One of my favorite musicians, former Soundgarden and Audioslave frontman Chris Cornell, was once quoted as saying, “People just don’t realize how much fun it is to be depressed.”
Now, while I hesitate to go nearly that far, I must say that in popular culture there’s a ridiculous misconception that everything must be upbeat and have a happy ending. Clearly that’s not the case. In an era when ‘Top 40’ music is almost entirely comprised of hip-hop and bubble gum pop, there needs to be a freaking reality check. That’s why I tend to search for good music rather than just listen for it – you’re certainly not going to find much of it on mainstream radio.
Likewise, the best movies you ever see are not likely to be the action blockbusters that cost $100+ million to produce. One of the best movies I’ve seen recently falls into that category. It was Revolutionary Road, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet. A couple of notes to consider if you are interested in seeing it.
1. You may not want to watch this with your spouse
2. You certainly don’t want to watch it with your spouse if you’ve had some problems at home
3. You may not want to watch it at all unless you’re truly a fan of film and can really appreciate the portrayal of an unhappy story. Not everyone can do that.
All those things considered, this movie is by no means over-the-top in its content. It just won’t make you feel warm and fuzzy at any time. But we don’t always need to be warm and fuzzy. A little dose of the darker side of reality should be appreciated.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Game 3: Running Into a Buzzsaw
The exploits of my C-league recreational basketball team, continued ...
Game 3: June 17 vs. American Century
It's actually a little difficult for me to say that we ran into a buzzsaw in Game 3 of our summer basketball league. I mean it's not like our opponents were physically imposing or overwhelmingly athletic. Then again, when you begin a game on the ass end of a 21-0 run, it's pretty safe to say that you're getting your nuts chopped off.
So there's not much else that needs to be said. We got routinely beaten up and down the floor, we turned the ball over a lot, and we didn't make many shots. I believe the halftime score was 42-17, which isn't really too bad considering we were down by 21 before we'd even gotten on the scoreboard.
The second half was almost an identical whoopin'. No real details are necessary. I got fouled going to the basket in the final few seconds and, thanks to the running clock, I got to shoot my two free throws after the buzzer sounded and with no one else on the line. There may never have been two more meaningless points in the history of basketball.
Final score: 83-33, I swear to fucking god.
SJI contribution (my postgame recollection of it): 11 points -- three 3s and 2-2 from the line. I could have scored 50 and it wouldn't have been enough on this freaking night.
Record: 0-3
Next game: June 24 vs. Fast Break
Game 3: June 17 vs. American Century
It's actually a little difficult for me to say that we ran into a buzzsaw in Game 3 of our summer basketball league. I mean it's not like our opponents were physically imposing or overwhelmingly athletic. Then again, when you begin a game on the ass end of a 21-0 run, it's pretty safe to say that you're getting your nuts chopped off.
So there's not much else that needs to be said. We got routinely beaten up and down the floor, we turned the ball over a lot, and we didn't make many shots. I believe the halftime score was 42-17, which isn't really too bad considering we were down by 21 before we'd even gotten on the scoreboard.
The second half was almost an identical whoopin'. No real details are necessary. I got fouled going to the basket in the final few seconds and, thanks to the running clock, I got to shoot my two free throws after the buzzer sounded and with no one else on the line. There may never have been two more meaningless points in the history of basketball.
Final score: 83-33, I swear to fucking god.
SJI contribution (my postgame recollection of it): 11 points -- three 3s and 2-2 from the line. I could have scored 50 and it wouldn't have been enough on this freaking night.
Record: 0-3
Next game: June 24 vs. Fast Break
Monday, June 15, 2009
Is Poop Really Getting in the Way? ... and Other Weekend Issues
I don't know if my weekend should be considered typical or atypical (does it have to be one or the other?), but there were a few items of note. I would be an irresponsible blogger if I didn't share them.
"Your poop is getting in the way of family time." I don't really like going to the park. For a man with a couple of kids, that can be a problem. But my reason for abandoning my family at Porter Park Friday night was legitimate: I HAD to go to the bathroom, and I wasn't using a portable jail cell of a 'toilet' in order to relieve myself. Luckily we'd gone to the park right after running a couple of errands, so we were only about a mile from home and I had the use of a car at my disposal. (Frankly, I might have run that mile if I didn't have the car.) Anyway, I was only gone for about ten minutes. Harmless relief, right? Of course not. During my short round-trip, my 18-month-old son took a header into a rocking dinosaur, bloodying his lip and chipping a tooth. Come on, what are the freaking odds? Could I have prevented it? Probably not, but my turds may always be tied to that little chipped tooth.
