Who was the guy who said, "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it?" Voltaire? Yeah, he's a douche.
I believe in free speech. But I think there should be a lot more restrictions than what I believe most people would like. That's because words hurt and lead to violence. To be safe from harm, both physical and mental, is a basic human right, and there is too much latitude given to "freedom of speech" that violates the safety of a citizen, and many times leads to corporeal harm. That should never happen -- for the sake of human decency, it can't happen.
Which leads me to the Westboro Baptist Church. This was founded by some idiot; his idiot offspring form the vast majority of the membership, which is based in Topeka, Kans. They spend their time going around to the funerals of dead American soldiers and holding up signs celebrating the soldier's death. In what is the dumbest, most nonsensical, most fucked-up logic I've ever heard about anything, these human specimens, who are fervently homophobic, believe God is killing these soldiers because of America's acceptance of homosexuality. I don't fucking get that at all.
Besides, who the fuck are these people, and why the fuck do they spend their lives going around, invading the privacy of grieving families and inflicting unspeakable pain by letting them know that they want to tapdance on their lost loved one's grave? This should be illegal. This is outrageous, wrong, sick, and cruel. And I don't give a damn about public property, time and place, or protection of disagreeable speech. So good for Albert Snyder, the father of one KIA soldier, Lance Cpl. Matthew Snyder, who dared to fuck with these Westboro bullies when they ruined his final goodbye to his son. He sued these asses for inflicting emotional distress, among other charges. And he won.
But then he lost. On Friday, the 4th Circuit Court Of Appeals overturned a guilty verdict and compensatory and punitive damages awarded by a jury. What did they cite: The First Amendment, everybody's favorite law, the only guarantee in the Bill of Rights that most people know by heart. Moreover, the court is punishing Snyder by ordering him to pay $16,000 for the church's legal fees and costs.
Mr. Snyder calls it a "slap in the face" and that his son and other soldiers "have died to protect our rights and freedoms to have them degraded and spit upon like this church does." He's right. He's set up a website to pay for the costs of (I think) his legal fees. I hope I'll be able to give him some money. And in the interest of human justice and morality, I implore you to do the same if you can.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Dealing With Strangers Today
Maybe it's not a big deal, but if I reach out my hand after I asked for a paper funnel beyond my reach, wouldn't you hand it to me instead of lying it on the counter? You left me hangin' like a bitch.
And oh, sir, I apologize. Yes, that guy behind you, the one who followed you to the window when normal people would stay behind, ATM-style, was insane. I didn't mean to ignore you; I wanted to overhear what he said to the box office guy because I wanted to know if he was going to watch the same movie I was going to watch. If he did, brother, I was right behind you out the door. Again, sorry.
And oh, sir, I apologize. Yes, that guy behind you, the one who followed you to the window when normal people would stay behind, ATM-style, was insane. I didn't mean to ignore you; I wanted to overhear what he said to the box office guy because I wanted to know if he was going to watch the same movie I was going to watch. If he did, brother, I was right behind you out the door. Again, sorry.
Bad Driver: MJP 985
Man, I haven't been given the finger in a long time.
I'm trying to get home from "work" using a side street in the middle of afternoon rush. When going on a green, this stupid domestic car doesn't like the way I accelerate and goes around me. Oh, who preytell could this vehicle be? So I get on the other lane to see if I can beat it, lest I have to write it down and report it.
Luckily, this asshole car had some guy turning right in front of it, so it has to slow down, which means I blow past it. I win! Wait. The driver gets around the car as soon as possible, which means veering very close to me in order to speed back up. It was about to hit my car, so I honk my horn to back it off. I don't know if it worked because I was afraid I was going to hit the car in front of me.
Once I get to the stoplight, I look to my right. The car finally catches up with me. The driver is a woman -- blonde hair pulled up, glasses, kind of chubby. And by God, she gives me the finger as she passes. And she looks me straight in the eye while she does it! The balls of that bitch!! She must've really been in a serious meltdown, or seriously not give a fuck about anything, to do that. What is it, lady? Pissed about what you're driving away from? About what you're driving to? Both? Or are you angry that you drive a gray Olds and that you're plain-looking?
I really thought I'd be a lot angrier at the disrespect given to me, but I'm not for two reasons: 1) I did honk at her; it was necessary, but I've been on the other side and I was not in a good mood from it; and 2) I'm still amazed she had the guts to look at me and flick me off. I think a part of me is impressed, actually.
I did think about stalking her, just to get back at her for doing that to me. Alas, I choose to let it slide and reported her online. Hopefully, maybe, she'll get pinched by the law for what she did.
I'm trying to get home from "work" using a side street in the middle of afternoon rush. When going on a green, this stupid domestic car doesn't like the way I accelerate and goes around me. Oh, who preytell could this vehicle be? So I get on the other lane to see if I can beat it, lest I have to write it down and report it.
Luckily, this asshole car had some guy turning right in front of it, so it has to slow down, which means I blow past it. I win! Wait. The driver gets around the car as soon as possible, which means veering very close to me in order to speed back up. It was about to hit my car, so I honk my horn to back it off. I don't know if it worked because I was afraid I was going to hit the car in front of me.
Once I get to the stoplight, I look to my right. The car finally catches up with me. The driver is a woman -- blonde hair pulled up, glasses, kind of chubby. And by God, she gives me the finger as she passes. And she looks me straight in the eye while she does it! The balls of that bitch!! She must've really been in a serious meltdown, or seriously not give a fuck about anything, to do that. What is it, lady? Pissed about what you're driving away from? About what you're driving to? Both? Or are you angry that you drive a gray Olds and that you're plain-looking?
