Note: not necessarily the best Christmas movies, because I suppose that list begins and ends with It's A Wonderful Life and A Miracle on 34th Street, neither of which I've ever seen all the way through.
10. The Santa Clause:
I didn't really want to see this when it came out, and I can't remember why I eventually did, but it has a certain charm to it.
9. The Nightmare Before Christmas:
Does Burton ever do anything wrong...other than Mars Attacks and Planet of the Apes?
8. A Christmas Carol
7. A Charlie Brown Christmas:
I think I've seen this every year for 25 years
6. Bad Santa:
Some variation of the word 'fuck' was uttered 147 times in this movie. What's not to like?
5. Home Alone:
This is *Christmas*. The season of perpetual hope. And I don't care if I have to get out on your runway and hitchhike. If it costs me everything I own, if I have to sell my soul to the devil himself, I am going to get home to my son.
4. Gremlins:
"The worst thing that ever happened to me was on Christmas. Oh, God. It was so horrible. It was Christmas Eve. I was 9 years old. Me and Mom were decorating the tree, waiting for Dad to come home from work. A couple hours went by. Dad wasn't home. So Mom called the office. No answer. Christmas Day came and went, and still nothing. So the police began a search. Four or five days went by. Neither one of us could eat or sleep. Everything was falling apart. It was snowing outside. The house was freezing, so I went to try to light up the fire. That's when I noticed the smell. The firemen came and broke through the chimney top. And me and Mom were expecting them to pull out a dead cat or a bird. And instead they pulled out my father. He was dressed in a Santa Claus suit. He'd been climbing down the chimney... his arms loaded with presents. He was gonna surprise us. He slipped and broke his neck. He died instantly. And that's how I found out there was no Santa Claus."
3. Die Hard:
Yes, it counts; "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker".
2. Scrooged:
"The Jews taught me this great word. "Schmuck". I was a schmuck, and now I'm not a schmuck"
1. National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation:
The best of the National Lampoon's movies, and one of the funniest movies ever.
"Hey. If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I'd like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is. Hallelujah. Holy shit. Where's the Tylenol?"
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
The grades are in......
Two A's, a B and a W. GPA is 3.818
I'll take it. Not a bad start. Good job me.
I'll take it. Not a bad start. Good job me.
I'll never get enough of this
I'm in the middle of posting some of my personal favorite sports moments on my ESPN profile (there's a link to the right!) and I was reminded of these:
It's still awe-inspiring to watch. That's still the most amazing individual athletic achievement I have ever seen, and I can't think of another instance where anyone has exerted such dominance over a group of athletes who are among the best in the world at what they do. 19.32! Get outta here. That's not even possible.
It's still awe-inspiring to watch. That's still the most amazing individual athletic achievement I have ever seen, and I can't think of another instance where anyone has exerted such dominance over a group of athletes who are among the best in the world at what they do. 19.32! Get outta here. That's not even possible.
Monday, December 17, 2007
This could become a problem.
I finally decided to make a playlist for my MySpace page instead of having to browse through the MySpace music pages (that take forever to load) every time I want a new song. Now, I've decided that I just make many, many playlists! and they can all have themes! So I got the idea for the first one from an e-mail concerning my high school reunion. This reunion should have actually happened last year. The company that the reunion committee booked the party with went out of business and disappeared about 3 weeks or so before the reunion. I wasn't going to go anyway, but this is just how it goes with the GRHS Class of '96. Anyway, the e-mail was about a do-over. A cruise is being planned to the Bahamas next year. I think I might want to go this time. I've never been on a cruise, and it could be fun. Who knows. Anyway..........my first playlist contains songs from the illustrious year of my high school graduation, 1996:
First, I'm aware "You Oughta Know" actually debuted in 1995, but by the time '96 rolled around, my friends and I had already bought the album, and we listened to Jagged Little Pill (along with The Fugees' The Score) virtually everday throughout the last half of our senior year.
There were some other notable musical happenings in 1996. It was the Year of The Spice Girls and the Macarena. Tupac died September 13, 1996 after being shot in Las Vegas. Brad Nowell of Sublime died from a heroin overdose. The Ramones and Crowded House played their last shows. Slash quit G&R, Phil Collins left Genesis, and the Sex Pistols began a reunion tour. MTV2 was launched on August 1, and Linkin Park, Disturbed, Godsmack, Mudvayne, Good Charlotte, Matchbox 20 all came onto the scene in 1996. David Bowie's "Telling Lies" became the first song offered as a free digital download by a major record label.
If 1996 brings back any musical memories for you, please share. If you having any theme ideas, share those too.
P.S. Hit play. I set it so it wouldn't start automatically, because I'll be doing this again.
