A Bowl of Stupid

Since I left the USB cord to my camera in Singapore, I haven't been able to upload ANY pictures ever since I was in the Philippines in November. I'm returning to Singapore next week for a few days for a bit of 'rest and relaxation' (i.e., air conditioning and hot water), at which time I'll pick up the cord and upload my pictures from the past 3 months.

However, I will also have to buy a new camera since my old one just went tits up after I dropped it about 5 meters while rock climbing. Oops. Heh-heh, never saw THAT coming.

In the meantime, above is a picture taken on my computer showing the backdrop at the beautiful Railay Bay Resort here in Krabi, where I'm currently stealing borrowing free Wi/Fi. It's not THAT bad of a setting for late February, huh?

Happy winter everyone!!

Not much else to report other than I'm still trying to figure out where to go surfing for a couple months in March and April before heading back to the Philippines to meet up again with the royalty over there — right, princess?

I've been looking at the surf reports, and although it pains me to say this … Indonesia, and Bali specifically, is looking mighty, MIGHTY fine right about now. 4-6 waves with 12-15 second intervals, and 3-5 knot offshore winds. Pretty tempting, but I've still got the itch to head out into the Pacific for a bit — Micronesia, Tonga, or Palau, for example. Once again, pretty tempting.

Regardless, wherever I head, I'll make sure to bring some limes, just so I don't sink (Extra credit for picking up the reference).

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Yes, of course we're going to throw poo at them.

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Transcribed: 24 June 2007, 19:01:27

(Once again, I'm posting this just as I had written and later typed while these experiences were still fresh in my mind. In retrospect, I think I was being unduly harsh on myself and my surfing prowess (or lack thereof). I had been asking myself to completely change my style and form after having surfed a particular way for 15 years.

It's not gonna come overnight, and it's not gonna happen in some of the best, and hardest, waves in the world. If anything, this post is good in that it conveys the sheer frustration I felt after suffering days and days at a location I had - quite literally - given my entire life away for. But in retrospect again, I'm more frustrated now that I let those feeling of ineptitude take away from the experience.)

(A view of my favorite places in Indo - the incredible never-ending left at Desert Point. However, neither this picture nor the others of this, Scar Reef [below], or others can show just how amazingly fast these waves are breaking, or just how shockingly shallow the water and how nasty the reefs where all these waves break. Seriously, the waves break faster than anything else I've ever been on, and they do so in about 2-3 feet of water, right over razor sharp reef - which you can see all too clearly due to the extreme water clarity. This may be another reason why I was a bit "mind-fucked" when I was actually out there.)

Preface

For as long as I have been surfing, I have been using long and round surfboards – known to Australians as “Malibu” boards, or “Mals” for short (which itself is ironic, given that they are not called that in Malibu, California, from where the term originates).

Being bigger, Mals provide a much different type of surfing experience, and are typically not ridden as "hard" as the shortboards that everyone now associates with surfing.

In my mind, however, it was never really an issue of ease of effort. Rather, in my mind, Mals were just better for a nice fun ride on the big, slower waves that rise up along the continental shelves where I first took up the sport in earnest (California).

Moreover, I ride “regular footed” – a right footed stance with my left foot forward and my right foot back closer atop the fins to “steer” the board. A regular stance makes it easier to ride waves that break towards the right (i.e., “rights”). Conversely, people who ride with their opposite foot forward (a.k.a. “goofy footers”) can easier handle waves that break to the left (i.e. “lefts”).

That being said, most of the waves I have ridden in my life (i.e., in California and the Americas) have generally been “rights” that take the Pacific’s southern swells and rise up to meet the continental shelf – all of which catered to my surfing strengths (for lack of a better term). As such, I have always been a very limited, and very uncomplicated surfer.

In other words, I kinda suck.

