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The non-stop coverage of Aaron Hernandez's murder arrest fiasco has quickly evolved into a daily buzz-kill that needs to stop.
Seriously.
I know we live in a 24-hour news cycle world and all, but can't we find something positive to focus on once in while? Once a day might be a stretch, but how about once a week? Maybe once a month? Anyone? Anyone?
Bueller? Bueller?
Mr. Hernandez lived a double life. We get it. He lacked the common sense to distance himself from a lifestyle his talents afforded distance from. Add entitled arrogance with a sprinkle of brazen clashes and you get a tragic hero who threw a promising life away for what seems to be some sort of street code based on tattoos and thuggery.
You want to know what the saddest part about Aaron's downfall is? His story provides yet another in a long list of examples of how our society is compelled by tragedy.
It seems most of us even identify with it.
The endless "every angle" coverage of negative events by the media certainly doesn't help. How can it? Media outlets don't care about the human condition, they care only about the ratings generated from exploiting it. And people wonder why there never seems to be anything positive to report anymore.
"Goodness" seems to be passing us by when it reality it's slowly being suffocated. It's turned into a myth, an ideal that people used to see but has disappeared and is only now discussed as a rumor or faint memory. It's just a matter of time before it becomes urban legend.
Like Bigfoot.
Tough to see good in the world when you stop paying attention to it, y'all.
Especially when TV ratings are involved.
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Quick Thinking
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-- Robin Thicke's Blurred Lines is quickly becoming the official Summer Anthem of 2013.
-- Get Lucky by Daft Punk is a very, very close second.
-- And Pharrell having his hands in both in no coincidence.
-- Hey.
-- Hey.
-- Hey.
-- I think the social stigma surrounding the inadequacies of men who experience premature ejaculation could be remedied if instead we heralded them simply as "first responders."
-- Self-emancipating from my personal Facebook account felt a lot like taking the red pill.
-- The symbolism is too obvious to ignore. #thereisnospoon
-- Am I the only one who separates automatic doors by spreading my hands when I approach them to feel like I have a super power?
-- That's kinda what I thought.
-- Just another sign my overactive imagination is getting the better of me more often than not lately.
-- Rust-Oleum recently released a "revolutionary super hydrophobic system" called NeverWet.
-- Any surface you spray it on will, appropriately, never get wet.
-- To be honest, I don't understand what's so "revolutionary" about it.
-- I've been doing the same for every girl I've come into contact with since puberty hit in the late 80's.
This next admission may surprise a lot of you seeing that I'm from
Rhode Island - a state second only to New Jersey in its love of tanning salons - but, believe it or not, I don't have a ton of
"going tanning" experience.
Believe it.
I did, however, learn the first
rule of tanning booth etiquette the hard way yesterday and I feel compelled to pass this information on to all of you today. Said lesson, similar to the rules of engagement during sex, is simply this: clench, don't release.
While attempting to desperately hang on to the tan I acquired during a recent trip to the Cayman Islands I went tanning yesterday. The high-powered ceiling fan provides nothing but false hope, dear readers, so do not, I repeat, DO NOT fart while in a standing tanning booth.
Or any tanning booth for that matter.
The result is a methane and food infused, skin-burned stench of epic proportions that no man or woman should ever have to endure.
Ever.
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Quick Thinking
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-- Anthony Rodriguez is the biggest albatross in the history of professional sports.
-- And the Yankees are paying him 28 million dollars this year for his, um, "contributions."
-- But, hey, at least he's not caught in another PED controversy or anything.
-- Red Sox Nation should thank their lucky stars we were usurped by the Yankees when attempting to sign him back in 2003.
-- We should also thank our lucky stars for the yearly re-signing of Big Papi.
-- The anti-ARod.
-- Mariah Carey needs to go away.
-- Sad Social Commentary Note of the Week: The most honest person in an individual's life is the one who has nothing to gain - perceived or actual - by association.
-- Let that statement simmer before you disregard based on its "obvious scale" score.
-- Sad Social Commentary Note of the Week II: The saddest part is those people are almost always dismissed by individuals as "strangers" who "don't know what the hell they're talking about."
