Suspension of Disbelief

Samuel Taylor Coleridge devised the idea of "willing suspension of disbelief" to help readers justify the use of fantastic or non-realistic elements in literature.

Maybe someone should tell Tim Tebow it wasn't intended for use in real life situations.

Florida's senior quarterback was recently asked at a press conference if he was "saving" himself for marriage. Mr. Tebow promptly responded, "Yes, I am." The admission has sparked national media discussion and online chatter about Tim's virginity & "willpower" along with photos of what is believed to be his girlfriend.

Two things:

1) The woman in said pictures floating around the internet is not his girlfriend. It's model Lucy Pinder.

2) If Lucy Pinder was his girlfriend Tim's Christian beliefs would quickly be replaced with Born Again Christian beliefs.

Don't believe me?

Well, you know the old adage, dear readers: a picture is worth a thousand words.

And, in this case, a few moments alone in your bedroom with the door shut.



You STILL don't believe that desire can trump a belief structure?

Go ask King Henry VIII and the Church of England how they feel about it.

-------------------
Quick Thinking
-------------------

-- After seeing the tape of Lebron getting "dunked" on my thought process echoed a favorite saying of my 12th grade theology teacher, Br. William Farias: B.F.D.

-- Yes, the acronym means what you think it means.

-- New England Patriots rookies reported to camp yesterday. Football season cometh!

-- But, apparently, Tim Tebow doesn't.

-- BLAMMO!

-- Hey, Brett: I hope you're ego is getting all the stroking it needs while you "decide" whether to sign with the Vikings or stay retired.

-- Selfish prick.

-- I think we need to get off Michael Vick's back about recently visiting a strip club. He was in jail for a long time, y'all. Let the man see some titties in peace.

-- I'm happy that Matt Holiday was traded to the St. Louis Cardinals. He just didn't look right in an Oakland Athletics uniform.

-- Kudos to Hannah Storm's stylist. She gets sexier every time I watch ESPN Live.

-- Just for the record: I will never attend nor plan to attend a Gun Show.

-- Unless, of course, I'm walking around with my shirt off.

-- HAY-OOO!

-- Am I the only person who wonders what happened to Bud Dry?

-- Congratulations to Jim Rice for finally being inducted into Baseball's Hall of Fame after 15 years on the ballot. Slow and steady, Jim. Slow and steady.

-- Embargo is muscling it's way to the top of my Favorite Word List.

-- Um, yes. I actually have a list for my favorite words. But don't tell anyone, ok? It'll ruin my street cred.

-- I recently came across an old 80's movie starring Micky Rourke and my only question is: Are you fucking kidding me?



-- Quote of the Week comes from Big Nick when, while walking down the beach in the middle of the day, we spied an older woman laying on the beach with her boyfriend giving him a hand job: "Maybe one of us should lay on her other side and see if she knows how to ski."

-- Well played, Nicholas. Well played.

-- It occurred to me that the guys I've played ball with my entire life are an average of 10-12 years older than every other team in a summer league we just started competing in on Sunday mornings.

-- It also occurred to me that we're eventually going to win the championship with relative ease.

-- The only unrealistic scenario of the new Transformers Movie is the fact that Shia LeBeouf's character would move to another coast and attend college while dating Megan Fox.

-- Oakland A's Manager Bob Geren looks an awful lot like the American Dreams manager from Nintendo's Baseball Stars.

-- Best baseball game ever.

-- If I were Cantador I'd be worried about the fact that Lance has been out of competitive racing for 4 years and he still finished 3rd in the "Tour."

-- Livestrong, bitches.

-- I'm starting to feel like the Sox are going quietly into the night.

-- Despite the fact that Michael Vick's actions were despicable I still hope he gets a chance at redemption.

-- Memo to T.O.: Focus on dropping the ball less and keeping your mouth shut more. Your latest criticism of Roger Goodell is proof you still don't get it.

-- Another Memo to T.O.: You can talk shit about your boss in private to other co-workers but you can't do it in public. Especially when there's a microphone in front of you. Ge'ez.

-- Can someone please explain to me the cultural importance of Comic-Con?

-- You know you're getting old when one of the Beastie Boys is diagnosed with cancer. Good luck with the fight, MCA.

-- If you haven't done so already make time to watch HBO's documentary: The Kid: The Life and Death of Ted Williams.

-- The videos of Erin Andrews circling the Internet helps prove the age old adage that seeing hot celebrities naked never gets old.

-- EVER.

News Bulletin: Fashion Police

I just saw a man wearing yellow pants.

Listen, guys, I know we're at a disadvantage in the fashion world. A woman's body is inherently FAR more attractive than our hairy frames could EVER be. (Although, I dated a Portuguese girl in the 8th grade and, when I rounded second, well, um.....YIKES.)

I KNOW that they have infinitely more options than we do when it comes to what to wear and how to wear it. Not only do they have more options they also have all that "Female Fashion Propaganda." I don't think it's an official organization or anything but, I know it exists, and it lays down the rules of fashion for women everywhere.

