NFL Blackout
The only reason I am posting this is to hopefully be a real drop of water in the tidal wave of webtrends against the NFL after this aberration of a weekend of "fair competition".
Robbery.
People robbed of their money. Children robbed of meaningful memories. Players robbed of their dignity. Teams robbed of wins. And a league robbed of its integrity.
Dear Roger Goodell,
I, a longtime Packer fan and dedicated customer of your product will no longer patronize your business. I will not watch NFL games. I will not visit NFL.com. I will not play fantasy football. I will not be a part of my Sunday ritual, possibly for the rest of the season, until you and your league get it right again. Your labor dispute with the referees has made NFL Football a sub-par product. It is unsafe, unsatisfying, unfair, and frustrating to watch.
I do not watch the NFL to be frustrated. I watch it to be entertained through the exhibition of great talent on a field of fair play.
I am done. I do not care if I already am missing the NHL. I don't need a cut-rate league taking my time. I would rather watch professional wrestling than watch what you have put in front of us.
Mr. Goodell, you should be ashamed. I am disgusted and embarrassed by what you have presented to the American public over the past 36 hours, and I for one will not take it.
So many have said that "it won't matter because America will still watch".
My TV is off. Next Sunday, it will remain that way.
Good day, sir.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Futher Evolution
The ten year old version of myself would kick me in the shins.
Lately, I have found myself doing some rather odd things that I have never done before. I am watching far less television by choice. Either I don't want the noise or the mindless lack of interaction, or I want to do something different... like reading... or listening to classical impressionist music... or songwriting... All three examples are tagged in ellipsis for the sake of incredulous emphasis. I have the distinct feeling that this feeling is not shared by those who know me well.
I am not ignorant of the fact that my tastes are widely varying. One moment, it could be Less Than Jake at full volume while driving Highway 17 with the windows down, the next it could be sitting for an hour in luxurious silence on our porch whilst sipping twelve year old Jameson. The thing is that I have noticed a shift further into the latter from the former as of late.
Just this afternoon, I sat and read over 100 pages of Never Have Your Dog Stuffed by Alan Alda. I have a dozen perfectly good episodes of Cheers on our DVR that I have never seen, having just now discovered the show's brilliance. But even this new pleasure has been slid to the side by (admittedly) less stereotypical endeavors than your average 28 year old indulges in.
Part of me wondered if I was feeling low. No, I really am not. I am damn happy. I am just surprised by my own evolution. I wonder what a younger version of me would say. I don't feel like I have "become better" or that the old self was boorish or immature. I was the way someone should be at whatever age I was. This time, I notice the shift much more as I edge closer to thirty than I noticed the changes I made as I got closer to twenty.
I feel that I want to do more with the time I have. There are certainly frivolous moments where I pass the time idly. But now, I really hate when those moments pile up. I clean more, write more, read more, work more, learn more and absorb more. I want every day to have a profound discovery, moment of enlightenment, or feeling of accomplishment. I haven't thought of myself as "lazy" since early in my college years, but now my inner drive has gotten even stronger for some reason. I want every day to be a day where I can say "That was worth it", and I tend to get angry at myself when I don't.
My ten year old self may kick me in the shins, but the me of today will walk away to the calming sounds of Claire De Lune. Peace...
Lately, I have found myself doing some rather odd things that I have never done before. I am watching far less television by choice. Either I don't want the noise or the mindless lack of interaction, or I want to do something different... like reading... or listening to classical impressionist music... or songwriting... All three examples are tagged in ellipsis for the sake of incredulous emphasis. I have the distinct feeling that this feeling is not shared by those who know me well.
I am not ignorant of the fact that my tastes are widely varying. One moment, it could be Less Than Jake at full volume while driving Highway 17 with the windows down, the next it could be sitting for an hour in luxurious silence on our porch whilst sipping twelve year old Jameson. The thing is that I have noticed a shift further into the latter from the former as of late.
Just this afternoon, I sat and read over 100 pages of Never Have Your Dog Stuffed by Alan Alda. I have a dozen perfectly good episodes of Cheers on our DVR that I have never seen, having just now discovered the show's brilliance. But even this new pleasure has been slid to the side by (admittedly) less stereotypical endeavors than your average 28 year old indulges in.
Part of me wondered if I was feeling low. No, I really am not. I am damn happy. I am just surprised by my own evolution. I wonder what a younger version of me would say. I don't feel like I have "become better" or that the old self was boorish or immature. I was the way someone should be at whatever age I was. This time, I notice the shift much more as I edge closer to thirty than I noticed the changes I made as I got closer to twenty.
I feel that I want to do more with the time I have. There are certainly frivolous moments where I pass the time idly. But now, I really hate when those moments pile up. I clean more, write more, read more, work more, learn more and absorb more. I want every day to have a profound discovery, moment of enlightenment, or feeling of accomplishment. I haven't thought of myself as "lazy" since early in my college years, but now my inner drive has gotten even stronger for some reason. I want every day to be a day where I can say "That was worth it", and I tend to get angry at myself when I don't.
My ten year old self may kick me in the shins, but the me of today will walk away to the calming sounds of Claire De Lune. Peace...
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Release Valve
Sometimes, all it really takes to get your mind back where it needs to be is a few nights out with some great people. Why am I surprised that this worked?
Middle of this past week, I had hit a wall fairly hard. It was the first time since living in Chicago that I had felt worn in all departments. Mentally drained, physically just not up on my game, and low on karma for some reason. I needed a prescription for some feel good medicine, and this weekend delivered.
Enter some former students and a current colleague and their wonderful performance Friday night, attended to by yours truly with my babe-alicious wife at my side. A fantastic show with energy to spare, saw some wonderful old colleagues/acquaintances, then capped off the night with pints of the darkest ales at a place in Santa Cruz. But as the old saying goes, take two and call me in the morning...
Saturday night. Mexican food, high-class cocktails and other downtown nuttiness with my oldest friend. I stayed out past midnight two nights in a row. Curative powers? Who knows. Whatever juju was at play, it worked. I feel right again. Peace...
Sometimes, all it really takes to get your mind back where it needs to be is a few nights out with some great people. Why am I surprised that this worked?
Middle of this past week, I had hit a wall fairly hard. It was the first time since living in Chicago that I had felt worn in all departments. Mentally drained, physically just not up on my game, and low on karma for some reason. I needed a prescription for some feel good medicine, and this weekend delivered.
Enter some former students and a current colleague and their wonderful performance Friday night, attended to by yours truly with my babe-alicious wife at my side. A fantastic show with energy to spare, saw some wonderful old colleagues/acquaintances, then capped off the night with pints of the darkest ales at a place in Santa Cruz. But as the old saying goes, take two and call me in the morning...
Saturday night. Mexican food, high-class cocktails and other downtown nuttiness with my oldest friend. I stayed out past midnight two nights in a row. Curative powers? Who knows. Whatever juju was at play, it worked. I feel right again. Peace...
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