cast as some tomboyish chic, when she should have been portraying my girlfriend -- wait, what?? Besides Christine, the only thing I remember about this show was it had the dude from Dallas, the chic from Three’s Company, and no plot. Making it fit perfectly into TGIF’s line-up and giving me an excuse to never stay home on Fridays, which ultimately led to me becoming an alcoholic. Thanks ABC! (note: I am kidding about being alcoholic, grandma, you don't have to hold a surprise intervention for me.)
A few years after Step by Step was canned, Chris apparently found her way into the movie Reefer Madness. I'm kicking myself right now for missing a film as critically acclaimed as this one. Oww. More recently she has been appearing in Nick Cannon’s Wild ‘N Out (yeah, that Nick Cannon), a bootleg version of Whose Line Is it, Anyway?, which is a bootleg version of something that’s supposed to be funny, but isn’t.
So yeah, she’s essentially been out of work, and it saddens me to find out she’s not nearly as hot as she used to be. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, because personality is much more important to me anyway, but she is on Wild N’ Out, so, so much for that. Final analysis, she tried to bring sexy back, but only got store credit.
Jeremy Miller – Jeremy is most well-known for his forgettable role as the youngest Seaver boy, Ben, in the forgettable series Growing Pains; he seemed poised for greatness. But when the series was unfortunately cancelled in ’92, I, along with the rest of the world, wondered what would become of such a promising young star.
It turns out since Growing Pains, growing up has been a pain (ba-dap-psssh!) as Jer and I have had the exact same number of professional acting roles, zero. I mean what the heck, I do more acting at my crappy job on a daily basis than this guy has done in the past 15 years; someone give this man a job. Am I the only one that remembers that phenomenal scene in that one episode of Growing Pains where he did some emotional acting well? I’m sure there was one…………..apparently McDonald’s took notice, because I think I literally just saw him in a Dollar Menuaire’s commercial. A little bit older, a little bit harrier, a lot a bit heavier, but that is definitely him. Wow, that commercial is horrible, I hate McDonald’s.
Jodie Sweetin – Jodie played Stephanie, the cute-as-a-button little girl who always got overshadowed by that adorable little angel Michelle (I wonder whatever happened to the actress that played her?), in the seminal series Full House. I always felt we had this special connection being that she's only a month older than me and we both like to do jazz dance (what?). But it seemed as she went, the show went, so it came as no surprise when she hit puberty and made the show awkward for everyone involved, it got cancelled. I cried.
Since the show, it turns out Jod separated from acting in pursuit of a normal life. She went to college, joined a sorority, formed a crystal meth addiction, got married...wait.....formed a crystal meth addiction?!……..HOLY CRAP!! This is exactly why I love to find out what my favorite actors of yesteryear have been up to after all this time. This was the same girl that wouldn’t take a hit of a cigarette in the girl’s bathroom, how does she end up getting addicted to crank? And here I thought Uncle Jesse fell onto hard times when he started appearing in 10-10-987 commercials.
Thankfully Jod is now clean and sober and appears to have gotten her life together. But in another shocking revelation, Jodie recently announced that she was adopted. Well duh, I think everyone already knew Bob Saget wasn’t your real father, I mean the dude IS Bob Saget after all, that would just be creepy. What’s next, are you going to drop another bomb and tell us that the role of Michelle in Full House was actually played by a set of twins?
Christine Lakin – Christine played Al in the awful series Step by Step. The only reason I cared about this show was because Christine was freakin’ HOTT (yeah, two “t’s” for emphasis). Which proved how stupid this show was because she was cast as some tomboyish chic, when she should have been portraying my girlfriend -- wait, what?? Besides Christine, the only thing I remember about this show was it had the dude from Dallas, the chic from Three’s Company, and no plot. Making it fit perfectly into TGIF’s line-up and giving me an excuse to never stay home on Fridays, which ultimately led to me becoming an alcoholic. Thanks ABC! (note: I am kidding about being alcoholic, grandma, you don't have to hold a surprise intervention for me.)
A few years after Step by Step was canned, Chris apparently found her way into the movie Reefer Madness. I'm kicking myself right now for missing a film as critically acclaimed as this one. Oww. More recently she has been appearing in Nick Cannon’s Wild ‘N Out (yeah, that Nick Cannon), a bootleg version of Whose Line Is it, Anyway?, which is a bootleg version of something that’s supposed to be funny, but isn’t.
So yeah, she’s essentially been out of work, and it saddens me to find out she’s not nearly as hot as she used to be. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, because personality is much more important to me anyway, but she is on Wild N’ Out, so, so much for that. Final analysis, she tried to bring sexy back, but only got store credit.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
K-State stop crying
Memo to everyone in Manhattan, Kansas: Get over it. I realize you lost your basketball coach, Bob Huggins, to West Virginia after only one season, but what were you expecting? You hired a mercenary. You knew about his questionable character and his past, but you didn't care, you wanted to make your basketball team relevant and win games. You used him and he used you, and in the end you made out pretty freakin' good.
I have some insight into this whole scenario being from Cincinnati, the place where Huggins used to coach before he aligned with Kansas State. Huggins is dry, sequestered, and talks like a cyborg, but overall he's a decent human being. And despite the fact he coached at my school's archrival, I regretted that he was fired. Though I was one of the few people in a 50-mile radius that supported the University of Cincinnati's President, Nancy Zimpher, in her decision to get rid of him after he was arrested for a DUI.
It was refreshing to see an action contrary to the philosophy of winning trumps all else. And there's no doubt about it, Bob Huggins wins games, so for most people that have a vested interest in the program, or any team for that matter, they could careless about graduation rates, DUIs, or anything else, the guy could be on heroin and wife-beater, but as long as he gets "W's", he's all good.