How do I know? Because everywhere I look -- magazines, the internet, E!, cable television, newspapers, etc. -- I see "EXPERT" advice for every woman on what to wear, how to wear it, when to wear it, what colors they should consider wearing for that particular season and, of course, WHERE TO BUY IT.

Just ask Stacy and Clinton.

It's really what propaganda is all about. You construct a specific message to create a desired response. In this case, the "message" is the trendy fashion and the "desired response" is to transform a "want" into a "purchase."

Consumerism at its finest!

[MENTAL APPETIZER: START]

Are men saturated with "sports propaganda" like women are buried with "fashion propaganda?"

Hmm.

I know things are changing a little bit with the birth of the metro-sexual but the simple fact remains: MOST MEN CARE ABOUT SPORT THE WAY MOST WOMEN CARE ABOUT FASHION.

I wonder if that's a product of genetic disposition or the byproduct of social influence?

[MENTAL APPETIZER: END]

Now, because men don't have the same focus on fashion that women do it allows us, as a gender, to wear questionable outfits without repercussion.

That needs to end.

Guys, I'm going to give a couple "NON-NEGOTIABLE" standards when it comes to fashion. If we expect so much of women and how they dress maybe we should hold ourselves to higher standards.

Hear me out.

I'm not coming down from the mountain top with The Ten Fashion Commandments. And I'm not trying to cripple the expression of the individual. I'm simply hoping to provide some guidelines that all men of any age group, class or culture can apply to their daily clothing habits.

I'll apologize in advance for the callous tone, fellas. Consider it a needed dose of tough love.

Here goes:

-- Unless you're some kind of villain with a handlebar mustache, you're not allowed to WEAR YELLOW PANTS. This one is important. I don't care if it's Memorial Day. I don't care if you're yachting. YOU CAN'T WEAR YELLOW PANTS. EVER.

-- Nothing makes a guy look more like an exchange student than wearing a SHORT SLEEVED DRESS SHIRT WITH A TIE. It didn't look good on Sypowitz. It's doesn't look good on you.

-- Hey, Granola Boy, DON'T WEAR SOCKS WITH SANDALS. I appreciate that you like to wear hemp, smoke pot and "float on." But spare me the socks with sandals look.

-- PLEASE DON'T WEAR JERSIES WITH OTHER MEN'S NAME ON THE BACK OF THEM. What's your last name? My guess is it's not Garnett, Brady or Jeter. How do I know? They're multi-million dollar athletes. You're a skinny white kid with a shirt on that's 5 times to big working at fucking Stop & Shop. It may look good on 50, but it looks stupid on you.

-- Under no circumstances can you wear SHANTS. Although, I appreciate the guessing game, "Are they shorts? Are they pants? Are they shorts? Are they pants?" I DON'T KNOW. Neither do you, so throw them away.

-- Why must you POP YOUR COLLAR? Unless you're an Elvis Impersonator, this is strictly a no-no. Thank you....thank you very much.

-- If Uncle Jessie can't pull off the t-shirt and suspenders look, neither can you. I mean, seriously. Do I even have to say it? C'mon. FUCKING SUSPENDERS WITH A T-SHIRT???

-- Guys, it's embarrassing. How could you ever imagine that black dress socks with shorts and white sneakers is a good casual look? You know why they're called "dress" socks, right? YES YOU DO. Don't play stupid with me. Go to your room and change.

-- Can someone please tell me how to stop the Seersucker Suit Revolution. If you're really that interested in wearing strips go do some time in a Turkish Prison.

-- Last I checked, you don't live in a little lamp. AND you don't have the ability to grant me 3 wishes. If you did, I could excuse the turban. But, under the circumstances...NO! NO. FUCKING. TURBANS. Derka, Derka, Derka.

Did I forget anything? Of COURSE I did. This list isn't comprehensive. It's simply a work in progress. And, as a work in progress, your thoughts and comments can help make it more complete, dear readers. Please include them below.

I know I don't have to sell my female readers on why they should offer suggestions. The benefits are obvious. As for my male demographic: Now is not the time to be selfish, gentlemen. If you have any suggestions please provide them at this time.

Either way, the above list is a starting point that men should attempt to follow regardless of the amount of class participation I receive.

Please try and follow it. Please? Please, Mr. Hairy Chest Wearing a V-Neck T-Shirt with Gold Chains...PLEASE!

Two's Company...

...and, in some cases, three's a crowd

On February 23rd I mentioned that I had been away for a bit dealing with a handful of little tragedies.

Which I was.

Don't believe me? Go check for yourself in my February archive! I could just post the link but I'd rather offer a musical interlude while you do the legwork.

INTERLUDE: "Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery; none but ourselves can free our minds. Have no fear for atomic energy,'cause none of them can stop the time. How long shall they kill our prophets, while we stand aside and look? Ooh! Some say it's just a part of it: we've got to fulfill da book."

