Ignorance is Bliss

I learned the painful lesson of this blog title two weekends ago while on vacation in California, where in the matter of a few days I went from ecstatic to homeless-orangutan-level-depressed.

Before leaving for Sac-town, my boys told me that they had Tivo'ed all episodes of a new MTV show called "Bully Beatdown." Based on title alone, it had to be good. Basically, the premise of the show is random people ask the show's host for help with the bullies in their lives. The host challenges the bully to fight a professional MMA fighter for the chance to win money. If the bully loses, the prize money goes to the bullied person. Not quite The Iliad or The Odyssey, but at least it would keep me entertained while I was sipping on some Henry's.

Imagine four friends sitting on a couch howling with laughter, clutching each other in pure joy as a guy -- one they have been manipulated into hating by MTV -- gets the ever-living crap kicked out of him. This was the start of a new chapter in my life.

I came back home from vacation -- and then, out of nowhere, my beautiful world was shattered. A friend (who shall remain nameless for his own protection) who is an MMA fan told me that the "bullies" for the show were actually stuntmen, and that "Bully Beatdown" was all staged.

It is impossible to pinpoint my emotions at the time my world collapsed around me, but, after some reflection, I will try to articulate the range of emotions I experienced, which unfolded in (approximately) the order below:

• Primal Rage (Think Wolverine in X2, right when he stabs that soldier in the chest in the kitchen, screaming at the top of his lungs, saliva flying everywhere)
  

• Confused Betrayal (Think William Wallace in Braveheart after he unmasks that knight, and it turns out to be Robert the Bruce. I mean, I put my trust in MTV and they do this to me? I feel like a teenager again.)
  

• Utter Inconsolability (Think Denzel Washington in Man on Fire before he meets Dakota Fanning: Haunted by past demons, numb to the point of being incapable of feeling comforted)
  

• Abject Self-pity (Think Nancy Kerrigan, immediately after knee-clubbing: "Whyyyyy? Whyyyyyyyyy?")
  

It has been an emotional rollercoaster. I hate rollercoasters.

I considered keeping the news to myself, and sheltering my friends by allowing them to live in their ignorant bliss; but everyone knows what misery loves, so I dragged them down with me. Selfish, perhaps, but I'm just the messenger. Here are testimonials from the friends whose lives have also been ruined thanks to "Bully Beatdown":

"I felt betrayed. I spent hours making lists of all the bullies I wanted Mayhem [the host] to beatdown for me, but it was all in vain, and now I will continue w/ out justice being served against my bullies." --CT

"I felt like I had fallen for a used car salesman's pitch when I could see for myself that the 'pristine' Mercedes he was selling me was in reality a 1985 Pontiac Fiero. . . and I still bought it." --JN

"It was like the time I found out that Nigerian wasn't going to send me a bunch of money and I gave him my banking info for nothing." --JT

So I guess I should change this blog title to: "Ignorance CAN be bliss."

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The Depressed Monkey -- Photo of the Week 27 Apr 2009

Went with my sister, BilB, and nieces to the National Zoo in DC. This orangutan was there.

I didn't know the Zoo here was running a rehab program for formerly strung-out and now homeless primates, but man, if ever there was evidence of it, it's gotta be this guy. He looked more downtrodden and morose than any other captive animal I saw that day.

Immediately made me think of "Under the Bridge," that Red Hot Chili Peppers song about heroin addiction. I kept checking his arms for track marks.

Regardless, I could speculate on his past/present drug addictions all I want, but he definitely had the homeless thing going, with the cardboard box on his left side there. I suppose he just needs a stolen shopping cart and a sketchy underpass in which to live. Poor thing.


Happy Monday. (Apologies for posting negligence. Have been vacationing and otherwise preoccupied with productive things)

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More Engrish -- Photo of the Week 20 Apr 2009

"This good feelis for you"

I took this one in Seoul, Mar 2008. My Engrish deciphering skills are very keen, but this one is tough; I'm not sure if she's asking to get groped or not; but if she wants to up her chances, she'd probably want to ride public transpo in Japan somewhere.

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The Bagel Incident

People at my work are generous. They'll often bring in a box of donuts or bagels, set them in the kitchen, and send an email that says "Donuts/bagels in the kitchen for the taking." I appreciate this.

One of these "offer" emails disturbed me a bit today, though:

"Other half of my bagel is in the kitchen if someone wants it"

Who wants half of a SOLITARY bagel that someone else has claimed as theirs? I was tempted to take the (half) bagel to the person's cubicle and throw it in their face -- and then issue a Jason Bourne-esque threat. Like he does at the end of Identity when he's threatening Conklin:

"I swear...if I [see you offer another half-used piece of food], there is no measure to how fast and how hard I will bring this fight to your doorstep."**

Something like that.

Josh M characterized the invitation to a free half-bagel as "demeaning."

