A Bowl of Stupid

The whole “sport hooligan” thing escapes me.

To be honest, the whole thing with obsessively rooting for professional sports, in general, escapes me.

As I’ve mentioned before, in my opinion, except for pure and abject boredom, there is absolutely no valid reason to root for a professional sports team.

The players on those teams don’t know you, they don’t like you, and most of them would just as likely have you killed to make a set of curtains out of your skin for their summer home in the Bahamas rather than spend a minute of time with you.

It is a ridiculous endeavor.

And that’s what makes the whole idea of “sports hooliganism” all the more absurd (but ultimately, also all the more fascinating from an anthropological standpoint).

Not only do these mouth-breathers become so obsessed with the goings on of players on their favorite teams, they actually get so worked up that they are willing to kill, and be killed, all in the name of a sports team — typically consisting of a bunch of oversized megalomaniacal hop-heads, looking for nothing more than to make enough money to buy another luxury car to wreck, or to pay off the massive gambling debts incurred by their entourage.

However, out of Greece this week comes word of sports hooliganism I can almost understand.

Yes, they are rabid sports-fans, irrationally willing to defend the honour of their team to the death.

Yes, they got completely out of hand at a sporting event involving their favorite team.

Yes, they caused mayhem, destruction and death during an awe-inspiring brawl with their rivals.

But this time, at least it wasn’t involving something as silly as soccer or American football.

This time, it was volleyball.

Womens volleyball.

Brawl Halts Team Sports In Greece
Greek authorities have canceled all team sports matches for two weeks after a mass brawl between rival women’s volleyball fans left one man dead.

The 25-year-old man who died had head injuries and stab wounds, doctors said. Several other people were injured in the brawl in the Peania area outside Athens.

“They were jumping on our car for five minutes, they were asking for our mobile phones and stabbed our driver,” one witness said.

“We had warned that this game was dangerous,” the head of Greece’s volleyball federation, Thanassis Beligratis, was quoted by the AFP news agency as saying.

What. The. Fuck?

All kidding aside, these are the peoples who birthed a nation that has lasted for over 3,000 years and is generally considered to be the seminal culture that provided the foundation for all of Western Civilization.

And now they’re stabbing people at a womens volleyball tournament. For cell-phones.

Words escape me.

(Via With Leather)

Today, I signed a contract to sell my condo in South Beach.

I have no housing yet lined up. I don’t know exactly where I’m going to live, or even in what country.

I’m just hoping to god I don’t wind up like Matt Foley.

Although I do love government cheese …

I used to box when I was much younger. My efforts, however, were thwarted by the omnipresence of 5-inch thick coke-bottle glasses I had to lug around just so I could see what day it was. So, by necessity, I wad forced to move on to other, less dangerous sports — like rock climbing.

After I got LASIK done a few years ago, however, I was able to pursue various activities I had otherwise been unable to previously without the use of corrective lenses — like rock climbing.

I was also able to get back into boxing about 18 months ago.

Which was great, as I lost over 35 pounds in less than 2 months and was able to relearn a skilled art form that I had otherwise lost in my youth.

It also gave me the opportunity to start sparring in the ring again — which, as anyone can tell you, is always good for someone with a debilitating head injury.

I have, however, been a bit remiss in my training regimen over the past couple months, the cost of which was regaining about 10 pounds that I had previously lost, as well as the loss of hand-speed, power and proper boxing form (well, as much of those as can be expected from a 37 year old).

I went back into the ring this evening to spar hardcore for the first time in a couple months.

And I proceeded to get my ass handed to me on a silver platter. Over. And over. And over again.

My head hurts. My ribs hurt. There’s a fair chance that I may have broken my nose again for the 20th or 30th time (this year).

But I’m quickly heading back down to 165 pounds — which is all that really matters at the end of the day, right?

If only I had remembered to use the “Dim-Mak.” Ah well, next time.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to start cleaning up after these big green monkeys flying around my dining room. Because you know how much dirt those things can track into the house.

P.S. Extra points for anyone who knows the ridiculously obscure TV show (and movie) references.

I really don’t know where to begin with this one. I really don’t.

While driving home the other night with a friend, we were listening to the preeminent hp-hop/rap song of all time — Rapper’s Delight by the “Sugerhill Gang.” I hadn’t listened to it in a while, and I had forgotten just how damn good that song is.

