Pardon me while I go on a little rant here (I say this as if this whole blog isn't just the rantings of a cranky person).
The other day, one of my coworkers liked some article on Facebook that basically was some senior talking about how they were offended that the youth of today don't think they "lived green" back in the day, so they proceeded to list off all the ways in which they were superior to youth of today because those silly youth of today use cell phones and TVs and stuff when they didn't have those things and that makes them better people, and so on and so on. Typical old-person rant, to me. But that's not really what got me thinking.
I happened to see a few of the comments to this article, and most were the typical "Yeah you go girl!" kind of thing. Then there was this one about how "And don't forget how our boys won us freedom back in WWII!!"
And it made me cringe. Then not a day or so later, I heard a big jerk in my office talking to someone and he made some comment about how "You would think the French would respect us more considering we bailed them out back in WWII."
I'm sorry, I am a patriot as much as anyone, but our collective reverie over World War II just has to stop.
Look, I'm not saying that I don't appreciate what the men and women who fought in WWII accomplished. They helped put an end to one of the greatest evils ever known to humanity. That's a big deal.
But some people sure can't get past it. Really, you're still expecting the French to, what, bow down to us because we reluctantly jumped into a war 70 years ago? Well, where's the cutoff for owing thanks, because I'm pretty sure they helped us at some point in the whole "revolting against Britain" thing. And what, were the guys who fought in all the subsequent wars/conflicts/situations not protecting our freedom the same way that they did in WWII?
That's why the Second World War has become the low hanging fruit of wars. It's the easiest conflict to point back to and say "Yes. That was good. That was well worth fighting for." The terms of that war are easy for people to understand. We won, and spurned on the biggest economic growth spurt in possibly all of history. And if we had lost, the world would have been overrun by an evil bent on world domination. See, clean cut, line in the sand, easy to understand. Good/bad.
It was the last war that America was engaged in that was so easy to define. People barely remember Korea, much less understand what it was about. Vietnam still remains controversial. Then you have all those other smaller-scaled actions like Bosnia, or the ongoing craziness in the Middle East. Those conflicts necessarily carry complex political implications, meaning that if you salute the soldier who volunteered for Vietnam, you also have to sorta kinda make the case for all those youths at that time who burned their draft cards and skipped town, because in the long run that war got messy, had a bad end, and its goals became a confused splatter of paint on a map. So people just kinda skip that one. And many others after it.
Another thing. My guess* is that this reverie is a uniquely American perspective on World War II. Much like every other conflict, Americans typically don't have to fight on their home soil. We don't know what it means to have our capital city bombed night in and night out by a country that's closer to them than the distance from California to Maine.** But WWII left permanent psychological and physical scars on the other countries involved that we just can't comprehend. Britain basically saw its entire empire it had spent accumulating for hundreds of years evaporate within ten years. Germany spent years getting back to where it was, and even today they still have laws on the books preventing people from praising Hitler. Japan was so devastated that they developed Godzilla to try and cope with it. And so on and so on.
*Because I haven't talked this over with many non-Americans. Hell, I haven't talked it over with any Americans, either. **Again, just a guess. I'm too lazy to research that fact but it seems reasonable.
So please, next time you go praising that (justly earned name) "Greatest Generation," just stop and think. Maybe you should just thank them privately.
It's what I've decided to call my relationship status with football this season. You know, in the way that people say, "Oh, we're not divorcing...just separating," because it implies some sort of possibility that things might change, for the better of course, and that they'll figure it out and everything will be happy again. And maybe that's how my relationship with football--specifically the NFL, but the apathy is extending to the college game as well--will turn out. But let me tell you, like most separations, its been building for a long time, and I can't imagine a scenario where it just magically gets better. It's been three weeks, I've barely seen any actual football, and I can't say I'm missing it.