I really thought I'd be a lot angrier at the disrespect given to me, but I'm not for two reasons: 1) I did honk at her; it was necessary, but I've been on the other side and I was not in a good mood from it; and 2) I'm still amazed she had the guts to look at me and flick me off. I think a part of me is impressed, actually.
I did think about stalking her, just to get back at her for doing that to me. Alas, I choose to let it slide and reported her online. Hopefully, maybe, she'll get pinched by the law for what she did.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Tremendous Article
As long as there are people employed by newspapers who can write rigorous and thoughtful pieces like this story about the death of a Los Angeles Times sportswriter, newspapers should never die.
Mike Penner was a longtime columnist until 2007. He worked for the Times after that, but that year he announced that he was to undergo gender reassignment. In other words, Penner outed himself as a woman born as a man, and he would begin dressing, talking and acting like a woman in public.
I saw this as a blurb in a local paper and was floored. Of all the men to decide he really was a she, it's someone in the masculine world of sports? OK. ...
But according to Christopher Goffard's story, it turned out anything but for Penner. Living life under the name Christine Daniels, she began to see herself as an advocate for GLBT rights. But just as she couldn't stand all the years living as a man, Daniels couldn't take living as a woman either. Gay rights advocates were using Daniels, according to her. Meanwhile, Penner/Daniels's marriage of two decades, to Lisa Dillman (who also works at the Times, covering the Clippers), ended when Dillman filed for divorce two weeks after the column announcing his change. The article doesn't make clear if Dillman knew about Penner's private life.
Something, or a series of things, finally got to Daniels, and after living like a woman for a "real-life test" before having actual gender reassignment surgery, she switched back to being Mike Penner. The damage had been done, however -- to the marriage, which may or may not have been the major source of Penner/Daniels's pain, but also the confusion about who he or she really was. Finally, around Thanksgiving, he turned on his car, stuck a vacuum hose in the exhaust, led it to the passenger-side window, got in, and proceeded to kill himself. Mike Penner was 52.
Goffard fills the reader in with many details that illuminate his internal suffering. Shortly after he announced he was becoming a woman, Penner tried to take down and erase every single photo of him online. After she decided to switch back, Daniels decided to do the same. Near the end of his life he was committed to a psychiatric hospital and told a transgender friend he believed his employer broke into his house. Daniels also blogged about her life back on the beat, Woman In Transition; the Times no longer has archival records of the blog posts. The implication is strong in the piece that somehow Penner erased them.
For all the insight, I'm left with a lot of questions -- not necessarily with the story, but with the characters in them, foremost the main one. I obviously am no expert on gender dysphoria, the mental illness where you feel you're trapped in the body of the wrong sex. But I would think, or at least hope, that once Mike Penner became Christine Daniels she would feel free to be who she truly is. Also, there were many signs that Daniels herself wasn't comfortable in her newsskin in much the same way he professed not being himself in his old skin. There was a quashed article for Vanity Fair, and the photographer hired to shoot photos of Daniels couldn't calm her down after she saw them and thought she was ugly. She was so hysterical she pushed the photographer. I don't know if that's because she really thought she was ugly or if there was something deeper she was haunted by. Yes, it seems like people were using her as a way to raise money. It also seems like people didn't believe she passed as a woman. But if you finally are you who you want to be, who cares? Being able to stop lying to yourself and the world seems to be worth being exploited and ridiculed. So Penner/Daniels's suffering leads this uneducated man to guess that if gender reassignment couldn't heal the wounds, nothing could've prevented him/her to suicide.
I am also troubled by how Penner/Daniels was remembered. There was an open memorial to remember the life of Christine Daniels -- not Mike Penner, but Christine Daniels, the pastor conducted the service emphasized. Is that supposed to be the case? And would Mike have wanted that? There was a family memorial for family only, and I can guess they were mourning "Mike." But saying the public memorial was for "Christine" seems like a decision made by the people who organized the memorial, which veers dangerously close to the exploitation that bothered and embittered Daniels. This is about the mourners, not the mourned. What does Mike Penner say about not being eulogized in the public memorial? What were his last wishes, if he had any? It's quite possible that even he/she didn't know who he was at the time of his suicide, but last I heard he went by "Mike Penner" on his byline.
Lastly, though, I am saddened, even disturbed, by the silence of both Penner's ex-wife, Dillman, and his brother, John, who also works at the Times in the copy desk. For such a high-profile story (Penner's coming out was LAT's most viewed article in 2007), neither Dillman nor John Penner had anything to say for this story. Sort of ironic that in a place and industry where you're trying to get people to say something about even the most controversial and painful topics, two members of the media had no comment.
Mike Penner was a longtime columnist until 2007. He worked for the Times after that, but that year he announced that he was to undergo gender reassignment. In other words, Penner outed himself as a woman born as a man, and he would begin dressing, talking and acting like a woman in public.
I saw this as a blurb in a local paper and was floored. Of all the men to decide he really was a she, it's someone in the masculine world of sports? OK. ...
But according to Christopher Goffard's story, it turned out anything but for Penner. Living life under the name Christine Daniels, she began to see herself as an advocate for GLBT rights. But just as she couldn't stand all the years living as a man, Daniels couldn't take living as a woman either. Gay rights advocates were using Daniels, according to her. Meanwhile, Penner/Daniels's marriage of two decades, to Lisa Dillman (who also works at the Times, covering the Clippers), ended when Dillman filed for divorce two weeks after the column announcing his change. The article doesn't make clear if Dillman knew about Penner's private life.