However, in preparation for my sojourn to Indonesia, I had been diligently working on becoming a better and more diversified surfer. In this regard, I did the following:

– I switched to a much shorter surfboard – moving from my 9′1″ and 8′2″ Malibu long boards to a 6′10″ short board (although I was able to use the short board only once before I left the U.S.).

– I bought a 2 wheeled “Wave” skateboard that helped me practice my balance and board control, and to achieve the sharper “cuts” and other maneuvers done on short boards.

– I have, quite literally, been reading various books and articles on how to best ride “backhand” (i.e., taking left facing waves while riding “regular footed”) on Indonesia’s predominately “left” facing waves.

Now, however, I am faced with the real deal.

Most of the waves here in Indo are big and fast “lefts” rising up directly out of the deep waters of the Indian Ocean and dropping – without the benefit (or detriment, depending on your viewpoint) of a long journey and continental shelf to raise up the water before curling it into a wave.

(Another view of Desert Point - this one taken from one of the ubiquitous "luxury yachts" that haul in by the dozens those guys that can pay the money)

These waves are very different – and are quite remarkable when you see them personally.

Unlike the waves in the Americas, which will rise up above sea level upon their approach to the land, the waves here literally just drop upon reaching a reef or island – resulting in something that looks as if there is a wave “cliff” separating two distinct bodies of water, one resting 10-20 feet above the other.

It’s pretty freaking wild.

And if you’re not used to it, like me, it’s pretty freaking scary.

(One of the best breaks on the Island of Sumbawa - aptly called "Scar Reef")
Continue Reading »

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(Enormous snail I found on my sandals first day in Thailand. Luckily I got a picture before the battery died … for the remainder of the trip.)

Transcribed: Saturday, June 16, 2007, 9:00:14 AM
(Note: I’m putting up these notes/posts as originally transcribed by me when noted. However, it bears noting that, in re-reading them now, although factually correct, there are quite a few “emotional” aspects that skewed my perception of them while taking place – i.e., new people, getting lost, etc. – hopefully I’ll have time to comment later on how my views have since skewed.*)

Right now, I’m at a bungalow style place that I’ve been staying for the about 3 days on Lombok, an Indonesian island about 5-6 hours west of Bali by slow-ferry boat. I’ll write about this place, my trip here, and the surf here, in my next few entries. But for now, while I’ve the time (and an electrical power source), I’m gonna try to recreate from memory my trip to Thailand of several weeks ago. Continue Reading »

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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)

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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.

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Given my current situation — between careers, waiting to hear back on a very promising job opportunity, just returning from a 3 day snowboarding trip to Lake Tahoe, and at a loss for good writing material — I am, of course, going to do what anyone in my situation would do:

I'm going surfing for 4 days in Puerto Rico over the weekend. We leave tomorrow, and if the following surf report is any indication, we should have spaghetti arms by noon on Monday.

THURSDAY: 2-3’+ becoming 5-6’ N swell for the N coast. Rincon is 1-2’+ becoming 5-6’ as N swell rises. Plus sets are likely late in the day at the top spots. Winds are ESE/E 11-16kts.

FRIDAY: 4-5’ N swell. Winds are ESE 6-11kts.

SATURDAY: 3-4’ ENE trade/N swell mix for the N coast. 2-3’ N swell for Rincon. Winds are ESE/E 8-13kts.

SUNDAY: 4-5’ becoming 5-6’+ N swell. Winds are E 10-15kts.

EXTENDED FORECAST OUTLOOK: Frontal activity off of the US East Coast is setting up a steady run of fun surf for the island. The N coast will see the largest surf from trade swell/background swell combo. A reinforcing shot of swell picks up early Thursday. This hold steady into Friday before coming down a notch for Saturday. By Sunday another reinforcing shot of N swell is expected. This swell holds steady Monday and Tuesday while rotating more NE by Tuesday.

This is a picture of the reef right out back of my friend's house off of Rincon, where we will be doing the most damage this weekend. It goes off like a damn surf-machine.