I couldn't agree more. I think Half-Bagel-Leaver possesses the same mentality that the makers of The Fast and the Furious movies have toward their targeted customer-set: "We know that the masses are fat, lazy and dumb, and will consume anything we throw at them, no matter how repulsive it is."

So, I threw together, with Josh M's help, a list of equally insulting offers I could send around to the office:

-"My fresh toe nail clippings in the kitchen if someone wants them."
-"3-month old block of unrefrigerated cheese in the kitchen."
-"Free xerox'ed copies of my bare a** in the kitchen. Feel free to grab one."
-"Half-used bar of soap in the kitchen if someone wants it."
-"About half a can of Arizona Iced Tea left in the kitchen."
-"2-year old, used toothbrush in the kitchen. First come, first served."
-"Half-gnawed piece of beef jerky in the kitchen. Have at it, anyone!"

Perhaps I'm overreacting a bit. I didn't get much sleep.


**The actual quote is: "I swear...if I even feel somebody behind me, there is no measure to how fast and how hard I will bring this fight to your doorstep."

What?? You expect me to not manipulate quotes to fit my needs?

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Photo of the Week 13 Apr 2009

Remember Gladiator, in which the Maximus character is forced to take on distinctly different roles? You know what I'm talking about. He goes from being a general to a slave. From a slave to a gladiator. And then becomes a gladiator who defies an emperor. Lots of transitions for him.

Well, I had one of those transitions this past week, in which I crossed the threshold of identifying myself as a "recreational runner" and officially became "hard-core runner-nerd." Why, you ask? I purchased and used one of these:

As some of my runs are lasting more than hour, I need to "refuel" mid-run. This necessitated the purchase of my "fuel belt," a term that is really a sad euphemistic attempt to save my ego. Friends have asked what it is, and there is no way to describe it without the explainee either getting confused, or pausing for a second while to process my description and then saying: "so you mean it's like a fanny pack?" It's unavoidable. Trust me, I've tried.

This whole marathon-thing is spiraling out of control.



Happy Monday to all.

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Spectating the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler

DJA and I woke up at some unholy hour on Sunday morning to go support some friends who ran the Cherry Blossom Festival 10-miler in DC. Don't ask me what we were thinking.

Anyway, I texted Josh M to get his bib number, his starting "wave" (group), and any distinctive clothing he might be wearing so that we could spot him. The reply:

"8072, blue wave, flesh-colored leotard"

Oh really? This could get interesting. If only.

"Naw, white shirt and black shorts"

Sigh. Too bad.

We did catch our boy along the course at about the 3.5-mile mark, after DJA and I trucked across the Mall:Shortly thereafter and out of nowhere, a runner tossed a shirt that landed right at DJA's feet -- now, either the runner had overdressed, or they saw DJA's flowing locks of hair and wanted to treat him like an onstage rock-star. Only in this case it was a long-sleeved shirt, and not underwear.


Again, if only.

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PTI -- Photo of the Week 6 Apr 2009

Pardon the Interruption, but that's Mike FREAKIN' Wilbon! Together with Kornheiser, the host of one of my favorite TV shows, "PTI."


I wish I could say that I took the picture, but JH snapped this one while at a March Madness game in Philly.

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Wish I Was There

Time for a new addition to the repertoire that I am going to call "Wish I Was There." Quite simply: Talk about some events that I wish I could have witnessed firsthand. Easy enough, right?

Alright. Let's do this.

--Samson and the Jawbone
I don't revel in gore, but how crazy would it have been to watch a man kill a thousand others with the jawbone of an animal? If jazz is the penultimate of improvisation, and MacGyver is the golden standard for resourcefulness, then Samson -- in choosing to take on an entire army with, of all things, the jawbone of an ASS -- solidified his status as some sort of Miles Davis/MacGyver hybrid of ancient hand-to-hand combat. Braveheart, Maximus: Get out the way, yo.

--The Battle of Marathon
The Persians tried to invade Greece, blah blah blah. Not really what I'm concerned about. What would concern me is stopping that stupid messenger from running the ~26 miles between Marathon to Athens. Stopping him would have done myself and humanity a favor, because marathons as we know them would not exist. (And yes, most of this is myth & legend, but this is my blog -- and dammit, fictional events are just as fun to speculate about being a participant in as real ones)

I haven't decided if "stopping" the messenger involves me mugging him or explaining to him the concept of a relay. I'll mull it over.

--Jimi at Woodstock, 1969 (suggested by JH)
Hopefully we're all familiar with Hendrix's improvised rendering of the "Star-Spangled Banner" at Woodstock. It is legendary. I personally would have been slightly uncomfortable around all of the "free love," drug-smoking/injecting/snorting, and overall lack of proper hygiene at the festival, but to see Jimi in his element would have been other-worldly -- with or without the drugs.


Thanks to those who have already submitted suggestions for future "Wish I Was There"s. Keep sending me events -- real or fictional; historical, literary or cinematic -- that you wish you would have been there for.

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