-- Maybe they do, though.
-- The current iteration of this Bruins' team actually has me tuning in.
-- I love hockey.
-- Rest in Peace Esther Williams, the former Olympic swimmer and actress, who passed away in her sleep yesterday at the ripe old age of 91.
-- She achieved mythical sex symbol status in the 40's and was affectionately dubbed "Hollywood's Mermaid."
-- I've always been more partial to female centaurs myself.
-- But that's me.
-- Hopefully fellow Olympian and wanna-be actor Ryan Lochte follows in her footsteps.
ONE: Youngest In Charge
Personal growth or, rather, change is inevitable, dear readers.
Inevitable.
Regardless of one's age, education level, profession, life hurdles -- real or imagined -- dreams and desires, we eventually succumb to some kind of personal growth. (I use the word "succumb" because change comes at a very high cost for most of us.)
The fortunate few experience it early on and are gifted with the ability to apply what they've learned resulting in that novel concept called "happiness." The majority of us, however, are so oblivious to a need for change in our lives, we never do or, even worse, we realize the need only when it's too late.
Deathbed regret typically follows.
Bucketlist woes aside, though, change can also take on a lighter form. Like taste in music, for example.
My nephew Brennan is experiencing one such change and has a new found affinity for "old school" hip-hop. Being my favorite music genre, he naturally came to me asking for the likes of early Jay-Z, Biggie Smalls, & ATCQ. While sharing my iTunes library, I asked: "What about Special Ed? Or Slick Rick."
His response was simply, "I guess, but who are they?"
Blasphemy. Absolute blasphemy.
I guess I can't really blame him for not knowing who two of the greatest hip-hop pioneers are considering he was born in 1996. But it behooves me to remedy his lack of knowledge. Below is the first in a series of attempts to educate him.
This is who they are, Brennan.
Enjoy.
TWO: Life Lesson #45,002,041,033
They say experience is the cruelest teacher and I, for one, will have to agree. I find little solace in knowing any lesson worth learning is worth learning hard.
I'd rather leave that shit to Bruce Willis.
Today's hard lesson comes in the form of heartache. Like not-being-able-to-eat-or-drink-or-think-straight-or-sleep heartache. The kind of heartache I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. The kind of heartache I hope to shield my son from as he ages and ventures into the world of relationships.
Yup, serious heartache.
The lesson centers around my relationship stance. Back in December of 2009, in my Define Cheating blog, I wrote, "Cheating is inevitable while true monogamy is a fairytale our parents silently preach during cookouts & holidays." Turns out I was wrong.
Dead wrong, in fact.
My most recent relationship is proof that monogamy is not only possible, it's obtainable. In reality, it's preferable. I recently dated a beautiful young woman with -- for the first time in my life -- absolute clarity of desire. And I mean absolute clarity. She was always on my mind and my focus was solely on being her boyfriend. Her counterpart. The irony, of course, is now that I've learned the one thing I never thought achievable in a relationship is just that, achievable, said relationship ended. Ouch.
Lesson learned.
It's clear my past "cheating is inevitable" concession was a rationalization. It provided me an excuse to do so along with a defense mechanism if it was done to me. In retrospect, I wish I had given other girlfriends the same gift of monogamy. Not so we'd still be together or anything, but because that's what people deserve. That's what I deserve. But, hey, you know what they say:
Woulda.
Coulda.
Shoulda.
The result is a promise. A promise I'll
never agree to be in a relationship without that same clarity. I know it
seems simple, but people get into relationships for all sorts of
reasons when their heart truly isn't "in it." That will never happen to
me again. I'm heartbroken my most recent relationship has ended, but I'm
so thankful it taught me monogamy is a reality.
Music speaks to me.
Always has.
The greatest thing about music, like laughter, it has the inherent ability to cross all language barriers and, like beauty, is open to individual interpretation.
Take the following two songs for example:
Buena Vista Social Club - Chan Chan
Pharcyde - Jealousy
Completely different genres with completely different messages. And, while one was clearly influenced by the other in the form of a chorus sample, the stories each song tells are entirely unique.