Miley Cyrus, you tricky little broad. I had a great idea for Saturday morning. I was ready to get online just before 10:00am to position myself for a couple of tickets to the Miley Cyrus concert later this year at Kansas City's Sprint Center. Of course, I wasn't really positioning myself to experience this show, and I wasn't even doing so for the benefit of my eight-year-old stepson, who regrettably glues himself to Hannah Montana and other Disney Channel fluff as if it were a Martin Scorcese marathon. No, I was ready to buy and resell these golden tickets and pocket the extra cash. Well, my plan was quickly foiled by this "Official Paperless Ticket Tour."
The Miley Cyrus tour is a paperless ticketed tour. You will not receive a physical ticket for entry and are required to bring the credit card used to buy your tickets and a government-issued ID to the venue, where your credit card will be swiped to gain you and your party access to the event. If you do not have your credit card and government-issued ID in hand at the event, you will not gain access to the event.
Translation: If you buy the tickets, you better be the one who shows up at the gate. Fuckin' bastards.
I didn't go to Home Depot for the chocolate. I'm going to make this one really quick: Whoever the hell came up with the idea of putting candy in the checkout aisles at places like Home Depot is a genius. Christ, I can't go pick up a couple of bags of mulch and sand without ending up with a Kit Kat too?! I tried to escape without it, but you should have heard the fucking temper tantrum. Yet another joy of parenthood.
And it's Monday again. Cheers.
"Your poop is getting in the way of family time." I don't really like going to the park. For a man with a couple of kids, that can be a problem. But my reason for abandoning my family at Porter Park Friday night was legitimate: I HAD to go to the bathroom, and I wasn't using a portable jail cell of a 'toilet' in order to relieve myself. Luckily we'd gone to the park right after running a couple of errands, so we were only about a mile from home and I had the use of a car at my disposal. (Frankly, I might have run that mile if I didn't have the car.) Anyway, I was only gone for about ten minutes. Harmless relief, right? Of course not. During my short round-trip, my 18-month-old son took a header into a rocking dinosaur, bloodying his lip and chipping a tooth. Come on, what are the freaking odds? Could I have prevented it? Probably not, but my turds may always be tied to that little chipped tooth.
Miley Cyrus, you tricky little broad. I had a great idea for Saturday morning. I was ready to get online just before 10:00am to position myself for a couple of tickets to the Miley Cyrus concert later this year at Kansas City's Sprint Center. Of course, I wasn't really positioning myself to experience this show, and I wasn't even doing so for the benefit of my eight-year-old stepson, who regrettably glues himself to Hannah Montana and other Disney Channel fluff as if it were a Martin Scorcese marathon. No, I was ready to buy and resell these golden tickets and pocket the extra cash. Well, my plan was quickly foiled by this "Official Paperless Ticket Tour."The Miley Cyrus tour is a paperless ticketed tour. You will not receive a physical ticket for entry and are required to bring the credit card used to buy your tickets and a government-issued ID to the venue, where your credit card will be swiped to gain you and your party access to the event. If you do not have your credit card and government-issued ID in hand at the event, you will not gain access to the event.
Translation: If you buy the tickets, you better be the one who shows up at the gate. Fuckin' bastards.
I didn't go to Home Depot for the chocolate. I'm going to make this one really quick: Whoever the hell came up with the idea of putting candy in the checkout aisles at places like Home Depot is a genius. Christ, I can't go pick up a couple of bags of mulch and sand without ending up with a Kit Kat too?! I tried to escape without it, but you should have heard the fucking temper tantrum. Yet another joy of parenthood.
And it's Monday again. Cheers.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Game 2: Worse Than the First
The exploits of my C-league recreational basketball team, continued ...