It's the hypocrisy of sports, fans of every other team like to point a condemning finger at a high-profile player or coach who has done something wrong, but would embrace the person in an instant if they were to join their organization and produce more victories. Did anyone care when Jamal Strong was suspended by MLB for testing positive for steroids? Exactly, who?? Yet, Barry Bonds is one of the most hated men alive, outside of San Fransisco, because he was suspected of using steroids. Despite this animosity, there are 29 other teams that would love to have him, well, the old, juiced Bonds at least.
What's even more hypocritical is the fact that K-State supporters feel like they took a chance on Huggy Bear and he stabbed them in the back? Really? What sort of risk or consequence was there to hiring him, I don't even recall there being any kind of backlash for hiring someone with Bobby's baggage. It was all reward, and in the event things somehow went awry or he didn't win enough games, he would have been dropped faster than The Nine. So much for loyalty, huh?
Face it, the guy did more for your program in one year than others have done in a decade, he had the #1 recruiting class on-tap for next year, and suddenly you had a sip of what it would be like to not suck and you're pissed that you're losing it. I would be upset too, but not at Huggins.
Trust me, I can relate, after Thad Matta took Xavier to the Elite 8, he jetted for Ohio State, that little school that just happened to play in the NCAA championship game this year, and I was furious. But I wasn't mad that Thad left, I was pissed about how he left. He told us he had absolutely no interest in the job, wasn't even considered for it, and loved it at X; the next day he was holding a press conference in Columbus.
That's a stab in the back, front, and face; what Huggins did wasn't. Huggs was honest the whole time; K-State just wasn't honest with themselves. If you really believed that Huggins would stay in Manhattan for any substantial length of time, you deserved to lose him.
You were the rebound chic. He got dumped by an attractive girl for being a drunk and ended up dating you. But you had to have known he would have never gone out with you if it wasn't for the fact that none of the other popular girls wanted anything to do with him due to the negative perception he created. He lowered his standards because he had to. But after his year-long relationship with you, he proved to other girls that despite the fact he's a drunk, he still brings home the moolah. And that's really what matters, right? So another chic, that's on his level, comes along and courts him, and you're left crying in your Häagen-Dazs.
Cheer up and just be thankful you got a chance to date a stud. He already gave you Bill Walker and if any of the recruits from his highly touted incoming class end up playing for you (the University should be ashamed if they force them to stay and don't give them the option), you owe the man a great deal of gratitude, not disdain.
I have some insight into this whole scenario being from Cincinnati, the place where Huggins used to coach before he aligned with Kansas State. Huggins is dry, sequestered, and talks like a cyborg, but overall he's a decent human being. And despite the fact he coached at my school's archrival, I regretted that he was fired. Though I was one of the few people in a 50-mile radius that supported the University of Cincinnati's President, Nancy Zimpher, in her decision to get rid of him after he was arrested for a DUI.
It was refreshing to see an action contrary to the philosophy of winning trumps all else. And there's no doubt about it, Bob Huggins wins games, so for most people that have a vested interest in the program, or any team for that matter, they could careless about graduation rates, DUIs, or anything else, the guy could be on heroin and wife-beater, but as long as he gets "W's", he's all good.
It's the hypocrisy of sports, fans of every other team like to point a condemning finger at a high-profile player or coach who has done something wrong, but would embrace the person in an instant if they were to join their organization and produce more victories. Did anyone care when Jamal Strong was suspended by MLB for testing positive for steroids? Exactly, who?? Yet, Barry Bonds is one of the most hated men alive, outside of San Fransisco, because he was suspected of using steroids. Despite this animosity, there are 29 other teams that would love to have him, well, the old, juiced Bonds at least.
What's even more hypocritical is the fact that K-State supporters feel like they took a chance on Huggy Bear and he stabbed them in the back? Really? What sort of risk or consequence was there to hiring him, I don't even recall there being any kind of backlash for hiring someone with Bobby's baggage. It was all reward, and in the event things somehow went awry or he didn't win enough games, he would have been dropped faster than The Nine. So much for loyalty, huh?
Face it, the guy did more for your program in one year than others have done in a decade, he had the #1 recruiting class on-tap for next year, and suddenly you had a sip of what it would be like to not suck and you're pissed that you're losing it. I would be upset too, but not at Huggins.
Trust me, I can relate, after Thad Matta took Xavier to the Elite 8, he jetted for Ohio State, that little school that just happened to play in the NCAA championship game this year, and I was furious. But I wasn't mad that Thad left, I was pissed about how he left. He told us he had absolutely no interest in the job, wasn't even considered for it, and loved it at X; the next day he was holding a press conference in Columbus.
That's a stab in the back, front, and face; what Huggins did wasn't. Huggs was honest the whole time; K-State just wasn't honest with themselves. If you really believed that Huggins would stay in Manhattan for any substantial length of time, you deserved to lose him.
You were the rebound chic. He got dumped by an attractive girl for being a drunk and ended up dating you. But you had to have known he would have never gone out with you if it wasn't for the fact that none of the other popular girls wanted anything to do with him due to the negative perception he created. He lowered his standards because he had to. But after his year-long relationship with you, he proved to other girls that despite the fact he's a drunk, he still brings home the moolah. And that's really what matters, right? So another chic, that's on his level, comes along and courts him, and you're left crying in your Häagen-Dazs.