Something, or a series of things, finally got to Daniels, and after living like a woman for a "real-life test" before having actual gender reassignment surgery, she switched back to being Mike Penner. The damage had been done, however -- to the marriage, which may or may not have been the major source of Penner/Daniels's pain, but also the confusion about who he or she really was. Finally, around Thanksgiving, he turned on his car, stuck a vacuum hose in the exhaust, led it to the passenger-side window, got in, and proceeded to kill himself. Mike Penner was 52.
Goffard fills the reader in with many details that illuminate his internal suffering. Shortly after he announced he was becoming a woman, Penner tried to take down and erase every single photo of him online. After she decided to switch back, Daniels decided to do the same. Near the end of his life he was committed to a psychiatric hospital and told a transgender friend he believed his employer broke into his house. Daniels also blogged about her life back on the beat, Woman In Transition; the Times no longer has archival records of the blog posts. The implication is strong in the piece that somehow Penner erased them.
For all the insight, I'm left with a lot of questions -- not necessarily with the story, but with the characters in them, foremost the main one. I obviously am no expert on gender dysphoria, the mental illness where you feel you're trapped in the body of the wrong sex. But I would think, or at least hope, that once Mike Penner became Christine Daniels she would feel free to be who she truly is. Also, there were many signs that Daniels herself wasn't comfortable in her newsskin in much the same way he professed not being himself in his old skin. There was a quashed article for Vanity Fair, and the photographer hired to shoot photos of Daniels couldn't calm her down after she saw them and thought she was ugly. She was so hysterical she pushed the photographer. I don't know if that's because she really thought she was ugly or if there was something deeper she was haunted by. Yes, it seems like people were using her as a way to raise money. It also seems like people didn't believe she passed as a woman. But if you finally are you who you want to be, who cares? Being able to stop lying to yourself and the world seems to be worth being exploited and ridiculed. So Penner/Daniels's suffering leads this uneducated man to guess that if gender reassignment couldn't heal the wounds, nothing could've prevented him/her to suicide.
I am also troubled by how Penner/Daniels was remembered. There was an open memorial to remember the life of Christine Daniels -- not Mike Penner, but Christine Daniels, the pastor conducted the service emphasized. Is that supposed to be the case? And would Mike have wanted that? There was a family memorial for family only, and I can guess they were mourning "Mike." But saying the public memorial was for "Christine" seems like a decision made by the people who organized the memorial, which veers dangerously close to the exploitation that bothered and embittered Daniels. This is about the mourners, not the mourned. What does Mike Penner say about not being eulogized in the public memorial? What were his last wishes, if he had any? It's quite possible that even he/she didn't know who he was at the time of his suicide, but last I heard he went by "Mike Penner" on his byline.
Lastly, though, I am saddened, even disturbed, by the silence of both Penner's ex-wife, Dillman, and his brother, John, who also works at the Times in the copy desk. For such a high-profile story (Penner's coming out was LAT's most viewed article in 2007), neither Dillman nor John Penner had anything to say for this story. Sort of ironic that in a place and industry where you're trying to get people to say something about even the most controversial and painful topics, two members of the media had no comment.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Needing to write, about 90 minutes before going to the Target Field opener/Gopher baseball game, Mother calls me to go to the bank, which is about 25 minutes away. It was 11:35. Really, Mother? Flummoxed in how I could get out of the house as soon as possible while preparing to get to the game (and staying out the whole day) slowed me down, of course. I got there about 3 minutes after noon; goddamn red lights, I swear! When I swung around the building the two girls who were working there were peeling off in their cars. Swear to fucking God they were at the front door waiting for the clock to strike noon, and when it did they immediately locked the doors and got the fuck out. You see, normal banks would still be around at, like, 12:05, and maybe they'd still help you.
Is Mother mad? Actually, no. She talked at me over dinner tonight. Mother accepted me not being able to rip a CD track as her ringtone. And she wasn't too mad when the food she prepared fell off the top of the recycling bins in which I just put more empty bottles and cans. She said I loaded it in a way that one corner of the small piece of metal siding we use to cover the bins was resting on the pile of empty recyclables and not the sides of the bin, therefore the milk carton on top of that piece of siding was not level, therefore the plate of food she was preparing slid off. Assuming she's right, I'm glad she forgave me for my mistake.
---
Felt good last night even though I did less than I planned on doing. First, I didn't get a good price on a ticket for the men's college hockey tournament game at the X last night, so instead of paying $55 for a ticket (of which many were available for sale at the box office), I took a seat at the arena bar. Paid $7.75 for a small cup of beer, felt screwed, so I leaned on my profligacy and only tipped him a quarter. He's probably pissed as hell, so I'll try and remember to never go back there again.
Once the game was decided (with about a couple minutes left to go), I jetted off. There were things I wanted to do: get coffee, go to the strip club, and eat at the Italian restaurant. But since the game started at 8 and I got out of there at a quarter to 11, there was only time to do two. And that's when my mind started paralyzing through analyzing: I want to go eat because I want to watch ESPN ... but, I lost the two games basketball games tonight, so why do I want to watch that? ... I'm hungry -- or am I? ... ooh-ooh, the money I didn't spend on the ticket I can spend on lapdances! ... but maybe she's there, and I don't think it's a good time to go back there without stirring something up ... and on and on it went. So I went to my de facto happy places: the coffeeshop. ...