Game 2: June 10 vs. The Fighting Artichokes
Team Johnny's came out of the gate hot again, this time with a 9-0 start to open the game. Just as in Game 1, this blogger helped the cause with an early bucket in transition and a three. By controlling the glass on the defensive end and getting some second-chance baskets off of our own misses, we kept a fairly solid working margin throughout the half. The star, despite a calf strain that temporarily put him on the sideline, was my blogging friend Mr. Peterson. Well on his way to a double-double after the first 20 minutes. Halftime score: 22-14.
Unlike the season opener, we maintained momentum into the second half. We were quicker to the ball, knocked down a few shots and continued to hold a considerable rebounding advantage. My shifty little ass had gotten to the rim a few times for layups and also earned a couple of trips to the line for my efforts. After hitting two free throws with just under 5:00 to play, Johnny's held a seemingly comfortable 38-24 lead.
That's when things drastically changed. Our clearly inferior opponents started hitting shots and started pressing -- a lethal combination. (For those needing a University of Illinois reference, think 2007 NCAA first round vs. Virginia Tech -- double-digit lead quickly erased as non-ballhandlers such as Brian Randle, Warren Carter and Rich McBride committed repeated turnovers.) We seemed to turn it over almost every trip those last few minutes. And when we did break the press, it was like a mad dash to get the ball to the rim as quickly as possible rather than to keep the floor spread and take some time off the clock. I take some of the blame for committing one of the turnovers, but moreso for not getting to the ball enough. Maybe it's my ego, but I think we'd have been better off if I'd have brought it up the floor every time.
Still, we hit most of our free throws when fouled and seemed to control our own destiny in the closing seconds. But a three with under ten seconds left cut the lead to one, 44-43. That's a situation when I want the ball, and I got it. Fouled with 3.6 left, I was able to almost put the game on ice. Knocked down both to make it a three-point game, 46-43. The smart money says to foul before the shot in that situation, and that's what was briefly discussed. But somehow a Fighting Artichoke was allowed to slip behind his man, catch a high-arcing 65-foot pass, turn and shoot a relatively uncontested three at the buzzer. Nothing but net. You've got to be fucking kidding me.
After inexplicably being outscored 22-8 over the final 4+ minutes of regulation, I don't even want to talk about the extra session.
Final score: 56-51 in OT
SJI contribution (my postgame recollection of it): 13 points -- 4 FG (one 3) and 4-5 from the line. Not enough for a W.
Record: 0-2
Next game: June 17 vs. American Century
Game 2: June 10 vs. The Fighting Artichokes
Team Johnny's came out of the gate hot again, this time with a 9-0 start to open the game. Just as in Game 1, this blogger helped the cause with an early bucket in transition and a three. By controlling the glass on the defensive end and getting some second-chance baskets off of our own misses, we kept a fairly solid working margin throughout the half. The star, despite a calf strain that temporarily put him on the sideline, was my blogging friend Mr. Peterson. Well on his way to a double-double after the first 20 minutes. Halftime score: 22-14.
Unlike the season opener, we maintained momentum into the second half. We were quicker to the ball, knocked down a few shots and continued to hold a considerable rebounding advantage. My shifty little ass had gotten to the rim a few times for layups and also earned a couple of trips to the line for my efforts. After hitting two free throws with just under 5:00 to play, Johnny's held a seemingly comfortable 38-24 lead.
That's when things drastically changed. Our clearly inferior opponents started hitting shots and started pressing -- a lethal combination. (For those needing a University of Illinois reference, think 2007 NCAA first round vs. Virginia Tech -- double-digit lead quickly erased as non-ballhandlers such as Brian Randle, Warren Carter and Rich McBride committed repeated turnovers.) We seemed to turn it over almost every trip those last few minutes. And when we did break the press, it was like a mad dash to get the ball to the rim as quickly as possible rather than to keep the floor spread and take some time off the clock. I take some of the blame for committing one of the turnovers, but moreso for not getting to the ball enough. Maybe it's my ego, but I think we'd have been better off if I'd have brought it up the floor every time.
Still, we hit most of our free throws when fouled and seemed to control our own destiny in the closing seconds. But a three with under ten seconds left cut the lead to one, 44-43. That's a situation when I want the ball, and I got it. Fouled with 3.6 left, I was able to almost put the game on ice. Knocked down both to make it a three-point game, 46-43. The smart money says to foul before the shot in that situation, and that's what was briefly discussed. But somehow a Fighting Artichoke was allowed to slip behind his man, catch a high-arcing 65-foot pass, turn and shoot a relatively uncontested three at the buzzer. Nothing but net. You've got to be fucking kidding me.
