Did you ever get smacked or hit or spanked as a kid? I didn't. I feel like I should have. But I didn't. My sister didn't either.....except one time (and I'll tell you about that in a few minutes). Corporal punishment just didn't happen while I was growing up. Not when I left my bike outside overnight, not when I got picked up by the cops BEFORE going out to egg a friend's house, not even when I was 14 and my dad found my stash of booze hidden in my closet (still hurts that he poured my Wild Turkey down the drain right in front of me). Those are the highlights for sure because the stories behind them are more memorable than the result, and there were multiple other opportunities for my mom and dad to beat on me, but not once was I hit. Will I hit my kids? Nope. Won't need to.
Growing up there were always kids getting spankings for numerous reasons, deserved and not. It wasn't that big of a deal. I saw it, I heard about it, I didn't want it but sometimes it seemed much easier than what I was going through for the same offenses. My mom would talk and talk (and talk) to me about what I did, why I shouldn't do it, who I hurt or would have hurt by doing it, etc. Boring. I even asked her to spank me one time when I was little just to be done hearing about how shitty I was. I was done with it. My dad, on the other hand, had his own ways.
Remember, I was never hit.....but that doesn't mean I wasn't scared shitless of getting hit at any moment for screwing up. My dad had a way of letting me know verbally and by use of volume what I did was wrong and I sure as hell better not do it again. Never make the same mistake twice. If he had to tell me once it was because I didn't know better. I never wanted to know better, but I always did. Kids would play soccer in the living rooms of their houses not caring if they broke anything, or at least not worrying about it if they did. Why was that? My dad would beat the shit out of me.....at least that's what I thought. My mom never said, "When your dad gets home he's going to beat the shit out of you." Why would I think it then?
There's a respect that grows out of fear when it comes to parents. My dad is an awesome guy. I love him. He can weird as hell, but he's awesome. He was always awesome. He made me know I was loved. But he also made me know that my actions reflect on him as a parent. He didn't care for the normal upbringing stuff like making my lunch, giving me baths when I was very small, or even tying my shoes. Teaching me to hit, throw, kick, ride a bike (2.5 years old bitches!) and change the oil....that was his thing. If he taught it to me, or even talked to me about it in the first place, it meant something to him. If it meant something to him it HAD to be important for me. That's where I got that fear I think. Your dad can be the coolest guy a boy knows when he's growing up. I didn't want to look bad to him. What if he didn't want me around? What if he didn't want to teach me anything else? Had to keep him happy. Had to keep him teaching me. And if he taught it to me once, I was to learn it. If I didn't.....well I don't have to tell you what would happen.
(the time my sister got hit was epic. she called my dad an asshole at the dinner table when she was 16. he was sitting directly across from her with mom and me on either side. she had been a bitch all day and he had heard enough. he reached across and smacked her, POW, right in the kissa. she started crying, screamed something, and ran to her room. he didn't look up from his food until the door closed to her room. my mom and i high-fived across the table because she was due. my dad didn't say a thing. he only sat there, reached across the table, took her plate and started eating HER food. we all ate great that night!)
Friday, August 12, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
He's No Margaret Thatcher
A good movie should contain specific things. A well-established hero, an emotion-evoking villain, a smoking hot chick, a good production, a story the audience can connect with, some sort of musical montage with a memorable soundtrack, a bigger meaning than what's on the screen, and a gratuitous nudity scene. Many movies pull this off, even the nudity. But none do it better than one in particular. It doesn't quite hit all the requirements (not sure anyone is dying to see Talia Shire naked anyway), but come on.....who in their right mind doesn't put Rocky IV in their top 10-20 movies of all time!
Ivan Drago is one of the most badass characters and names in cinematic history. Blonde, tall, built like a brick-shit-house, roided up, and serene to the point that he's menacing. He's the antithesis of his opponent, Rocky Balboa. Rock's just a guy. Just a guy who made it to the top, had a pinball game made in his likeness, bought a Trans Am, a leather jacket with a tiger on the back of it, and a sweet robot to watch his kid. The American Dream. Who knew he'd be the one to end Communism!!!
