"I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."
--Michael Jordan
So...yeah. There is that. Seems particularly fitting this month. If I was a glass half-empty sort of guy, I would have looked at 2008-2009 as 24 wasted months; the most egregious period of sustained failure in my entire life. But I tend to believe everything happens for a reason.
I didn't always. After my father died, I lost faith in God/YHWH/Buddha/Odin/LRonHubbard and the universe itself. I ceased believing in that "things happen for a reason" line. But maybe--just maybe--they really do.
Maybe the key is to never stop learning, and to keep an objective lens pointed upon yourself; not your words but your deeds. It's easier said than done and is sometimes rather painful. I have regrets over the last year, for sure. But I never have to regret not saying how I felt; that was one lesson I learned the first time around.
And life is good, my friends. So good.
Cheers.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
You are not David Beckham. PS, your English sucks.
Socks, assholes. Wear them. I have no idea where this new trend of dudes not wearing socks with shoes started coming back, but you hipster douchetards make me want to puke.
This is David Beckham. He is a multi-millionaire soccer player/model. He can get away with wearing no socks; primarily because he can afford a small army of people wash/pedi/powder his feet. I'm sure it seems like the cool guy thing go sockless with your Tom's or loafers, but it is not. Give socks a try, swampfoot. Your peeps will thank you.
On the list of Hipster Things That Annoy Me, how about the overuse of the word "Epic." It's annoying and dumb, primarily because it's just bad English. Look, I realize that as generations pass, people want to use different "cool words" from the previous generation, but the gross overuse of epic for everything dilutes the meaning of the word.
Using words like "epic" to describe how extremely impressed you are by everything has ruined the word. If everything is epic, nothing is epic.
Front lawn seats to Tiësto are not fucking epic, dickface. Epic means "massive and imposing in scale or size." Oceans are epic; lengthy literary narratives are epic; space is epic. Your dinner last night or game of disc golf last Sunday was not epic.
/rant
That is all.
This is David Beckham. He is a multi-millionaire soccer player/model. He can get away with wearing no socks; primarily because he can afford a small army of people wash/pedi/powder his feet. I'm sure it seems like the cool guy thing go sockless with your Tom's or loafers, but it is not. Give socks a try, swampfoot. Your peeps will thank you.
On the list of Hipster Things That Annoy Me, how about the overuse of the word "Epic." It's annoying and dumb, primarily because it's just bad English. Look, I realize that as generations pass, people want to use different "cool words" from the previous generation, but the gross overuse of epic for everything dilutes the meaning of the word.
Using words like "epic" to describe how extremely impressed you are by everything has ruined the word. If everything is epic, nothing is epic.
Front lawn seats to Tiësto are not fucking epic, dickface. Epic means "massive and imposing in scale or size." Oceans are epic; lengthy literary narratives are epic; space is epic. Your dinner last night or game of disc golf last Sunday was not epic./rant
That is all.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The wisdom of Jon Favreau
The following is my single-favorite exchange from the movie Swingers, one of my all-time favorites and a requisite for any guy. This sums up a semi-recent experience of mine nicely:
Mike: Okay, so what if I don't want to give up on her?
Rob: You don't call.
Mike: But you said I don't call if I wanted to give up on her.
Rob: Right.
Mike: So I don't call either way?
Rob: Right.
Mike: So what's the difference?
Rob: There is no difference right now. See, Mike, the only difference between giving up and not giving up is if you take her back when she wants to come back. But you can't do anything to make her want to come back. In fact, you can only do stuff to make her not want to come back.
Mike: So the only difference is if I forget about her or just pretend to forget about her?
Rob: Right.
Mike: Well that sucks.
Rob: Yeah, it sucks.
Mike: So it's just like a retroactive decision, then? I mean I could, like, forget about her and then when she comes back make like I just pretended to forget about her?
Rob: Right. Although probably more likely the opposite.
Mike: What do you mean?
Rob: I mean at first you're going to pretend to forget about her, you'll not call her, I don't know, whatever... but then eventually, you really will forget about her.
Mike: Well what if she comes back first?
Rob: Mmmm... see, that's the thing, is somehow they know not to come back until you really forget.
Mike: There's the rub.
Rob: There's the rub.
She cancelled on me today. Again. But this time something was different. First, I knew she was going to. Second--and more importantly--I didn't care. I didn't care and it didn't hurt.
Dear God, what a blessed relief.
Never underestimate the power of a long drive to clear your head. I had two this last weekend and I've managed to think and re-think and think again. I guess something in me finally lost the will to fight; to keep on caring more than she did and put as much as I could into this roller-coaster ride while she clearly did not. (11 days ago she's talking about moving in together come September and for the last week she's been "too busy" to hang out for something as simple as having lunch together. WTF is that?)
I'm done wondering. It doesn't matter. Somehow the hole I've been carrying around in the pit of my stomach since February is gone. I don't know what's next, but I look forward to life (for a while at least) without expectations. Damn, it feels good.