And really, not to be a blamemonger, but it's totally their fault. As a fan, I feel like sports need to court my interest, if not my spending dollar, and for the last few years, I feel like that guy who's been taken advantage of by an abusive girlfriend because she can't imagine a scenario in which you find happiness without her. Well, football, I'm here to tell you, I'm a man! And I don't need you anymore!
I'm not really sure where my breaking point was, but it had multiple causes, all kind of culminating at once.
1) Beef Number One: Commercials and Boredom
For starters, there's the sheer awful experience of watching a football game anymore. I'm probably just getting old and futzy, but seriously, has anyone noticed just how excruciating it is to watch a game anymore? (And this was before this current season, with the weekly replacement ref debacle to suffer through) I mean, the beginning of the game now takes a good 35 minutes to get through. A simple kickoff, return, and first play from scrimmage sequence begins with "And we'll be right back with kickoff, after these commercials," and then 10 seconds of action, and more commercials, and then hey look! a penalty! Commercials. And this happens every time someone scores. And with the increased "emphasis" on "safety" in the rules, and the resulting lack of effective defense that can be played, teams score a lot these days. So, counter-intuitively, though they've supposedly made the game more exciting by increasing the scoring, it's in effect made it worse.
It's bad on TV, but it's worse when you're actually at the game. I've only been to a handful of live football games in the past couple years but they were some of the worst sporting action I've ever seen. You have little to no idea what is going on nearly all the time, and 98% of that time you're watching dudes stand around and wait for the go ahead because they're returning from commercials. I don't understand what's so critical about timeouts anymore when virtually the entire game is played at a standstill. Stupid.
Even Kobe Bryant agrees.
2) Beef Number Two: The Scourge of Tim Tebow
Look, I know I'm not the first to spill ink on the meta-like nature of the coverage of Tim Tebow, and how more often than not the coverage about him isn't related to his suckiness prowess at the actual game of football, and how its like this weird amalgamation of stories about religious freedom and the Hand of God and hero ball and all this crap.
But there reached this point last season where the overwhelming coverage of All Things Tebow just spilled over into this mania, or something. I'm still not sure what the word is for it. But after about Week 10, it was as if you couldn't discuss anything related to football without having to talk about The Tim Tebow Problem. Was he a good quarterback? Yes, no? But he wins! Yes but the way he does....who cares he wins!
Admit it, you were hoping for a gratuitous Tebow image. Don't lie.
It distorted things for me. No longer could I watch legitimately great QBs like Drew Brees or Tom Brady or Aaron Rodgers without this other usurper spoiling it because he was winning too. He just wasn't winning in the same fashion, or even playing remotely the same game. It just got so tiring. Because of who he was, and the people who loved him, and how he played the game, it just became this story that reached some sort of comical proportions but no one could dare say it because of that other thing.
I mean, let's just call it for what it was. He sucked. Ok? He just really sucks at playing quarterback. Let's compare him to a fictional athlete in another sport. Let's say there was some pitcher out there who got promoted to the majors and took some guy's spot in the rotation who maybe wasn't so good but the team kinda sucked and wasn't going anywhere anyway so whatevs. So the fans love this new kid and they force management to throw him in there. And he's just terrible. Like, gives up 10 runs in the first inning terrible. Chuck Barkley turrrrrble. But because the team is so desperate, they leave him in there. For the rest of the game. And they're down like 18-3 after 7 innings. And somehow, miracle of miracles, his team catches fire in the bottom of the 8th inning, scores 8 runs and then 8 more in the 9th and wins it, and weirdly enough, the kid gets a W. Would anyone say, "Man that kid was awesome?" Or would they say, "Holy shit. That guy just won a game in which he gave up 18 runs. That. Is. Freaky."
3) Beef Number Three: Fantasy Football
Ok, I'm going to really start sounding futzy here. But I've soured on the fantasy football thing. I admit, five, six years ago when I first joined a league and everything, I really enjoyed it. I salivated over draft day, lost sleep over getting that one hot young stud receiver off the waiver wire, stayed up late watching Monday Night Football to see if my kicker got the three field goals I needed to win that week. And I liked it. It was fun, even though my teams typically sucked and I unusually didn't win any money back that I'd spent.