Cheer up and just be thankful you got a chance to date a stud. He already gave you Bill Walker and if any of the recruits from his highly touted incoming class end up playing for you (the University should be ashamed if they force them to stay and don't give them the option), you owe the man a great deal of gratitude, not disdain.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Don't bother calling me
So the other day I decided it was time to upgrade my cell phone. The one I had pissed me off because the receiver volume on it was horrible and unless you were standing in an empty elevator, in the middle of the night, you couldn’t barely make out anything the person on the other line was saying. On top of that, it just wasn’t sexy enough for me. Being Simon Drasle, I need a cell phone that is as sexy as I am.
The first problem I encountered, however, was that the selection phones I could actually choose from was going to be limited. I could buy a phone from the company I already have service with, but they only allow you to get a discounted price once a year, and it hadn’t been a year since I bought my last phone.
Like they’re my parents trying to control my phone buying habits. Who gives a crap how long it has been, just give me the freakin’ sale price now, you’re trying to sell phones, right? There’s no way I’m paying full retail price when I already have service with you, forget that. So my only other option was to buy an unlocked phone, which is pretty much none of the cool phones.
Sure, I could always drop the reliable service with the local company I have now since there is no contract and get sucked into a 2-year contract with some provider that drops every other call just for a salacious phone that makes me make me feel like I’m important. But at this point in my life, I just don’t feel I’m ready to take that step since the only person that calls me is my Grandma, on Thursdays, when she hasn’t had a chance to read my blog.
I already knew what I wanted to get anyway. The cinder block-style phone that Zack Morris used to rock; it was just a matter of finding it. 7 hours of meticulous searching later, I was convinced that they only sell it in Canada or something. So now I was definitely disheartened, I mean had no idea where to go from there and I knew nothing about cell phones, besides the one I had sucked and the one I wanted was only available in exotic countries.
Then I recalled seeing Bob Saget with some kind of phone called BlackBerry. Well hey, Bob is a big baller, and I’d like to be a big baller, so it was settled. Then I remembered that whenever Sags used the phone it looked like he was talking into a TI-87. Then I went and found out the freakin’ things cost like $500!
Who in the heck is going to pay $500 for an accounting machine that makes phone calls? I’d be forced to invest in a man purse just to carry the thing around with me in public. It’s counterproductive. The +1 to my cool rating for owning something so high-tech would be negated by the -2 for walking around with an effeminate carry-all and a portable fax machine.
BlackBerry was completely out of the question. But even though I had absolutely no idea what phone I was going to get, I did know I was purchasing a Bluetooth headset with it because I saw a guy at the mall with one once, and they are awesome. Then I remembered that when the guy started talking, I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me, or someone on the phone.
It turned out, he was talking on the phone, but by the time I realized it, I had already awkwardly acknowledged his presence. Which forced him to complete the awkward exchange with an equally awkward acknowledgement. So he knew that I thought that he thought that I thought he was talking to me. And I felt like he owed me an apology for thinking that I thought that he thought that I thought that he thought that I thought that he thought that I thought -- basically I wanted to punch him in the face at this point.
“Guy with Bluetooth in public” has officially replaced “Guy pretending like he is talking on his cell phone in public” as the unofficial mascot for Enzyte. Even if Bluetooth’s weren’t the most obnoxious inventions ever invented and a surging cause of black eyes, I don’t understand the necessity of saving yourself the strain of holding a 2-ounce piece of plastic to your ear through the duration of a 3-minute conversation. Whatever, I still needed a new phone. So I decided I should be smart, actually do some research, and choose a phone based solely on appearance.
I ended up getting the vowel-challenged SLVR. I could have cared less about the mp3 player capabilities and video camera, I just wanted a small, inoffensive phone. Yeah, well it turns out the SLVR’s audibility is actually frickin’ worse than the Nokia 6102 I already have. Seriously, why is it that the more crap they throw onto a phone, the worse it works as an actual phone?
It’s amazing, you’d think that would be the first priority, but apparently there must be some sect of people more worried about playing their favorite Ashlee Simpson songs with their phone than communicating with other people. So how come my mp3 player can’t make clear phone calls? The phone obviously went back, but I’m still here without a phone that doesn’t suck. To be continued??
The first problem I encountered, however, was that the selection phones I could actually choose from was going to be limited. I could buy a phone from the company I already have service with, but they only allow you to get a discounted price once a year, and it hadn’t been a year since I bought my last phone.
Like they’re my parents trying to control my phone buying habits. Who gives a crap how long it has been, just give me the freakin’ sale price now, you’re trying to sell phones, right? There’s no way I’m paying full retail price when I already have service with you, forget that. So my only other option was to buy an unlocked phone, which is pretty much none of the cool phones.
Sure, I could always drop the reliable service with the local company I have now since there is no contract and get sucked into a 2-year contract with some provider that drops every other call just for a salacious phone that makes me make me feel like I’m important. But at this point in my life, I just don’t feel I’m ready to take that step since the only person that calls me is my Grandma, on Thursdays, when she hasn’t had a chance to read my blog.
I already knew what I wanted to get anyway. The cinder block-style phone that Zack Morris used to rock; it was just a matter of finding it. 7 hours of meticulous searching later, I was convinced that they only sell it in Canada or something. So now I was definitely disheartened, I mean had no idea where to go from there and I knew nothing about cell phones, besides the one I had sucked and the one I wanted was only available in exotic countries.
Then I recalled seeing Bob Saget with some kind of phone called BlackBerry. Well hey, Bob is a big baller, and I’d like to be a big baller, so it was settled. Then I remembered that whenever Sags used the phone it looked like he was talking into a TI-87. Then I went and found out the freakin’ things cost like $500!