First, I'm aware "You Oughta Know" actually debuted in 1995, but by the time '96 rolled around, my friends and I had already bought the album, and we listened to Jagged Little Pill (along with The Fugees' The Score) virtually everday throughout the last half of our senior year.
There were some other notable musical happenings in 1996. It was the Year of The Spice Girls and the Macarena. Tupac died September 13, 1996 after being shot in Las Vegas. Brad Nowell of Sublime died from a heroin overdose. The Ramones and Crowded House played their last shows. Slash quit G&R, Phil Collins left Genesis, and the Sex Pistols began a reunion tour. MTV2 was launched on August 1, and Linkin Park, Disturbed, Godsmack, Mudvayne, Good Charlotte, Matchbox 20 all came onto the scene in 1996. David Bowie's "Telling Lies" became the first song offered as a free digital download by a major record label.
If 1996 brings back any musical memories for you, please share. If you having any theme ideas, share those too.
P.S. Hit play. I set it so it wouldn't start automatically, because I'll be doing this again.
Andy Pettitte and the Mitchell Report
This is an article from ESPN's Jayson Stark. I probably could have said it better, but that would have required some work from me, so here you go:
Andy Pettitte screwed up.
Let's get that out of the way fast.
Every player who (pick your favorite action verb) used, or tried, or obtained, or experimented with HGH over the last decade knew it was wrong.
Knew it.
Knew it was a decision that was as shaky ethically as it was medically.
Knew it.
Knew it just from what he had to do to get ahold of that HGH in the first place.
Whether he had to head on down to the anti-aging clinic, or go see a doctor (or dentist) he'd never seen before, or click on some link he found for buycheapHGHrighthere.com, or call up his favorite strength coach, he had to know that didn't feel right.
Because it wasn't.
Wasn't legal. Wasn't honorable. Wasn't cool medically.
And every player knew that. Every one of them.
But …
We want you to consider the tale of two players. We won't name them. See if you can tell the difference.
Player A is a long-time star for a team that has won multiple titles. Great guy. Beloved by fans and teammates alike. Then finds himself connected with an HGH story he can't escape.
So he admits it. Admits he bought it. Admits he took it. Admits he did that over a long period of time, during which his team won championships and he was an All-Star. Admits he "sent the wrong message" to kids and to the public. Admits he's "very, very embarrassed."
But Player A also says he wants to make it clear he never used steroids. And the only reason he used HGH was because he was hurt and wanted to get back on the field to help his team.
OK, now let's move on to Player B -- another terrific player for teams that did nothing but win. Another likeable guy. Fan favorite. Clubhouse favorite. Then looks up one day and hears his name all over TV and radio, linked to HGH use.
So Player B takes some time to think about how he should react, then confesses. Confesses by saying he was injured at the time. Confesses by saying he felt an obligation to get back and help his team. Confesses by saying he'd heard a lot of talk about the healing properties of HGH, so he tried it briefly, then stopped.
It didn't feel right. It wasn't the kind of player or person he was, or is. So he stopped. And ohbytheway, he never used steroids, either, despite what people have been saying about him.
Two stories that couldn't be more identical, right?
But Player B wakes up the next morning to find a headline that says: "PLEASE SPARE US."
Player A, on the other hand, is greeted by headlines like this one: "DON'T SINGLE OUT (PLAYER A)."
Hmmmm. What's up with that?
Two indistinguishable stories. Two very different reactions. Why is that, anyway?
Well, you probably figured out that Player B is Pettitte, a fellow who plays baseball for a living.
Player A, on the other hand, is New England Patriots safety Rodney Harrison, a guy who plays in that Teflon National Football League, in which all those chiseled bodies are clearly on the up and up.
Where's the outrage over Rodney Harrison, huh? We've been waiting for it to show up in some form, any form, for weeks now. We're still waiting. We'll probably wait a lifetime.
Maybe somebody will write an indignant column about this topic to fill space before the Super Bowl or something. But it'll come. Then it'll go. And then Rodney Harrison will go ride off on his parade float and soak in the cheers.
Meanwhile, there are baseball fans who will never forgive Andy Pettitte. Never. Even though there's no indication, in the Mitchell report or anywhere else, that he was a habitual HGH user.
But that doesn't mean we don't understand that reaction. We get exactly why people feel that. Pettitte deserves to pay a price -- some kind of price -- for what he admits he did.
But as you're inflicting that price on Pettitte, think of Rodney Harrison. And if your only reaction to his crime was, "How does this affect my fantasy team?" you have some confessing to do yourself -- about the never-ending double standard applied to baseball and football on this issue.
We don't want to belabor that one, though, because it leads us to a bigger issue:
Is what either of the two athletes did "cheating"?
