Wednesday, February 4, 2009

KB the Greek

Καλημερα. During my junior year of college, which is when I think I really started to embrace the idea of learning for learning's sake, I took two semesters of Attic Greek. I was a Classics major, but Greek wasn't required since I was Classical Civ., not Greek Lit. I had three reasons for putting myself through this: 1) Desire to read New Testament Greek 2) Desire to read Greek lyric poetry as it was originally written and 3) Just to be able to say that I did it.

By the end of the year, I was obviously able to say that I did it. I was reading snippets of NT Greek, but because of the complexity of Greek dialects, I hadn't yet gotten to the level where I could open up a book of Greek poetry and understand it. One of the most common misconceptions is that there was one language known as "Ancient Greek." In reality, there were scores of regional dialects, all of which were based around common grammatical principles and vocabularies, but like the Pirate Code, it was really just a set of guidelines that were loosely adhered to. What we now call Ancient Greek and what is taught in most Classics departments is Attic Greek, which is the vernacular that was spoken in Hellenic Athens 2,500 years ago.

I bring this up not only to show off but because after the spring of 2005, I gave up on Greek. I had extra credits to fill my senior year and decided French and art history would be more interesting. While I thoroughly enjoyed those classes, I have since missed committing myself to the Greek language. Make no mistake, you can't really dabble in Greek;  you must make a full commitment. Having grown tired of dominating my fiancee in Mario Kart Wii, Risk, and Scene It!, it's time for a new challenge, and that new challenge moving forward will be re-learning Greek.

Yesterday, I used a Barnes and Noble gift card (thank you future in-laws) to purchase H.G. Scott and Robert Liddell's canon of the Attic Greek language, Intermediate Greek-English Lexiconlovingly referred to by Greek scholars as "Middle Liddell." I also found a used copy of our old textbook, Athenaze. One of the great things about something like this is that you get to commit yourself and not make the same mistakes you would have as an undergrad. While I was one of the better students in the class at the time, I still had other obligations that kept me from focusing solely on Greek, such as other classes, hockey, and XBox. It's not that I don't have even more and arguably more important things going on in my life, but as an adult, you should possess the discipline and focus to drive you even harder than you may have as an undergrad. No one understands this better than Jasper Rees, a middle-aged man who studied some French Horn as a kid but gave it up, only to pick it up again 25 years later, master the instrument, and even play before a paying audience. 

I don't see live readings of Sappho in my near or distant future, but my study of Greek is symbollic of my idealism and curiosity as a young student. As I now become increasingly jaded with the lack of intellectual curiosity and even respect for what I consider to be a true education in the "real world," I'm afraid that I will ultimately lose touch with my own intellectual identity as I try to keep up. In the past 2,500 years, what has since become known as the Greek language has only changed about as much as English has in the past 500. Such stability, especially for a language, is remarkable. I hope that studying Attic Greek will keep me connected to my intellectual roots, roots that are as constant and deeply embedded as the original language is itself.

Monday, February 2, 2009

A Blaffair to Rememblack

Tee-hee. 30 Rock is the best show on television. Biting, rapidfire wit, impeccable casting, and an effective balance of the mundane and the absurd are all key components to this show’s success. Not that the show is a success by conventional standards. It’s still probably the best show that too few people are watching, but if their recent showing at the golden Globes a couple weeks back is any indication, they are still doing something right.

One of the absurd foils to Tina Fey’s straight woman, Liz Lemon, is Tracy Morgan’s thinly veiled homage to himself, Tracy Jordan. Jordan, like the actor portraying him, is a loveable oaf who is completely detached from reality due to his wealth and celebrity. The character barrels headlong through life, kept afloat only by the level-headed handlers he surrounds himself with (Lemon, Kenneth the Page, and his two entourage men, Griz and Dot-Com). Jordan is also “the black cast member” on his SNL-type sketch show. He is known for his tendency to star in “black” films like Who Dat Ninja? and the Honky Grandma series.

In the clip below, Jordan chimes in about how Lemon’s romantic woes remind him of some movies he’s been in, and I’m still repeating the line to myself and chuckling. Well done, 30 Rock writers. Add extra hilarity points for dressing him as an elvish warrior from Lord of the Rings.

http://vodpod.com/comedy/watch/1276326-30-rock-love-on-the-mind

Thursday, January 22, 2009

The List, or How I Stopped Thinking and Learned How to Consume Bullet Points

Tunes. You could say I'm a music lover. I always have a tune in my head that I can barely resist expressing one way or another. Rarely am I not whistling, humming, tapping my toes, or banging out a rhythm with my fingers on a table top. Others (my fiancee) view this as being fidgety, which I suppose isn't entirely wrong. Regardless, music rocks, so I am fascinated by the recent book that just came out, 1,000 Recordings You Must Hear Before You Die.