Not many mediums can pull off that trick so smoothly, dear readers.
That's probably the reason why music and I have had such a successful relationship over the years: it always understands me and, more importantly, it never tells me what to do.
Unless I listen to it backwards, of course.
Expanding boundaries, both professionally and personally, is a mission statement of sorts in the world of sports + thoughts, dear readers. Influencing a little change of thought on your end of the computer screen isn't necessarily a bad thing either, but it's certainly not one of my missions.
It should be one of yours, though.
Love it or fight it, y'all, change is quite the subjective necessary evil. Like farting when you really have to shit. (That goes for you too ladies because, well, despite rumors to the contrary, we all know you "toot" and "poop" on occasion.)
Today's lesson involves an old saying that goes something like, "Don't ever mistake my silence for ignorance, my calmness for acceptance or my kindness for weakness." The quote is attributed to tons of sources and is more-or-less self explanatory but I think the words are required reading.
Maybe even on a daily basis.
The risk, of course, is when we "give in" to urges in any of those situations we tend to make everything about one thing and one thing only: self satisfaction. It's easy to argue with others if you think you're right. (Which everyone does, of course.) It's easy to get angry when someone crosses you. It's easy to walk away when you feel you've been hurt or wronged. And I, for one, am tired of all this selfish "me, me, me" nonsense dominating the world these days. Shit, selfishness is so socially acceptable its turned into big business.
Just ask the matriarch of the Kardashian klan if you don't believe me.
Only the strongest of us can be silent when we have a lot to say, calm
when want to release emotion or kind when we're justified in a little
malevolence. Sure, if you make this mantra an ingredient in your daily interactions others may be confused by your behavior but you won't be and, more importantly, you'll find solace in the fact that trying to live that way, more often that not, results in doing the right thing.
Which should definitely be done on a daily basis.
This is big, dear readers. Real big. Like post-on-facebook-as-a-milestone-and-not-just-an-ordinary-status-update big.
I've received my first fan written love letter. Sure, it can't compete with Twilight fan fiction or anything, but what can? Besides, we need to walk before we run in the fandom world of sports + thoughts.
Of course this "letter" came in email form because, seriously, who actually writes love letters using paper and sharpies anymore?
Certainly not this guy.
Regardless of the medium used to create it, what the letter says deserves focus because it tells me all the effort is paying off. Paying off big time, actually. My passion for writing is beginning to resonate with my readers and I'm gaining much desired traction.
But enough about my excitement, let me share the "letter" with you.
Dear,
A huge dick in my pussy, a warm wet tounge up our arse and cum along with pussy juice all over me. Visit my web page: hcg injections
Fuck,
Ozzy
Incredible, right?
I know.
I'm speechless, too.
"How can you like sports so much?"
It's a question us sports fans have to field on a regular basis from those non-fans in our lives and it can come in many forms.
"How can you invest so much time on these silly games?"
Attempting to effectively articulate the attraction sport can have to a non-fan and how sometimes it can be the greatest investment one can make is, even for the well-spoken, difficult at times.
That is, until yesterday.
ESPN's 30 for 30 documentary Survive and Advance, which aired last night, details the miracle run of the 1983 NCAA Champion NC State team, their charismatic coach Jimmy Valvano and provides the perfect answer to those questions.
Regardless of what form they come in.
Woven in-and-out of their improbable 1983 collection of victories is the story of Coach Valvano's battle with cancer 10 years later and how, before succumbing to it, he partnered with ESPN to form The V Foundation, creating a legacy and becoming the face of cancer research fundraising in the sports world.
Listen, I'm not saying all you non-fans need to start watching sports. I understand not every sport is for everybody.
Duh. But what is for everyone are the feelings all these "silly" games can evoke.
So I would like to challenge everyone -- fans, non-fans, whoever -- to watch the documentary and, after spending 2 hours learning the story, if you can't fully understand the inherent eliciting power of sport then, well, i only have one question for all of you:
"How can you NOT invest so much in these 'silly' games?"
