Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

The Dilemma of My Blog

>> 07 March 2011

For those of you who follow the blog (ie my five family members and friends that are bored at work), you may have noticed I have not been blogging as of late. I've been having an existential crisis, blog-wise, and have been thinking about the purpose and opportunity cost of RoSA. (I actually don't know what 'opportunity cost' means, but I'm hoping I guessed correctly.)

You all know that I love writing. The process is an enjoyably challenging puzzle of creation to me: to observe, to take scattered and unformed thoughts and make them coherent, to take seemingly disparate thoughts and to synthesize them, to refine sentences in order to achieve precision... Oh yes, I can't forget to add my personal favorite: "to make ridiculously outlandish comparisons to prove an irrelevant point."

In addition, the continual practice of writing has yielded tangible results: improved writing, where I've learned what works, what doesn't work, and why through the proces; and the forum to chronicle and document the things that happen in my life. These reasons are all part of the writing puzzle that make it fun and fulfilling.

These are also, for better or worse, the same reasons that make the writing puzzle so frustrating -- like the 1000-piece puzzle of pure blue sky I tried to put together as a kid (<-- completely fabricated for illustrative purposes). Doing all of those things that I just gushed about like a teenage girl -- and to do them well -- require thought and time. Both are premium and limited resources for anybody. This created a dilemma with the blog that I have struggled with and tried to balance for three and a half years: Because I will not get paid to write what I like, I cannot commit the time and attention to writing that I would like to. It will always be a lower priority. Unfortunately, writing that I am willing to "publish" for public consumption requires time. But if I wait to publish something I'm completely satisfied with, nothing will ever get written, because I cannot allocate the required time to write. And if I don't continue writing, then there will be attrition. It's a cycle; and a vicious one at that. I can sort of see why Hemingway went with the shotgun.

The conclusion and compromise I reached over the years was that I would have to force myself to write, even if I wasn't completely satisfied with what I wrote all of the time. So I did weekly entries that required deadlines, such as PotW and the Weekly Highlights. These self-imposed due dates compelled me to write, which was good in some ways because it kept me writing and observant... but they were bad in other ways because the same entries often forced me to put stuff out that was "meh," simply because the next day was my artificial deadline of Monday or Thursday. (Reference the last few Weekly Highlights. I've felt like a monkey flinging crap against the wall -- little thought was involved, and very little stuck to the wall)

So I have been frustrated with my lack of time to commit to writing. Where does this leave RoSA? I have no idea. To give up writing is not the solution, obviously. We shall see how this unfolds.

As a partial solution, perhaps, I will be contributing to our family blog with Mrs. RoSA here (made private at Mrs. RoSA's request). First entry should be out this week.

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Extended Hiatus

>> 08 June 2010

RoSA Readers,

Unfortunately, the time has come -- at least temporarily -- for me to stop blogging.

I will be busy with work for the next four months and will not have the time nor means to blog. Again, the hope is that this is just a hiatus, and not THE END.

Three years and almost 300 posts later, thank you to you, loyal readers: For your suggestions; for your feedback; for taking two minutes out of your frenzied days of ADD-propelled internet surfing to read the posts; for claiming to enjoy what I've written. Most of all, thanks for indulging me in what began as a need-for-catharsis project and morphed into something that taught me how much I love writing. It's been a nice run.

(Writing this, I realize this probably doesn't sadden you as much as it does me... or perhaps Case: "i thought my kid's first words read were going to be from that blog." But hey: No one enjoys writing about and recounting my various moronic deeds more than I do, so I know I'll want to get back to it when things settle down.)

I have no other words to convey my sadness, so I will use this man to express how I feel:



It's like in Empire Strikes Back when Han Solo gets captured and frozen and Chewbacca is distraught and wailing like only a Wookie can. This kind of highly emotional crying would also apply to me during the last episode of LOST; or, whenever I think about David Archuletta and his sweet, crooning voice not winning 'American Idol.' (<-- BLATANT AND SHAMELESS LIE)

So, for the time being, keep me on your RSS feed. We'll continue rambling around Oct-Nov. Until then, enjoy the World Cup, Inception, and whatever else your summer has in store for you.