Mike: Okay, so what if I don't want to give up on her?
Rob: You don't call.
Mike: But you said I don't call if I wanted to give up on her.
Rob: Right.
Mike: So I don't call either way?
Rob: Right.
Mike: So what's the difference?
Rob: There is no difference right now. See, Mike, the only difference between giving up and not giving up is if you take her back when she wants to come back. But you can't do anything to make her want to come back. In fact, you can only do stuff to make her not want to come back.
Mike: So the only difference is if I forget about her or just pretend to forget about her?
Rob: Right.
Mike: Well that sucks.
Rob: Yeah, it sucks.
Mike: So it's just like a retroactive decision, then? I mean I could, like, forget about her and then when she comes back make like I just pretended to forget about her?
Rob: Right. Although probably more likely the opposite.
Mike: What do you mean?
Rob: I mean at first you're going to pretend to forget about her, you'll not call her, I don't know, whatever... but then eventually, you really will forget about her.
Mike: Well what if she comes back first?
Rob: Mmmm... see, that's the thing, is somehow they know not to come back until you really forget.
Mike: There's the rub.
Rob: There's the rub.
She cancelled on me today. Again. But this time something was different. First, I knew she was going to. Second--and more importantly--I didn't care. I didn't care and it didn't hurt.
Dear God, what a blessed relief.
Never underestimate the power of a long drive to clear your head. I had two this last weekend and I've managed to think and re-think and think again. I guess something in me finally lost the will to fight; to keep on caring more than she did and put as much as I could into this roller-coaster ride while she clearly did not. (11 days ago she's talking about moving in together come September and for the last week she's been "too busy" to hang out for something as simple as having lunch together. WTF is that?)
I'm done wondering. It doesn't matter. Somehow the hole I've been carrying around in the pit of my stomach since February is gone. I don't know what's next, but I look forward to life (for a while at least) without expectations. Damn, it feels good.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Ohio State is SOOOO screwed
This keeps getting better and better. According to this outstanding article by SPORTSbyBROOKS, more sniffing has uncovered the fact that Ohio State Athletic Director Gene Smith redacted specific emails to exclude the name of Ray Small, a former OSU player that received extra benefits similar to the Tat 5.
"Why would he redact Small's name?" you ask? Simple. Small had graduated recently enough that his improper benefits would still fall under the statue of limitations for which OSU could be punished, BUT as he had already left school, the NCAA has no subpoena power over him. The only way the NCAA could have busted OSU on this was if they somehow got their hands on the original, unedited emails. Which they did. Ouch.
Ohio State continuing to redact Small’s name from the complete set of emails is all the more troubling (for them) considering the comments made by Smith in announcing penalties against the football program on Dec. 23, 2010.
At that time, six Buckeyes were cited by Smith for taking extra benefits. But those players did not include Small, who had also committed violations that the NCAA could consider actionable. Despite that fact, Smith said at the time:
“There are no other NCAA violations around this case. We’re very fortunate that we do not have a systemic problem in our program. This is isolated to these young men, and isolated to this particular instance.”
Smith knew of Small’s NCAA rules-violating activities involving Rife, which were inside the NCAA’s statute of limitations, when he made that statement. If Smith believed that Small’s actions were not subject to NCAA penalties, why did Ohio State redact Small’s name from the later-released, complete Cicero-Tressel email correspondence while revealing former Buckeye T.J. Downing’s name?
Clearly Smith misrepresented the situation within the Ohio State program with his comments on Dec. 23, 2010, to the media - at the very least as it pertained to Small.
Put more bluntly, he lied.
So now this isn't just a case of a "rogue coach" or a a few "bad seeds." This is--plain and simple--systemic cheating at the highest level within the athletic department at Ohio State.
Grab your popcorn, kids. This is getting fun.
"Why would he redact Small's name?" you ask? Simple. Small had graduated recently enough that his improper benefits would still fall under the statue of limitations for which OSU could be punished, BUT as he had already left school, the NCAA has no subpoena power over him. The only way the NCAA could have busted OSU on this was if they somehow got their hands on the original, unedited emails. Which they did. Ouch.
Ohio State continuing to redact Small’s name from the complete set of emails is all the more troubling (for them) considering the comments made by Smith in announcing penalties against the football program on Dec. 23, 2010.
At that time, six Buckeyes were cited by Smith for taking extra benefits. But those players did not include Small, who had also committed violations that the NCAA could consider actionable. Despite that fact, Smith said at the time:
“There are no other NCAA violations around this case. We’re very fortunate that we do not have a systemic problem in our program. This is isolated to these young men, and isolated to this particular instance.”
Smith knew of Small’s NCAA rules-violating activities involving Rife, which were inside the NCAA’s statute of limitations, when he made that statement. If Smith believed that Small’s actions were not subject to NCAA penalties, why did Ohio State redact Small’s name from the later-released, complete Cicero-Tressel email correspondence while revealing former Buckeye T.J. Downing’s name?