Oh yes, the excitement is palpable.
But then it started to become this other thing. It started to become...work. I'm a competitive person by nature. After the first couple sucky seasons, I got tired of the losing. I decided I was going to change my fortunes and finally win some money. Win that title. Earn that glory. Well, that meant I couldn't settle on luck to win. I had to outwit my competitors. Read all kinds of info all the time to get that edge. So I dutifully cued up article after article, scouring the intranets for any seed of knowledge that someone in my league might not have stumbled upon. And I watched the games, hoping I might catch a glimpse of some potential stud that no one else saw just to find out the other people in my league were watching like 6 games at once and had already seen three more studs than I had.
Frankly, it became exhausting.
By late in the season, I'd find myself watching some game between two teams I didn't give a shit about, and I'd be thinking, "Why the hell am I watching Bengals-Jaguars? These teams are a combined 5-18. They are Chuck Barkley turrrrble. THIS is worth trying to win the league?"
And my team would still finish out of the playoffs.
This year, I quit all fantasy football. And I'm happier than ever.
4) Beef Number Four: The Bounty, or The Disappearing Off Season
A long time ago, like at least 25 years, it was that the Super Bowl would happen, they'd crown the champ, and then you'd forget about football till September while spring and summer happened and you could just kinda live your life. It was great.
Then the NFL started making itself more and more self-important, and started eating away at all your non-football time until there was none left.
Now, the Super Bowl is just one turn on the wheel of football life. Because there's always something around the corner! Draft! Free Agency! ...umm.....Stuff! Scandal! Yeah, scandal! That's it!
Finally, this off season I just really lost that ability to care about all that stuff. And it was because of the Saints and their Bountygate.
Now, please don't misunderstand. It's not like some people, who voiced all this incredulous disbelief at the Saints bounty system and stood open-jawed and flabbergasted at how they could do such a thing. I never fell into that camp. I'm pretty sure that football players have been trying to maim, injure, stun, impale, decapitate, clothesline, break bones, and all kinds of other stuff since the beginning of football. Sadly, it's a violent sport, so the line's always been fuzzy.
No, I just grew tired of the whole thing itself. The rush to judgment by the media. The incredulous reaction by media, fans, players, everyone. The revisionist history and holier-than-thou posture by former players. The crazy suspensions without showing really any proof by the league, and the subsequent fighting of said suspensions by the players. I really just wanted it all to go away. But it wouldn't! It refused to go away, like Brett Favre.
And it was one of those stories that kept the NFL in the headlines, day after excruciating day, the back and forth, the smug commish, the anger from the players at the commish, blah blah blah. You'd turn on Kimmel and there'd be Drew Brees, talking about...I don't even know what. His beef with the commish, and how the commish was a meanie-head who was being mean and Drew didn't like him being so mean. And at a certain point, I realized that football had somehow morphed into something that would be better suited for airtime on Bravo.
It was just stupid and exhausting and pointless. Yeah, I knew people who followed the story and were all like, "Oh we better watch, the Commish is trying to overstep his bounds and if he can do this to them than he can take over the league and the world and eat babies and fart fire and shit and it's gonna get real," but I realized that if I just didn't care, then I win. Simple as that.
So I stopped caring.
The mere existence of this photo indicates we have crossed a line somewhere regarding football's place in our lives.
5) Beef Number Five: Time Management
And since I've quit you, football, I've realized there was so much other stuff I've been missing while stupidly, devotedly watching you every Sunday the past couple of years. No longer do I have to stop myself when cooking or reading or doing something else and try and catch a score update. No longer do I have to kick myself that I benched so-and-so because he just randomly scored 3 touchdowns (which will no doubt be his full season output in scores) and now I have to fret that I'll lose because I benched so-and-so. No longer do I have to be so damn distracted by it all.