Ivan Drago is one of the most badass characters and names in cinematic history. Blonde, tall, built like a brick-shit-house, roided up, and serene to the point that he's menacing. He's the antithesis of his opponent, Rocky Balboa. Rock's just a guy. Just a guy who made it to the top, had a pinball game made in his likeness, bought a Trans Am, a leather jacket with a tiger on the back of it, and a sweet robot to watch his kid. The American Dream. Who knew he'd be the one to end Communism!!!
You guys know the line that did it to. "If I can change, and you can change....everybody can change!" In reality Rocky probably would have been dirt napping at this point. They would have had to do a "Return of the Jedi" deal with Mick, Apollo and Rocky. Drago was bigger, faster, stronger, and had way cooler stuff. Rocky was short, slow, strong but not as strong as Drago, and he had to work way harder to have even half as cool of a training montage just to keep himself relevant in the movie. But he's a piece of iron. He gets knocked down (all the fucking time by the way) but he gets up. He usually does. Apollo Creed couldn't keep him down. Thunderlips (in the flesh, baby) couldn't do it. Mr. T did it once....but we all know how that ended up.....rope-a-dope!!! Drago certainly should have knocked him out. But Rock wouldn't let it happen. He couldn't. He had to change the world.
Communism had spread throughout the world like a plague. It scared the crap out of people. Take an American's money away from him and what does he have? A flag and a garage full of shit. He needs that money. Rocky was just the overachiever to keep that way of life. He went into the belly of the beast and took on the most athletically, genetically and scientifically gifted human of all time. And won. And it's because of him we're not speaking Russian to do this day. And there's nothing you can say to me to change that opinion.
Communism had spread throughout the world like a plague. It scared the crap out of people. Take an American's money away from him and what does he have? A flag and a garage full of shit. He needs that money. Rocky was just the overachiever to keep that way of life. He went into the belly of the beast and took on the most athletically, genetically and scientifically gifted human of all time. And won. And it's because of him we're not speaking Russian to do this day. And there's nothing you can say to me to change that opinion.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Pink For Change
I get it. I do. I understand the apparent "need" for diving in soccer. There are many advantages to it. You get free kicks, you get the other team's player carded or ejected, you get your team some needed rest, etc. There's a place for faking in soccer. There's a place for it in every sport. Anything to gain an advantage is a good thing. But for Christ's sake can there be an enforceable penalty for the most egregious of the over-actors please?
Running down the field with a ball on your foot is not the easiest thing. You have to keep pace, you have to keep the ball, you have to have your head up, you have to make a good play. It makes it very difficult on a defender if someone is able to do all those well. The correct timing needed to tackle is crucial. One millisecond late and you've taken out the player and rewarded the other team with a free kick, possibly a penalty kick. One millisecond early and you're on your ass looking back at the guy who just nutted you on his way to scoring. Tough thing to do.
Let's say you're just a bit late and barely touch the guy with the ball. There's no chance, in your opinion, he'll go down. You were careful not to clean him out. If you wanted to do that you definitely could have done it. You just got beat. A touch late, a touch to the ankle, no big deal. Instead of that player continuing his run and going to goal he's rolling around the ground like he's been stabbed in the face with a knife. No telling what's ailing him. He's holding his face, his leg, his ankle, his other ankle, all the while screaming bloody murder. His teammates are claiming attempted murder. You're standing there in shock. Did you really get him that bad? Nope. Part of the game. The ref will card you, you'll bitch and moan. The man who has just faced a career ending injury leaves the field on a stretcher. They take the free kick and either it goes in or it doesn't. No matter. You've been carded. Your opponent is dyi.....wait......he's coming back on after only 2 minutes......are you fucking kidding me?!?! At this point you're pissed. You beg the ref to do something but there's nothing to be done. There's no blood, there's no bruise, there's nothing to show for that card you just received. Unbelievable. There's a good chance that you're going to kill that man for real now. A good chance you'll pick up that second yellow card and be thrown out of the game. Son of a bitch. Enter Big Money's rule.