This is a question that deserves a thorough nationwide debate one of these days. Doesn't it?
If an already-great player decides his goal in life is to break the biggest record in sports, and to do that he's willing to inject or ingest just about any substance on the market, that feels like cheating.
But what about all those players -- in all sports -- who used HGH for other reasons? What do we do about them?
It's getting more and more obvious to those who pay attention that HGH developed a reputation among athletes as some kind of miracle quick-healing potion. Do a little research. That theme comes up over and over.
We hear medical authorities tell us, just about daily, that that's a myth. But it's a myth that became part of the sporting culture. So clearly, it was that panicky desire to heal faster, to "get back on the field," that fueled the HGH use of hundreds of athletes.
"I'm willing to say that in the case of just about every guy who used HGH," one longtime baseball man told us recently, "it can almost always be traced to some kind of injury."
So let's ask you again: Is that "cheating"? Discuss.
Maybe yes. Maybe no. We all have some thinking to do to answer that question.
But whether it was or it wasn't -- in Andy Pettitte's case, in Rodney Harrison's case, in the case of anyone who looked up the phone number of the nearest anti-aging clinic -- it was still wrong.
Morally wrong. Legally wrong. Dead wrong.
And Andy Pettitte knew it. Knew it when he did it. Knew it when he stopped doing it. Knew it when he owned up this weekend.
So he'll deserve his inevitable trip to principal Selig's office. He'll deserve whatever boos he hears on Opening Day, and on every road trip for the rest of his life. He'll deserve whatever price he has to pay for this.
But that doesn't mean we can't put his offense in perspective, judged against the more heinous and selfish offenses of others, judged against the context of his career.
Sorry, we're just tired of the ridiculous oversimplification of a complicated issue. It never stops. People just can't wait to pin easy talk-show labels on every one of these stories. But look a little closer the next time you come up for air. They don't all fit.
So yeah, Andy Pettitte screwed up. That's where we started. That's where we'll finish.
But does he deserve more wrath than Rodney Harrison? Why?
Does he deserve to have his photo plastered all over the back page of a tabloid, with the photos of a bunch of other members of the All-Mitchell Report Team, under the giant headline: "CHEATERS?" We're still sorting that one out.
But we've already sorted this out:
All crimes in the courthouse are not created equal. And neither are all crimes in the Mitchell report.
Andy Pettitte screwed up.
Let's get that out of the way fast.
Every player who (pick your favorite action verb) used, or tried, or obtained, or experimented with HGH over the last decade knew it was wrong.
Knew it.
Knew it was a decision that was as shaky ethically as it was medically.
Knew it.
Knew it just from what he had to do to get ahold of that HGH in the first place.
Whether he had to head on down to the anti-aging clinic, or go see a doctor (or dentist) he'd never seen before, or click on some link he found for buycheapHGHrighthere.com, or call up his favorite strength coach, he had to know that didn't feel right.
Because it wasn't.
Wasn't legal. Wasn't honorable. Wasn't cool medically.
And every player knew that. Every one of them.
But …
We want you to consider the tale of two players. We won't name them. See if you can tell the difference.
Player A is a long-time star for a team that has won multiple titles. Great guy. Beloved by fans and teammates alike. Then finds himself connected with an HGH story he can't escape.
So he admits it. Admits he bought it. Admits he took it. Admits he did that over a long period of time, during which his team won championships and he was an All-Star. Admits he "sent the wrong message" to kids and to the public. Admits he's "very, very embarrassed."
But Player A also says he wants to make it clear he never used steroids. And the only reason he used HGH was because he was hurt and wanted to get back on the field to help his team.
OK, now let's move on to Player B -- another terrific player for teams that did nothing but win. Another likeable guy. Fan favorite. Clubhouse favorite. Then looks up one day and hears his name all over TV and radio, linked to HGH use.
So Player B takes some time to think about how he should react, then confesses. Confesses by saying he was injured at the time. Confesses by saying he felt an obligation to get back and help his team. Confesses by saying he'd heard a lot of talk about the healing properties of HGH, so he tried it briefly, then stopped.
It didn't feel right. It wasn't the kind of player or person he was, or is. So he stopped. And ohbytheway, he never used steroids, either, despite what people have been saying about him.
Two stories that couldn't be more identical, right?
But Player B wakes up the next morning to find a headline that says: "PLEASE SPARE US."
Player A, on the other hand, is greeted by headlines like this one: "DON'T SINGLE OUT (PLAYER A)."
Hmmmm. What's up with that?
Two indistinguishable stories. Two very different reactions. Why is that, anyway?
Well, you probably figured out that Player B is Pettitte, a fellow who plays baseball for a living.
Player A, on the other hand, is New England Patriots safety Rodney Harrison, a guy who plays in that Teflon National Football League, in which all those chiseled bodies are clearly on the up and up.