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SACRAMENTO, Calif. (AP) — Sacramento Kings forward Ron Artest was arrested Monday after a woman called 911 from his home saying she had been assaulted. Placer County sheriff's deputies responded about 9:30 a.m. to Artest's five-acre estate in the Sacramento suburb of Loomis, where they found a woman who had suffered injuries, officials said. Deputies arrested Artest on suspicion of domestic violence and using force or violence to prevent the woman from reporting a crime, sheriff's spokeswoman Dena Erwin said.

Jesus, if there's any NBA player who makes the idea that a milkshake and hamburger solve mysteries seem normal, it's this guy.

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I wasn't going to post any more videos today in lieu of writing substantive content, but in light of my impending snowboarding trip to Lake Tahoe, I figured this clip would be appropriate. Indeed, this particular video is especially relevant given my penchant for damaging various body parts. Moreover, as can be attested to by my friends, I have been injured snowboarding in the past.

Before I left California 7 years ago, I suffered a relatively minor injury while attempting to snowboard down that insane mountain John Cusack tried to ski down in Better Off Dead ("Do you have any idea of the street value of this mountain?? It’s pure snow!!”). At the time, I was about 20 pounds heavier than I now am, which tends to make any "mis-calculated" landings all the more treacherous as the added weight exerts much more stress on the body part(s) upon which it lands.

In this particular case, I landed, as usual, on my ass) — well, my tailbone, to be precise. Although it was fairly painful, I thought nothing of the injury; mentally tacking it onto the expansive list of my various other injuries. However, after about a week or so, the swelling on my tailbone had continued to grow and was pushing against my spine and internal organs.

What had apparently happened is that my fall had caused a contusion in the skin around my tailbone. This is not typically an issue, as broken blood vessels tend to drain (and coagulate) in the surrounding skin, thus causing "black and blue" marks. However, in this case, the layers of skin themselves had separated and the blood was not draining/coagulating in the skin, but instead filling the gap between those layers, causing it the area to swell like a water balloon.

The E.R. doctor was, quite possibly, on loan from "Doctors Without Borders" to the only Hospital in the small town where I was living. Upon diagnosing the problem, he felt the need to drain the blood from my spinal area with a really, really big fucking needle. He also wanted to treat me for malaria, but that's neither here nor there.

Apparently, the pressure from the blood caused the needle's reservoir to fill faster than the doctor anticipated. This resulted in the doctor echoing my rock-falling sentiments. Needless to say, hearing the words "Oh Shit!" spilling from the lips of the E.R. doctor who has an extremely long needle sticking into the base of your spine is not the most comforting feeling in the world.

The doctor, apparently not being accustomed to the sight of blood, was shocked at the geyser he had made of my lower back. God, how I love small town doctors. I'm just glad the kid didn't faint.

No harm, no foul. It was a minor, albeit fairly disgusting, episode. In retrospect, at least.

On that note, here's the snowboarding clip. And trust us, it's a really safe sport.

See you guys when — and if — I get back.

(via Ursi's Blog and Yes But No But Yes)

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My business here in San Francisco concluded (hopefully, only briefly), my schedule is now open for the remainder of this week.

In addition, in order to maintain the lifestyle to which I've become accustomed, I liquidated much of my stocks and other investments several weeks ago. As a result, after yesterday's bloodbath on Wall Street, I am ironically one of the few people I know who can still afford both a coffee and a donut without having to panhandle for spare change beforehand — for the next few weeks, at least.

That being said, I am taking the advise of my good friends, TK over at Uncooked Meat, and Chez at Deus Ex Malcontent.

Allow me to explain.

For anyone following, both TK and Chez have, over what seems to be the past several decades, been discussing the horrible cold and snow that has been plaguing the Boston and New York metro areas, respectively. Therefore, in an attempt to bond with my blogging brothers in arms, I will be voluntarily subjecting myself to the same kind of weather conditions of which they have been complaining.