Article 45.H.89.Q.98 or some shit: If a player, further known as "victim," is to have gotten treatment on the field and/or taken off the field for an apparent injury he is given a PINK card and will not be allowed to return to play until the ref sees fit. It is at the ref's discretion to allow him back on the field or disallow him from returning altogether. The minimum amount of time to be off the field of play will be a minimum of 4 minutes. If the play that produced the player's apparent injury has resulted in a yellow card for the opposing player the "victim" is to stay off the field for a minimum of 7 minutes. If the play that produced the player's apparent injury has resulted in a red card for the opposing player the "victim" is to stay off the field for a minimum of 10 minutes. If the "victim" does not receive treatment on or off the field of play, gets to his feet and returns to play within 10 seconds of the apparent foul, no PINK card will be given and the play continues.
This will do a number of things for the game. It will keep the pace of the game faster. It will cut down on the shitty acting and diving and crying that is just downright ridiculous. And it will bring legitimacy to soccer among the US public. Pink can be good. Pink can be very good.
Running down the field with a ball on your foot is not the easiest thing. You have to keep pace, you have to keep the ball, you have to have your head up, you have to make a good play. It makes it very difficult on a defender if someone is able to do all those well. The correct timing needed to tackle is crucial. One millisecond late and you've taken out the player and rewarded the other team with a free kick, possibly a penalty kick. One millisecond early and you're on your ass looking back at the guy who just nutted you on his way to scoring. Tough thing to do.
Let's say you're just a bit late and barely touch the guy with the ball. There's no chance, in your opinion, he'll go down. You were careful not to clean him out. If you wanted to do that you definitely could have done it. You just got beat. A touch late, a touch to the ankle, no big deal. Instead of that player continuing his run and going to goal he's rolling around the ground like he's been stabbed in the face with a knife. No telling what's ailing him. He's holding his face, his leg, his ankle, his other ankle, all the while screaming bloody murder. His teammates are claiming attempted murder. You're standing there in shock. Did you really get him that bad? Nope. Part of the game. The ref will card you, you'll bitch and moan. The man who has just faced a career ending injury leaves the field on a stretcher. They take the free kick and either it goes in or it doesn't. No matter. You've been carded. Your opponent is dyi.....wait......he's coming back on after only 2 minutes......are you fucking kidding me?!?! At this point you're pissed. You beg the ref to do something but there's nothing to be done. There's no blood, there's no bruise, there's nothing to show for that card you just received. Unbelievable. There's a good chance that you're going to kill that man for real now. A good chance you'll pick up that second yellow card and be thrown out of the game. Son of a bitch. Enter Big Money's rule.
Article 45.H.89.Q.98 or some shit: If a player, further known as "victim," is to have gotten treatment on the field and/or taken off the field for an apparent injury he is given a PINK card and will not be allowed to return to play until the ref sees fit. It is at the ref's discretion to allow him back on the field or disallow him from returning altogether. The minimum amount of time to be off the field of play will be a minimum of 4 minutes. If the play that produced the player's apparent injury has resulted in a yellow card for the opposing player the "victim" is to stay off the field for a minimum of 7 minutes. If the play that produced the player's apparent injury has resulted in a red card for the opposing player the "victim" is to stay off the field for a minimum of 10 minutes. If the "victim" does not receive treatment on or off the field of play, gets to his feet and returns to play within 10 seconds of the apparent foul, no PINK card will be given and the play continues.
This will do a number of things for the game. It will keep the pace of the game faster. It will cut down on the shitty acting and diving and crying that is just downright ridiculous. And it will bring legitimacy to soccer among the US public. Pink can be good. Pink can be very good.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
That Time of Year
It's around this time of year I really start thinking of my childhood. Summer dwindling down, school starting soon, and the beginning of soccer season. To be specific......the St. Sabina Maroon & Gold Classic. St. Sabina has taken its lumps over the years. The school is closed. The church is barely hanging on. The good ole days are gone. But the soccer fields remain. And they should be the last thing in ALL of Florissant to disappear.
St. Sabina itself has produced some legendary athletes, none of whom I can think of at this point. They've also bought a few here and there, especially fast black kids who lived much too far away for anyone to believe that they were actually a part of the parish. Sabina's talented teams, as much as that pains me to write, were a huge reason for the popularity and longevity of the tournament and its success. Their teams found ways to be big in big moments. And there were many big moments, especially on those fields.