The list, as a genre, is particularly consuable, which may be why it has become such a popular media format over the past 5 years or so. Most people don't want to read long, fleshed out ideas (Take that, academia!). Our collective attention span has been shrinking for years. Don't believe me? Watch any film from the 1950s and note how even the shortest shots and scenes seem long by today's standards, and they are rarely enhanced by music or sophisticated camera effects.

The list, though potentially long, is really just a series of bullet points, only ranked according to whatever criteria the lister settles on. So not only are our attention and focus not being tested, we are presented with fodder for discussion. Do we agree with the rankings or the methods by which they were determined? VH1 caught on to this and seems to release new lists on a monthly basis. They take it a step further and hire pseudo-celebrity types to comment on and make snarky remarks about each listed item. Many of those personalities have ridden this wave of success so far as to build careers off of it. Hal Sparks, anyone?

So the music list. I don't see myself ever listening to all 1,000 recordings, much less digesting and aprpeciating them for all of their merits. But as a wannabe music snob, I can't resist chasing that white whale. Perhaps what first set me on this path was realizing that I've only listened to no more than five of the entries in their entirety. I'm better than that and should be much more culturally literate. So I've gone and raided my dad's CD collection and pulled out a few gems, from Paul Simon and the Police to Bernstein and Copland. Music is expensive, so my mission is to find the most cost effective way to appreciate as much music as possible.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Quarterly Update

Fake Out. It's a cliche to write about how infrequently you update your blog, so don't even go there. Moving on...

Another start to another semester. I had low expectations going into PSMA 6008: Information & Computers in Public Service. The "Information & Computers" part of title makes it sound like this course was offered 15 years ago, back when Computer Class was still a thing, consisting of Mavis Beacon and the Oregon Trail. Dragon's Keep if you were lucky.

After our first meeting, I'm more optimistic. There are only five of us in the class, and the professor is the best one in the department, whose past two classes I've enjoyed so far. The assignment for the week between now and the next class is as follows...

Page One: My Tech

During the course of th enext week, informally keep track of your own interaction with information and computer technologies. Some possible but by no means exclusive examples; How often did you e-mail? Visit a web page? Post to a blog? Use a GPS? Twitter? Conduct an online business transaction? Find Information from or about a government agency? Text message? Update your Facebook or My Space page?

Page Two: What did I accomplish?

What did you actually accomplish by using technology this week? Communication (e-mail, text) is one thing; but was the communication social, professional, transaction based or something else? Try to think about specific things that you were able to do through your use of technology. The more tangible (e.g. I payed a parking ticket online) is better than (I e-mailed my friend).

I have a feeling this is going to get very embarassing. I use information technology regularly, so I'm not short on material. But off the top of my head, hardly any of it is productive. In fact, 90% of what I do over the course of the day is counter productive. I'll need assurances that none of this data makes its way back to my employer. So here we go, Day 1, wrote in my blog about writing in my blog...

Monday, November 3, 2008

Cityscapes Amaze Me

Hong Kong. Say hello to my new desktop background. Just awesome.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Hey Philly, Get A New Thing

Rocky. This film first came out in 1976, followed by three good sequels and two that never happened. Just go with it. Ever since then, every pathetic lugnut and ham-and-egger from the greater Philadelphia area has been getting an erection whenever they hear the first few bars from that seemingly inescapable theme music. The Phillies' recent run to the World Series has made that song even more prominent. I propose that they get over it and find one more lousy thing about their city to latch on to outside of some fictional heavyweight boxer that was conceived and portrayed by a guy whose entire film resume up to that point consisted of porn.

Never mind that Philly is home to one of the greatest heavyweight boxers of all time. He's black. In Philly, that doesn't count. Does anyone else find it a bit sick that a city would sooner build a bronze statue of a fictional boxer "from" that city before they build a statue of a real boxer who happens to be African American? Bill Burr does, and he has a lot more to say about this fine little city. It's long but worth every single glorious second. Not convinced of Philly's dirty little prejudices? How about this Philly institution. That's not to be confused with the other Philly institution of giving endless shit to Donovan McNabb.

The cruel irony of it all is that Frazier was considered an Uncle Tom when he was in his prime and was often derided by African Americans and, specifically, his rival Muhammad Ali. Looking back, you can see that Frazier was OJ before OJ was OJ and killed two people. When he's in the ring or on the field, he's good as gold, but once that's over, he's just another... you get the point. 

Anyway, with the Phillies clinching a World Series victory as I type this, perhaps once their obnoxious celebrations settle down a bit, Philadelphians will no longer feel the need to cling to the one good thing that ever came out of that God-forsaken city. But probably not.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Things More Important Than What We're Seeing in the "News"

In no particular order...

Health care
ENVIRONMENT
Iraq war
Economy
Education
Creating jobs

If this election is about the issues, Sen. Obama wins in a landslide.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Hot Hot Heat

Busted. No, my night job as an exotic dancer in a gay night club called The Tool Box is still a tightly guarded secret. I mean the status of the central air unit in our house. As in, we need to buy a whole new one. Damn. Luckily, it's my folks' unit, I just use it. Or used to.