I'm going snowboarding in Lake Tahoe for the next 3 days.

Much love, my brothas. Much love.

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The Super Bowl. It's over. Finally. Until next year.

The game is over. The unnecessary hype is over. The corporate coffers are stuffed with money. The blimps have returned to their hangers. The hung over/strung out football players are back home. The celebrities have crawled back into their coffins tanning beds. And all of the mid-western tourists have left Miami, returning to the frozen tundra from whence they came.

And I have but three (3) words to say:

Thank. Fucking. God.

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I’ve recently taken a break from substantive writing, once again due a nice string of illnesses I was lucky to pull together over the course of the past week. Thank you, I like to think of myself as an overachiever. Needless to say, with the number of stomach viruses I’m managed to acquire in the past month, I’ve dropped another 10 pounds, and I now have a whole new concept for the next “South Beach Diet” book. Look for it in stores this summer.

Moving on.

As is well known, South Florida is a particularly nice place to live during the winter months. However, I should also add that I rarely leave the city of Miami Beach which, as you can see below, is a peninsula separated from mainland Miami by the expansive Biscayne Bay. This helps to insulate Miami Beach from the chaos typically occurring on a daily basis in the bowels of Miami proper. As an added plus, we actually have indoor plumbing over here on the Beach.

It’s very much as if you visit a major resort located in the middle of an emerging third-world country. The resort itself is very nice and well maintained, but as soon as you leave the front gates, you’ll be lucky to find a place that has running water and domesticated animals.

If you think I’m kidding, the next time you come to the Miami area, take a 5 minute trip from Miami Beach to Hialeah, where 92% of its population speaks Spanish as a first language, or to Opa-locka, which has one of the highest violent crime rates in the United States. Hell, you could make a day of it and go see them both - just remember to get your shots first.

It is for this reason that I find the idea of holding the Super Bowl here – in Miami proper – to be such an outlandish proposition. Based on the flaws that exist on the Miami mainland, there’s a good probability that 99% of the tourists will instead be placed on Miami Beach. And those who can’t afford that will stay as close to the Beach as possible and be provided only limited access to the rest of Miami. Indeed, I’ve already seen teams of courtesy vans busing pasty-white mid-westerners directly from their hotels on the mainland back and forth to the Beach.

Given the types of tourists that are now infesting Miami Beach like swarms of obese, pasty, beer guzzling locusts, ready to ingest anything and everything they can fit into their mouths in the days before “the big game,” I’m almost tempted to venture across the Causeway into Miami proper just to see how any of these swarming pests are interacting with “the locals” (as it were). I would imagine it’s somewhat akin to "National Lampoon's Vacation" meets "Romancing the Stone", where Clark Griswold and his family visit the Wallyworld located in Medellin, Columbia.

Which brings me to the main point of this post, which may indeed get me skewered by anyone still interested enough to have read this far:

Why haven’t more people pointed out that the “Super Bowl” is a complete load of horseshit?

This statement is applicable on so many levels, but unfortunately, I have only the time and the energy to address but a few. So let’s start with the most obvious.

1. The Super Bowl is Not About a Football Game.

The super bowl is about how much money there is to be fleeced by the corporate sponsors and whatever network shills over which they have control this year. I’m not exactly sure when the Super Bowl stopped being a game, but I’m guessing it was somewhere about the first time Joe Montana mugged into a camera immediately following a victory and, rather than thanking his mother, his god, or his teammates for the win, instead gleefully advised the country that he was taking his family to Disneyland.

Hell, even Terrell Owens takes time off from shilling for the most powerful corporate conglomerates in the world to shower praise upon himself from time to time. Call me a romantic, but I thought the point of playing organized sports was for the love of the game (or yourself, in his case). Yes, I know. Please don’t laugh at my naivety.

The Super Bowl is, unfortunately, the epitome of American organized sports. And the lack of honor now reflected in the NFL, the players unions, and their respective corporate hucksters is the reason why American children no longer play sports for the love of the game. In short, the Super Bowl has infected how America views sports – as a business, not a game.