Peace for now,
JD

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Weekly Selects #32

>> 09 April 2010

Was busy yesterday watching movie plot hole after movie plot hole unfold as undeveloped characters delivered cliched dialogue in a special effects extravaganza; and yet still found myself entertained. Thanks, Clash of the Titans. So here we go a day late with some DC, and I apologize to any readers who are not able to see embedded YouTube clips, as I received a lot of these this past week. Let's do this:

-Via Gchat from Banker:

something for your blog?


Um, yes, please, and THANK YOU. These are all great, but I honestly think Arnold was best in Pumping Iron, mostly because it was a documentary (the key: NO ACTING REQUIRED) and you just got to watch Arnold brag about himself in all of his bulging, symmetrical, Adonis-like physical perfection. In college we called the Blockbuster (back when Netflix hadn't rendered "video stores" obsolete) to ask if they had it:

Us: Hi, do you have Pumping Iron?
Blockbuster Dude: Um. Let me check The movie from 1977?
Us: Yes. That's the one.
Blockbuster Dude: Yes, we have it.
Us: Okay. We'll come get it right now. Actually, could you hold on to it for us? Just to make sure no one grabs it?
Blockbuster Dude: ...Uh, I don't think that's going to be a problem. But sure.

-Via Google Reader share, some selected analogies and metaphors found in high school students' essays. Aspiring writers, TAKE NOTES:
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef
There are just too many good ones here. If you are/know a K-12 teacher, please keep record of these. These are priceless, if not humiliating later in life for the children.

-Via Google Reader share, the best custom pizza I've ever seen:

"I be tossin' and flossin', my style is awesome."

-Via Email from Kate:
I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry



My personal favorite is the sister in the middle seat. The disdainful look of utter disapproval at her parents' insensitivity, coupled with the folded arms, is amazing. If I ever get a look like that from my future daughter I'll probably curl up in a ball and never speak again.

PS I need to kidnap an Asian child.

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Attn: Single Truckers -- Photo of the Week 18 Jan 2010

>> 18 January 2010

I know my audience, and since the vast majority of my readers are truckers, I know this PotW will be a huge hit. Apparently these have been floating around at trucker shops around the US. Both are worth taking a closer look at:



 
Thanks to Annie G for the submission. I would add something, but I feel I can add no more value to these fliers. Plus I'm back from traveling, so I'd rather go collapse on a bed than try to make fun of these -- like shooting fish in a barrel.


Happy Monday all. Hope you enjoyed your day off.

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Avatar: A Review of the Movie, and its Consequences

>> 13 January 2010

Saw Avatar. I realize that with the movie shattering all kinds of box office records, saying "I saw Avatar" is not a unique statement -- about as unique as something like "I wear underwear" (virtually universal, but every once in a while people surprise you). Decided to write a little review, and talk about the consequences I fear will result from this movie.

It was visually STUNNING. Everything I thought was going to be cartoonish ended up being lifelike and gorgeous, and I was drawn into that world. Banker thought to himself during the movie: "So this is what a quarter of a billion dollars can buy," and I agree. For the sheer aesthetics alone, the movie is worth seeing.

However, there were other things that a quarter of a billion dollars couldn't buy. A few off the top of my head:

1. Screenwriters to write a non-predictable plot: Look, I'm not asking for a Sherlock Holmes mystery  that no one can figure out until the very end...but when compared to Avatar's, even the plots of the childrens' books I read to my nieces and nephew, ages 2-5, are wildly unpredictable (POSSIBLY IMPORTANT NOTE: I have read these books dozens of time...even then!). We all had this thing figured out before the 10-minute mark rolled around.