Where's the outrage over Rodney Harrison, huh? We've been waiting for it to show up in some form, any form, for weeks now. We're still waiting. We'll probably wait a lifetime.
Maybe somebody will write an indignant column about this topic to fill space before the Super Bowl or something. But it'll come. Then it'll go. And then Rodney Harrison will go ride off on his parade float and soak in the cheers.
Meanwhile, there are baseball fans who will never forgive Andy Pettitte. Never. Even though there's no indication, in the Mitchell report or anywhere else, that he was a habitual HGH user.
But that doesn't mean we don't understand that reaction. We get exactly why people feel that. Pettitte deserves to pay a price -- some kind of price -- for what he admits he did.
But as you're inflicting that price on Pettitte, think of Rodney Harrison. And if your only reaction to his crime was, "How does this affect my fantasy team?" you have some confessing to do yourself -- about the never-ending double standard applied to baseball and football on this issue.
We don't want to belabor that one, though, because it leads us to a bigger issue:
Is what either of the two athletes did "cheating"?
This is a question that deserves a thorough nationwide debate one of these days. Doesn't it?
If an already-great player decides his goal in life is to break the biggest record in sports, and to do that he's willing to inject or ingest just about any substance on the market, that feels like cheating.
But what about all those players -- in all sports -- who used HGH for other reasons? What do we do about them?
It's getting more and more obvious to those who pay attention that HGH developed a reputation among athletes as some kind of miracle quick-healing potion. Do a little research. That theme comes up over and over.
We hear medical authorities tell us, just about daily, that that's a myth. But it's a myth that became part of the sporting culture. So clearly, it was that panicky desire to heal faster, to "get back on the field," that fueled the HGH use of hundreds of athletes.
"I'm willing to say that in the case of just about every guy who used HGH," one longtime baseball man told us recently, "it can almost always be traced to some kind of injury."
So let's ask you again: Is that "cheating"? Discuss.
Maybe yes. Maybe no. We all have some thinking to do to answer that question.
But whether it was or it wasn't -- in Andy Pettitte's case, in Rodney Harrison's case, in the case of anyone who looked up the phone number of the nearest anti-aging clinic -- it was still wrong.
Morally wrong. Legally wrong. Dead wrong.
And Andy Pettitte knew it. Knew it when he did it. Knew it when he stopped doing it. Knew it when he owned up this weekend.
So he'll deserve his inevitable trip to principal Selig's office. He'll deserve whatever boos he hears on Opening Day, and on every road trip for the rest of his life. He'll deserve whatever price he has to pay for this.
But that doesn't mean we can't put his offense in perspective, judged against the more heinous and selfish offenses of others, judged against the context of his career.
Sorry, we're just tired of the ridiculous oversimplification of a complicated issue. It never stops. People just can't wait to pin easy talk-show labels on every one of these stories. But look a little closer the next time you come up for air. They don't all fit.
So yeah, Andy Pettitte screwed up. That's where we started. That's where we'll finish.
But does he deserve more wrath than Rodney Harrison? Why?
Does he deserve to have his photo plastered all over the back page of a tabloid, with the photos of a bunch of other members of the All-Mitchell Report Team, under the giant headline: "CHEATERS?" We're still sorting that one out.
But we've already sorted this out:
All crimes in the courthouse are not created equal. And neither are all crimes in the Mitchell report.
Nerd Alert! Nerd Alert!
I feel it's time for a fantasy update, as though I've ever given one. I have four fantasy football leagues:
League #1: This is a league with some guys I play Fantasy Baseball with (I demolished them all in a 20-team baseball league. It wasn't pretty). I won my division at 7-4-2, and cruised in my first round match-up thanks to the usual stellar performance by Brian Westbrook, Kurt Warner carving up the Seahwaks secondary, dominance by the Packers defense, and two other really great performances from Jamal Lewis and Brandon Marshall. My semifinal matchup was against the #1 seed, and I eeked out a win with the usual suspects; Kurt Warner leading the way. I'm actually up by 5 with Sidney Rice going tonight, and my opponent is done. Super Bowl bound! It's going to be really sweet beating these guys in both baseball and football.
League #2: A public league with a bunch of strangers. I didn't make the playoffs in this one. Injuries (Rudi Johnson, Travis Henry, Andre Johnson), ineffectiveness (Lee Evans, who I'll never draft again), and questionable draft choices (Why did I take a chance on Rivers?) left me on the outside looking in at 4-8-1. Of course now that I've been eliminated, I've put up 221 puts over the last two weeks, tops in the league.