It is on those fields that young boys become giants. They learn to survive the heat. They learn to survive the schedule. They learn that their parents' sacrifice their whole weekend to be a part of the history of the greatness of the tournament. It is at the Sabina tournament that a boy can plead with his dad/coach to just once, just ONCE, let him play goalie. After hearing that the only way he would be allowed to play goalie was by scoring at least 5 goals there was hope. Then, after 32 minutes, glory! Put the mitts on kid, you're going in goal. Never touched a ball with my hands that day. Our Lady of Loretto wasn't a great team in 1st grade. We beat them 8-0. Didn't matter. I had the goalie jersey (bright orange with black lettering) and the goalie gloves (had to be 4 sizes too big). Totally worth it. Sweating your ass off, sitting on the 18 yard box, bored as hell.....basking in the glory of being a goalie.
I didn't get to do that too often after that. It would be about 20 years until I finally realized the dream of being a goalie, playing for an over 30 men's league, and seeing 40 shots a game because of a Swiss cheese defense. But nothing can compare to the memories of the Sabina tournament.....even if they had to cheat to win.
St. Sabina itself has produced some legendary athletes, none of whom I can think of at this point. They've also bought a few here and there, especially fast black kids who lived much too far away for anyone to believe that they were actually a part of the parish. Sabina's talented teams, as much as that pains me to write, were a huge reason for the popularity and longevity of the tournament and its success. Their teams found ways to be big in big moments. And there were many big moments, especially on those fields.
It is on those fields that young boys become giants. They learn to survive the heat. They learn to survive the schedule. They learn that their parents' sacrifice their whole weekend to be a part of the history of the greatness of the tournament. It is at the Sabina tournament that a boy can plead with his dad/coach to just once, just ONCE, let him play goalie. After hearing that the only way he would be allowed to play goalie was by scoring at least 5 goals there was hope. Then, after 32 minutes, glory! Put the mitts on kid, you're going in goal. Never touched a ball with my hands that day. Our Lady of Loretto wasn't a great team in 1st grade. We beat them 8-0. Didn't matter. I had the goalie jersey (bright orange with black lettering) and the goalie gloves (had to be 4 sizes too big). Totally worth it. Sweating your ass off, sitting on the 18 yard box, bored as hell.....basking in the glory of being a goalie.
I didn't get to do that too often after that. It would be about 20 years until I finally realized the dream of being a goalie, playing for an over 30 men's league, and seeing 40 shots a game because of a Swiss cheese defense. But nothing can compare to the memories of the Sabina tournament.....even if they had to cheat to win.
Did You Really Mean That?
Art is a tricky thing. One man's slop is another man's masterpiece. Take a dump in a toilet....normal. Film yourself taking a dump to show the reality and truthfulness of thought versus action of a 28 year old male in the prime of his life......art? Not buying it (but you should.....I'm trying to raise some money for a boat!). There's a fine line for sure. I tend to think you can pass off anything as art in the form of expression to at least that one person who's willing to believe your story. Literature is no different.
Some of the "classics" of literature are filled with symbolism exemplified by the language of their characters, the form in which they wrote, the places in which the characters interact, etc. But as a reader without context to the author's point of view......it's shit. Why is it necessary to write like that? Is it too easy to write symbolic messages and tell you everything about the symbolism? Writing about a person's broken heart as a record player stuck on the same place for ten years....really? Can't you just use a metaphor?
Anytime someone says to you, "What the author was trying to say here is..." look him straight in the eye and tell him you're sorry his parents neglected him. What the author was trying to say is on the god-damned page! If it's not there it doesn't exist. If he wanted to say something else than what he's written on the page then he's a moron. Write what you wanted to say! Say it!!! Don't confuse us mere mortals with mind readers. If an author has to clarify to the so-called experts what he's written to make it look smarter, more in-depth, or more culturally relevant it's bullshit. You won't see me saying those things (I never read what I write!).
The worst way of "artistic expression" comes in the form of the actual way the author writes something. "I used 5 words in this sentence to show the beauty of the English language. There is nothing better than simplicity. Simplicity is beauty. Simplicity is real. Simplicity is life." I reply, "But all you wrote was 'Nachos, lemonheads, my dad's boat.'" Powerful stuff. That's the crap I can base my life on!