Love that song. Ooh!

Ok, moving on...

If you did your homework, which I know you did, I'm sure you noticed I also mentioned it was too soon for me to discuss said tragedies at that time. Well, that time has passed, so allow me to "make good" on my promise to delve into those tragedies. I'm a man of my word.

Let's delve.

Back in February my girlfriend was pregnant. We were less than a week from finding out the sex when we got the news: blood test results were "concerning."

[SIDE NOTE: START]

I've never really subscribed to "self-fulfilling prophecies" but I had a serious pit in my stomach when I got the call about those test results. I couldn't help thinking it was my fault.

Why you ask? Valid question, dear readers. Valid indeed. The answer is simple and somewhat embarrassing: I initially didn't want to keep the baby.

That's right, I said it.

When my girlfriend called with the news that she was pregnant I initially wanted her to "take care of it." You know, go get a shmashmortion at the shashmortion clinic.

I felt the unplanned pregnancy was a practical impossibility. The girlfriend and I were separated by over 2000 miles. I had just moved back to RI from CO to find a new job and gear up to go back to school for my MBA. She was preparing for her last semester of college in CO, living alone, working and taking care of the pooch, Umi. Our plates were full and adding a baby to the mix didn't make much sense to me.

Guilty conscience personified.

After a few days of thinking about it my girlfriend decided she wanted to keep the baby. I struggled with that news, dear readers. Really struggled. I was scared. Scared shitless, actually.

I was scared I wouldn't be a good father.

But my fear was about me. And, as an expecting father, I had to understand something: my life wasn't about me anymore. It was about my future child.

The next time I'm blessed with the potential of new life into my world I will cherish it from the beginning.

Lesson learned.

[SIDE NOTE: END]

I did a shit ton of research after the call.

The medical term is Trisomy 18.

The irregularity, which occurs at conception, is when a baby has three #18 chromosomes instead of the normal two. The developmental issues caused by Trisomy 18, also called Edwards Syndrome, are associated with medical complications that are typically life-threatening in the early months and years of life.

I don't want this blog to turn into a medical text book. So let's just take a quick look at the numbers to get a feel for how serious this genetic disorder is. Because as we all know, dear readers, numbers never lie:

-- Over 95% of babies with Trisomy 18 die in utero
-- Trisomy 18 occurs in 1 out of every 3000 conceptions
-- Trisomy 18 occurs in 1 out of every 6000 live births
-- 50% of babies carried to term will be stillborn
-- 50% of live births with die within the first 2 months of life
-- Only 5% of children with Trisomy 18 reach their 1st Birthday

Basically, the baby's vital organs don't develop properly so their chance for survival is extremely low. And, of those that do survive, most will die within the first year of their life.

Fun stuff, huh?

To boot, nearly all the research concluded with a similar sentiment: "It is important to know that parents have done nothing before or during pregnancy to cause this disorder in their child."

Lies. Absolute lies.

The disorder, by definition, is caused by one of the parents having an extra chromosome in their sperm or egg. Thanks for the pep talk and all, research, but your kind words don't assuage the guilt that accompanies genetic incompatibility...

I'm losing my train of thought, dear readers. Hmm...

I answer all of your questions and I think I'm going to pose one of my own. Class participation points galore!

Is it silly that I still "talk" to the baby? Not nonsensical "Get in my belly" kind of stuff. More like...

[BABY TALK: START]

The doctors said your heart was strong and that's the reason the diagnosis came so late. I'd like to take credit for that but I can't. Your stubbornness in hiding your condition and hoping no one noticed definitely came from me. But your strong heart? It must have come from your mother. Daddy has never been strong in the "heart" department.

Bench press? Sure. Heart? Not so much.

Today was your projected arrival date. 7/2/09. Funny how a date that had no previous significance in my life is now the most important.

I'm guessing you knew that already, though. Actually, what am I saying? Of COURSE you knew that! Any child of mine is going to be know-it-all like me, right?

Duh.

Despite your omnipotence, though, remember one thing: you weren't a failure, baby. You were simply a missed opportunity. And what's the greatest thing about opportunity?

Exactly.

Listen, I have no idea how this whole thing works. I don't know if your soul is floating around waiting for a different vessel or if it was a one shot deal. I just don't know. Shit, for all I know, you were specifically meant to be my child and you're simply waiting "on deck" until the next time my boys go for a swim and one of them reaches their goal.

Anything is possible.

Regardless of your whereabouts, baby, I hope you're at peace and I hope I get the chance to meet you again. If I do get that chance please do me a favor: Stick around long enough for me to steal a hug from you, ok? And maybe, just maybe, a little kiss.

Come to think of it, I'll get both from you whether you like it or not using my mad ninja skills.

My kung fu grip comes in handy.

[BABY TALK: END]

Actually, class, you know what? You can all put your hands down. Don't worry, don't worry: I'll still award class participation points for the effort.

But I think I just answered my own question.