We don't realize how dependent most of us middle class and above people have become on our controlled indoor climates. Just ask the Dub. She grew up in a house that is constantly kept at 70 degrees. Any (READ: Normal) temperature above that makes her uncomfortable, even though she's equally sensitive to low temperatures. Come to think of it, I'm not sure she's ever not been too cold or too hot the whole time I've known her.

I don't mean to throw my dear, sweet future wife under the bus (okay, but I still did), but I think her situation illustrates how it is possible for us to lose touch with our normal, preset equilibrium. Take another issue I've been dealing with lately, lower back pain. Granted, I'm experiencing this pain because I'm working on my Olympic lifts, but anatomically, we're not built to sit down. Sitting down places undue stress on the hips and lower back. The natural idle position for bipeds like us is a squatting position, as in "your balls are showing."

On another note, now that classes have started back up, I'm adjusting well to yet again being the know-it-all go-getter in my classes, at least for the first few weeks. I do find it amazing how reluctant people in grad school are to step up and take leadership of projects. The fact that I'm being forced to be that guy is nothing short of appalling.

A little image to go with my last post...

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Gag (order) Me With a Spoon

Off-limits. I get it; families are off limits. I get it; young people have sex. And I get it; teenage pregnancy shouldn't be touched with twelve 10-foot poles taped together end to end. Here's the thing. The Republican party has been in the business of telling families what to do for the past 15 years. The Republican party has been preaching abstinence only education for at least as long. The Republican party has a proud history of pulling out all of the stops when it comes to sleazy, inappropriate attacks. So forgive me if someone needs to call bullshit here, with all due respect to Sen. Obama's demand that the families stay completely off limits.

So Gov. Sarah Palin (R-AK), newly selected (and hardly vetted) Republican Vice Presidential candidate, has confirmed that her 17-year-old daughter is five months pregnant. Nice to see the abstinence-only education that Gov. Palin strongly endorses is working so well for her family. As a new Christmas gift for left-leaning voters throughout the country is left under our collective tree seemingly every morning, this little tidbit just boggles my mind. While Sen. McCain's aides promise that they conducted the most exhaustive research on Gov. Palin, I can't help but be skeptical in light of this development.

Methinks Sen. McCain had his heart set on BFF Sen. Joe Liberman or similarly moderate Tom Ridge, but since both are a little too moderate (if that even means anything), the senator from Arizona knew he had to pick the most medievally conservative candidate available to fire up the lukewarm socially conservative base. It also wouldn't hurt to make a splash and steal some of Sen. Obama's post-brilliant-speech thunder.

I've got two words and one gesture for Sen. McCain...



Of course, the problem is that all of the hype that this pick has generated has been confused at best and downright negative at worst. Sen. McCain himself claims to have known that Gov. Palin's daughter, Bristol, was pregnant before making the pick. Given how badly the conservative base needed to be courted, at least in the eyes of Sen. McCain, I really, really doubt that. I'm curious to see how the right shrugs this off. Of course, I shouldn't be surprised if they come out of this unscathed. I mean, this is an affluent white girl we're talking about.

Two more things...

1) Does anyone else find it disturbing that conservatives feel the need to commend Gov. Palin for not aborting her Down's Syndrome child?

2) The best speech of the convention wasn't Sen. Obama's, it was Sen. John Kerry's. Watch all of it, it's worth it...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P1yri5CXDZg

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

PUSA

President Barack Hussein Obama. Get used to it.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

The World Class Athlete...

...or douchebag. Take one look at the picture below and admit you probably wouldn't like these guys if you met them...



The guy in the black hat and shirt with the cigarettes in his mouth is the starting goaltender for the Montreal Canadiens. The dude second from right is one of the greatest, if not the greatest, players for the Toronto Maple Leafs, Mats Sundin. The winner on the far left is Kyle Chipchura, another young player in the Canadiens system. In case you still want to hang out with them, here's another shot...



So they're friends. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Seriously though, I knew guys like this in high school. They sucked. It's why we indoor kids didn't make it out to a lot of sporting events in high school. We didn't feel like cheering those guys on. Looking at these photos makes me wonder what the difference is between these guys and those meatsticks in high school. I think it has something to do with the fact that these guys are world class athletes and those guys are probably landscapers these days.

What bothers me even more, though, is that these guys are among the best in the world at what they do, especially Price and Sundin. They call upon their lungs to carry them through grueling hockey seasons and playoff tournaments. And here they are smoking butts like Europeans. FULL DISCLOSURE: Sundin is European. Regardless, it amazes me that these guys can still do what they do while also doing what they're doing in this photo and then go out and do more of this the next day. If anything, it just further hammers the point that these guys' bodies are gifts from God and mine is built like a chess player's.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

I Am the Man

Math. Not exactly a strong suit for me. But my love for fantasy sports can make me do extraordinary things.