Who in the heck is going to pay $500 for an accounting machine that makes phone calls? I’d be forced to invest in a man purse just to carry the thing around with me in public. It’s counterproductive. The +1 to my cool rating for owning something so high-tech would be negated by the -2 for walking around with an effeminate carry-all and a portable fax machine.
BlackBerry was completely out of the question. But even though I had absolutely no idea what phone I was going to get, I did know I was purchasing a Bluetooth headset with it because I saw a guy at the mall with one once, and they are awesome. Then I remembered that when the guy started talking, I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me, or someone on the phone.
It turned out, he was talking on the phone, but by the time I realized it, I had already awkwardly acknowledged his presence. Which forced him to complete the awkward exchange with an equally awkward acknowledgement. So he knew that I thought that he thought that I thought he was talking to me. And I felt like he owed me an apology for thinking that I thought that he thought that I thought that he thought that I thought that he thought that I thought -- basically I wanted to punch him in the face at this point.
“Guy with Bluetooth in public” has officially replaced “Guy pretending like he is talking on his cell phone in public” as the unofficial mascot for Enzyte. Even if Bluetooth’s weren’t the most obnoxious inventions ever invented and a surging cause of black eyes, I don’t understand the necessity of saving yourself the strain of holding a 2-ounce piece of plastic to your ear through the duration of a 3-minute conversation. Whatever, I still needed a new phone. So I decided I should be smart, actually do some research, and choose a phone based solely on appearance.
I ended up getting the vowel-challenged SLVR. I could have cared less about the mp3 player capabilities and video camera, I just wanted a small, inoffensive phone. Yeah, well it turns out the SLVR’s audibility is actually frickin’ worse than the Nokia 6102 I already have. Seriously, why is it that the more crap they throw onto a phone, the worse it works as an actual phone?
It’s amazing, you’d think that would be the first priority, but apparently there must be some sect of people more worried about playing their favorite Ashlee Simpson songs with their phone than communicating with other people. So how come my mp3 player can’t make clear phone calls? The phone obviously went back, but I’m still here without a phone that doesn’t suck. To be continued??
Sunday, April 1, 2007
The end of an epoch
It’s with great regret and sadness that I must announce that Simon’s Mind will be shutting down all operations, permanently, and this will be my final column. I would like to say that I had a good run, but unfortunately I didn’t, and that’s the sole reason for the cessation. Outside of the fact that my ratings were lower than an episode of The Hills, no one seemed to be able to understand or appreciate what Simon’s Mind was all about. Why are you so bitter? Who is Simon Drasle? I thought your name is John. Why do you write about sports so much? Why do you say “guy” and “dude” so much? And so forth and so on.
I spent countless hours pouring my heart and soul into trying to create a monumentally mediocre blog that 38-39 yr. old males, who like heavy metal, sports, and knitting could enjoy. But alas, the messages of acerbity, pointlessness, nonsense, and self-inflating rhetoric seemed to have fallen on blind eyes and the recoil has left me exhausted.
On top of this, I just lost my job as a nurse, rendering me unable to afford the monthly bandwidth bill. So even if I wanted to keep this blog up and running; nope. I am, however, not opposed to handouts and charity, so feel free to paypal me as much money as you can spare, monthly. Seriously, I just lost my freakin’ job, now’s not the time be a stingy troglodyte. But to the apathetic groans of all of my 1.5 loyal readers (I only consider myself a .5 of a fan due to the conflict of interest), thanks and goodbye…………
I spent countless hours pouring my heart and soul into trying to create a monumentally mediocre blog that 38-39 yr. old males, who like heavy metal, sports, and knitting could enjoy. But alas, the messages of acerbity, pointlessness, nonsense, and self-inflating rhetoric seemed to have fallen on blind eyes and the recoil has left me exhausted.
On top of this, I just lost my job as a nurse, rendering me unable to afford the monthly bandwidth bill. So even if I wanted to keep this blog up and running; nope. I am, however, not opposed to handouts and charity, so feel free to paypal me as much money as you can spare, monthly. Seriously, I just lost my freakin’ job, now’s not the time be a stingy troglodyte. But to the apathetic groans of all of my 1.5 loyal readers (I only consider myself a .5 of a fan due to the conflict of interest), thanks and goodbye…………
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
"Hey man, where are all da chics?!"
Why is it that commercials have progressively gotten worse? I took an advertising class in college, therefore making me an expert, so I know it’s really not that hard to create an effective ad. Yet every time I turn on the television, I’m accosted by some of the most intellectually insulting drivel I’ve ever witnessed. Half the spots are full of irrelevant nonsense, and the other half are bursting with sex innuendos, or less subtly, half-nekked chics.
Take for instance the new K-Swiss commercial with Anna Kournikova in it. It starts out with a guy listening to a message from Anna on his answering machine warning him not to be late for her tennis match. Uh oh, I guess he forgot, because the next thing you know guy is jumping out of his office window to the ground, 5 stories below. Of course he lands safely thanks to his K-Swiss kicks. Rawk! The commercial continues from there with the guy leaping and climbing all over the city, Spiderman-style, till he arrives at Anna’s match just in time for her to look over and see him acting like he’s been there the whole time. Brilliant!
Seeing as that creating a commercial this idiotic on so many levels required sheer genius, like how you actually have to be really intelligent to get every answer wrong on a test. First of all, does Anna Kournikova even play tennis anymore? Exactly, and when she did, she wasn’t even any good. Now if Anna left me a voicemail, telling me anything, I would be extremely excited too, but if you were really in a hurry, I think driving is going to be a lot more efficient than hopping around the city like some frog on whatever swelled Barry Bonds’ dome. At least it wasn’t one of those inane commercials that doesn’t even showcase the product they’re trying to sell, as in the course of the guy’s expedition we get to see random freeze frames of his shoes.