2. Screenwriters to craft an original plot: You've no doubt seen the "rewritten" Pocahontas script floating around, in which Pocahontas character names and places are simply replaced with corresponding names/places from Avatar. Uncanny. Throw in some Fern Gully, The Last Samurai, and Dances With Wolves, and you pretty much have an Avatar storyline: Main character looks down on native culture as "savage;" native culture teaches man importance of life/nature/alternative lifestyle etc; man joins natives' cause; epic battle. The end. I have heard Miley Cyrus lyrics that are more creative than this screenplay. (Avatar writers -- the specific Miley lyrics I had in mind were: "Noddin' my head like 'yeah' / Movin' my hips like 'yeah.' ")

3. Non-recycled dialogue: You couldn't swing a dead cat in a room with this movie and not hit a cliche. (Wait, what? THAT MADE NO SENSE) Or something.

4. A Way to Make the Na'vi Makeout Scene Not Awkward: Yeah. I don't think there is a budget large enough to make this happen. This scene was weird. The only way it could have been more uncomfortable would be if I was 13-years old again and watching it with my parents.

Really, though, I guess we can't expect much in the way of "nuance" or "subtlety" from the director who brought us Terminator, True Lies and Titanic. Cameron does large, sweeping heavy-handed movies, and that's fine, because they are usually enjoyable. In fact, I have a movie pitch for him -- but I'll save that for another day.

But now I want to discuss what really worries me about this film. And no, this has nothing to do with the "anti-American" undertones of the film, which have been the talking points of so many blogs -- I'll leave that to people who care about that stuff. What really worries me about this film is what it will do for/to the Computer-Weirdo (CW) Community. And by CWs, I mean the people who live in their parents' dark basements, playing endless hours of World of Warcraft or Second Life (avatars of their own) or whatever because they feel living a virtual life is infinitely better than attempting the same feat with their own. That's the group I'm talking about. You with me?

I honestly think that Avatar is going to plant all kinds of crazy thoughts in the CWs' heads. I fear that these individuals -- who are already using virtual worlds as an escape from reality -- will convince themselves that technology actually exists that can transport their consciousness into another body, thus enabling them to leave their lazy, pale-skinned, "I have subsisted on an uninterrupted diet of hot dogs, mac & cheese and Mountain Dew for five years" bodies into the body of a lithe, blue-skinned, agile 10-foot feline.

And then they're going to turn into these people:



And then we'll read some Darwin Award about one fanatic who got electrocuted because he was trying to plug his dreadlock into the USB port in his computer...

And then when they realize they can't have it, there will be riots. Or suicides. See, Cameron has dangled this unattainable, fictional carrot in front of a group of individuals that already has trouble separating reality from fiction -- and when they realize that they can't obtain this, there's going to be trouble.

It's going to be a slippery slope. You just wait.

Well, that's my fear.

But other than all that? I whole-heartedly endorse seeing this movie.

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Meeting the Sports Guy -- Photo of the Week 2 Nov 2009

>> 02 November 2009




The Sports Guy, Bill Simmons, who is one of my favorite writers, is touring to promote his new book, The Book of Basketball. DC's ESPN Zone was his first stop, so I got down there to meet the man. He skipped dinner to shake hands and chat, and was congenial and expressed gratitude to us as the readers. Maybe he doesn't realize that his columns get working Americans in the 18-35 male demographic through their tedious work weeks. It is we who should be thanking him.

Going to the book signing was an interesting study of celebrity worship in America. The person behind me in line was visibly nervous, and began vocally brainstorming something "funny" he could say to Simmons. He was running his ideas by everyone in line around him. Nobody in line was helping him, but it was probably because every other frat boy in line was trying to come up with witticisms of their own with which they could impress Bill. It was as if The Sports Guy were holding auditions for a new best friend. Yup, an intelligent writer like Bill Simmons is as pathetic as Paris Hilton, everyone!

Also, in case you were wondering, I'm convinced that the portrait in the background is Brigham Young -- mostly because I can picture Brother Brigham toting a baseball glove, bat, and disproportionately LARGE head around with him. (I understand caricature, but that's "like an orange on a toothpick!")


Happy new week, all. As much as you can, enjoy your Monday.