That got me thinking about about why, for all the other music I’ve discussed on this site, I haven’t posted about any good hip-hop/rap music that’s been released lately. Not just decent hip-hop, but that same amazing, driving hip-hop that started the industry.

The thought slipped my mind until today, when I saw this article over at The Seminal about how “Hip Hop Isn’t Dying, It Just Sucks.”

The author of that article makes some very good points, many of which I unconsciously have been thinking since about …. oh, June 1992.

He pointed out how the rap scene right now is chaotic, without any unity or artistic purpose; it’s just people trying to get rich.

He pointed out how hip hop, as a musical art-form, just isn’t living up to musical standards; how it’s just plain bad.

I agree with him on those, and many of his other points. However, the author also notes:

It takes a lot to “kill” a genre of music. People have been writing about the end of rock and rap since the day they were created. I’m not saying hip hop is dying or dead.

With this I disagree. Rap and hip-hop music is dead. Period. End of story.

And do you want to know just how I know this? Just watch this clip. It’s one of the most disturbing videos you’ll ever see next to Hayden Christensen’s zombie-like portrayal of Darth Vader in Star Wars, or a commercial for fat-free mayonnaise.

Oh. My. God. Yes, rap is dead. As a doornail.

If you know someone who doesn’t already hate the Bush Administration, show them this video. That should do the trick.

Out of New York (where else) this week comes this story:

NY Bus Converted Into Oven for Matzos

It wasn’t your typical fire. When police responded to a report that something smelled of smoke in the middle of the night, they found an old school bus that had been converted into a supersized oven for Passover matzos – complete with a smokestack, exhaust fans and working fire.

Police Sgt. Lou Scorziello said police traced the smoke to the bus at about 3 a.m. Friday. He said the back door of the bus, formerly the emergency exit, was the oven door. “All the seats had been removed and the whole inside was an oven,” he said.

The derelict red-and-white bus, connected by a plywood passageway to a single-family house, was out of sight of casual passers-by in a Hasidic Jewish neighborhood and had apparently escaped the notice of authorities.

Money quote: “A building inspector said that while the bakery bus wasn’t nearly up to code, it was ‘very creative.’”

Well, we’re nothing if not creative. Just ask Mel Gibson.

(Story via Kang, image via JibJab)

I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been saying the same thing for years about American Idol.

(Image courtesy Modal Minority)

Stephen Stills has provided the music world with many, many gifts – his singing and songwriting skills being the most widely known. However, there is also another lessor-known reason why the music world owes him a debt of gratitude.

It was only after Raycharles “Ray” LaMontagne heard a Stephen Stills song that he decided to quit his job at a shoe factory and pursue a career in music.

In case you’re unaware, LaMontagne is himself one of the best folk singer-songwriters in the world today. Frankly, his singing conveys much more than I could ever say. As such, should you want to learn more about him, I suggest you visit his website or the Wikipedia entry about him.

I will say only this — LaMontagne had one of the most haunting voices you will ever hear, conveying an incredible mixture of melancholy, pain and self-introspection unique to only a handful of other folk singers, such as Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie.

LaMontagne has been around for several years now and has released two (2) full albums, but this song off his first album is my absolute favorite. Trust me, his voice will linger with you long after the song ends.

Ray LaMontagne – Jolene

UPDATE: Thanks to a note from Zesty (who has a disturbingly familiar blog layout), we also know just where they’re going to get it.

They’ve really gotta be shitting me. I mean, really.

First, during Sean Hannity’s March 23 radio show, former New York Mayor (and New York U.S. Attorney) Rudolph Giuliani fielded phone calls from listeners. One caller asked Giuliani to clarify his stance on gun control, to which he replied, “I support the First Amendment right to carry and bear arms.”

Okay, for any others also not paying attention during “Con Law I” class, the two Constitutional Amendments at issue are as follows:

Amendment I: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Amendment II: A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.

Riiight. Thanks Rudy, and you’re running for President of just what, exactly?

As if that wasn’t comical enough, U.S. Attorney General Alberto Gonzales’s senior counselor yesterday refused to testify in the Senate about her involvement in the firings of eight U.S. attorneys, invoking her Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination. As aptly noted by the Washington Post:

The decision means a senior aide to the nation’s top law enforcement official is in the remarkable position of refusing to testify for fear of implicating herself in a crime.