Some of the "classics" of literature are filled with symbolism exemplified by the language of their characters, the form in which they wrote, the places in which the characters interact, etc. But as a reader without context to the author's point of view......it's shit. Why is it necessary to write like that? Is it too easy to write symbolic messages and tell you everything about the symbolism? Writing about a person's broken heart as a record player stuck on the same place for ten years....really? Can't you just use a metaphor?
Anytime someone says to you, "What the author was trying to say here is..." look him straight in the eye and tell him you're sorry his parents neglected him. What the author was trying to say is on the god-damned page! If it's not there it doesn't exist. If he wanted to say something else than what he's written on the page then he's a moron. Write what you wanted to say! Say it!!! Don't confuse us mere mortals with mind readers. If an author has to clarify to the so-called experts what he's written to make it look smarter, more in-depth, or more culturally relevant it's bullshit. You won't see me saying those things (I never read what I write!).
The worst way of "artistic expression" comes in the form of the actual way the author writes something. "I used 5 words in this sentence to show the beauty of the English language. There is nothing better than simplicity. Simplicity is beauty. Simplicity is real. Simplicity is life." I reply, "But all you wrote was 'Nachos, lemonheads, my dad's boat.'" Powerful stuff. That's the crap I can base my life on!
Monday, August 8, 2011
Krypton's Finest Export
There are a ton of superheroes. They're everywhere. They started in the comics and have taken over every single type of media there is. There are original stories, remakes, re-imaginings, reboots, etc. If you've been alive for at least 5 years you're going to, most likely, know of Batman, Iron Man, and maybe a couple others due to big time movies. But it feels like EVERYONE knows about Superman. And why shouldn't they? He's the coolest. He's the baddest ass superhero ever.
There are a few types of superheroes. Let's break them down into human and alien. Human superheroes are the ones we can relate to most. Walking around one day all nice and normal and then BAM......human torch! They are in need of something to happen to them or have to have some sort of gadgets to be cool. Peter Parker had to get bitten by the world's coolest spider, Bruce Wayne had to be rich enough to buy whatever he wanted, and Bruce Banner had to have his body chemistry completely altered by a bunch of gamma rays or some shit. They are human first, super next.
Aliens are typically normal on their planet but SUPER when they come to Earth, for one reason or another. These guys are the ones who are more difficult to relate to. They lack that "realism" that makes the humans so compelling. They don't screw up as much. They don't need help from spiders, money or gamma rays. They do need help though. They're not perfect on their own. I don't know much about Thor but it seems like he gets a lot of power because of that big ole hammer. The Silver Surfer, another I don't know much about, gets his badassery from that killer surfboard, dude.
Superman....oh......he's cool because of the sun. Yep. The sun. "Sure is sunny outside. Hope it doesn't give me roid-rage." So cool. And what powers does he have because our yellow sun kicks the shit out of a busted as red sun? Just some little stuff like super strength, speed, flight, laser beam eyes, freeze breath, X-ray vision, etc. If he was invisible and a Jedi (I'm friends with Dave Navarro) he'd pretty much have it all wrapped up into one package. Just him. Being him. Because of the sun. He's super first, human next. One nothing Superman. All you other heroes.......move along, move along.
There are a few types of superheroes. Let's break them down into human and alien. Human superheroes are the ones we can relate to most. Walking around one day all nice and normal and then BAM......human torch! They are in need of something to happen to them or have to have some sort of gadgets to be cool. Peter Parker had to get bitten by the world's coolest spider, Bruce Wayne had to be rich enough to buy whatever he wanted, and Bruce Banner had to have his body chemistry completely altered by a bunch of gamma rays or some shit. They are human first, super next.
Aliens are typically normal on their planet but SUPER when they come to Earth, for one reason or another. These guys are the ones who are more difficult to relate to. They lack that "realism" that makes the humans so compelling. They don't screw up as much. They don't need help from spiders, money or gamma rays. They do need help though. They're not perfect on their own. I don't know much about Thor but it seems like he gets a lot of power because of that big ole hammer. The Silver Surfer, another I don't know much about, gets his badassery from that killer surfboard, dude.