2. The Super Bowl is a Social Event, Not a Sporting Event.

This may seem a bit superfluous to my first point, but needs to be addressed separately. It is well know that there are parties being hosted every night for the two week period leading up to the day of the game – much like a traditional Indian wedding, I would think. The event itself is minimal and of little consequence. However, the preceding festivals and rituals take weeks and require months of preparation.

The same thing goes for the game itself. Tell me the last time you've been to a Super Bowl party and seen anyone paying attention to the game after the halftime show — or sober enough to do so. So anyone who says they are actually pining to see the actual game – not the god-damn commercials or the halftime show – is either lying, ignorant, or being paid great deal of money to feign interest (see point No. 1 above).

You want proof of this point? Find someone who can tell me the final score of — or even who was playing in — the Superbowl game where Janet Jackson flashed her boob (*shudder*).

3. The Super Bowl is Not the Best Football Game of the Year. Period. End of Story.

Even assuming, arguendo, that the NFL was still a legitimate conduit for team sports, the Super Bowl is the last outlet for gauging the best football team. I learned this point over a decade ago when the game was hosted in San Diego, where I was living at the time. For various reasons, I had access to many of the insider parties taking place during the weeks leading up the game. I’ve been privy (and party) to copious drug and alcohol use before, but I was absolutely astounded at the amount of alcohol, pot, cocaine, and various other stimulants and/or hallucinogens being ingested by the professional football players I met, who were allegedly set to play “the game of their life” in just a matter of days.

Indeed, it seems more players get arrested or injured in the weeks leading up to the super bowl than any other time during the year – including the off-season. Just look at Stanley Wilson, Barret Robbins, Ray Lewis, Solomon Wilcots, and Eugene Robinson. Although this year may be the exception, with at least 35 NFL players having been arrested this past season on charges ranging from disorderly conduct to felony burglary.

In this regard, thank heavens the game is being hosted in Miami this year. As everyone is well aware, this town is world renowned for its lack of tolerance towards rampant partying and drug use. So I’m guessing there’s going to be nothing of the sort taking place this year.

4. The Underlying Question of “Which is the Best Team in the NFL” is Itself Entirely Flawed.

This question is akin to asking “which was the best Batman movie?” All of the contestants are incoherent, poorly acted, over-hyped, and stuffed with product placements and celebrity profiles, all in an attempt to make up for the fact that they all bear little resemblance to the package that had been originally purported.

Hearkening back again to my first point, football stopped being a game decades ago. It is now a professional corporation. Let me say that again, the NFL is not in the business of running football games, it is in the business of making money.

The players on the field are not there for the love of the game. They could care less about the teams for which they play and the fans who root them on. If you think I’m wrong, then why is free agency so rampant? Why are players more concerned with what they’re getting paid than where they play, or for whom they play?

It makes no difference who may be "the best" in this corporate environment, especially since there is a greater likelihood than not that your favorite player will be playing for your nemesis the following year. In the grand scheme, all other issues inherently fade to shades of money. Professional sports are not games, they are businesses. And unless I’m getting paid to root for my favorite corporations, I see no logical reason to do so.

And this brings me to my final point of the day, one which, again, I will adduce will earn me much scorn from those who choose to read this post:

5. Other than Pure and Abject Boredom, There is Absolutely No Valid Reason to Root for a Professional Sports Team.

Hell, I get bored too, but I don’t go out into dark alleys to get mugged just to kill time. But that is exactly what anyone – anyone – does who makes a regular habit of rooting blindly for a professional sports team.

The players, the owners, and the networks broadcasting the games, are only involved to make money off of the sports’ fans. If this were not the case, and they simply wanted to provide a service to the community, then why do so many network affiliates and team owners conspire to “blackout” games, refusing to show them in the team’s hometown unless, and only unless, those games are sold-out. Because they don’t want to loose the revenue for the unsold seats. And if they have to deny the actual fans from the only city that cares about that particular team, then so be it. They know the fans will bitch and moan – but they’ll come back like the addicts they are.