At least she cited the correct Amendment. It could have been worse – she could have sought refuge under the Eighteenth Amendment, but then she wouldn’t have the luxury of getting liquored-up after being granted immunity.

Finally, as if the above stories weren’t sufficient justification for lobotomizing all lawyers (myself included), there’s this story of the Justice Department’s continued efforts to mangle the U.S. justice system. In addition to the now well-publicized political firings of said U.S. attorneys, the Justice Department sought to insert a provision into the reauthorization of the USA Patriot Act that would allow the AG the power to appoint interim U.S. attorneys without Senate confirmation.

Thankfully, Congress passed a bill yesterday stripping the Justice Department and the AG of that power, which would effectively have given the President and his legal lackeys the power to hire and fire, at will, the highest law enforcement officials in the country – depending on which of Congresses laws they seek to enforce.

Well, I guess it could be worse. A woman could cut off your penis while you’re sleeping and toss it out the window of a moving car.

N.B. As you can see, for some reason I’m stuck on a Fight Club/Super Friends theme this week. Sorry about that. I’m hoping it passes before I develop a taste for lobster bisque and crime-fighting.

(Via The Daily Dish)

But for a handful of shows, I absolutely abhor network television. However, I am ashamed to admit that, among the shows I do watch, I am a closet fan of Heroes. I know, I know – that’s almost as bad as being a fan of Good Charlotte. So be it.

If you’re unaware, Heroes is the NBC sci-fi drama is about people who “thought they were like everyone else… until they woke with incredible abilities” such as telepathy, time travel and flight.

It is trite. It is campy. It is unintentionally hilarious at times. But it is also addictive.

One of the cheesiest aspects of the show is how serious it takes itself.

Someone really needs to tell all these fucktards that it’s all just an act. They’re not really heroes and the fate of civilization is not, in fact, based on how much they overact. Shit, even the shows narrator sounds like he’s been told that mankind will perish if he does not over-emphasize just how much the cheerleader loves her daddy.

It’s a bit like watching a version of The Super Friends that’s been produced by the makers of The Young And The Restless.

Unfortunately, as noted above, it’s also just as additive.

But finally, finally, someone much smarter and talented than I has produced a parody worthy of the shows name. Holy shit, this is one of the funniest clips I’ve seen in a while.

Heroes or Zeros

Hands down, best line: “If you could balance a flip phone on your nose, would you use it to save the world?”

(Via Sci-Fi Girl)

UPDATE: Thanks to the omniscience of one of my readers, I learned through a Variety Article that this “Zeroes” clip is just one of dozens, if not hundreds, of NBC-created viral videos the network has clandestinely unleashed over the past year.

I feel so used.

I left the practice of law almost nine (9) full months ago now. The line I threw out to people, and one which has been echoed elsewhere (including the sidebar of this blog), is that I did it “in a desperate attempt to reclaim my soul.” That is only partially true. In actually, I simply did not feel comfortable practicing law. Although I was very good at it, the practice is by definition a contentious career-path, and one which eventually turned me into a bitter, angry sycophant. As a result, I wound up “burning-out” on the practice of law every few years. The latest of such occurrences taking place a little over a year ago.

Luckily, I prepared for this eventuality. Modeling myself after the Count of Monte Cristo, I spent long nights planning my eventual escape.

For that reason, I have had the luxury of being able to pursue several other business ventures over the past year without having to return to the practice of law.

Sadly, all of these business ventures have now gone the way of the dodo – either due to unfortunate partnerships, failed markets, or otherwise. Such is life.

I have done similar things before.

When I left California for Florida almost seven (7) years ago, I did not have a job awaiting me here. Then too, my move was ostensibly for the same reason as my recent bout with under-employment – to leave the practice of law for another, more fulfilling, career. But after shuffling around from one legally-related job to another for several months, I eventually capitulated and returned to the full-time practice of law, which I continued in for the next six (6) years until I again reached another burn-out point.

From what I understand, this is a fairly common occurrence among lawyers – with burn-out periods typically taking (like mine) between 2-3 years to manifest. Indeed, many other lawyers with whom I have spoken also want to quit. These attorneys also grew to hate their jobs, and to hate the people they had become. Several even much more so than I.

Proving Thoreau correct, however, many of those attorneys either were not in a position to actively quit their jobs, or to passive-aggressively throw themselves into a position almost certainly resulting in their departure – both of which I have done.