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Crotch Shot Humor -- Photo of the Week 24 Aug 2009

>> 24 August 2009

Call it juvenile, but some things never lose their humor:

Photo sent by Josh M.

I think Shaolin monks are known for their ability to tolerate enormous amounts of pain. Taking a Karate Kid-esque Flying Crane kick to the equipment would most definitely fall into that category. And based on the photo backdrop, I can only deduce that this is taking place in some Asian house of legislation, where instead of pounding a gavel or ringing a bell to begin new parliamentary sessions, the Speaker of the House commits an atrocity against a buddhist monk. Look at all the pent-up frustration in that lawmaker's face! There must be a testy piece of health care legislation on the debate docket.

My sister Jen asked me once why, as males, we laugh uproariously when a fellow man is struck in the man-area. Dodgeballs, fists, knees, wrenches... Any object hitting a man in the crotch with violent force -- for whatever inane reason -- is hilarious to us. Except, of course, if we're on the receiving end. In those cases, all we can muster is a weak yelp and collapse in nauseating pain. This leads me to conclude that we men possess none of the following: 1) Maturity; 2) empathy; 3) a belief in karmic retribution.

While I'm at it, some things that will never lose their humor, just off the top of my head:

Watching other men try to show off -- and fail : I was in the gym at work this past week and there was a man in a t-shirt, nicely-pressed slacks, and heavy-looking dress shoes running on the treadmill. It looked uncomfortable. He was loudly commenting to the man on the adjacent treadmill "Yeah, I haven't worked out in like 8 months!" and then proceeded to crank the treadmill pace up to 12.5 mph. Genius! As I listened/watched the man plod along in his dress shoes -- he sounded like a Clydesdale whose hooves had been soaked in cement, were left to dry, and now was galloping full force on them -- I just knew something was going to happen. And something did. He lost his footing and fell, luckily catching himself before flying off the treadmill. Thank goodness he was not injured -- both for himself, and the fact that if he had been, I would be an a-hole for relaying this incident and laughing every time I think about it.

People that are heavily involved in Medieval reenactments: No explanation needed, but in case you needed a reminder, click away.


Happy Monday, all. Men: be protective of your manhood this week. Also, depending on how my schedule works out, it could be a good writing week. Stay tuned.

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Axis Powers -- Photo of the Week 27 July 2009

>> 27 July 2009

White Josh, the Frizzle and I -- well, let's be honest, just White Josh and I -- often joke about how our collective heritages could serve as a reunification of the Axis powers: Japan, Germany, and Italy.

When they visited in March, we were in the American History Museum in DC, and this setup was too good to pass up on:

Again, I place especial emphasis on the fact that this is just a joke, mainly because there are so many dissimilarities that separate us from these dudes: White Josh lacks the greasy hair for a nasty Hitler-esque combover; the Frizzle, while capable of dropping the hammer at times, cannot deliver fiery fascist speeches in Italian; and me... well, let's be honest: I lack the requisite ambition and intelligence to overthrow an existent government and run a new one.

Oh yeah, not to mention none of us three are detestable and soulless bastards. I forgot about that minor dissimilarity.

'manders was with us. To her credit, as soon as we turned the corner and saw this display, she immediately recognized what I wanted, patiently refrained from shaking her head disappointedly at me, and simply beckoned for me to hand her the camera so that she could take the picture. Dear girl.



Morning, all, and a Happy Monday. The sooner we get started, the sooner it'll be over. Or something. Blogging has been few and far between lately because I have found that Writing is a fickle mistress-- it comes and goes, and I haven't been feeling it. Stay tuned.

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My Day

>> 03 June 2009

0530 airport drop-off. cover for first-line supervisor at work. again. gym for an hour. turn down unreasonable and egregious request from mgmt. pen a kick a** analytic report. nurture myself on the good word. 7.45-mile run. watch unbelievable rainstorm in absolute awe. prevent flooding from invading apartment.

all on three hours of sleep.