I personally get a kick out of seeing obese, middle age, functional alcoholics getting so involved in the fates of their respective professional sports teams and players, regardless of whether their teams win or lose. For someone like myself, a selfish bitter malcontent who is very physically active and very aware of my passing years, there is something deeply satisfying about watching these people.

These are people who have voluntarily relinquished their free time, time which could be better spent traveling, reading, running, or doing one of any number of activities other than sitting in front of a television and living vicariously through the actions of excessively-drugged prima donas who themselves could not care if their “fans” live or die in their favorite "Bark-o-loungers" watching the game.

I think it’s good to look up to somebody. It’s good to look towards others to assist you in setting your goals. But when that other persons goals become your goals exclusively, well, that’s just plain unhealthy. Especially when that other person is doing so directly to your detriment.

Given the foregoing, why the hell are professional sports still so popular? Are the corporate advertisers that good, or is the general public simply that stupid?

UPDATE:

As I've mentioned previously, I've been lucky enough to meet some great people through this blog, including TK (a.k.a., Lo Pan) from over at Uncooked Meat. Usually he and I see eye to eye on an alarming number of items — music, movies, transsexual hookers. However, he had some comments to make about my immediately precedent post condemning professional sports today. As he writes in his blog today:

"I [TK] originally wrote an exhaustively long comment on his [my] site, but then figured it's not fair to bore his readers with my bullshit. Plus, Matt doesn't swear very much, so I always feel bad when I lace my responses with my usual fucks and shits. So I figured I'd respond here, bore my readers with my bullshit, and we could do a little cross-blogging."

(I was under the impression that I curse like a sailor, but maybe those are just "the voices" again. Whatever.)

Anyway, I though it was a great idea. Take a look at what TK has to say over here. He disagrees with several of my points, and also brings up some really good points of his own. And for anyone else reading, please feel free to add your comments to the fray.

I'm still looking up "pseudo-intellectual" in the dictionary, but when I'm done I may have a response.

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I'm planning a snowboarding trip to Park City in the coming weeks. Hopefully, I can get out of Miami when the superbowl is going on - a bunch of mid-westerners in Miami in February? Geez, talk about your culture shock. And they're gonna be selling suntan lotion by the gallon. This whole town is gonna smell like a bottle of Hawaiian Tropic (if we're lucky).

Anyway, I came across something which reminded me of my trip (and the fact I've still got to buy plane tickets). It's a video of someone taking just an absolutely sick line going down this ridge-line. Did he make it? Errr, … not so much.

(nod to imnotadoctor.com)

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I've not been much of a fan of most organized sports ever since I turned in my football pads for surfboards, skateboards, and snowboards about 20 years ago. That being said, having grown up in Philadelphia, I still have a place in my heart for Philly sports teams – but only when they’re winning.

Please don’t take that the wrong way, that form of “fandom” is a long-standing tradition with Philly fans.

I remember once when I was a kid, at a game where Mike Schmidt hit 3 home runs, he was actually booed off the field after striking out in the 9th inning. I also remember the team had to suspend for several years the service of beer at The Vet (Stadium) after a particularly ugly “bat night” event (where they give away free bats to the first 1000 visitors or so). After that, they set up a free-standing courtroom in the stadium to handle any "issues" that came up during games. Nice, huh?

Anywho, back to the subject at hand – not that I’ve watched one game this season, but it turns out that yesterday the Eagles beat one of their traditional rivals, the Cowboys. As noted by Yahoo Sports, the Eagles denied Dallas the division crown and wrapped up a playoff berth of their own with a dominating 23-7 victory over the Cowboys in Irving, Texas.

Yea! Way to go – good job getting to the Playoffs! Don’t fuck it up.

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