League #3: This is another league with guys who are aquaintances, at least over the World Wide Web. I clinched a playoff berth on the last Monday night of the regular season (I finished 7-6) with Kyle Boller as my quarterback and Shaun Alexander and Eli Manning relegated to my bench. I've been carried in this one by Braylon Edwards, Clinton Portis, Chester Taylor and savvy defensive choices (I had the Bucs this week). My first-round match-up against the #1 seed has yet to be decided. He was leading me by 6 after the first week, but going into play tonight I have a 21 point lead. I'm running Chester Taylor and Bernard Berrian against Adrian Peterson (Yes, that AP) and the Vikings D, so it is by no means over. Should I advance, Eli Manning is going to have to play quarterback for me in the championship match-up....
League #4: Easily my best draft and my best performance this year. I finished the regular season 13-0, beating a 12-0 team the last week of the year. I decide to draft a QB a round or two earlier than I normally would, and it paid off, as I have Tom Brady, Tony Romo, and Matt Hasselbeck. At WR I have Brandon Marshall, Dwayne Bowe (who was great early), Bobby Engram (who's been solid of late) and Anquan Boldin. My RB corps consists of Brian Westbrook, Fast Willie Parker, and Edgerrin James. And, just to add to my embarassment of riches, I was ably to move up to the #1 waiver position just in time for a frustrated owner to dump BOTH Jacksonville Jaguar running backs. yes, you read that right, I have the top two quarterbacks, 5 top 12 running backs, and Fred Taylor. Needless to say, I'm steamrolling this league.
Looking ahead, I joined a 16-team fantasy baseball league with some really interesting settings that's doing a bit of an old-school pen & paper draft (albeit on a message board). We're still drafting, as it will probably take 6-8 weeks to complete the draft, but I've assembled quite a roster thus far:
C:
1B: Justin Morneau
2B: Chase Utley
SS: Jimmy Rollins
3B: Garrett Atkins
OF: Nick Markakis, Jason Bay, Raul Ibanez
SP: Matt Cain, Rich Hill, Brett Myers
RP: Brad Lidge, Rafael Soriano
It's a dynasty league with a salary cap and full minor league rosters, so while I'm putting a pretty good team together for this year, the minor league draft is where I'll do my real damage.
League #1: This is a league with some guys I play Fantasy Baseball with (I demolished them all in a 20-team baseball league. It wasn't pretty). I won my division at 7-4-2, and cruised in my first round match-up thanks to the usual stellar performance by Brian Westbrook, Kurt Warner carving up the Seahwaks secondary, dominance by the Packers defense, and two other really great performances from Jamal Lewis and Brandon Marshall. My semifinal matchup was against the #1 seed, and I eeked out a win with the usual suspects; Kurt Warner leading the way. I'm actually up by 5 with Sidney Rice going tonight, and my opponent is done. Super Bowl bound! It's going to be really sweet beating these guys in both baseball and football.
League #2: A public league with a bunch of strangers. I didn't make the playoffs in this one. Injuries (Rudi Johnson, Travis Henry, Andre Johnson), ineffectiveness (Lee Evans, who I'll never draft again), and questionable draft choices (Why did I take a chance on Rivers?) left me on the outside looking in at 4-8-1. Of course now that I've been eliminated, I've put up 221 puts over the last two weeks, tops in the league.
League #3: This is another league with guys who are aquaintances, at least over the World Wide Web. I clinched a playoff berth on the last Monday night of the regular season (I finished 7-6) with Kyle Boller as my quarterback and Shaun Alexander and Eli Manning relegated to my bench. I've been carried in this one by Braylon Edwards, Clinton Portis, Chester Taylor and savvy defensive choices (I had the Bucs this week). My first-round match-up against the #1 seed has yet to be decided. He was leading me by 6 after the first week, but going into play tonight I have a 21 point lead. I'm running Chester Taylor and Bernard Berrian against Adrian Peterson (Yes, that AP) and the Vikings D, so it is by no means over. Should I advance, Eli Manning is going to have to play quarterback for me in the championship match-up....
League #4: Easily my best draft and my best performance this year. I finished the regular season 13-0, beating a 12-0 team the last week of the year. I decide to draft a QB a round or two earlier than I normally would, and it paid off, as I have Tom Brady, Tony Romo, and Matt Hasselbeck. At WR I have Brandon Marshall, Dwayne Bowe (who was great early), Bobby Engram (who's been solid of late) and Anquan Boldin. My RB corps consists of Brian Westbrook, Fast Willie Parker, and Edgerrin James. And, just to add to my embarassment of riches, I was ably to move up to the #1 waiver position just in time for a frustrated owner to dump BOTH Jacksonville Jaguar running backs. yes, you read that right, I have the top two quarterbacks, 5 top 12 running backs, and Fred Taylor. Needless to say, I'm steamrolling this league.