This is the first year the KB Friends and Family Hockey League (TM) will be hosted by ESPN's fantasy hockey platform. In fact, I think this is the first year they're doing fantasy hockey in Bristol. I was very impressed with how robust* the platform is, supporting an endless array of customizable options, including league and draft formats that Yahoo can't even touch. For example, if I had a stable of 9 hard core managers, I could make this a keeper league. You can create divisions, customize the schedule on a week-by-week basis, choose from 5 different scoring formats and playoff criteria, etc. You also get free real time stat tracking, something you have to pay $10 for with Yahoo.

In awe of this brave new world of variables, I decided that I would break my league up into two divisions (Crosby and Ovechkin) and create a schedule similar to the NHL's: Every team plays each intra-divisional rival three times and each extra-divisional opponent twice. The idea is to foster rivalries and hopefully create a little competitive balance.

Creating this schedule was not easy in word, nor was it easily done. After several swings and misses at finding a free, functional schedule generating software on the interwebs, I opened up a blank Excel spreadsheet and dusted off the old math engine. The thing hasn't been taken out for a spin since the spring of 2002, so it took several tries to get it to turn over. Over three hours later, though, I had my schedule. Granted, the more mathematically inclined could have probably completed this in less than 30 minutes, but I believe I still deserve a hearty pat on the back. I won't go into the boring details of it, save that there are 10 teams, each represented by a letter (A-J). Each row is a week, each column is a game slot, making each box a matchup consisting of two teams. No two letters repeat themselves in any given row. I rule.


Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 4 Game 5
1 ) AB CD FG HI EJ
2 ) EI BD GH CJ AF
3 ) AC BE HJ FG DI
4 ) AD EF CI HJ BG
5 ) AE BF DJ GI CH
6 ) GI BH AC FJ DE
7 ) AJ BF CG DH EI
8 ) AI BJ CE DG FH
9 ) AG DF BC IJ EH
10 ) AB CF GJ EH DI
11 ) BC AD FJ HI EG
12 ) FJ AH BE DG CI
13 ) GH BD AE IJ CF
14 ) GJ BI AE DF CH
15 ) AI BJ FH CD EG
16 ) AJ BH CG FI DE
17 ) AG FH CE BI DJ
18 ) AB CD FG HI EJ
19 ) BC DE GH IJ AF
20 ) AC BE FI GJ DH
21) AD CE FI HJ BG
22 ) CJ BD AH GI EF

*"Robust" is easily my favorite BS word in the English lexicon. Having come from a marketing/sales-ish backround, I've come to appreciate the meaningful meaninglessness of this word. No other word says "it's really good with lots of stuff" the same way "robust" does. When in doubt, always say "robust."

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Put the Lotion in the Basket, Pt. II

Disturbed. Below are the psychotic ramblings that I received on a Hall of Fame reservation card this morning...
Look. I've had better nights. I've had a threesome. I've had a foursome.
You never will. I haven't, actually. [Illegible] . . . the things [illegible] .
. . A habit I suppose [illegible] . . . -ave from now on- Sorry about that. You
a guy? They were two bi blondes? A girl? Two guys w/ exactly the right bend. The
saddest think I know is that sexual fantasies are at the top of the fantasy
list. Beak that and you'd be golden. But you won't. Adam and Eve couldn't.

Can't you just picture Buffalo Bill carving that message into the card in his basement while wearing his skin suit? My theory, though, is that someone copied word for word the contents of one of those virus spam emails. I feel like I've gotten enough of of those in my time to recognize the style. That is all.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Fantasy Sports

Reality. Let's not fool ourselves. Fantasy sports are very much a part of our everyday reality, at least for some of us. I like to think that I'm on the more extreme end of fantasy managers. In 2007, I finished the year with three football teams, three hockey teams, and about a half dozen pick'ems between NCAA and NFL football and NCAA basketball. I have a first place finish in hockey and a second place finish in football to show for all of that work.

This year, I boast four football teams (two of which are keeper leagues), a baseball team (currently 24 games ahead of the competition), and most likely 3-4 hockey teams, one of which I will run myself. It may look like a lot of work, and it is, but two things drive me: The glory of winning, thus boosting my yahoo rating, and the Christmas morning-like thrill I get from live fantasy drafts.

It goes without saying how good it feels to use your foresight and analytical skills to show up the people you compete against in these leagues, whether it is a group of friends or a random league you joined or got invited to. Winning doesn't just mean picking the right players but using them correctly, paying close attention to matchups and hot and cold streaks. Admittedly, blind luck also plays a part in one's fantasy league success, but doesn't that feel just as good? If you don't think so, imagine winning the lottery and pocketing $100 million for doing absolutely nothing besides standing in line at Krauszer's for ninety seconds while the guy in front of you collects the change from his purchase of Penthouse and chew.