Clearly Smith misrepresented the situation within the Ohio State program with his comments on Dec. 23, 2010, to the media - at the very least as it pertained to Small.
Put more bluntly, he lied.
So now this isn't just a case of a "rogue coach" or a a few "bad seeds." This is--plain and simple--systemic cheating at the highest level within the athletic department at Ohio State.
Grab your popcorn, kids. This is getting fun.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Starlight on waves
I'm may not be the most intelligent guy out there, but I feel like I've probably accumulated a little wisdom in my thirty-odd years of life. Usually wisdom comes in the form of experience, and it seem experience usually comes via bad choices. Ofttimes the wreckage and debris of these choices can clutter our perception for years to come. The trick, I try to remind myself often, is to keep your perspective correct.
The are moments, my friends, that shine in our memories for years thereafter. Moments of happiness, of joy, of triumph, of glory, of love. If the span of our years is a journey mostly filled with routine, the dull and banal, these moments shine. They glitter, like the fire of starlight on a windy sea at night.
Sadly, sometimes--most times, if we dare admit it to ourselves--the star flares out, gutters and burns itself to ash. All that remains is the memory of starlight on the waves. And if we are not careful, we can find ourselves looking back on these moments with a sense of sadness or loss; but that path leads to bitterness an despair.
No my friends, instead think back in happiness that you were there; in joy and gratitude that you were able to experience it in the first place. That way lies the path to peace and serenity. So smile my friends and if you must weep, weep with joy. For if one holds on to the memories of those great moments, it is always easier to find beauty in the mundane. Tears--for example--can glimmer like stars if you look at them in the correct light.
Happy Easter.
The are moments, my friends, that shine in our memories for years thereafter. Moments of happiness, of joy, of triumph, of glory, of love. If the span of our years is a journey mostly filled with routine, the dull and banal, these moments shine. They glitter, like the fire of starlight on a windy sea at night.
Sadly, sometimes--most times, if we dare admit it to ourselves--the star flares out, gutters and burns itself to ash. All that remains is the memory of starlight on the waves. And if we are not careful, we can find ourselves looking back on these moments with a sense of sadness or loss; but that path leads to bitterness an despair.
No my friends, instead think back in happiness that you were there; in joy and gratitude that you were able to experience it in the first place. That way lies the path to peace and serenity. So smile my friends and if you must weep, weep with joy. For if one holds on to the memories of those great moments, it is always easier to find beauty in the mundane. Tears--for example--can glimmer like stars if you look at them in the correct light.
Happy Easter.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Today on Ask Dr. B2K™
"Dear B2K™, what is 6/9 Disease, please? Thanks, Tom in MI."
Dear Tom, I'm glad you asked. 6/9 Disease--while common--often goes undiagnosed. Here's a quick clinical snapshot to help you identify it in the future.
6/9 Disease (femalis inamibilis dysmorphia)
6/9 Disease is an all-too common condition on some college campuses, military bases and other places where single males outnumber single females. It generally afflicts women, ages 18-25.
Symptoms: 6/9 Disease is characterized by (and draws it's name from) the unfortunate event of a "6" somehow coming to the delusional belief that she is a "9."
Side effects include unreasonable haughty, bitchy and snarky behavior that--while well within acceptable social norms for a true 9--come off as ridiculous and annoying as fuck to all non-desperate males in the general vicinity.
Chances are if you know a girl that looks like an mildly attractive version of the Girl Next Door but acts like she's Gisele Bündchen, this unfortunate creature suffers from 6/9 Disease.
Dear Tom, I'm glad you asked. 6/9 Disease--while common--often goes undiagnosed. Here's a quick clinical snapshot to help you identify it in the future.
6/9 Disease (femalis inamibilis dysmorphia)
6/9 Disease is an all-too common condition on some college campuses, military bases and other places where single males outnumber single females. It generally afflicts women, ages 18-25.
Symptoms: 6/9 Disease is characterized by (and draws it's name from) the unfortunate event of a "6" somehow coming to the delusional belief that she is a "9."
Side effects include unreasonable haughty, bitchy and snarky behavior that--while well within acceptable social norms for a true 9--come off as ridiculous and annoying as fuck to all non-desperate males in the general vicinity.
Chances are if you know a girl that looks like an mildly attractive version of the Girl Next Door but acts like she's Gisele Bündchen, this unfortunate creature suffers from 6/9 Disease.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
March 30th--Thank a Vet Today
Today (March 30th) is officially Welcome Home Vietnam Veterans Day. As usual, our governments have been slow to recognize the service of our Vietnam Vets. And as is now very well known, our Vets were almost universally treated like shit upon their return to the States (fuck you, hippie scum). If you know someone who served in the 60s or 70s and was lucky enough to make it back from Vietnam (Laos, Cambodia, etc) do the decent thing and extend them some thanks today.
That is all.
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