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My Guilt-trip to You, the Reader

>> 12 May 2009

A lot of companies have a pledge to their customers that they will provide a quality product, or they will do their best to keep the customer happy, or some other nonsense. This is not one of those. This is to make you appreciate more of what I do for you day-in and day-out.

Dear RoSA Readers,

As I stood in line at Chipotle the other day, deciding on whether I wanted a Barbacoa or a Carnitas burrito, I glanced down at the Judas Priest concert t-shirt I was wearing and thought to myself: "What the hell was I thinking when I put this thing on before I went out into public?"

Tracing back my thought processes, I think I tried to justify the decision by saying that it was hot outside, and that the butt rock t-shirt was so tissue paper-thin it was like I wasn't even putting another layer of clothing on. It would keep me cool.

The more I thought about how stupid that reason was, I realized the real reason I had done it: I had no blog-worthy material that week, and was sub-consciously hoping that wearing Judas Priest in a public place would serve as a catalyst for something interesting.

(Yes. You're reading that correctly)

As it turned out, nothing happened. I've never been so disappointed with the expectations of an idea that has such great potential, but that ultimately ends up being a colossal letdown (perhaps with the exception of the Wolverine movie). I was hoping for something from my fellow Chipotle'ers: Suspicious glares; a hurled insult; extra meat in my burrito because the employees think I'm homeless based on appearance. The best would have been jaws dropped aghast in shock -- a la Arnold walking into the bar butt naked in Terminator 2 (see below). But really, I would have taken anything.





Shoot, even a brawl with some angry bikers who didn't like Judas Priest when they were growing up would have made a great story...you know, after I got out of the hospital.

Nothing.

Like I said. You'd better appreciate what I do for you, readers.

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Random Thoughts From a 12-Hour Shift

>> 07 February 2009

--The more I think about it...and believe me, the more I think about it, the less I want to... Bundaberg, the Australian root beer that pulled a Matt Leinhart and essentially rode the pine as a non-competitor in the Root Beer Royal Rumble, was horrible. Absolutely horrible. I honestly think it's bottled kangaroo urine. So now I have three bottles of kangaroo pee chilling in my fridge that I don't want to toss because it was expensive. How pathetic is that?

Maybe this scenario bears a similarity to the bottling process? (No, I haven't the slightest clue as to the subtitle language):



A similar post-consumption facial tic (see 2:15) has presented itself in me, and has yet to go away.

--This is my notebook of thoughts:

She has endured a full year+ of sitting in the back-left pocket of my pants. If anybody in the future wants to recreate an accurate and precise die-cast replica of my left butt-cheek, this notebook will no doubt serve as the authoritative mold. It's no time-capsule (lame!), but just a little something for future generations.

--What with my weird work schedule and battle with insomnia, I run at strange hours. Worried people tell me not to run alone so late. And then ask if I have reflective clothing. Or a rape whistle. And if I have life insurance. And if they can be listed as the benefactor if anything happens to me.

But really, I don't have reflective clothing, and I'll tell you why: I live in gang-territory. I debated the merits of high visibility and decided that I'd rather be hit by a car than shot or beaten with a tire iron. That's just me, though.

--Get ready. Get ready. Get ready:

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What's the Point?

>> 17 December 2008

I saw a book cover in the bookstore the other day, and I need someone to explain it to me.

The part that has me confused is "Nora Roberts writing as JD Robb." Before this, I was fairly sure I understood the purpose of a pen name, but just to make sure I turned to the un/educated masses on Wikipedia and found this:

Respected authors have used pen names to conceal identity and to provide differentiation when they have crossed into newer genres, etc. If Mark Twain/Samuel Clemens did it, I can't really argue against the practice.

(Apologies to Mr. Twain, who no doubt just rolled over in his grave because I mentioned him in the same entry as Nora Roberts. I'm debating which he would perceive as more insulting: Mentioning him and Nora Roberts in the same breath, or rounding up all remaining first editions of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and burning them right in front of his eyes.)

I guess what I take issue with is why you create a pen name for yourself and then immediately identify yourself by your real name on the same book cover. This woman wouldn't last a second in the Witness Protection Program.