... where I stayed a lot longer than I planned, which in the back of my mind I knew was going to happen because I was dinkin' around on my laptop. The strip club was out because I stayed out too long. Hell, the earliest I could get there was a quarter after 11, which was already late. And the large mocha I had ruined any appetite I did have for Italian, although in retrospect I didn't have much appetite to begin with from the beer I drank during the game. So the restaurant was out, too. So I stopped at 12:30 to make sure I listened to ESPN Radio's Bob Valvano conduct "The Match Game" and I drove not to the strip club or the restaurant, but all the way home.
That meant I didn't have to take that money out of the ATM last night, but I feel good for not spending it.
Is Mother mad? Actually, no. She talked at me over dinner tonight. Mother accepted me not being able to rip a CD track as her ringtone. And she wasn't too mad when the food she prepared fell off the top of the recycling bins in which I just put more empty bottles and cans. She said I loaded it in a way that one corner of the small piece of metal siding we use to cover the bins was resting on the pile of empty recyclables and not the sides of the bin, therefore the milk carton on top of that piece of siding was not level, therefore the plate of food she was preparing slid off. Assuming she's right, I'm glad she forgave me for my mistake.
---
Felt good last night even though I did less than I planned on doing. First, I didn't get a good price on a ticket for the men's college hockey tournament game at the X last night, so instead of paying $55 for a ticket (of which many were available for sale at the box office), I took a seat at the arena bar. Paid $7.75 for a small cup of beer, felt screwed, so I leaned on my profligacy and only tipped him a quarter. He's probably pissed as hell, so I'll try and remember to never go back there again.
Once the game was decided (with about a couple minutes left to go), I jetted off. There were things I wanted to do: get coffee, go to the strip club, and eat at the Italian restaurant. But since the game started at 8 and I got out of there at a quarter to 11, there was only time to do two. And that's when my mind started paralyzing through analyzing: I want to go eat because I want to watch ESPN ... but, I lost the two games basketball games tonight, so why do I want to watch that? ... I'm hungry -- or am I? ... ooh-ooh, the money I didn't spend on the ticket I can spend on lapdances! ... but maybe she's there, and I don't think it's a good time to go back there without stirring something up ... and on and on it went. So I went to my de facto happy places: the coffeeshop. ...
... where I stayed a lot longer than I planned, which in the back of my mind I knew was going to happen because I was dinkin' around on my laptop. The strip club was out because I stayed out too long. Hell, the earliest I could get there was a quarter after 11, which was already late. And the large mocha I had ruined any appetite I did have for Italian, although in retrospect I didn't have much appetite to begin with from the beer I drank during the game. So the restaurant was out, too. So I stopped at 12:30 to make sure I listened to ESPN Radio's Bob Valvano conduct "The Match Game" and I drove not to the strip club or the restaurant, but all the way home.
That meant I didn't have to take that money out of the ATM last night, but I feel good for not spending it.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
I Didn't Look Forward To This Birthday (Part II)
What did I do Birthday Night? Oh yes -- we ate early enough that I decided that I was depressed and deserved to go to go to the gym and then the strip club. I made sure to wear my porno pants so that when I was done exercising I could take off my underwear and go to the SC au naturale.
Think another person was there using some of the equipment, so I had time to drink some coffee. Then I went to the stripclub and got a dance from one of my All-Time Favorites, who just happened to be there. For some reason she was a hell of a lot friskier than before, letting me take her non-pierced nipple into her mouth and grabbing my hard dick through my pants. I hope she could tell I was naked underneath me pants. Maybe this will lead to something more, something better. I had to tell her the truth and come out as a birthday boy, and she kissed me, gently, on the cheek and slapped my ass on her way to her dressing room.
That was my birthday gift to myself: a lapdance from a stripper. For a long time that's been the only thing that has made me truly happy, paying beautiful women to get naked in front of me and, maybe, do naughty things to me. For that to continue I need money, and I am rapidly running out of that. But I still think work is beneath me. What to do?
Maybe I should be having better problems to worry about than that, or at least different ones. I'm square in the middle of middle age and the questions bedeviling me around this time are, when can I show my dick to a stripper again, and who's going to win the tournament? Sometimes I feel that those are the best questions to face; other times I feel so pathetic that my world has come down to that.
I understand that things have to change, but I really, really don't want them to. Yet with each single passing birthday I have to continue to think about it. It's like My Fucking Father asking me, "What's your planning? What are you going to do your whole life? You won job mei?" Except that he no longer has to ask those questions (although he does). Every March 17 amounts to a yearly performance review. And every single time I come up short in the categories of growth, direction, confidence and achievement. I fail, therefore I cannot be promoted.
Do I want to grow up? I'll have to, like it or not. And I don't. But I won't, not as long as I can stay safe, secure, and uncompromising in my belief that this life sucks and is unfair, and that work will be nothing except a daily ritual in degradation and humiliation, and that living by yourself in the Real World is a crapshoot where there is little to gain for your supposed independence.
No. I think I'm doing the right thing. Just looking for the next small score, looking for the next handjob fix. That's how I'll live. And it's just as good as any other way of living.
Think another person was there using some of the equipment, so I had time to drink some coffee. Then I went to the stripclub and got a dance from one of my All-Time Favorites, who just happened to be there. For some reason she was a hell of a lot friskier than before, letting me take her non-pierced nipple into her mouth and grabbing my hard dick through my pants. I hope she could tell I was naked underneath me pants. Maybe this will lead to something more, something better. I had to tell her the truth and come out as a birthday boy, and she kissed me, gently, on the cheek and slapped my ass on her way to her dressing room.