On second thought, this was a very bad idea, because the shoes are freakin’ butt ugly. It’s like some red, white, and blue reject from Tommy Hilfiger. They’re horrible. Why does K-Swiss even still make shoes? I’m sorry, but when I think of sneakers, or shoes in general, K-Swiss doesn’t even register in my cranium. I’ll say this, if there was some bizarre circumstance where I just had to have a pair of gym shoes and the only store that was open only had K-Swiss in stock, I would buy Timberlands.
While that commercial was some of the worst garbage I’ve seen in a long while, it’s actually topped by a spot advertising P. Diddy’s new body spray. Hopefully you’re already cracking up, but if you haven’t seen it, it shows three “dudes” on a beach getting ready to Jet Ski. But before they do, one dude says he needs to do something first, at which point he whips out his Diddy Funk (or whatever it's called) body freshener and proceeds to douse himself with it. Not 2 seconds later, some chic levitates out of the water and approaches him with an aroused Hi. She then gets on back of the Jet Ski of the dude dripping with Diddy Funk to the dismay of the other 2 dudes. Let’s Roll!
Sorry, I’m not going to be able to finish this column, I’m suddenly compelled to go buy a case of Diddy Funk……
Or not. Wait, I’ve seen this commercial before, it was for AXE body spray, and it wasn’t appealing then. I mean wow, has there ever been a more blatant rip-off of another ad? And why copy something so deplorable? If anyone actually bought (buys) AXE anything because of their ridiculous ads showing chics flocking to goofuses who use it, then you should be banned from having money. I especially love the Diddy commercial because the guy puts it on before he’s going to Jet Ski, IN THE OCEAN. Anything you put on is going to be washed off almost instantly; the only thing you’re going to smell like is salt water.
But hey, he already has the chic, right? But he needed Puffy's secret aphrodisiac to get her, so once it washes off she will regain her senses and run away in horror. Okay, maybe I’m overanalyzing the whole thing, but that just shows how stupid it is. Think about it, if you can’t get chics, do you really think applying deodorant is going to somehow reverse that? If that really was your only problem, may I alternatively suggest the recent invention “the shower”. The same guys buying this stuff are the same guys who try to administer beer goggles to chics to increase their odds of getting them. Pathetic.
What’s even more amazing is that before I even finished writing this, YET another horrible body spray commercial has penetrated the television flaunting it's ability to allure females. What the heck is going on, are body sprays like the new substitute to sports cars for poor people? Hey, we realize not everyone can afford a new Benz, but being that you're finacially-challenged, you're probably also gullible, and certainly just as horny as every other guy, so buy this already!
This time the offender is Right Guard, and the ad is composed of some maladroit chic instructing me to purchase their aerosol crap so I can step up my game. Fine, maybe I could benefit from stepping my game up, but it’s certainly not going to be by using your lame product. Do companies really think the public is dumb enough to believe that the key to attracting women is smelling good, everyone already knows that it’s money. Just kidding (kind of).
Take for instance the new K-Swiss commercial with Anna Kournikova in it. It starts out with a guy listening to a message from Anna on his answering machine warning him not to be late for her tennis match. Uh oh, I guess he forgot, because the next thing you know guy is jumping out of his office window to the ground, 5 stories below. Of course he lands safely thanks to his K-Swiss kicks. Rawk! The commercial continues from there with the guy leaping and climbing all over the city, Spiderman-style, till he arrives at Anna’s match just in time for her to look over and see him acting like he’s been there the whole time. Brilliant!
Seeing as that creating a commercial this idiotic on so many levels required sheer genius, like how you actually have to be really intelligent to get every answer wrong on a test. First of all, does Anna Kournikova even play tennis anymore? Exactly, and when she did, she wasn’t even any good. Now if Anna left me a voicemail, telling me anything, I would be extremely excited too, but if you were really in a hurry, I think driving is going to be a lot more efficient than hopping around the city like some frog on whatever swelled Barry Bonds’ dome. At least it wasn’t one of those inane commercials that doesn’t even showcase the product they’re trying to sell, as in the course of the guy’s expedition we get to see random freeze frames of his shoes.
On second thought, this was a very bad idea, because the shoes are freakin’ butt ugly. It’s like some red, white, and blue reject from Tommy Hilfiger. They’re horrible. Why does K-Swiss even still make shoes? I’m sorry, but when I think of sneakers, or shoes in general, K-Swiss doesn’t even register in my cranium. I’ll say this, if there was some bizarre circumstance where I just had to have a pair of gym shoes and the only store that was open only had K-Swiss in stock, I would buy Timberlands.
While that commercial was some of the worst garbage I’ve seen in a long while, it’s actually topped by a spot advertising P. Diddy’s new body spray. Hopefully you’re already cracking up, but if you haven’t seen it, it shows three “dudes” on a beach getting ready to Jet Ski. But before they do, one dude says he needs to do something first, at which point he whips out his Diddy Funk (or whatever it's called) body freshener and proceeds to douse himself with it. Not 2 seconds later, some chic levitates out of the water and approaches him with an aroused Hi. She then gets on back of the Jet Ski of the dude dripping with Diddy Funk to the dismay of the other 2 dudes. Let’s Roll!
Sorry, I’m not going to be able to finish this column, I’m suddenly compelled to go buy a case of Diddy Funk……
Or not. Wait, I’ve seen this commercial before, it was for AXE body spray, and it wasn’t appealing then. I mean wow, has there ever been a more blatant rip-off of another ad? And why copy something so deplorable? If anyone actually bought (buys) AXE anything because of their ridiculous ads showing chics flocking to goofuses who use it, then you should be banned from having money. I especially love the Diddy commercial because the guy puts it on before he’s going to Jet Ski, IN THE OCEAN. Anything you put on is going to be washed off almost instantly; the only thing you’re going to smell like is salt water.