Am I missing something? I better be, and somebody better have an explanation, because I just threw Nora Roberts' name all over my blog and I'm feeling pretty insecure about it.

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Blogiversary

>> 24 July 2008

Dearest Ramblings-

I just wanted to wish you a Happy 1st Anniversary. I know it was actually a couple of weeks ago and you're going to blame it on my never remembering "what's important to [you]," and blah blah blah. Are you done nagging yet? Thanks. I know you'll never let me forget it, but I've been really busy -- spending a lot of time with the boys playing ping-pong. And, yes, there are other projects I'm interested in, but technically I wouldn't consider it cheating.

(Technically, you could argue that we've been together for about two years now, but I'll admit that I basically ignored you that whole first year. Let's be honest: We had different agendas in the beginning. You had an ugly design and needed a makeover {Honestly, we could still do a little more work for you in the looks department...you're so pre-packaged and formulaic} Plus I think you needed some time to mature a bit. You can thank me later for being patient.)

Sometimes you demand more attention than I have time for. Like when I come home and just want to relax, but you want me to tell you about
work or my adventures at the post office or whatever. Usually, in the end, you help me find the humor in things.

Let's go through some of our accomplishments and milestones for our first year together:

>>120+ photos with fabricated, exaggerated, and untrue captions; a true symbol of honesty in our relationship.
>>2 pot shots at the
ACLU; I am actually quite disappointed in the progress we made here and would like to work on this, if you are amenable.
>>5 cheap shots at
PETA; I was proud of you for these entries.
>>2
I'm a Moron installments, with many more to come, I'm sure. The fact that you stuck with me after my acts of stupidity shows real dedication. Admirable.
>>6 references to / uses of
Battlefield Field as an adjective. This has definitely turned into one of those inside-jokes that outsiders find utterly annoying.
>>6 new
name-verbs.
>>1 entry dedicated to the
Beastie Boys; the fact that you are almost as dedicated as I am to the Boys scores you mad points in my book.

Thanks. Here's a virtual "good game" butt slap. Let's keep on rolling.


Sincerely,
JD

*****

Anybody have favorites / suggestions / critiques / something they'd like to see more of, as I take inventory of one year of Ramblings? Leave a comment, if you feel so inclined.

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Sports Blog

>> 17 June 2008

Oh yeah, some friends and I started a sports blog. Depending on who's writing, we'll write or post interesting articles on various things going on in the sports world. Bookmark, if you so wish, or enter it into your Google Reader. Make comments, so we know someone's reading. Here's the initial entry from 10 June that I made for the site:

I haven't followed the NBA closely in years. There's something about overpaid, whiny adults that doesn't appeal to me as a spectator. I do acknowledge, however, that this could simply be a personal preference, considering the popularity of unbearable shows like "Grey's Anatomy" and "The Real World" (Granted, I don't know if the perpetually-longing-to-return-to-my-frat-boy-glory-days individuals on "The Real World" get paid, but if it's anything more than -$200, or the highly-inflated currency of a foreign country, it's too much).

This NBA post-season, however, I have been glued to each playoff game.

I attribute this to a few factors. And yes, while one of them is definitely "the elimination of the Spurs," they are just as (if not more) boring to write about as they are to watch. I'd rather talk about Kevin Garnett.

This has nothing to do with me jumping on the Celtics bandwagon once they got good this season. I am still contemplating jumping on, given the age of the team. It has everything to do with having grown up and loved watching KG in all of his raving, ranting glory. I've never seen anyone play sports with his passion, or the barely-bridled enthusiasm that so many of the pros lose as they view playing ball as a chore -- a multi-million dollar chore, mind you -- and not something to be loved. Garnett loves it, and you can sense that watching him play. You can hear it in interviews with him.

Admittedly, it is that same intensity that sometimes scares me a bit. It almost reminds me of that one spelling bee girl from about ten years ago, who would talk to herself during the competition like she was possessed. Anyone remember her? ...Bueller?