That was my birthday gift to myself: a lapdance from a stripper. For a long time that's been the only thing that has made me truly happy, paying beautiful women to get naked in front of me and, maybe, do naughty things to me. For that to continue I need money, and I am rapidly running out of that. But I still think work is beneath me. What to do?
Maybe I should be having better problems to worry about than that, or at least different ones. I'm square in the middle of middle age and the questions bedeviling me around this time are, when can I show my dick to a stripper again, and who's going to win the tournament? Sometimes I feel that those are the best questions to face; other times I feel so pathetic that my world has come down to that.
I understand that things have to change, but I really, really don't want them to. Yet with each single passing birthday I have to continue to think about it. It's like My Fucking Father asking me, "What's your planning? What are you going to do your whole life? You won job mei?" Except that he no longer has to ask those questions (although he does). Every March 17 amounts to a yearly performance review. And every single time I come up short in the categories of growth, direction, confidence and achievement. I fail, therefore I cannot be promoted.
Do I want to grow up? I'll have to, like it or not. And I don't. But I won't, not as long as I can stay safe, secure, and uncompromising in my belief that this life sucks and is unfair, and that work will be nothing except a daily ritual in degradation and humiliation, and that living by yourself in the Real World is a crapshoot where there is little to gain for your supposed independence.
No. I think I'm doing the right thing. Just looking for the next small score, looking for the next handjob fix. That's how I'll live. And it's just as good as any other way of living.
Angry Crazy Old People
Somewhat enjoyed the men's hockey regional games last night at the X. Both games were tight, especially the first one, won by St. Cloud St. over Northern Michigan in double OT. But the crowd ... could've been better.
It's not like they were rowdy. Hell, there were a lot of hot coeds watching the game, thank Buddha. But there was also a very old Wisconsin fan rallying the crowd throughout the Badgers' 3-2 victory over Vermont. But actually, he wasn't that bad. Who were bad were the ladies incessantly complaining about him, who were seated just behind me. These Golden Girls were absolutely pissed off about this guy standing yards away from them: "Sit down! Can you believe this! Somebody needs to do something about this!"
Apparently they have a problem with people cheering during a game. Or, people cheering for their opponents during a game. I think these ladies were Vermont fans because when they weren't bitching about this old fart, they were rooting on Vermont. Well, as best they can; everything coming out of their mouths proved they didn't know a goddamn thing about hockey: "Shoot! What's wrong! Come on, you ... guy! Let's go, green men! You green guys!" Come to think of it, they might be kind of dumb. Oh well -- I helped them show how "Catamount" is spelled, and they seemed nice, so God bless 'em.
What was scary, though, was the man across the aisle from me. I didn't notice him when he said "Down in front!" to a man trying to sit in the row ahead of me. But then this couple came through. I had seen them before; they were actually walking past me to get to their seats in my row right in the middle of a scramble on net. Well, these interlopers came through at yet another inopportune moment to sit in the row in front of me. In fact, they were standing on the aisle when Vermont scored, which prompted the man across the aisle from me to get up and scream at the male in the couple: "Thanks a lot!" Stunned by this brazen paroxysm of anger, the guy just waved his hand at him as he finally went through the row.
I can understand both sides. I don't like it when someone blocks my view, and these two pricks did came down to their seats in the middle of a game twice, so a punch to their face (yes, even the girl) wouldn't be totally inappropriate. But this asshole needs a beating for being such an asshole in public. And heck, might as well smack those two ladies behind me. And the Wisconsin fan too, while you're at it.
If the tickets are reasonable, I get to do this again tonight! Yippee!!
It's not like they were rowdy. Hell, there were a lot of hot coeds watching the game, thank Buddha. But there was also a very old Wisconsin fan rallying the crowd throughout the Badgers' 3-2 victory over Vermont. But actually, he wasn't that bad. Who were bad were the ladies incessantly complaining about him, who were seated just behind me. These Golden Girls were absolutely pissed off about this guy standing yards away from them: "Sit down! Can you believe this! Somebody needs to do something about this!"
Apparently they have a problem with people cheering during a game. Or, people cheering for their opponents during a game. I think these ladies were Vermont fans because when they weren't bitching about this old fart, they were rooting on Vermont. Well, as best they can; everything coming out of their mouths proved they didn't know a goddamn thing about hockey: "Shoot! What's wrong! Come on, you ... guy! Let's go, green men! You green guys!" Come to think of it, they might be kind of dumb. Oh well -- I helped them show how "Catamount" is spelled, and they seemed nice, so God bless 'em.
What was scary, though, was the man across the aisle from me. I didn't notice him when he said "Down in front!" to a man trying to sit in the row ahead of me. But then this couple came through. I had seen them before; they were actually walking past me to get to their seats in my row right in the middle of a scramble on net. Well, these interlopers came through at yet another inopportune moment to sit in the row in front of me. In fact, they were standing on the aisle when Vermont scored, which prompted the man across the aisle from me to get up and scream at the male in the couple: "Thanks a lot!" Stunned by this brazen paroxysm of anger, the guy just waved his hand at him as he finally went through the row.
I can understand both sides. I don't like it when someone blocks my view, and these two pricks did came down to their seats in the middle of a game twice, so a punch to their face (yes, even the girl) wouldn't be totally inappropriate. But this asshole needs a beating for being such an asshole in public. And heck, might as well smack those two ladies behind me. And the Wisconsin fan too, while you're at it.
If the tickets are reasonable, I get to do this again tonight! Yippee!!