For me, though, fantasy drafts can be just as fulfilling, if not more so, because they represent the unadulterated perception of victory 8 months before it even happens. I can't count how many times I've logged back on to my team page weeks after the draft yet still before the start of the season and just admired the team that I just drafted. In fact, I was doing it earlier today. And because I can't resist...

Stinkin' Root Beer

1. (6) Joseph Addai
2. (7)
Larry Johnson
3. (18)
Peyton Manning
4. (19)
Antonio Gates
5. (30)
Santonio Holmes
6. (31)
Anquan Boldin
7. (42)
Devin Hester
8. (43)
Nick Folk
9. (54)
New York
10. (55)
Jamal Lewis
11. (66)
David Garrard
12. (67)
Chris Cooley
13. (78)
Kevin Curtis
14. (79)
Jerricho Cotchery
15. (90)
Rob Bironas

This is obviously not a deep league. Only six teams with not so many roster spots. I don't care. I love looking at the stacked roster that I just put together. For something a little more in-depth, here's a league with way more teams, roster spots, and individual defensive players...

Tabata This!

1. (1) LaDainian Tomlinson
2. (20)
Tony Romo
3. (21)
Braylon Edwards
4. (40)
Jonathan Stewart
5. (41)
Fred Taylor
6. (60)
Dallas Clark
7. (61)
Calvin Johnson
8. (80)
Kevin Curtis
9. (81)
Mike Vrabel
10. (100)
Stephen Gostkowski
11. (101)
Ed Reed
12. (120)
Adam Jones
13. (121)
Nick Barnett
14. (140)
Antonio Cromartie
15. (141)
Michael Boley
16. (160)
David Garrard
17. (161)
Mario Williams
18. (180)
Roman Harper
19. (181)
Calvin Pace
20. (200)
Deuce McAllister
21. (201)
Leon Washington
22. (220)
Ted Ginn Jr.
23. (221)
James Hardy
24. (240)
Roderick Hood
25. (241)
Tim Hightower

The first Dance of Joy moment probably comes when I first enter the draft room and find out what position I will be drafting from. I have to admit, I don't always look forward to getting the first overall pick. For instance, I was disappointed to learn that I had first overall in the league immediately above because I didn't want to have to choose between Ladanian Tomlinson and Adrian Peterson. The 2nd overall pick was far and away the best pick to have in any football draft this year. Hockey will be a different story this year, though. If I get the first overall pick in any one of my hockey leagues, before picking Alexander Ovechkin without any hesitation whatsoever, I'll be as surprised and happy as this guy. Anyone out there want to be my studio audience?

One of the auxiliary joys of fantasy sports is devising witty team names. Obscure movie quotes and pop culture references are always winners. Here are my ten best fantasy sports team names.

10. Maurice DuBois
9. Broccoli Rabe
8. The Ab Abbers
7. Hundreds of Stuff
6. Stinkin' Root Beer
5. The Holy Rollers
4. The Frickin' Fracks
3. Enflamed Kaspar
2. Dueling Ted Knights
1. Flow Me

Honorable Mention
Puttin' On the Foil
Sather's Cigar

League registration doesn't start for fantasy hockey until the end of the month, but I've already been ranking my players and simulating drafts. And to think some league members want to add some financial incentives. This is going to be a good year.

Monday, August 11, 2008

My Old Man and His Grill

Comedy. If not for my frustration over the matter, I would have laughed out loud at my dad's absurd suggestion this evening.

A few weeks back, when I was making delicious meals for myself while my folks were away, our old grill broke. One of the valves was rusted to the point where you couldn't even turn it anymore, and one of the propane jets must have been clogged, too. It was over 10 years old, and my dad was clearly waiting for the slightest excuse to scope out the newest, spiffiest models. Naturally, he went out and got quite an impressive piece of grilling equipment.

Lately, I've been the go-to guy for grilling steaks for dinner. I've gotten pretty good at it, too, getting the heat and timing just right. So I wasn't surprised when my mom asked me to turn the grill on this evening. That's code for "you're cooking tonight."

Glad to ply my trade once again, I enthusiastically leave midway through my 15-1 throttling of the Washington Nationals in MLB 2K8 on my Nintendo Wii. As I make my way outside, my dad says, "Why don't you save yourself the trouble of cleaning later and grill the steak on a tray or pan."

...

Beyond annoyed, I respond, "Why don't I save myself the trouble of even turning on the grill and throw the steak under the broiler, or even in the microwave for that matter?" Sassy, no?

Now we're all the same way when we get a new toy. We want to keep it as close to its out of the box/off the lot condition for as long as possible. Unfortunately, if you're talking about a grill, you're pretty much telling yourself that you never intend to use your new toy the way it was intended. Part of the idea of grilling anything is to give it that smoky, flame-kissed flavor that you can't get any other way. You go about that by always allowing some of the charred remnants of your last meal to stay on the grates. I view it the same way as I would breaking in a new baseball glove. It's okay to chisel off the big, chunky pieces, but you generally want a little stuff on there.

Not my dad.