Because really, football is a clever one. Though the coaches and players all kind of poo-poo fantasy football, the league doesn't mind. In fact you know they love it. Because I'm pretty sure the dramatic uptick in football interest in this country in the last ten years has to do with how easy it is to get into a fantasy football league online and increase the Average Care Quotient. Women who historically didn't care about football now find themselves loving Victor Cruz or Larry Fitzgerald because he scores them touchdowns, and you know the NFL likes that women are paying attention despite themselves. Because women who don't mind football probably don't mind if their husbands buy jerseys and stuff, and they can watch it together, and be all happy and loving together cheering on their respective kickers.
But yeah, I'm separating from football. Like I said, maybe things will change. Maybe by Week 10 this year I'll be football-starved and I'll wake up with a Hunter S. Thompson-sized craving and I'll get zonked out on some football binge and spend like three straight days watching nothing but game after game and wake up in a Cheeto-induced stupor with Dr. Pepper drying on my face and empty beer bottles strewn about the living room and my wife looking at me with pity and disdain.
But as Chuck Barkley says, I may be wrong, but I doubt it.
So, I don't really know where this idea came from. Maybe it was something I saw on TV, or maybe it was a memory I had combined with another memory that led to the creation of a double-whammy memory (which we all know is like a super-awesome chocolate milkshake-type of memory event). But either way, somehow I got to be thinking of Ben Stiller, and his film career, and how for some reason, Ben Stiller likes to be filmed doing athletic-y things in slow motion.
Now, I'm not saying it's a full-proof, every movie kind of thing. Obviously, it seems to be in certain kinds of films that this tactic is employed--specifically his comedies in which he plays that uniquely Stiller-esque "dumbass with a giant ego" that I bet he's been riffing on since the Ben Stiller Show from the early 90's. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's a great character, so why mess with it.
Anyway, I thought I might compile some visual evidence of this weird phenomenon. My first memory of this would probably be in that underrated classic, Zoolander.
Obviously, the athletic-y thing he's doing here is merely turning left, but hey, for Derek Zoolander that's a big accomplishment.
Then we move on to the pool volleyball scene in Meet the Parents.
Again, Stiller in an action shot in super-slow-mo. This time he's shirtless, and getting beefier by the picture. Here he is displaying his awesome throwing prowess in Dodgeball.
And finally, before this post gets too bogged down with embedded video overkill, here's one from Tropic Thunder.
So what do we get from all this? I haven't done any reading up on Ben Stiller to really get to the bottom of this phenomenon, so maybe there's some interview out there he did with Inside the Actor's Studio or something where James Lipton asks him in his serious manner, "What's with all the slo-mo sequences?" And Ben goes, "Well, James, I don't have much to do with that, you know, since most of the time it's the director's choice." And we'd just leave it at that.
But I wouldn't buy it. So here's my theory.
I bet Ben Stiller grew up as that guy everyone knew who was pretty funny, yet goofy-looking enough that women were not his strong suit. I mean, just look at him!
Close Approximation of High School Age Ben Stiller*
* Only speculating.
Plus, his dad was Frank Constanza.
And, according to some Daily Courier article referenced on Wiki, Stiller's a huge Trekkie, which is why they spoofed Star Trek so frequently on his show. And we all know what being a Trekkie means.
So by the late 90's, Ben decided he's going to do something about it. And he beefs up. Meanwhile, his career takes off with There's Something About Mary, and more movie offers start flooding in. With more star-laden power, Ben realizes he can show off his increasingly awesome bod. But Ben's a smart guy. He knows if he comes out and does just a pure beefcake scene, like something Stallone or Swayze or your other typically awesome bod guys did, it'd be laughable, and not in a good way. So he demands that his movies include scenes in which he does athletic-y things, but in slo-mo, that way it's ironic, in a "Look at this nerd hitting this volleyball" or "Look at this dumbass throw a dodgeball" kind of way. And that way Ben gets to show off his awesome bod, and thereby showing all those girls who turned him down what they're missing, while still keeping his cred as a satirical, meta-comedic star.