Some of those lawyers were encumbered with wives, children, extended families, a vaulted place in the community – something requiring them to do that which they ultimately did not wish to do.

But not I.

I have not stayed in any one community long enough for me to make connections significant enough to require my continued presence.

I similarly have not been able to maintain a healthy romantic relationship long enough such that I too have been forced to choose my family over my career (and personal happiness). Indeed, perhaps my underlying distaste for the practice of law was a contributing factor of such romantic failures. I honestly don’t know.

Regardless, what I do know is that, due to my being selfishly unencumbered, I am responsible only for myself. Tumbling quickly towards my 40′s, I have no mouths to feed, no wife with whom to coordinate schedules, and no business venture requiring my presence.

I am alone.

This role carries with it obvious disadvantages – loneliness, regret, no true home, an ever-revolving circle of friends. I will not lie – these things pain me on a daily basis.

However, I made a conscious decision to trade such things for a life of relative solitude. So be it.

And now, here I am again.

Alone.

Unencumbered.

Desiring nothing more than a change in the status quo.

I have come to despise all that Miami stands for – the corruption, the gluttony, the vapidness, the obsession with money and celebrity. It is beyond redemption. Moreover, for me, Miami has also come to represent a microcosm of what has gone wrong in the United States over the past several years.

So, in what seems an almost certainty at this point, I am once again planning my exit strategy.

This week, I reached a deal to sell my condo in South (Miami) Beach. And if everything goes according to plan, in May, I hope to be moving to Singapore, with stops in Malaysia and Indonesia, for the next several years.

I refuse to live a life that no longer makes sense to me – one in which money, power, beauty, and fame are the ultimate aphrodisiacs. I don’t know if I can find something better in the Far East. But I’ll be damned to fucking-hell if I’m going to stay here any longer without at least trying to find out.

Over the weekend, having been “tagged” herself, Lora from The Power of Trinity in turn “tagged” me and several others, requesting that we answer and pass on to subsequent bloggers several questions concerning themselves.

This particular “tagging” exercise requires bloggers to “compose a new blog post listing the top 5 to 10 things that [they] do almost every day that help [them] to be successful.”

Being the effete snob that I am, my first instinct was to try to find a polite way of begging off her invitation since, although I think very highly of Lora, I find “tagging” to be the adult equivalent of a homeroom chain-letter (“if you could date anyone in school, who would it be?”).

Moreover, the underlying concept, as developed by the initial “tagger” (not the subsequent ones, like Lora), is typically nothing more than an easy means of getting attention; a cheap and easy ploy of shouting to the online world: “look at me, look at me!”, which these days often translates into a far more lucrative venture than simply gaining enough votes to be named Homecoming Douchebag of the Year.

In other words, it is glorified spam.

Moreover, even if I were not so supremely cynical as to view tagging in such a harsh light, I really don’t think that anyone short of Mahatma Ghandi or Scott Baio is especially qualified to expound on just what made them “successful.”

Indeed, nine times out of ten, success can be attributed to nothing more than being in the right place at the right time, or to form following the function of having glorious physical attributes, propelling such genetic freaks ahead of the seething hordes until they overdose and die, sad and alone on some Indian Reservation in the middle of the Florida Everglades.

These issues notwithstanding, as Lora is a complete and absolute sweetheart (and one of the few people who actually reads on a regular basis the nonsense spewing from my keyboard), I attempted to forgo my baseline cynicism and have a go at answering her questions about “The Secret of My Success.”

After only a couple seconds, however, I realized it is doubtful that I have any ideas, let alone secrets, of success that could be of any help to anyone anywhere. My only secret be known, for all the benefits I have been afforded throughout my life, I am one of the least successful people I know. I have forever lived in the shadows of others, bitterly surviving off the scraps of their triumphs – an attribute which I unfortunately carry with me to this day. I have also failed to accurately plot the direction of my entire adult life, resulting in one bad decision after another. Moreover, I wound up stumbling, dazed, into a career that eventually robbed me of my soul and compassion.

And when the frustration of living with such miscalculations and mistakes became staggering, I dropped out from all of it – claiming it to be in the interest of my own happiness, although I constantly look back with hunger at that which I voluntarily forfeited.

I’m sorry Lora, but at this point, the only thing I can honestly say is that my decisions should really only serve as a warning to others.

Oh, and as per Brantley Foster, you should never screw the boss’s wife. That’s really bad, too.