Dad intends to keep ol' Bessy Lou in mint condition and condemn his family to meals that were grilled but taste broiled. As a matter of principal, I now intend to boycott "grilling" anything until he changes this policy. Granted it's his grill that he bought with his money, but my point is that he never should have in the first place if this is how he intended to use it. So I have no problem telling him that he's welcome to make shitty food on his grill.

On another note, he asked the waitress at Bensi last night how big the fried calamari appetizer was...the one he's had before...every single time he's been there since the place opened.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Long Time No See

Golf. The last time I played it was 5 years ago with Frank, Steve, and Brophy at Scotch Hills. Today, I played golf again, this time with...wait for it...Frank, Steve, and Brophy at Scotch Hills. I shot a 108, good for a tie at 2nd place behind Frank at 97 and Broph at 112. I borrowed a driver from my dad because I thought I would need the extra club head (I did), and it did make a noticeable difference, at least at first. I'm talking long, straight drives. My driver juice wore off after the front 9, though, so I guess that newfangled equipment isn't good for much after all. I was definitely at an advantage going into today's round, though, because I just don't care.

I know many folks who take their golf seriously. Personally, I'll never understand that. I won't say that I don't relate to people getting worked up about their performance in competition. Hell, I'd be the last person to criticize anyone for that. I'm the guy who seriously considered leaving my college hockey team midway through my senior year because my game dropped off that season and I thought that it would be better for the team if I removed myself from the situation. What I mean is that I don't understand why so many people, mostly men, are so obsessed with this odd game. At this point, it's so much a part of white collar culture that it's ingrained in you one way or another, but I think much of it stems from a desire for men to be a part of the pack and play "The Game" (I don't mean golf).

From a young age, even I was told that I should play golf because it's something that men play and that you need to play it if you want to be good in business. Simplistic terminology, I know, but that's how it was communicated to me, if not in those exact words. It's just what people do. That alone is enough to turn me off from it. "F--- that," I say, "I won't be told that I need to do this in order to be a 'success.' Who says I even accept your definition of success in the first place." That was the four year old me speaking.

After having given golf a shot multiple times, I can say without doubt that there are hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of middle management to executive types out there playing golf and hating it. As for the rest, they probably think that because they have the time and the money to play golf or belong to a county club, they are some kind of success. I find that pathetic.

That being said, there are a lot of golfers out there that I like, such as Frank, Steve, and Brophy. And my dad. The point is that I don't buy into that culture and I believe I see through it. Don't even get me started on the elitist nature of the game, which really has more to do with my bellyaching about it. It rubs me the wrong way to see so much land reserved for the use of a select, relatively wealthy few. There are many better ways to use those resources. And to the phonies who point out that the natural integrity and beauty of the land is being preserved, I simply ask what's so natural about meticulously cropped lawns and trees, fed by fertilizers and pocked with man made sand pits and ponds and planted with trees that weren't there to begin with? If anything, it's yet another symbol of control by the wealthy.

So anyway, this is all that went through my mind as I drove to the course today. The only reason I went was because I enjoy any opportunity I get to hang out with these guys, especially Brophy, who's always away at seminary these days. I'm so glad I don't take golf seriously because for me, it was being able to laugh at myself and the others as we stunk up the golf course that made the day. I had a carefree attitude, and I was just able to focus on sharing the day with the guys.

This leads me to something else that I think draws men to golf: the bonding aspect. Let's face it, we guys aren't interested in getting together over martinis and sitting around in a circle and crying with one another. We avoid that kind of direct emotional connection because that's something else that's been communicated that men don't do. So how do most of us get around this? We talk about and try to play sports. Not too many of us are athletic enough anymore to do much, so we play golf . We can laugh at one another's crap shots and pat each other on the back for nice shots. We'll tell the same stories for years, like the one day you played and it was pouring rain and your driver flew out of your hands on your back swing and almost hit someone. And of course, most importantly, golf gives us one more way to compare ourselves with other men and prove our worth.

As for me, I'll still avoid golf if i can, but as long as I don't give a crap and the company is good, I'll still find ways to enjoy it.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

End of an Era

Self-sacrifice. So ends the T.O. era of the UR Ice Hockey Club. For clarification, T.O. has been the coach/GM of the club since the beginning, making the T.O. era the only era of UR Hockey.



The club began in 2001, when a few guys wanted to play some hockey at U of R. One thing led to another, they registered as a club, found a handful of other guys who still had the itch, and begged Coach, this mulleted dominator of the Richmond beer leagues, to lead them. For a little perspective, this is how the team looked in the fall of 2002...

Notice how we don't even have half the number of players you would find on a standard roster. Out of fairness, we were missing two players: Bevans, a great goalie who was forced to play out due to our short roster, and Forty, a fleet-footed, flashy defenseman out of prep school. Back issues forced Forty to play through severe pain during half of our time together. It was actually quite moving to watch and helped keep me going when I had serious self-doubt at the end. Both of them represent the way Coach's selflessness manifested itself in his players.