Friday, March 26, 2010
The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey
Positive Numbers: Twins (Re-Entry!). They win the week with off-field news, but oh, what news: The Pohlads finally loosen the pursestrings and pay Joe Mauer fair market value! The 8-year, $184-million contract extension will keep the hometown boy here for the peak and downside to his career. Which is a great thing!
Does this mean the Twins are now playing with the big boys, the Yankees and the Red Sox? No, definitely not. Does this mean the Twins can't play woe-is-me when it comes to salary inequity? No, definitely not, either. Look, I understand that an owner has the right not to lose money on his holdings if he doesn't want to. I also understand that any team can be competitive if the owner wants to be. Yet I also understand that if you don't have a salary cap, like MLB, spending on players generally correlates to success.
I don't know if the Twins of ten or even five years ago would make this deal. But I know that they should, and they would've caught hell if they didn't sign Mauer. It's not just the hometown angle, although signing the St. Paul kid forever forges Mauer as one of The Greatest Twins Of All-Time. But he's also a batting champ and the reigning MVP, and he's well on his way to becoming one of the greatest catchers baseball has ever seen. The bottom line is, it wouldn't've mattered if he was from Bumblefuck, Utah, the Twins couldn't let someone this prodigious on the field -- and so likable off it -- leave the franchise. Mauer was going to get paid; thankfully he didn't take a cutthroat approach to the contract talks and admitted that he wanted to be a Twin for life.
This still doesn't mean they won't get swept by the Yankees; they probably will because MLB lets the team that spends the most win the World Series, which still isn't fair. But what the Twins could do they had to do, and they had to sign their guy, the man they picked first overall, the person whom they believed could blossom into someone special and did. It's the obvious thing to do, but kudos anyway for doing the right thing because the cynic in me didn't believe it would happen for sure.
#-1: Wild (Last Week: -3). There's no one else. Our hockey team slides in the bridesmaid's spot on the heels of a 2-2 week. In a sign of how they stand in comparison to the rest of the NHL, San Jose came into the X on Tuesday and crushed them 4-1. The Sharks lead the Western Conference; the Wild are, like, nine points back for the final playoff spot. Yes, this was a transition period. But the same damn problem seem to be bedeviling this group: They just can't fucking score. They close out the month at Detroit, then at home versus Los Angeles and Chicago -- playoff-bound teams all.
#-2: Gopher baseball (Last Week: -4). They go 1-3 for the week, with one cancellation. The Sunday capper against Samford at Birmingham was rained out -- good thing, because otherwise the Gophs faced a three-game sweep against a team I can't pronounce without having the urge to say "And Son!" They then split against North Dakota St. at the Dome earlier this week. Shit, when they said this team was young, they weren't kidding. This week they have a special one-night-stand against Concordia-Moorhead Wednesday. But the thing is their weekend series here against Louisiana Tech. The Friday and Sunday games are at the Dome, but the Saturday game will be something special: It'll be the first official game played at Target Field. Tickets, of which there will only be 25,000 at a cost of $2 apiece, will be sold starting at 8 in the morning at the stadium. There should be an open house between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. with the game against La. Tech at 1 p.m. I hope I can get there about a quarter to 1 and pass a person who went for the tour of Target Field but don't give a shit about the game. Wish me luck!
#-3: Timberwolves (Last Week: -7). What was the best game of their three losses this week -- the eight-point loss at the Lakers, the six-pointer at Target Center to Toronto, or the 13-point defeat at Charlotte (have they ever beaten the Bobcats in Charlotte, ever?)? That's now 14 losses in a row for the Woofie Dogs. OK, I understand there will be some hard knocks this team must take. But they haven't won in more than a month. Is there anything this team is learning now? Can they in the wake of such a long losing streak? They close out March at Orlando, then home to Phoenix and Sacramento. I will be at the Kings game on Wednesday. Hopefully they'll be able to break a 15-game losing streak then. Wish me (and them) luck!
#-Infinity (tie): Gopher men's basketball, women's hockey, and wrestling (Last Week: -1, -2, and -5, respectively). I've come to realize that since many winter tournaments end around the same time, I'll be posting a double, triple, maybe even a quadruple -Infinity spot for U. teams annually. This year is better than the five (I think) I grouped together last year, but this is just as bad. At least I can combine these into one relatively smaller post.
Where should I start? I guess chronologically. I was at the Hooters downtown to watch the Tournament Friday, specifically the male ballers. I picked Minnesota to get to the Sweet 16 because I thought they had congealed down low, I liked their path, and lately it seems that the lowest BCS seed somehow makes it to the second weekend. Well, I chose the wrong lowest seed; Washington was also an 11, and they beat Marquette and New Mexico. Meanwhile, I forgot something about the Gophs: They can't score. And midway through the second half it became obvious that the best player on the court, the one who has a shadow of a chance making it to the NBA, was Xavier's Jordan Crawford, who put the Musketeers on his back on the way to victory, sick finger roll and all. Another one-and-done. I underestimated Tubby Smith's impotence as a bad tournament coach.
Later that night I made it to Ridder and, because I forgot to buy tickets beforehand, I paid what I would have paid for all three games just for the two semifinals of the Frozen Four. Although it seemed that both the women's hockey team and their opponent, UMD, would wax whoever came out of the other side (turned out to be Cornell, which was unseeded and still beat #1 overall seed Mercyhurst), the Bulldogs were still miles and miles better than the Gophers, despite winning 3-2. The one thing that stood out to me: Minnesota had a bitch of a time getting out of their own defensive zone. UMD was just forechecking and forechecking all game. In particular the Bulldogs had this one bitch, Emmanuelle Blais; this cocky motherfucker, who stands only 5'4" so you know she's a load personally, was in their way the whole fucking game. (She did that in the final too, when she was named Most Outstanding Player of the Frozen Four was UMD won in triple overtime, 3-2 [and by the way, all three games in the Women's Frozen Four ended 3-2]). How did the Duluth campus of the University of Minnesota win their fifth championship while the Twin Cities campus has only two? One indication: the Gophers are fully stocked with Minnesotans; UMD recruit non-Minnesotans for their team. Coincidence?