Looking ahead, I joined a 16-team fantasy baseball league with some really interesting settings that's doing a bit of an old-school pen & paper draft (albeit on a message board). We're still drafting, as it will probably take 6-8 weeks to complete the draft, but I've assembled quite a roster thus far:
C:
1B: Justin Morneau
2B: Chase Utley
SS: Jimmy Rollins
3B: Garrett Atkins
OF: Nick Markakis, Jason Bay, Raul Ibanez
SP: Matt Cain, Rich Hill, Brett Myers
RP: Brad Lidge, Rafael Soriano
It's a dynasty league with a salary cap and full minor league rosters, so while I'm putting a pretty good team together for this year, the minor league draft is where I'll do my real damage.
I'm glad it's done, because I'm done.
The semester is over, and while I could have done better, I'm pretty pleased with the way it went. It was a pretty tough semester, because it's been awhile since I took a full load of real classes. My brain was fried by the end. I definitely coasted home on fumes, but I felt an overwhelming sense of relief when I finished up my chemistry exam this morning. We'll see in a few days if my feelings are validated by my actual grades. I'm looking forward to next semester.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Bah-humbug
I don't know about anyone else, but I'm just not into Christmas this year. The fact that it was 80 degrees outside earlier this week doesn't help. Being broke doesn't help either, but I don't think that's really it. Some things seem to be going in the right direction, while others seem to be spiraling out of control. Christmas has become a time of year when all of the bad things really come into focus, as opposed to a chance to celebrate the good things. I guess that's my own fault....it's just becoming more and more difficult to find reasons to be happy.....
Thursday, December 13, 2007
w00t There it is...
Merriam-Webster has selected it's Word of the Year for 2007. First of all, I didn't know such a thing went on. The word that was chosen for this honor is w00t. w00t. Yes, those are zeroes. The word first became popular in competitive online gaming forums as part of what is known as l33t ("leet," or "elite") speak—an esoteric computer hacker language in which numbers and symbols are put together to look like letters. Although the double "o" in the word is usually represented by double zeroes, the exclamation is also known to be an acronym for "we owned the other team"—again stemming from the gaming community.
So, umm, when did words begin having numbers in them? Online gamers have their own language? People, you really need to get your kids outside.
Two of the other finalists for the award that I really liked were blamestorm and quixotic.
Blamestorm is officially defined as sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed, and who was responsible. Im sorry, that's just damn funny. I've seen this, and it's hilarious (unless it's affecting my ability to work; then it just pisses me off).
Quixotic is a great word that most people first run across when they're trying to pick a mood on MySpace. Quixotic means foolishly impractical especially in the pursuit of ideals; especially : marked by rash lofty romantic ideas or extravagantly chivalrous action. I get this way at times. Sometimes we forget about goals and get lost in unrealistic fantasy. Sometimes we forget that our head and heart have to work together. We're often caught following our heart while abandoning all sense of logic. We get so caught up in an idea that we often fail to see that the idea is all that's really there. I think romanticism is good quality as long as a certain amount of pragmatism accompanies it. It's okay to chase windmills sometimes, but don't ignore your head it drags you back to reality.
So, umm, when did words begin having numbers in them? Online gamers have their own language? People, you really need to get your kids outside.
Two of the other finalists for the award that I really liked were blamestorm and quixotic.
Blamestorm is officially defined as sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed, and who was responsible. Im sorry, that's just damn funny. I've seen this, and it's hilarious (unless it's affecting my ability to work; then it just pisses me off).
Quixotic is a great word that most people first run across when they're trying to pick a mood on MySpace. Quixotic means foolishly impractical especially in the pursuit of ideals; especially : marked by rash lofty romantic ideas or extravagantly chivalrous action. I get this way at times. Sometimes we forget about goals and get lost in unrealistic fantasy. Sometimes we forget that our head and heart have to work together. We're often caught following our heart while abandoning all sense of logic. We get so caught up in an idea that we often fail to see that the idea is all that's really there. I think romanticism is good quality as long as a certain amount of pragmatism accompanies it. It's okay to chase windmills sometimes, but don't ignore your head it drags you back to reality.
Do You Think Roger Clemens WIll Sign My Copy of the Mitchell Report?
The Mitchell Report was released today. For those of you who live in a vaccuum, an investigation has been ongoing for the last 20 months regarding the use of performance enhancing drugs by Major League Baseball players. The investigation was led by former U.S. Senator (Dem. Maine) George Mitchell.