KG's intensity is almost like that. Minus the social awkwardness and overall dysfunctionality. And eventual ostracization by society and peers. Man, that was a really poor analogy. Apologies to the Big Ticket on that one. But seriously. Have you seen him do stuff like this?




Whatever. My point: I love to watch this guy. Especially when he makes big plays--

--Yes, the big plays that are inevitably followed by his requisite swearing tirades. I know I haven't renewed my lip-reading certification (come on, if they have a Beer Judge Certification Program, this is not outside the realm of possibility), but I would liken watching him swear to the urge that non-Spurs fans get to knee Bruce Bowen in the crotch -- it's not so much the
frequency that surprises you, but the intensity with which it happens. You ever wonder why KG, often the biggest superstar on the floor, is never mic'ed up during the games? It's because the NBA would automatically be banned from the networks and relegated to HBO and Showtime.

My only concern is what will happen to KG if the Celtics do win the Finals. He may explode. Or it may be like an Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark-type thing. I dunno.

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Some of Us Look Alike

>> 05 June 2008

Most of you are painfully aware at this point that I am a huge fan of "The Onion," and that when I feel like getting the shallow sense of fulfillment of having completed a blog entry but don't feel like putting in the effort to write on a topic of my own, I usually just steal one of their stories by posting a link and call it good. I know, I know. I want the rush, but don't want to put in the effort. I feel an overbearing high school football coach-esque lecture coming on...

This article has got to be my favorite of all time, though.

It could be because Bruce and I look so eerily similar... you know, once I got to St. George for a Thanksgiving weekend in 2006, stayed in a condo previously inhabited by a -- much to my greedy benefit -- forgetful old woman, and "inherited" a pair of authentic BluBlocker sunglasses. (old woman: If you are reading this, you don't know where I live, and I think the statute of limitations on "theft of much-to-large-for-anyone's-face sunglasses" is a year).

All I need is a lace-up shirt.

And the ability to hurt people. Lots of them.

Hope you enjoyed the article.

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Baseball Brawls

>> 29 March 2008

I may have written about how I don't completely understand baseball. One thing I do enjoy, though, is the more or less sanctioned mass brawls. I got this from "The Onion", titled "History of the Bench-Clearing Brawl." Enjoy.
------------------

The Yankees–Rays spring training brawl was a notable bench-clearer, but hardly exceptional in the grand scheme of things. Onion Sports remembers some of the best:

1861: A pitch thrown by New York Knickerbocker pitcher Chic Paulding at the head of Atlanta's Byron Teagarden starts the Civil War

1898: After getting hit by a pitch, Honus Wagner walks briskly to the pitcher's mound and waves his handkerchief right in Kid Nichols' face

1903: Without realizing they too could fight, the Chicago White Stockings get their asses kicked in their own dugout

1968: While not a bench-clearing brawl, the time when Bob Gibson wordlessly stalked onto the field, cut Ron Santo's throat, and walked back to the dugout is certainly worth mentioning

1972: Following a brushback pitch from Tom Seaver, Dave Kingman storms the mound with his bat and swings it at Seaver; he whiffs nine times in a row before finally connecting and sending Seaver's head 475 feet over the left-field bleachers

1987: Oakland A's manager Tony LaRussa notices his team struggling in a sixth-inning fight with the Texas Rangers, forcing him to call up players from the Triple-A Sacramento River Cats to join in the fray

1998: The Yankees and Orioles engage in what is not so much a bench-clearing brawl as it is a fracas

2002: A controversial strike call during a game between bitter rivals the Houston Astros and St. Louis Cardinals results in a stadium-clearing brawl

2003: In Game 3 of the ALCS, Pedro Martinez grabs Yankee coach Don Zimmer by the head, playfully tosses him to the ground, and then slowly digs his metal cleats into his skull

2006: In a brawl between the Dodgers and Brewers, 78-year-old Tommy Lasorda unexpectedly storms onto the field screams loudly while running around in circles, causing both teams to slowly retreat to their dugouts and look around nervously

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Bite me, Post

>> 18 March 2008

Don't tell me I didn't pre-empt these two articles from The Washington Post with my very first post back in July:

Plagiarism #1
Plagiarism #2

Sure, they did all the "legwork" (actual research), but you know I was the catalyst for the idea. If I felt like I could afford the lawyer fees (trans: "if I feel like I had a case") I would sue their thieving A's. I suppose I could always commission the ACLU since it would be a completely baseless and frivolous lawsuit -- that is and always has been their cup of tea.