And finally, although I feel bad for emphasizing the negative in light of one shining star, the wrestling team finished below their ranking in the weekly polls. Despite being considered fifth in the country, the NCAA Championships ended Saturday with the Gophs as a team finishing seventh, 71.5 points behind champions Iowa. Is that good enough? Really? At least Minnesota claims the Championships Outstanding Wrestler, Jayson Ness. The man came from behind to notch a near fall at the buzzer against his main rival, the Hawkeyes' Daniel Dennis, to win at 133 lb. championship and finish the season 31-0. That's impressive. J Robinson needs several more people like Ness next year.
Does this mean the Twins are now playing with the big boys, the Yankees and the Red Sox? No, definitely not. Does this mean the Twins can't play woe-is-me when it comes to salary inequity? No, definitely not, either. Look, I understand that an owner has the right not to lose money on his holdings if he doesn't want to. I also understand that any team can be competitive if the owner wants to be. Yet I also understand that if you don't have a salary cap, like MLB, spending on players generally correlates to success.
I don't know if the Twins of ten or even five years ago would make this deal. But I know that they should, and they would've caught hell if they didn't sign Mauer. It's not just the hometown angle, although signing the St. Paul kid forever forges Mauer as one of The Greatest Twins Of All-Time. But he's also a batting champ and the reigning MVP, and he's well on his way to becoming one of the greatest catchers baseball has ever seen. The bottom line is, it wouldn't've mattered if he was from Bumblefuck, Utah, the Twins couldn't let someone this prodigious on the field -- and so likable off it -- leave the franchise. Mauer was going to get paid; thankfully he didn't take a cutthroat approach to the contract talks and admitted that he wanted to be a Twin for life.
This still doesn't mean they won't get swept by the Yankees; they probably will because MLB lets the team that spends the most win the World Series, which still isn't fair. But what the Twins could do they had to do, and they had to sign their guy, the man they picked first overall, the person whom they believed could blossom into someone special and did. It's the obvious thing to do, but kudos anyway for doing the right thing because the cynic in me didn't believe it would happen for sure.
#-1: Wild (Last Week: -3). There's no one else. Our hockey team slides in the bridesmaid's spot on the heels of a 2-2 week. In a sign of how they stand in comparison to the rest of the NHL, San Jose came into the X on Tuesday and crushed them 4-1. The Sharks lead the Western Conference; the Wild are, like, nine points back for the final playoff spot. Yes, this was a transition period. But the same damn problem seem to be bedeviling this group: They just can't fucking score. They close out the month at Detroit, then at home versus Los Angeles and Chicago -- playoff-bound teams all.
#-2: Gopher baseball (Last Week: -4). They go 1-3 for the week, with one cancellation. The Sunday capper against Samford at Birmingham was rained out -- good thing, because otherwise the Gophs faced a three-game sweep against a team I can't pronounce without having the urge to say "And Son!" They then split against North Dakota St. at the Dome earlier this week. Shit, when they said this team was young, they weren't kidding. This week they have a special one-night-stand against Concordia-Moorhead Wednesday. But the thing is their weekend series here against Louisiana Tech. The Friday and Sunday games are at the Dome, but the Saturday game will be something special: It'll be the first official game played at Target Field. Tickets, of which there will only be 25,000 at a cost of $2 apiece, will be sold starting at 8 in the morning at the stadium. There should be an open house between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. with the game against La. Tech at 1 p.m. I hope I can get there about a quarter to 1 and pass a person who went for the tour of Target Field but don't give a shit about the game. Wish me luck!
#-3: Timberwolves (Last Week: -7). What was the best game of their three losses this week -- the eight-point loss at the Lakers, the six-pointer at Target Center to Toronto, or the 13-point defeat at Charlotte (have they ever beaten the Bobcats in Charlotte, ever?)? That's now 14 losses in a row for the Woofie Dogs. OK, I understand there will be some hard knocks this team must take. But they haven't won in more than a month. Is there anything this team is learning now? Can they in the wake of such a long losing streak? They close out March at Orlando, then home to Phoenix and Sacramento. I will be at the Kings game on Wednesday. Hopefully they'll be able to break a 15-game losing streak then. Wish me (and them) luck!
#-Infinity (tie): Gopher men's basketball, women's hockey, and wrestling (Last Week: -1, -2, and -5, respectively). I've come to realize that since many winter tournaments end around the same time, I'll be posting a double, triple, maybe even a quadruple -Infinity spot for U. teams annually. This year is better than the five (I think) I grouped together last year, but this is just as bad. At least I can combine these into one relatively smaller post.
Where should I start? I guess chronologically. I was at the Hooters downtown to watch the Tournament Friday, specifically the male ballers. I picked Minnesota to get to the Sweet 16 because I thought they had congealed down low, I liked their path, and lately it seems that the lowest BCS seed somehow makes it to the second weekend. Well, I chose the wrong lowest seed; Washington was also an 11, and they beat Marquette and New Mexico. Meanwhile, I forgot something about the Gophs: They can't score. And midway through the second half it became obvious that the best player on the court, the one who has a shadow of a chance making it to the NBA, was Xavier's Jordan Crawford, who put the Musketeers on his back on the way to victory, sick finger roll and all. Another one-and-done. I underestimated Tubby Smith's impotence as a bad tournament coach.