But hey, he already has the chic, right? But he needed Puffy's secret aphrodisiac to get her, so once it washes off she will regain her senses and run away in horror. Okay, maybe I’m overanalyzing the whole thing, but that just shows how stupid it is. Think about it, if you can’t get chics, do you really think applying deodorant is going to somehow reverse that? If that really was your only problem, may I alternatively suggest the recent invention “the shower”. The same guys buying this stuff are the same guys who try to administer beer goggles to chics to increase their odds of getting them. Pathetic.
What’s even more amazing is that before I even finished writing this, YET another horrible body spray commercial has penetrated the television flaunting it's ability to allure females. What the heck is going on, are body sprays like the new substitute to sports cars for poor people? Hey, we realize not everyone can afford a new Benz, but being that you're finacially-challenged, you're probably also gullible, and certainly just as horny as every other guy, so buy this already!
This time the offender is Right Guard, and the ad is composed of some maladroit chic instructing me to purchase their aerosol crap so I can step up my game. Fine, maybe I could benefit from stepping my game up, but it’s certainly not going to be by using your lame product. Do companies really think the public is dumb enough to believe that the key to attracting women is smelling good, everyone already knows that it’s money. Just kidding (kind of).
Sunday, March 25, 2007
It's Sunday, and I'm not laughing
When waking up at 5:30 A.M. in a zombie-like stupor, there’s nothing like cracking open a fresh newspaper. I just love reading about how much more messed up the world is since yesterday, how everyone in it is insane, oh, and the new reports revealing that everything I’m doing is detrimental to my health. It's the highlight of my day. But one of the few condolences to this depressing regimen is reading the funnies. Especially the ones in the Sunday paper, because, well, they’re in color, AND longer. The only problem is they’re no longer funny.
Take for instance, Marmaduke (the one about the goofy, slobbering dog), this comic strip has been around longer than Larry King, and it’s absolutely horrible. Like the one in today’s paper, it starts with some taxi driver asking Marmaduke to drive his cab for him, and his only motivation is that no one will know, and Marma happily obliges. Okay stop. Let me get this straight, random guy asks random dog to drive his taxi for him, for absolutely no reason. WHAT?!
So already I’m aggravated, but I feel like if I've wasted 4 seconds reading the first block, I might as well read the other 3. So I continue and learn that Duke picks up a passenger and tries to drive him to his destination, almost causing 20 casualties in the process. Because oh yeah, Marmaduke is a freakin’ dog, and they can’t drive cars. Thankfully Duke is pulled over by a cop, who takes one look at our loveable pooch and says, “I need a vacation.” And then……that’s all, that was the end of comic strip. No, I’m not kidding, that really was the whole thing, and it REALLY was that unfunny. Not even for a moment did my mind consider a snicker. Is there anyone that actually finds this comic funny, I truly want to know, as I now feel compelled to understand how it has lasted this long. And who writes this stuff? Oh, it says Brad Anderson; well I’m not a fan, Brad.
Adding insult to injury is the Doggone Funny blurb that encompasses the final square of the strip. It’s where fans get to share narratives about their own dogs. The one from today was about some lady whose dog, Jax, steals her blanket, till Jax gets too hot, then he puts it back on her and gets an ice cube from the freezer to cool down. Fine, I’ll give you slightly cute if it's not completely bogus, but that is not doggone funny. No way. I get that that some people really love their dogs, I’m a dog lover myself, okay dog liker, so why is it that this entire scenario that Brad Anderson is presenting so unamusing to me? Are my standards that high, or are other people's just that low?
As bad as Marmaduke is, however, it actually gets worse. Doonesburry, anyone? Blah….blah….terrorists….blah….blah….war in Iraq…blah….blah…Bush is stupid….blah….blah…
That’s the gist of today’s Dooney. Believe me, I’m not what you would call a “Bush guy”, it’s just that we’re already inundated with this crud from every media pore there is, why does it have to infiltrate something as naively wholesome as the funnies? Last I checked there was already a place for political comics, it’s called the Editorial Page. While I write this I can even hear the unimpressed, collective sigh of extreme, left wing, pseudo intellectuals as they finishing read this comic. Yeah, it’s lame. Heck, even Opus features a platypus.
I realize I’m a cynically jaded, 25 yr. old man, but I still do like to laugh, at things that are funny. Thus is why these comics and I don't get along. I was the guy that threw a party when my local paper finally cancelled Mary Worth (I have never in my life met anyone who understood the point of Mary Worth), but it’s like there are absolutely no worthwhile comic strips even being made anymore to replace the horrible ones that should already be gone. Back in 4th grade I made a comic strip about farm animals wrestling. I haven’t the slightest recollection of the plot, but it was recognized for creative excellence by the principal (I don’t know why either), and I can safely say it annihilates every For Better or For Worse and Blondie ever created.
So what am I left with: Dilbert, actually funny; The Dinnette Set, clever and amusing, everything else, embarrassing. I give up, at this point I’d rather just read about why breathing is slowly killing me.
Take for instance, Marmaduke (the one about the goofy, slobbering dog), this comic strip has been around longer than Larry King, and it’s absolutely horrible. Like the one in today’s paper, it starts with some taxi driver asking Marmaduke to drive his cab for him, and his only motivation is that no one will know, and Marma happily obliges. Okay stop. Let me get this straight, random guy asks random dog to drive his taxi for him, for absolutely no reason. WHAT?!