And another thing I just realized: I bet anything his increasingly awesome bod came in handy during Feats of Strength.
So, it's been in the news lately, maybe you've heard mention of it...but the Apocalypse is upon us. Perhaps you've heard of an ancient group of people called the Mayans who were super-smart and created this calendar that apparently just suddenly stops at December 21st this year, which I guess means the world's just going to end. They were even so confident about this event they created a website for it.
Anyway, don't even bother denying that you're not scared about this. Because it's totally going to happen, and you know it, I know it, Dwight Howard knows it. Everyone. And what I'd like to share with you today is the soundtrack that will accompany this catastrophic, world-ending event. And hopefully it will make you feel a little better about said event.
First, before I tell you the name of this band, I must clarify how I even stumbled upon them. I've long had a special place in my heart for Jewish klezmer music, as well as Russian folk dance music. Or maybe I should be less specific and just say "Eastern European-ish folky dance music, the kind where everyone dances drunkenly in circles and shouts and stuff."
I'm not sure where my love for it derived. Maybe it's because I once played one of the the only non-singing parts in "Fiddler on the Roof," and that musical has vague shades of both of those types interwoven with Tevye's hilarious banter with God. So lately I've been requesting stuff from the library that might fit with that. "Jewish Wedding Songs," was one. "Russian Folk Dances" was another (at least I think it was. The text was all in Russian, which I am unable to read because I am not a Cold War-era spy). And one day I noticed a new CD pop in the rotation and I naturally pounced, not really knowing anything about the group. Their name?
The Diablo Swing Orchestra.The album was called "Pandora's Pinata."
I mean come on! With a name like that how can you resist?
So I get the CD one day from the library and pop it into my car's CD player. I'm not sure what I was expecting, really. Maybe a "devilish" swing band, with a couple crazzeeee fiddle players and some other general awesomeness. I was clearly unprepared for the complete tonal assault on my senses that promptly totally overloaded my synapses.
Little did I know that the Diablo Swing Orchestra is a Swedish avant-garde metal band. Their record label, appropriately enough, is called Sensory Records.
It's off to the races from the start, as the album opens with a freakout called "Voodoo Mon Amour," and your mind is effing blown. Had I not been on an interstate with little shoulder room, I would've probably pulled off the road.
Within a minute, they've managed to combine Gershwin's Summertime, metal guitars, ska horns, operatic singing, an awesomely catchy chorus and a swing beat into one goddam song. Then about three minutes in, what do you know it, but devilish strings! Congratulations, my brain is molten mush.
And I'm pretty sure that when the Diablo Swing Orchestra was making this album, they knew they were summoning were crafting the soundtrack to the coming Apocalypse. Just look at some of these song titles: "Kevlar Sweethearts," "Mass Rapture," "Exit Strategy of a Wrecking Ball."
Or the second song on the album, "Guerilla Laments." They knew exactly what they were doing.
And all this means, really, is that as giant Jupiter-sized volcanoes erupt from the depths of the oceans and belch great fiery balls of hot molten lava over the continents and 200 mile per hour winds blow torrential ice and hail across the plains, we will at least have something to groove to as our bodies turn to dust.
As a Hoosier (that means someone from Indiana, not necessarily someone who went to Indiana University, or who derives their personality from a movie starring Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper*), and someone whose adolescence corresponded with the rise of the Reggie Miller Era of the Indiana Pacers (Boom Baby, Knicks v Hicks, Memorial Day Miracle, etc.), I still have a strong allegiance to the blue and gold. That means I also have a skewed worldview that I share with fans from other small-market teams of the NBA, otherwise collectively known as the "David Stern Big Market Farm System."
