A Bowl of Stupid

VANCOUVER (AP): The US team once again proved its superiority by dominating the waterboarding exercises at the 2010 Olympic Games yesterday.

Among the US athletes participating in this year’s Olympic Games were three of the top-ranked waterboarders in the world. Adm Jack Francone, Sgt Brian Naismith and Private Kirstie Jacobs were all ranked in the top 5 by Waterboarding magazine at the start of this year, and they easily saw off the less experienced Afghan and Pakistan teams, and even bested their well-lauded Israeli counterparts.

In the event, team members are given ten minutes to simulate the drowning of a suspect volunteer. Judged like figure skating, each athlete is given marks for technical mastery of the skill and is also judged on his overall artistry.

“What really differentiates one waterboarder from another are the flourishes –- trash talk, a well placed knee on the neck, or a fist in the mouth –- that a particular athlete adds when executing his routine. It really is an art form,” explained the U.S. Team Coach, former Vice President Dick Cheney.

The Iranian team also put in a good showing and have shown remarkable improvement in the event over the past few years, progress some analysts attribute to hands-on lessons received at a “secret training facility” of which the Iranians had denied the existence until this weekend, when they publicly declared themselves a ‘nuclear state’.

The Olympics run through February 28th, concluding with rubber-hose cryptanalysis (in which a rubber hose is applied forcefully and frequently to the soles of the feet until the key to the cryptosystem is discovered, a process that can take a surprisingly short time and is quite computationally inexpensive). Las Vegas has the Iranian team as a 12:1 odds-on favorite to win, although Mr. Cheney has said that he is confident “this years U.S. team will be able to end years of Iranian dominance in this event.”

Life here in Indonesia during the dry season can get pretty redundant. As I’ve mentioned previously, while it does seem (and, for the most part, IS) the idyllic situation to be based in a tropical paradise and the surf capital of the world, the concept sometimes loses its appeal even after only several weeks of nothing more than ‘surf, yoga, sleep, read, rinse and repeat’.

I’ve not reached that point … yet. But I have reached the point where I’ve taken to driving anywhere from 1-2 hours each morning to the more preeminent surf spots on the island. Yes, because now, when the season starts up, there are very few other places in the entire world that can match the perfection of these surf spots (including “Impossibles”, pictured above and where I’ve been going out for the past few days when the latest swell hit). But also because it’s simply SOMETHING TO DO besides read or watch TV.

Yes, my plan is to hunker down in Indonesia for the summer (i.e., until October) in order to save a few bucks. And yes, I’ve had some really fantastic surf sessions in the past week or so. Yet, despite all that, if I don’t get off this island in the next couple weeks for at least a few days, there’s a distinct possibility that I’ll take up skeet shooting or veterinary school just to liven things up a bit.

Crap, I think I really need to get a job again. Sigh.

Ever since I was in law school, every purported boxing fan who knew just enough to get by, but not quite enough to understand the intricacies of the sport have told me that Oscar ‘The Golden Boy’ De La Hoya was their fucking idol. Yeah, what-the-fuck-ever …

Admittedly, De La Hoya has had some skillz. He was well trained from an early age (coming from a longtime fighting family), which eventually translated into an Olympic gold medal and ten world titles in six different weight classes. No small feat.

But more telling than his record is the fact that, as a handsome, clean-cut corporate sweetheart, De La Hoya has generated more money than any other boxer in the history of the sport. And in the ‘incorruptible’ world of professional boxing, this too is no small feat.

Moreover, critics have knocked De La Hoya throughout his entire career for lacking aggression, and his pre-bout antics are quite often more entertaining that the bouts themselves — which often devolve into clinics on ‘lifestyle maintenance.’

While not stating anything overtly about his ‘interesting’ pro record (the Mayweather split-decision and the ABSURD Sturm middleweight WBO title decision among others), and also not discounting his recent victory against a contestant on television’s boxing reality show, ‘The Contender’, I’m baffled as to how De La Hoya STILL manages to be such a HUGE box office (and pay per view) draw.

Because of this oxymoronic nature of De La Hoya’s career, I was pleased — although not shocked — to read about the results of the much heralded December 6th bout between him and Filipino hero, Manny Pacquiao (the TRUE golden boy):

LAS VEGAS (AP) — Manny Pacquiao fought a lot bigger than he looked. Oscar De La Hoya simply looked old. Pacquiao dominated his bigger and more famous opponent from the opening bell Saturday night, giving De La Hoya a beating and closing his left eye before De La Hoya declined to come out of his corner after the eighth round.

De La Hoya’s left eye was closed shut as he sat on his stool after the eighth round and the ring doctor, referee and his cornermen discussed his condition.

The fight was so lopsided and De La Hoya looked so inept that it could spell the end for boxing’s richest and most marketable star.

It’s about fucking time.

Again, admittedly, De La Hoya’s retirement will probably do nothing to change the underlying nature of professional boxing. Nor will De La Hoya cease to get rich off of the de-evolution of the sport (he, together with fellow ex-boxers Bernard Hopkins and Shane Mosley, owns ‘Golden Boy Productions’ — one of the largest combat sport promotional firms in the world). But at least this chapter of his career is over.

Yeah, he may be rich … and I may just be hating … but I gotta tell ya’ — it’s good to know that De La Hoya got the shit beat out of him as he sets off on that long, slow road to the middle.

P.S. Also a good read about the hype vs. reality that professional boxing has become, go read this great piece by Kevin Iole on Yahoo! Sports: “Boxing hype finally reaching the 21st century.”

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).

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

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 »

(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 »

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)

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.

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.

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.

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)

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.

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.