The first thing that needs to be understood about the report, that some people are already missing, is that exclusion from Mitchell's report does not mean a player is clean. Period. That being said:
This report is an absolute travesty. I can't believe that any good can possibly come from Mitchell's report. Performance-enhancing drugs have been a major problem in Major League Baseball for years, and a problem that owners, GMs, managers and the commissioner have collectively turned a blind eye to until now. Great, we already knew that, but this witch hunt was the wrong approach for solving the problem. The real solution is working harder to eliminate performance-enhancing drugs in baseball. This is something the Commissioner's Office has failed miserably to do, and Mitchell's investigation was a way for Bud Selig to spread the blame. Most of the "facts" included in the report are mere hearsay. This was an investigation into a culture of cheating and lying in baseball, and now we're to believe everyone involved is suddenly telling the truth? Why, because they were "advised" that lying could constitute a criminal offense? Horseshit.
Then we have the issue of potential punishment of the players named. This, too, is ridiculous. In the absence of a positive test, leave them alone. It doesn't make any sense to punish them now. Baseball knew it was going on and looked the other way. We, as fans, suspected is was going on, but did anyone say anything when Sosa, McGwire, and Bonds were hitting 60 and 70 homeruns? No, because it was fun. We loved the way balls were flying out of the stadium. We loved the chase on Maris' record. Then we decided we didn't like Barry Bonds chasing the all-time homerun record because he isn't a likeable person, so we vilified him, and this is what we got for it. Punish them? I think we've all been punished enough. Drop it. Let it go. Let the past be the past, chalk it up to the way the times were, and just get it cleaned up.
The recommendations Mitchell makes at the end of the report are solid strategies that should have been implemented 15 years ago in an effort to control the use of illegal performance-enhancers in baseball. Instead, we've had this fiasco where we're digging up the past, and for no particularly helpful reason. Have anyone's questions been answered? Do we know who to believe anymore now than we did before the report? All this is going to lead to is a rift between the Players Association and ownership, and further lead to all players being guilty until proven innocent in regard to performance-enhancing drugs. This whole episode has been disgraceful and a huge black eye on a sport I've loved as a player, a coach, a student, a historian, and a fan almost my entire life.
The first thing that needs to be understood about the report, that some people are already missing, is that exclusion from Mitchell's report does not mean a player is clean. Period. That being said:
This report is an absolute travesty. I can't believe that any good can possibly come from Mitchell's report. Performance-enhancing drugs have been a major problem in Major League Baseball for years, and a problem that owners, GMs, managers and the commissioner have collectively turned a blind eye to until now. Great, we already knew that, but this witch hunt was the wrong approach for solving the problem. The real solution is working harder to eliminate performance-enhancing drugs in baseball. This is something the Commissioner's Office has failed miserably to do, and Mitchell's investigation was a way for Bud Selig to spread the blame. Most of the "facts" included in the report are mere hearsay. This was an investigation into a culture of cheating and lying in baseball, and now we're to believe everyone involved is suddenly telling the truth? Why, because they were "advised" that lying could constitute a criminal offense? Horseshit.
Then we have the issue of potential punishment of the players named. This, too, is ridiculous. In the absence of a positive test, leave them alone. It doesn't make any sense to punish them now. Baseball knew it was going on and looked the other way. We, as fans, suspected is was going on, but did anyone say anything when Sosa, McGwire, and Bonds were hitting 60 and 70 homeruns? No, because it was fun. We loved the way balls were flying out of the stadium. We loved the chase on Maris' record. Then we decided we didn't like Barry Bonds chasing the all-time homerun record because he isn't a likeable person, so we vilified him, and this is what we got for it. Punish them? I think we've all been punished enough. Drop it. Let it go. Let the past be the past, chalk it up to the way the times were, and just get it cleaned up.
The recommendations Mitchell makes at the end of the report are solid strategies that should have been implemented 15 years ago in an effort to control the use of illegal performance-enhancers in baseball. Instead, we've had this fiasco where we're digging up the past, and for no particularly helpful reason. Have anyone's questions been answered? Do we know who to believe anymore now than we did before the report? All this is going to lead to is a rift between the Players Association and ownership, and further lead to all players being guilty until proven innocent in regard to performance-enhancing drugs. This whole episode has been disgraceful and a huge black eye on a sport I've loved as a player, a coach, a student, a historian, and a fan almost my entire life.
Monday, December 3, 2007
The last three days the rain was unstoppable
Sometimes, like when I wonder where I'm going to get the money to pay for this house I live in, I wonder why I'm still kidding myself. It's clearly not meant to be, right? Every time I see my schedule and I'm working 2 days, I decide it's time to give up; to take the safe route.
I look at myself sometimes and wonder, at 29, what have I really done? Am I ever going to do anything? Then there are times I feel that I'm still young; I have plenty of time to do this and then organize the chaos that is my life.
Everytime I make school a priority, everything else falls apart, and I go right back to the job I hate the most. I should just do it again and be happy.