Later that night I made it to Ridder and, because I forgot to buy tickets beforehand, I paid what I would have paid for all three games just for the two semifinals of the Frozen Four. Although it seemed that both the women's hockey team and their opponent, UMD, would wax whoever came out of the other side (turned out to be Cornell, which was unseeded and still beat #1 overall seed Mercyhurst), the Bulldogs were still miles and miles better than the Gophers, despite winning 3-2. The one thing that stood out to me: Minnesota had a bitch of a time getting out of their own defensive zone. UMD was just forechecking and forechecking all game. In particular the Bulldogs had this one bitch, Emmanuelle Blais; this cocky motherfucker, who stands only 5'4" so you know she's a load personally, was in their way the whole fucking game. (She did that in the final too, when she was named Most Outstanding Player of the Frozen Four was UMD won in triple overtime, 3-2 [and by the way, all three games in the Women's Frozen Four ended 3-2]). How did the Duluth campus of the University of Minnesota win their fifth championship while the Twin Cities campus has only two? One indication: the Gophers are fully stocked with Minnesotans; UMD recruit non-Minnesotans for their team. Coincidence?
And finally, although I feel bad for emphasizing the negative in light of one shining star, the wrestling team finished below their ranking in the weekly polls. Despite being considered fifth in the country, the NCAA Championships ended Saturday with the Gophs as a team finishing seventh, 71.5 points behind champions Iowa. Is that good enough? Really? At least Minnesota claims the Championships Outstanding Wrestler, Jayson Ness. The man came from behind to notch a near fall at the buzzer against his main rival, the Hawkeyes' Daniel Dennis, to win at 133 lb. championship and finish the season 31-0. That's impressive. J Robinson needs several more people like Ness next year.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
This Bullshit Is Wrong
These people against health insurance reform are showing their true closers now that they've lost. These Tea Baggers ain't nothing but a bunch of racist extremist gunnut terrorists who can't stand that our President is black. If anybody dies because of these thugs, the blood is on the hands of any Republican who encouraged this violence.
Fuck them. Fuck them all.
Fuck them. Fuck them all.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
I thought I was good in resisting temptation by not going for a Coke at halftime of tonight's (very late-starting) women's basketball tournament game. My reasoning, such as it is: Nebraska had a five-point lead, but it seemed like they were starting to pull away, and I would only buy a drink if the game was close. Yeah, it doesn't make any sense to me.
Neither does eating afterward. I had a choice once I got back to my car: Go straight back home in time for the musical guest on Letterman or go to my favorite late-night spot to watch SportsCenter and see highlights of the game I watched in person. Went back and forth for various odd reasons:
I made sure I ate something cheap, so burger and fries for me, please. Unfortunately, it looked like I fell into the beginning of ESPN's nightly college basketball show. For men. And then they went into SportsCenter, where the only women's basketball-related story they reported on was, of course, UConn. I had been there an hour and it was getting late, so I decided not to stick around.
Why would I think there'd be highlights? Nebraska won by 13 and it wasn't that dazzling. Besides, I could see the highlights at home. Plus I'd be home at a decent time and maybe that would score points with My Fucking Father. Now I've gained more calories and wasted $6.50 on food I didn't need (although it was good), and I didn't even get to watch what I went to the restaurant to watch.
I can't afford this. Why am I doing this to myself???
Fuck me, and fuck my life.
Neither does eating afterward. I had a choice once I got back to my car: Go straight back home in time for the musical guest on Letterman or go to my favorite late-night spot to watch SportsCenter and see highlights of the game I watched in person. Went back and forth for various odd reasons:
- First of all, I'm paranoid enough to think that My Fucking Father, still pissed at me for lying to him last night, would get back at me by throwing all my stuff into his minivan while I'm away. So that means I need to go home as soon as the game's over so I can check and see if he did But ... I doubt he'll do that, and besides, if he did, it doesn't matter what time it is, I can check the minivan whether it's 1 or 11. If he really wants to be sadistic, he'll take it while I'm asleep in the morning.
- I could fully commit to my frugality and my fasting by going straight home ... but it's OK, because I won't be having lunch tomorrow, so I won't be full in the morning ... but I ate dinner about 4 1/2 hours ago, and had an iced mocha (mmm...) three hours before that -- aren't I already full?
- Finally, isn't there a chance that the game won't be on when I'm there? I mean, although ESPN exclusively covers all the games, wouldn't the highlights show start off with something different? Is it possible that they'd even bury the tournament till the back segment? I don't plan on being there all night waiting for it? And what happens if someone's already there and watching something else?
I made sure I ate something cheap, so burger and fries for me, please. Unfortunately, it looked like I fell into the beginning of ESPN's nightly college basketball show. For men. And then they went into SportsCenter, where the only women's basketball-related story they reported on was, of course, UConn. I had been there an hour and it was getting late, so I decided not to stick around.
Why would I think there'd be highlights? Nebraska won by 13 and it wasn't that dazzling. Besides, I could see the highlights at home. Plus I'd be home at a decent time and maybe that would score points with My Fucking Father. Now I've gained more calories and wasted $6.50 on food I didn't need (although it was good), and I didn't even get to watch what I went to the restaurant to watch.
I can't afford this. Why am I doing this to myself???
Fuck me, and fuck my life.
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