The jerseys are straight out of the beer leagues, modeled after one of the crappiest jersey designs the NHL ever saw, at least IMO. The Godfather, Bernie, founder of the club, is the guy kneeling on the far right who looks like he dipped his chin in a bucket full of pureed Ring Dings. The stud in the black and blue pads on the left (yours truly) would have looked more comfortable in a high school JV game in 1999. I have a library of classic stories involving everyone in this photo, even the two quitters, and I could go on about this photo, but I'll just say that we had two things in common: 1) We all loved hockey and 2) We all looked like sex criminals. Oh, and one of those guys has a lower back tattoo of the NHL logo...

I didn't even plan on playing hockey past the first half of my junior year in high school. That was the last I had played, knowing I didn't stand a chance to make varsity. I focused on my studies and got into a great college. The summer before I got to Richmond (the same one when I met my future wife, btw), I Googled "university of richmond" + "ice hockey" on a whim and came across the primitive first website of this club. I sent out a "recruit inquiry," which I found was just a fancy name for Coach's email. He emailed me back and said he was happy I still had "the bug" and encouraged me to get in shape before school started so I could come to tryouts.

I ended up bringing my gear to school but chickened out at the last minute, thinking hockey was in my past and college was for trying new things. The day after the first tryouts had passed, "Zoo," Blondie at the right end of the second row, was going door to door looking for more hockey players to fill out the sparse roster. It's almost laughable to think about if it wasn't so pathetic as I look back now. Being the total gamer that he is, both in hockey and life, Zoo talked me into showing up for the next team skate (aka my first practice) and eventually pretty much every shady decision I made in college thereafter. Accordingly, Zoo is now one of the groomsmen in my upcoming wedding.

For a little perspective, 2002-2003 was the last year that UR Hockey wasn't a champion of some kind. He's how the team looked over the course of the next three years...







As Coach himself pointed out at the organizational meeting at the start of each season, "There's a lot of smiling faces in those pictures." The trophies piled up, the jerseys got nicer, but the bottom line was that we were happy. We were happy because we loved to play and because we got pretty good at it together. We played for fun because we played to win and winning was fun. Period.

Being a part of a winning team was certainly a highlight of my time at UR. In fact, I was considering transferring during my freshman year, and if not for the idea of sticking around and playing more hockey, I very well may have left. It wasn't just winning that made it for me, though. I never had a chance to be "the guy" on my high school and minor hockey teams. I got a late start and never reached a high level of play relative to other guys my age. My club teams never had winning records, and my school team was so good that I could never be a starter, much less a backup or third stringer.

At Richmond, as long as I put in the time and effort, I knew I would always have the opportunity to be the guy, and after two years of holding the clipboard and opening the bench door, I became a starter on a winning team. I earned some individual accolades, won some titles, and competed in a national tournament. None of this would have happened without Coach's commitment to the organization, holding things together so all most of us had to do was work hard in practice and games. Contrary to what most might think, I enjoyed my time as a backup. Coach made me feel just as important a part of the team then as when I was getting the majority of the starts in net. If/when I end up coaching a team of my own, I will always begin the year the same way Coach did, telling the guys, "Know your role; accept your role; love your role." I don't think I would have loved my role the way I did if T.O. hadn't been my coach. I hope I can have that effect on younger players some day.

This got too wordy several paragraphs ago, so here are some photos (many more smiling faces) of things that wouldn't have happened without Coach. They say more than I ever could.

We may have played like amateurs, but we celebrated like pros...









Tuesday, July 29, 2008

More Meat

Results. So I just got back from my last workout before my week-long vacation in Kansas and Missouri. I did Check Your Legs I, which is 3 rounds for time, each round consisting of 25 bodyweight squats, 25 lunges on each leg, 50 switches, 12 jumping squats, and 25 kettle bell swings with a 50 lb. kettle bell. You do all of this while wearing a weighted vest with 10% of your body weight. Since I'm in a bragging kind of mood, I've embedded the ranking for this routine. For the record, Millie is a mother in her mid 40s who absolutely dominates everyone else at the gym. I'm quite proud of myself today.

LogsItAll.com Custom Ranking

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Monday, July 28, 2008

The Blogger of the Narcissus

WTF. So I was gonna hit up the ATT store with my old man this evening to transfer my cell phone service to my own plan, as well as pick up a new phone while I'm there. My current model has been a P-O-S since day one, despite how cool I thought it was at the time. Of course when I arrive at the store, my dad has his signature disapproving look strapped on nice and snug. Turns out their "system" is "down" and they haven't been able to do much of "anything" all day. Which begs the question, what the hell were they doing with the store open all day to begin with? That shit is weaksauce.

This also begs another question: Why do you care? Or perhaps more appropriately, why do I think you care? It's because aside from masturbation, there is no more self-centered act than blogging. I believe that what happens to me and what I think about it actually matter to people. And the anonymity of the internets implies that I believe there are random people out there who don't know me but really should. Thank God I'm here to give them what they don't know they want. This is what confused me about blogs when I first heard about them, way back in the summer of '04.