Yes, let it be noted that it took me 40+ posts before I took a cheap shot at the ACLU -- rest assured that it will not be the last.

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The Closest I'll Get to a Doctoral Dissertation

>> 05 February 2008

I don't like to brag, but I'm going to seize the opportunity of having my own blog and do so anyway.

A while back, I submitted a paper for publication to an
Asian studies student journal at BYU called The Rice Papers. A few edits, some critique, and 1 1/2 years later, I found out that I was actually going to get published in said journal. If you are bored enough, as in considering watching a rerun of Full House-bored, click here to read. Trust me, I won't be insulted if you don't.

Thanks to Josh & Fran for seizing as many hard copies as they could get their vicariously (on my behalf) greedy hands on and mailing them to me for distribution. Thanks to Dr. Stoneman for mentoring. I will be heading downtown to the Smithsonian to magnanimously donate a copy for their keeping. Maybe I'll go to the National Archives. I don't know.

My only complaint -- you knew I couldn't do an entry without one, didn't you -- is the title: The Rice Papers. I don't know. You would think if you're going to go for a blanket stereotype of something, you would go strong. My suggestion was The Yellow Pages, but I suppose that that's more offensive than insinuating that all Asians live in houses with rice paper walls.

It's all subjective.

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"Who writes this crap?"

>> 19 October 2007

Sometimes when I get on a blog-writing roll, I feel like I'm a decent writer. But then I run into stuff like this, and I am truly humbled:

Source: http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/tpa/409930561.html

Survival Of The Fittest


Date: 2007-08-30, 2:03PM EDT


Whenever I get a package of plain M&Ms, I make it my duty to continue the strength and robustness of the candy as a species. To this end, I hold M&M duels.

Taking two candies between my thumb and forefinger, I apply pressure, squeezing them together until one of them cracks and splinters. That is the "loser," and I eat the inferior one immediately. The winner gets to go another round.

I have found that, in general, the brown and red M&Ms are tougher, and the newer blue ones are genetically inferior. I have hypothesized that the blue M&Ms as a race cannot survive long in the intense theater of competition that is the modern candy and snack-food world.

Occasionally I will get a mutation, a candy that is misshapen, or pointier, or flatter than the rest. Almost invariably this proves to be a weakness, but on very rare occasions it gives the candy extra strength. In this way, the species continues to adapt to its environment.

When I reach the end of the pack, I am left with one M&M, the strongest of the herd. Since it would make no sense to eat this one as well, I pack it neatly in an envelope and send it to M&M Mars, A Division of Mars, Inc., Hackettstown, NJ 17840-1503 U.S.A., along with a 3x5 card reading, "Please use this M&M for breeding purposes."

This week they wrote back to thank me, and sent me a coupon for a free 1/2 pound bag of plain M&Ms. I consider this "grant money." I have set aside the weekend for a grand tournament. From a field of hundreds, we will discover the True Champion.

There can be only one.

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A Move and Verizon

>> 03 August 2007

So I said I wouldn't post updates on my life here, but I just got done moving and we're waiting for Verizon to install our internet at the new place, so I have been sans Internet since Sunday. I never realized how crippling no internet can be. I don't know how much money is in my bank account, I can't pay my bills; I can't even find out how to get anywhere without access to Google Maps.

Anyhow, Nartker wrote me an email and harped on me for not posting recently. I am on it when I get access back on Monday. I know none of you ('cept Nartker, who I'm going to send a customized mug for being an anxious fan) care all that much, but hang tight. I've got some ideas for posts in my head that I'll get out when I'm back up and running.

Best,
-JD

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