Not this time. I'm not backing down. I'm not quitting. I've sacrificed too much: time, money, relationships. It's not just about me, either. Others have sacrificed just as much, and it's not going to end like this. I'm not who I can be yet. I'm not where I want to be yet. I'm not going back.
Fuck you. I can do it.
I look at myself sometimes and wonder, at 29, what have I really done? Am I ever going to do anything? Then there are times I feel that I'm still young; I have plenty of time to do this and then organize the chaos that is my life.
Everytime I make school a priority, everything else falls apart, and I go right back to the job I hate the most. I should just do it again and be happy.
Not this time. I'm not backing down. I'm not quitting. I've sacrificed too much: time, money, relationships. It's not just about me, either. Others have sacrificed just as much, and it's not going to end like this. I'm not who I can be yet. I'm not where I want to be yet. I'm not going back.
Fuck you. I can do it.
Jack Handey
Why don't we ever act on our impulses? Are our instincts so bad that we just don't trust them, or do we not trust them because we just won't listen?
Is it wrong to act on a hunch or even the slightest feeling? Isn't it better to know you were wrong this time then to never know anything? What if you have something in front of you that's never been there before, and you don't know it because you didn't find out?
Why do we do what others think we should do instead of what we feel is right?
It's still okay to make mistakes, right?
What if one of you realized you were mistaken, but the other was right all along? Who ends up suffering?
Is a solution always the answer?
What's wrong with taking a chance once in awhile?
Don't you sometimes just want to go for it, or sometimes wish you had?
Randoooooom! I was in the car just now, on my home from the bank, thinking about nothing in particular, when "Babylon" by David Gray came on the radio. I like the song, so I began singing it. When I got to the chorus, a bunch of really random (or are they?) thoughts just ran into my head, so I came home and wrote them all down exactly the way I thought them. I never do that. I usually ignore these random thoughts and feelings. Maybe that's what's wrong with me. This was fun. Everyone one of those has a specific meaning to me, but I'll leave you all to speculate....
Friday night I'm going nowhere
All the lights are changing green to red
Turning over TV stations
Situations running through my head
Well looking back through time
You know it's clear that I've been blind
I've been a fool
To ever open up my heart
To all that jealousy, that bitterness, that ridicule
Saturday I'm running wild
And all the lights are changing red to green
Moving through the crowd I'm pushing
Chemicals all rushing through my bloodstream
Only wish that you were here
You know I'm seeing it so clear
I've been afraid
To tell you how I really feel
Admit to some of those bad mistakes I've made
If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Babylon, Babylon
Sunday all the lights of London
Shining , Sky is fading red to blue
I'm kicking through the Autumn leaves
And wondering where it is you might be going to
Turning back for home
You know I'm feeling so alone
I can't believe
Climbing on the stair
I turn around to see you smiling there
In front of me
If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Is it wrong to act on a hunch or even the slightest feeling? Isn't it better to know you were wrong this time then to never know anything? What if you have something in front of you that's never been there before, and you don't know it because you didn't find out?
Why do we do what others think we should do instead of what we feel is right?
It's still okay to make mistakes, right?
What if one of you realized you were mistaken, but the other was right all along? Who ends up suffering?
Is a solution always the answer?
What's wrong with taking a chance once in awhile?
Don't you sometimes just want to go for it, or sometimes wish you had?
Randoooooom! I was in the car just now, on my home from the bank, thinking about nothing in particular, when "Babylon" by David Gray came on the radio. I like the song, so I began singing it. When I got to the chorus, a bunch of really random (or are they?) thoughts just ran into my head, so I came home and wrote them all down exactly the way I thought them. I never do that. I usually ignore these random thoughts and feelings. Maybe that's what's wrong with me. This was fun. Everyone one of those has a specific meaning to me, but I'll leave you all to speculate....
Friday night I'm going nowhere
All the lights are changing green to red
Turning over TV stations
Situations running through my head
Well looking back through time
You know it's clear that I've been blind
I've been a fool
To ever open up my heart
To all that jealousy, that bitterness, that ridicule
Saturday I'm running wild
And all the lights are changing red to green
Moving through the crowd I'm pushing
Chemicals all rushing through my bloodstream
Only wish that you were here
You know I'm seeing it so clear
I've been afraid
To tell you how I really feel
Admit to some of those bad mistakes I've made
If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Babylon, Babylon
Sunday all the lights of London
Shining , Sky is fading red to blue
I'm kicking through the Autumn leaves
And wondering where it is you might be going to
Turning back for home
You know I'm feeling so alone
I can't believe
Climbing on the stair
I turn around to see you smiling there
In front of me
If you want it
Come and get it
Crying out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now
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