One of the girls I interned with in the Office of Admission at the U. of Richmond was telling us that she would blog about her roommate issues. Of course, she had a link to her stupid little blog in her AIM profile. (Do kids even use AIM and its profile feature anymore?) Anyway, I said, "Obviously, your roommate can just click on your blog when she's going through AIM profiles and see that you're not-so-anonymously talking smack about her. Why don't you just talk to her face to face?" I didn't pay attention to her answer because, as it turns out, there really was no one out there who wanted to listen to what she had to say, and my impression of these "web-logs" was forever cast.

By "forever," I mean about four years. I think part of my interest stems from my eventual forsaking of the mainstream media and adoption of the Netroots as one of my primary sources of information. Corporate media have no incentive to present the facts as they are. Example: If the unwashed masses believe that the presidential election isn't even close at this point in the race, why should they watch the news? In order to keep viewership up, there is too much incentive to fabricate a narrative that suggests that the race is in fact a close one. This will keep asses in seats and eyes glued to the TV sets. This is only one example of the many failures of the mainstream media market.

Back to blogs, though. I'm obviously not in the business of debunking media myths and dispensing truth from my electronic soapbox, unless you believe in the truths of manginas, pounding nerds, and Crossfit.

If you do, welcome, brother/sister, you have a home here.

For me, I like the idea, even if it is only an idea, that there is an audience for my thoughts. For example, look at the iPod game I just posted. I enjoy sharing aspects of my life with others, even if the others really only exist in my own mind. This shouldn't be seen as contradictory to my distaste for cell phones/cell phone culture, though. Cell phones allow anyone to drop in on your life at any given moment. There is no sense of control there. With this space, I can control what is shared, how much is shared, and how often.

In that spirit, here's something I think is worth getting off my chest. As progressive, cosmopolitan, and well-informed as I like to think I am, I'm just as susceptible to ignorant BS as the next guy. In fact, I often wonder if I'm just another one of the unwashed masses, subject to whichever way the wind is blowing. And yes, I acknowledge that this thought betrays a certain sense of elitism. One of the key pieces of evidence I use to arrive at this conclusion is the fact that between 2003 and 2005, I dabbled in various forms of conservatism. Perhaps the pinnacle of this dalliance came in the fall semester of 2004. WARNING: This may upset you, regardless of how you know me now. It's some pretty awful stuff. The circumstances are explained in the link, so here it is...

LINK

Again, not one of my prouder moments. And yet here I am, still angry of course, only now I consider myself a leftist. Am I a slave to the grass always being greener on the other side? A decided turn in the general public opinion of things? Let's face it, it's pretty easy to call yourself a progressive these days. You're not exactly taking a courageous stand by criticizing conservatives. In this sense, I'm not exactly entitled to call myself a DFH, as I did in at least two previous posts. That would imply that I was in the opposition when the country was thirsty for A-rab blood (and oil), appalled at the idea of two men marrying, and generally disdainful of those who disagreed with the status quo. Essentially, I was the type who made DFHs what they were. Not exactly something I'm chomping at the bit to take credit for, but I like to think that I'm at least conscious of where I fit in now and how that correlates to where I've been in the past.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Fun and Games

This actually looks pretty cool. I've tried someone else's and it was impossible, even though there were plenty of songs that I knew.

Step 1: Put your music player on shuffle.
Step 2: Post the first line from the first 25 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing.
Step 3: Bold/strike out the songs when someone guesses both artist and track correctly. Italicize the last song to be guessed.
Step 4: Looking them up on Google or any other search engine is CHEATING!
Step 5: If you like the game post your own!
Step 6: If I did yours, do mine.


1. Who's that knockin' on the door
2. You jump, jump here, you jump, jump there
3. We're on our own, cousin
4. Think I'm drunk enough to drive you home now
5. See them walking hand in hand across the bridge at midnight
6. Breaking my back just to know your name
7. I thought I saw a man brought to life
8. Oh you shook me, you shook me all night long. (Harder than it looks)
9. Tin soldiers and Nixon's comin'
10. Such is the way of the world
11. On and on and on we'll stay together, yeah
12. God on high, hear my prayer
13. I hope you're happy, I hope you're happy now
14. All winter we got carried or way over on the rooftops just got merry
15. No one ever made me feel like someone, 'til him
16. When we laugh indoors the blissful tones bounce off the walls
17. By the time the buzz was wearing off
18. Ain't seen a night, things work out right, go by
19. There was a man on the road about an hour ago
20. I should warn you, when I'm not well, I can't tell
21. Lady sing the blues so well
22. Well a young man ain't got nothin' in the world these days
23. M-e-t-h-o-d-o-f-l-o-v-e
24. In another town, don't let me forget
25. And when it rains on this side of town it touches everything