*Note: I have never seen Hoosiers.
So in the last couple days, when news of the Dwight Howard "trade" from the Orlando Magic to Los Angeles Lakers for a bunch of trash, it just confirmed to we of the Small Team Brigade, fans of teams like the Milwaukee Bucks, Sacramento Kings, Portland Trailblazers, and yes, Orlando Magic, it's the Lakers and Heat and other big towns' world, we're just living in it.
Now, I've already seen a post by a Lakers fan I know, and he essentially thinks this is a fair trade. He was incredulous that anyone would even think it was a giant swindling by the Lakers. "They traded Andrew Bynum, the second best center in the league!" he pointed out, probably laughing the entire time. "And two young athletic players (giggle, snort), and a future first-round pick as well! (doubles over with laughter)"
Which is a total goddam joke. Let's review.
The Lakers traded Andrew Bynum, Josh McRoberts, Christian Eyenga and a future first-round draft pick.
Ok, Andrew Bynum is technically a physically gifted center, a "true" 7 foot center with a giant frame, subtle offensive skills, and a pretty good rebounding rate. Sure, he probably is the second best center in the league....when he's interested. And that's the problem. I'm willing to bet in two years, after his enigmatic, aloof, bizarre, teasingly talented self drives Philly to consecutive .500 finishes, he wont be able to safely walk from his car to the arena in Philly without a horde of fans loaded on Riot Punch descend upon him with batteries and frozen snowballs at the ready.
Josh McRoberts? Ugh.
Christian Eyenga? Who?
And that future first-round pick is useless will be in the low 20s at the very least, meaning the Magic get a future version of Josh McRoberts or Christian Eyenga. Yippee!
Now, obviously Orlando got some other crap from some other teams. But come on. Arron Afflalo is probably stunned he's the best player going to the Magic out of this deal. Al Harrington will be traded by the deadline, I guarantee you. And those five draft picks over the next five years, um, yeah good luck with that. And even if Orlando manages to snag some future Hall of Fame talent with that pick, it's not hard to imagine that player following the blue print laid down by Shaq and Howard and leave town too.
So, to make a long-winded point short, yes, the Lakers just swindled the hell out of everyone, and probably set themselves up for another half-decade of dominance.
And of course Lakers fans wouldn't see anything wrong with this. It's their birthright. Meanwhile the rest of us poor schlupps in our blue and gold, or purple and black, or whatever the hell color combo Milwaukee rolls out next, go back to drinking away our beers and cheering for second round dismissals.
Perhaps to the chagrin of those close to me, I am releasing a blog onto the unsuspecting world. The world is certainly unprepared for the incredible wisdom I am about to drop upon it, but that's ok.
They weren't ready for Tiny Tim, either, and now he is a celebrated folk hero.
So, these posts will pretty much be meaningless indulgences about subjects that virtually 98% of the populace wont care about. I am willing to bet that most blogs are of this nature. I seriously found a blog one time about a girl's love for coffee. She nestled pics of her coffee mugs, both with and without coffee in them, into long unending stories of how she would spill coffee on herself while walking to and from class and the bus stop. Thankfully it looks like she either lost interest or discovered the modern invention of cups with lids because the blogs dried up after about four or so.
I don't really have any set plan or anything for this thing. Sometimes it'll be about music I've heard recently or music I've always listened to that I want to wax nostalgic about. Sometimes it'll be pointless discussions about sports. I will warn you right now there is going to be a long discourse spanning weeks about my thoroughly-researched for five minutes theory about how the singular greatness of Michael Jordan directly resulted in lower scoring in the late 90's and early 00's. I'm very proud of it.
No really, this guy was the best basketball player ever!
There you have it. Those willing to stick it out will probably be duly rewarded in the afterlife. As for this life, I make no promises. Allllllll aboard!