After inexplicably being outscored 22-8 over the final 4+ minutes of regulation, I don't even want to talk about the extra session.
Final score: 56-51 in OT
SJI contribution (my postgame recollection of it): 13 points -- 4 FG (one 3) and 4-5 from the line. Not enough for a W.
Record: 0-2
Next game: June 17 vs. American Century
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Orlando Magic: The Pick of the GOP
When I turn to ESPN or any other seemingly reliable sports outlet, I'm looking for scores, injury updates, fantasy news, etc. I'm sure as hell not expecting or wanting to see any bullshit about this guy.
But that's just what I got yesterday when ESPNews felt it appropriate to crawl the "news" that President Obama predicted an L.A. Lakers' NBA Finals win in six games. So what if the douche correctly picked North Carolina in his NCAA bracket back in March. (By the way, accidentally stumbling across the sight of Obama and Andy Katz together pondering the 65-team field was one of the more troubling things I've seen this year. More than 15 seconds of that would have likely caused me to jump off my fucking roof.)
Anyway, I'm taking the Magic in six, and I'm hoping my Republican friends will join me. I'm with Superman.
But that's just what I got yesterday when ESPNews felt it appropriate to crawl the "news" that President Obama predicted an L.A. Lakers' NBA Finals win in six games. So what if the douche correctly picked North Carolina in his NCAA bracket back in March. (By the way, accidentally stumbling across the sight of Obama and Andy Katz together pondering the 65-team field was one of the more troubling things I've seen this year. More than 15 seconds of that would have likely caused me to jump off my fucking roof.)
Anyway, I'm taking the Magic in six, and I'm hoping my Republican friends will join me. I'm with Superman.
Game 1: For Starters, We're Losers
Perhaps I should have known it was a bad sign that the first game of our new basketball season fell on a day when I also had to visit my dentist and my mechanic. But regardless of my disappointment, I've decided to entertain myself by chronicling the eight-game season through this creative outlet.
Game 1: Wednesday, June 3 vs. Cobra Kai
The Spring/Summer iteration of our recreational basketball team hit the hardwoods in lovely Overland Park, KS, last night with tempered expectations after a 3-7 winter performance in the Merriam, KS, 4-on-4 league. But after a hot start, up 13-3 after the first five minutes, we felt good. Yours truly -- one who's always willing to do a little chest thumping -- hit a couple of early threes to help lead the charge, and I felt strong throughout the night. But what plagued us in our last league also reared its head in our new league. Defensive breakdowns on the perimeter led to too many open shots, left the interior scrambling, thus opening up the opportunity for easy offensive boards and put-backs. Our early ten-point lead shrunk to four at the half, 32-28.
More of the same in the second half as the lead changed hands after a few minutes. Over the first ten minutes of the half, we mustered just four points. That was enough to seal the fate of Johnny's (that's our team name, sponsored by a local tavern chain for whom one of my teammates was a General Manager ... until this week. Shit, there's another bad omen I should have spotted heading into Game 1: Wearing shirts promoting an entity with whom we no longer had an affiliation.).
Final score: 54-44
SJI contribution (A friend told me during our winter basketball session that it was surprising that I didn't keep track of how many points I score in each game. Translation: I'm perceived as a selfish bastard. So in my weekly postgame recaps, I'm going to try to remember how much I contributed to the cause.): 14 points -- four 3s and one bucket from the paint. Not enough to start us with a W.
Record: 0-1
Next game: June 10 vs. The Fighting Artichokes
Game 1: Wednesday, June 3 vs. Cobra Kai
The Spring/Summer iteration of our recreational basketball team hit the hardwoods in lovely Overland Park, KS, last night with tempered expectations after a 3-7 winter performance in the Merriam, KS, 4-on-4 league. But after a hot start, up 13-3 after the first five minutes, we felt good. Yours truly -- one who's always willing to do a little chest thumping -- hit a couple of early threes to help lead the charge, and I felt strong throughout the night. But what plagued us in our last league also reared its head in our new league. Defensive breakdowns on the perimeter led to too many open shots, left the interior scrambling, thus opening up the opportunity for easy offensive boards and put-backs. Our early ten-point lead shrunk to four at the half, 32-28.