Superman....oh......he's cool because of the sun. Yep. The sun. "Sure is sunny outside. Hope it doesn't give me roid-rage." So cool. And what powers does he have because our yellow sun kicks the shit out of a busted as red sun? Just some little stuff like super strength, speed, flight, laser beam eyes, freeze breath, X-ray vision, etc. If he was invisible and a Jedi (I'm friends with Dave Navarro) he'd pretty much have it all wrapped up into one package. Just him. Being him. Because of the sun. He's super first, human next. One nothing Superman. All you other heroes.......move along, move along.
Better to Win
Losing sucks. It blows. I'm not one who thinks anything good can come from losing. Especially in a tournament. Especially in the finals. Second place is the worst place. It eats at you. It makes you uneasy. It makes the rest of the day seem worthless. And you see it throughout all sports. The guys who place 10th in a golf tournament are much happier with the way they hit the ball then the guy who lost in a playoff. That guy can only remember the bad shots that coulda shoulda woulda gone in that didn't. NASCAR.....a guy comes in 15th after starting 30th and is pumped how well his team "battled" and got the car to do as much as it did. The guy in second...."We should have won. I want to thank the #18 M&M Toyota team. They put me in a position to win it and we just couldn't bring it home for our fans. The NOS Energy Drink, Coca-Cola....." Pissed.
There are a couple ways to get second place. The first is that you just choked. Or you just had an off day. Or you just couldn't quite rise up on the big points. The Serena Williams loss. You beat yourself. It didn't matter how good the other person or team was....it was all on you. You lost because you shanked a shot, you couldn't clear a ball, you missed a gimme from 3 feet, you got loose on turn 3. Whatever the case. It was your fault. You were bound to lose after whatever mistake(s) you made.
The other way is much more depressing: you weren't good enough. The other person/team was simply better than you. You played your game, you did your best, you gave it your all.....and still came up short. That hurts. I've recently fallen victim to this sort of loss. The sort that makes you ill thinking about it. It shouldn't. They were better than us. There was nothing more we could have done. And that's the part that sucks. To know that your best is shit isn't the best feeling, especially when you've gone as far as the finals. You're just as good as everyone else who lost. Nothing to show for it.
So how do you move on? You talk shit. You talk A LOT of shit. You talk about how they're younger. They didn't drink as much. They're not as banged up. And then you slash their tires. You make a pass at their girlfriends. You spray water in their face on purpose by accident and never make eye contact, all the while talking shit. You make it miserable for them to enjoy their title. You showed them didn't you? You piece of garbage, you. Sore fucking loser. Oh well. I bet if we played them on sand instead of mud, or played them indoors, or we weren't banged up/drunk as piss, or maybe darts, or.......I fucking hate losing.
There are a couple ways to get second place. The first is that you just choked. Or you just had an off day. Or you just couldn't quite rise up on the big points. The Serena Williams loss. You beat yourself. It didn't matter how good the other person or team was....it was all on you. You lost because you shanked a shot, you couldn't clear a ball, you missed a gimme from 3 feet, you got loose on turn 3. Whatever the case. It was your fault. You were bound to lose after whatever mistake(s) you made.
The other way is much more depressing: you weren't good enough. The other person/team was simply better than you. You played your game, you did your best, you gave it your all.....and still came up short. That hurts. I've recently fallen victim to this sort of loss. The sort that makes you ill thinking about it. It shouldn't. They were better than us. There was nothing more we could have done. And that's the part that sucks. To know that your best is shit isn't the best feeling, especially when you've gone as far as the finals. You're just as good as everyone else who lost. Nothing to show for it.
So how do you move on? You talk shit. You talk A LOT of shit. You talk about how they're younger. They didn't drink as much. They're not as banged up. And then you slash their tires. You make a pass at their girlfriends. You spray water in their face on purpose by accident and never make eye contact, all the while talking shit. You make it miserable for them to enjoy their title. You showed them didn't you? You piece of garbage, you. Sore fucking loser. Oh well. I bet if we played them on sand instead of mud, or played them indoors, or we weren't banged up/drunk as piss, or maybe darts, or.......I fucking hate losing.
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