So already I’m aggravated, but I feel like if I've wasted 4 seconds reading the first block, I might as well read the other 3. So I continue and learn that Duke picks up a passenger and tries to drive him to his destination, almost causing 20 casualties in the process. Because oh yeah, Marmaduke is a freakin’ dog, and they can’t drive cars. Thankfully Duke is pulled over by a cop, who takes one look at our loveable pooch and says, “I need a vacation.” And then……that’s all, that was the end of comic strip. No, I’m not kidding, that really was the whole thing, and it REALLY was that unfunny. Not even for a moment did my mind consider a snicker. Is there anyone that actually finds this comic funny, I truly want to know, as I now feel compelled to understand how it has lasted this long. And who writes this stuff? Oh, it says Brad Anderson; well I’m not a fan, Brad.
Adding insult to injury is the Doggone Funny blurb that encompasses the final square of the strip. It’s where fans get to share narratives about their own dogs. The one from today was about some lady whose dog, Jax, steals her blanket, till Jax gets too hot, then he puts it back on her and gets an ice cube from the freezer to cool down. Fine, I’ll give you slightly cute if it's not completely bogus, but that is not doggone funny. No way. I get that that some people really love their dogs, I’m a dog lover myself, okay dog liker, so why is it that this entire scenario that Brad Anderson is presenting so unamusing to me? Are my standards that high, or are other people's just that low?
As bad as Marmaduke is, however, it actually gets worse. Doonesburry, anyone? Blah….blah….terrorists….blah….blah….war in Iraq…blah….blah…Bush is stupid….blah….blah…
That’s the gist of today’s Dooney. Believe me, I’m not what you would call a “Bush guy”, it’s just that we’re already inundated with this crud from every media pore there is, why does it have to infiltrate something as naively wholesome as the funnies? Last I checked there was already a place for political comics, it’s called the Editorial Page. While I write this I can even hear the unimpressed, collective sigh of extreme, left wing, pseudo intellectuals as they finishing read this comic. Yeah, it’s lame. Heck, even Opus features a platypus.
I realize I’m a cynically jaded, 25 yr. old man, but I still do like to laugh, at things that are funny. Thus is why these comics and I don't get along. I was the guy that threw a party when my local paper finally cancelled Mary Worth (I have never in my life met anyone who understood the point of Mary Worth), but it’s like there are absolutely no worthwhile comic strips even being made anymore to replace the horrible ones that should already be gone. Back in 4th grade I made a comic strip about farm animals wrestling. I haven’t the slightest recollection of the plot, but it was recognized for creative excellence by the principal (I don’t know why either), and I can safely say it annihilates every For Better or For Worse and Blondie ever created.
So what am I left with: Dilbert, actually funny; The Dinnette Set, clever and amusing, everything else, embarrassing. I give up, at this point I’d rather just read about why breathing is slowly killing me.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The Stock Market of Life
March 21st Edition
Up:
Gus Johnson (CBS Sports Announcer): Gus is awesome. I’m amazed he doesn’t get allocated to all the premier sporting events that CBS broadcasts. I can’t tell if dude is just an insane showman or just really loves sports, but I’m convinced he could make anything exciting. I seriously could watch women’s cricket if he was calling the match. The thing about Gus is you don’t appreciate him till he’s not there. The first couple times I witnessed him do NFL and NC2A games, he was barely distinguishable from other random announcer guys, I mean I’m usually more focused on the actual game to care what the broadcasters are saying. In some instances, I’m even appreciative for the mute button.
But once you experience a couple games with Gus, his presence is undeniable, and after you get over the initial puzzlement of how someone can be so freakin’ excitable over literally everything, his energy is simply infectious. It could be like 6 to 2 in a basketball game, someone will execute a nice tip dunk, and Gus will go off harder than most announcers that just witnessed a game-winning buzzer beater. Guy is sick, I love him.
Scott Sloan (Host of AM Radio Show): Being the man that brought us the March Madmen Tournament and WNIT (Women’s National Insanity Tournament), which pits infamous wackos against each other in a fictional event to decide who is the biggest lunatic of the past year, you know he has to be on the up. His show generated the epiphany that the supply of stupid in society is endless, and I’ve now realized I can’t stop hearing about it.
Skip Bayless (Sports Columnist): The Cobra, I love this guy. If there’s a more passionate and hated sportswriter out there, please tell me. Personally I don’t get the hate, while you might not agree with the guy, you have to respect him for being one of the few journalists with the testicular fortitude to articulate an unpopular opinion. Plus, he always brings the knowledge to actually back it up; you have to love how he gets after it.
Down:
My Job: Some IT guy decided it was necessary to regulate internet access to Code Orange. That basically means everyone is banned from everything but stamps.com. Not only do I have to work during a majority of March Madness, but now I can’t even watch the games on the computer at work because it refuses to download anything. Trust me, it’s not even about lost productivity, because the alternative is thrusting my head against a wall, repeatedly. I can understand banning offensive sites, I’m all for that and that’s how it’s always been, but why suddenly ban every site I actually go to. Uh oh, that CD store and auction site you frequent is the equivalent of p0rn, BLOCK’D.
Greg Anthony (ex-NBAer and ESPN Personality) - I already had a strong notion Greg was one of those guys who just likes to hear himself talk and needs to feel like he’s right all the time. It was confirmed by his recent opinion in which he claimed Greg Oden of Ohio State didn’t intentionally foul Xavier’s Justin Cage when Oden bull-rushed and slammed Cage to the floor at the end of the Xavier-Ohio State basketball game last weekend. I didn’t even care that this was his opinion, but his credibility as a journalist was nullified when he called them X-avier (it’s pronounced “Zavier”).