More of the same in the second half as the lead changed hands after a few minutes. Over the first ten minutes of the half, we mustered just four points. That was enough to seal the fate of Johnny's (that's our team name, sponsored by a local tavern chain for whom one of my teammates was a General Manager ... until this week. Shit, there's another bad omen I should have spotted heading into Game 1: Wearing shirts promoting an entity with whom we no longer had an affiliation.).
Final score: 54-44
SJI contribution (A friend told me during our winter basketball session that it was surprising that I didn't keep track of how many points I score in each game. Translation: I'm perceived as a selfish bastard. So in my weekly postgame recaps, I'm going to try to remember how much I contributed to the cause.): 14 points -- four 3s and one bucket from the paint. Not enough to start us with a W.
Record: 0-1
Next game: June 10 vs. The Fighting Artichokes
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Losing the Anti-Hype Battle Again to Lebron
As I've said before, I'm not one for hype. That's why I never thought I'd be pulling for someone like Lebron James. He had enough going for him that I didn't need to put any of my energy behind him. But I officially became a Lebron fan a few years back when he almost single-handedly carried the Cavs into the NBA Finals, and what he's done since hasn't changed my mind. (And I'm not just talking about the State Farm commercial in which Lebron does the Kid N' Play dance.)
Watching the end of Game 2 Friday night was one of the many occasions when my wife's understanding of my sports fandom proved to be lacking. She wondered why I cared so much to be watching the game when I had no allegiance to either team. Let's just say it's a good thing I didn't lose the argument. With Hedo Turkoglu poised to be the Rashard Lewis of Game 2 by scoring five points in the last minute, I was stunned that the Magic found themselves a tick away from a 2-0 lead heading home.
We all know what happened next. I jumped off the freaking couch when Lebron's rainbow three rattled in and, as usual, I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to have been in that arena. Unreal.
But I'm a bit troubled by the last two days worth of comparisons between Friday night's shot and Michael Jordan's classic game-winner 20 years ago over Craig Ehlo. The thing is, Jordan's wasn't just a game-winner; it was a series-winner. If it didn't go in, the Bulls were going home -- not for the next game, but for the entire offseason. Sure, if Lebron's shot didn't go in then you could almost seal the Cavs' fate, having dropped the first two games of the series on their home floor. But they would have still been alive to fight on.
I don't care that Jordan's was a first-round series ... and that it was only basically a free-throw line jumper ... or that there were three seconds on the clock when he got the ball rather than just one. His shot sent his opponents packing.
Now if the Cavs rally to win this series and go on to the NBA title, then you can say that the shot probably saved the season. And that's when you can say it wasn't just "the shot," it was "The Shot." Either way, Lebron still has some work to do.
Watching the end of Game 2 Friday night was one of the many occasions when my wife's understanding of my sports fandom proved to be lacking. She wondered why I cared so much to be watching the game when I had no allegiance to either team. Let's just say it's a good thing I didn't lose the argument. With Hedo Turkoglu poised to be the Rashard Lewis of Game 2 by scoring five points in the last minute, I was stunned that the Magic found themselves a tick away from a 2-0 lead heading home.
We all know what happened next. I jumped off the freaking couch when Lebron's rainbow three rattled in and, as usual, I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to have been in that arena. Unreal.
But I'm a bit troubled by the last two days worth of comparisons between Friday night's shot and Michael Jordan's classic game-winner 20 years ago over Craig Ehlo. The thing is, Jordan's wasn't just a game-winner; it was a series-winner. If it didn't go in, the Bulls were going home -- not for the next game, but for the entire offseason. Sure, if Lebron's shot didn't go in then you could almost seal the Cavs' fate, having dropped the first two games of the series on their home floor. But they would have still been alive to fight on.
I don't care that Jordan's was a first-round series ... and that it was only basically a free-throw line jumper ... or that there were three seconds on the clock when he got the ball rather than just one. His shot sent his opponents packing.
Now if the Cavs rally to win this series and go on to the NBA title, then you can say that the shot probably saved the season. And that's when you can say it wasn't just "the shot," it was "The Shot." Either way, Lebron still has some work to do.
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