Seriously, this might have been understandable 20 years ago when the school was predominantly unknown outside of the region, though it still wouldn’t have made it okay for a ”professional”, but if you don’t know how to pronounce this school by now, you shouldn’t be getting paid to spew uneducated opinions on national television. Someone saying “X-avier”, and not talking about some bald guy in a floating wheelchair that chills with mutants, is putting out a disclaimer that “you should ignore everything I’m about to say”.
The Hills (TV Show?): I finally get it, THIS is why the rest of the world hates us. Worst. Show. Ever.
Joey Porter (Miami Dolphin, ex-Steeler): Being as this is the same guy that got shot outside a bar (in the buttocks of all places) and had some Pit Bulls that got loose and killed a horse, why am I not surprised that he just got charged with misdemeanor battery on the Bengals’ Levi Jones in a Vegas casino. I get the whole Bengals-Steelers rivalry, but you’re a frickin’ Dolphin now, you’re irrelevant. My guy Levi is a monster though, and I love how a witness said Jones picked-up and tossed Porter 10 feet. Keep in mind Joe weighs 250 pounds. And it took Joe, along with 6 of his knuckleheaded boys, to actually take down Levi so Joey could hit him and snatch his jewelry. Note to Joe, bro, you’re a clown and your indecipherable, dolphin-pitched, war cries should do well in the Miami locker room.
Up:
Gus Johnson (CBS Sports Announcer): Gus is awesome. I’m amazed he doesn’t get allocated to all the premier sporting events that CBS broadcasts. I can’t tell if dude is just an insane showman or just really loves sports, but I’m convinced he could make anything exciting. I seriously could watch women’s cricket if he was calling the match. The thing about Gus is you don’t appreciate him till he’s not there. The first couple times I witnessed him do NFL and NC2A games, he was barely distinguishable from other random announcer guys, I mean I’m usually more focused on the actual game to care what the broadcasters are saying. In some instances, I’m even appreciative for the mute button.
But once you experience a couple games with Gus, his presence is undeniable, and after you get over the initial puzzlement of how someone can be so freakin’ excitable over literally everything, his energy is simply infectious. It could be like 6 to 2 in a basketball game, someone will execute a nice tip dunk, and Gus will go off harder than most announcers that just witnessed a game-winning buzzer beater. Guy is sick, I love him.
Scott Sloan (Host of AM Radio Show): Being the man that brought us the March Madmen Tournament and WNIT (Women’s National Insanity Tournament), which pits infamous wackos against each other in a fictional event to decide who is the biggest lunatic of the past year, you know he has to be on the up. His show generated the epiphany that the supply of stupid in society is endless, and I’ve now realized I can’t stop hearing about it.
Skip Bayless (Sports Columnist): The Cobra, I love this guy. If there’s a more passionate and hated sportswriter out there, please tell me. Personally I don’t get the hate, while you might not agree with the guy, you have to respect him for being one of the few journalists with the testicular fortitude to articulate an unpopular opinion. Plus, he always brings the knowledge to actually back it up; you have to love how he gets after it.
Down:
My Job: Some IT guy decided it was necessary to regulate internet access to Code Orange. That basically means everyone is banned from everything but stamps.com. Not only do I have to work during a majority of March Madness, but now I can’t even watch the games on the computer at work because it refuses to download anything. Trust me, it’s not even about lost productivity, because the alternative is thrusting my head against a wall, repeatedly. I can understand banning offensive sites, I’m all for that and that’s how it’s always been, but why suddenly ban every site I actually go to. Uh oh, that CD store and auction site you frequent is the equivalent of p0rn, BLOCK’D.
Greg Anthony (ex-NBAer and ESPN Personality) - I already had a strong notion Greg was one of those guys who just likes to hear himself talk and needs to feel like he’s right all the time. It was confirmed by his recent opinion in which he claimed Greg Oden of Ohio State didn’t intentionally foul Xavier’s Justin Cage when Oden bull-rushed and slammed Cage to the floor at the end of the Xavier-Ohio State basketball game last weekend. I didn’t even care that this was his opinion, but his credibility as a journalist was nullified when he called them X-avier (it’s pronounced “Zavier”).
Seriously, this might have been understandable 20 years ago when the school was predominantly unknown outside of the region, though it still wouldn’t have made it okay for a ”professional”, but if you don’t know how to pronounce this school by now, you shouldn’t be getting paid to spew uneducated opinions on national television. Someone saying “X-avier”, and not talking about some bald guy in a floating wheelchair that chills with mutants, is putting out a disclaimer that “you should ignore everything I’m about to say”.
The Hills (TV Show?): I finally get it, THIS is why the rest of the world hates us. Worst. Show. Ever.
Joey Porter (Miami Dolphin, ex-Steeler): Being as this is the same guy that got shot outside a bar (in the buttocks of all places) and had some Pit Bulls that got loose and killed a horse, why am I not surprised that he just got charged with misdemeanor battery on the Bengals’ Levi Jones in a Vegas casino. I get the whole Bengals-Steelers rivalry, but you’re a frickin’ Dolphin now, you’re irrelevant. My guy Levi is a monster though, and I love how a witness said Jones picked-up and tossed Porter 10 feet. Keep in mind Joe weighs 250 pounds. And it took Joe, along with 6 of his knuckleheaded boys, to actually take down Levi so Joey could hit him and snatch his jewelry. Note to Joe, bro, you’re a clown and your indecipherable, dolphin-pitched, war cries should do well in the Miami locker room.
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