Mike the Hoople

Walking Thought of the Day

2008-07-11T11:54:00.001-04:00

Living in New York has its pros and cons. Perhaps the most egregious sin New York inflicts upon its citizens is the constant wear of feet. There’s always something to do, always somewhere to be, always somewhere to go. This constant activity requires near-constant walking, at least for the proles who can’t afford a driver (i.e. me). All this walking has made my feet perpetually tired and sore. Though, to be fair, this is a small price to pay to live in NYC. I could live in Fresno.

Schadenfreude

2008-02-26T15:41:00.002-05:00

I'm not one who enjoys seeing athletes get hurt...unless of course it directly benefits my team. Finally, the Gods are shining down on my team! (Sort of. It's a shitty run--no pun intended--when a player on another team getting hurt is the best thing that's happened to one of your teams).

Now maybe (maybe) the Warriors make the playoffs.

Unbelievable

2008-02-21T09:14:00.003-05:00

The Golden State Warriors are going to win 50+ games...and NOT make the playoffs...or finish first in the West.

The Western Conference is pure insanity. Nine teams within five games of each other. To give you an idea of how unheard-of crazy this is, it would be like nine teams in baseball winning 99 games or more...in the National League. At least one VERY good team is going to be left out, and given my recent run of sports "luck," I feel it might be my team.

The Beauty of Fantasy Sports

2008-02-18T16:07:00.002-05:00

With the aforementioned February sports lull in full swing, fantasy basketball has been my personal savior. And, because of my superior drafting skills, my fantasy basketball team rocks.

Not only are The Baron Beards in first place by 14 games, we have been in first place all season long. My lineup is stacked: LeBron James, Chauncey Billups, and Marcus Camby are my big three. With Jose Calderon, Kevin Martin, Monta Ellis, LaMarcus Aldridge, and Manu Ginobili filling out my lineup, I am unstoppable.

It's a testament to the power of fantasy sports that even during a bland sports month, fans can find solace in a completely manufactured sports product. Yup, it's totally awesome...when you're winning.

The Three-Ring Circus That We Know As Baseball

2008-02-14T11:59:00.005-05:00

There is no better indicator of our cultural trajectory than the sad state of baseball.

Okay, maybe that's overstating things just a tad. But the recent bad streak for baseball continues unabated, and this blog post sums up the spectacle with just the right amount of sarcasm..

On a more serious note, this mess is exactly what Selig and his cronies deserve. After looking the other way while players (and profits) got bigger and bigger, Selig is finally facing the truth. It's just unfortunate the fans have to bear this burden as well.

Seriously?

2008-02-13T12:04:00.002-05:00

If you thought I was kidding in my post yesterday, check this out.

I know, I know.

The Long, Cold Winter Really Begins

2008-02-11T11:27:00.000-05:00

February sucks.

The sports world hibernates after the Super Bowl, leaving the average fan with lackluster pro-basketball, meaningless college hoops, and hockey (which is...well...still hockey). Last night, ESPN was airing high school combines for football players while the bottom-of-the-screen-ticker was updating the world about the latest Professional Bowling results. (I'm not kidding.)

I can't wait until March because:

March Madness will arrive.
The NBA will start to mean something.
Spring training will begin.

Until then, expect more of this.

Proof That God Exists And Wants Us To Be Happy

2008-02-05T09:31:00.000-05:00

Let's be honest: for those who aren't Patriot fans, Sunday's game reaffirms that which makes humanity (and sports) beautiful. The Patriots were mechanical in their precision all season, and there is something...unnatural about that kind of complete control. The Giants, on the other hand, have plenty of flaws that endear themselves to fans (the gap between Michael Strahan's teeth, for starters). This Super Bowl was not just a victory for Giants fans, it was a victory for all mankind. (All Hail Eli!)

Also, things like this and this reveal the Patriots to be the weird, mysterious, and underhanded organization that they truly are. (And this is coming from a Raiders fan!) Everybody knows that total domination in any competitive activity is unnatural, and all of us were suspicious of the Cheatriots--something just wasn't right. These articles (coupled with the beautiful game on Sunday) confirms that our suspicion of perfection was spot on. Congrats to the Giants! Congrats to the NFL! Congrats to Humanity!

My Oh-Shit! Sense is Tingly (Spider Man, Web Slinger, Chris WEBber. Clever, I know.)

2008-01-28T11:37:00.000-05:00

Why does God feel the need to ruin the one bright-spot in my otherwise dismal sports world?

The Return of Satan (as my father calls it) is a real possibility at this point. What are Mully and Nelly thinking? Do they not remember how the last C-Webb episode ended? Let's recap:

After drafting Webber, the Warriors were poised to run the table in the West. We had a) the Dream Teamer in Mullin, b) the perennial All-Star in Latrell Sprewell, c) the dynamic (albeit homophobic) point guard in Tim Hardaway, d) the Big Man in Rony Seikaly, and e) the Rookie of the Year in Chris Webber. We were set to dominate the West and challenge the Bulls in the East. But...
C-Webb throws a hissy fit and demands to be traded.
Nelly gets fired.
Mullin never gets a ring.
Spree protests the organization's handling of the situation, starts drawing "4" on his shoes in support of Webb, and then chokes PJ Carlesimo in practice.

And we want Chris Webber back in Oakland...why?

It's not enough that Al Davis is senile and Barry Bonds is hated. Now the Warriors have to re-live the worst moment in their history too. What did I do to upset the Sports Gods?

Sometimes I wonder why I watch sports at all. Then I remember it's because I can drink beer while doing it. Thank God for beer.

(Must Listen to John Mellencamp's "Our Country" While Reading This Post)

2008-01-17T15:02:00.000-05:00

Is there anybody that isn't rooting for Brett Favre?

Now, if you're a Chargers/Pats/Giants fan, the answer is clearly no. But for the other 95% of the country, Brett represents the last pure athlete. He's fun, down-to-earth, and always smiling, the kind of guy you can have a beer with (not in the Bush way, but in the this guy isn't the son of a former President and didn't go to Andover, Harvard, and Yale and never owned a professional baseball team and isn't the President himself kind of way). Best of all, he kicks major ass. Unfortunately, his breed has all but died off. The Age of the Next Door Neighbor Superstar is gone...almost.

In the wake of 2007's horrific sports stories (the Michael Vick fiasco, the NBA betting scandal, the Mitchell Report, the BCS, etc.), it would be nice to have a light-hearted, honest man win, if for no other reason than to have a champion we can all cheer for.

If you disagree with this post, you are a Communist.

Mercury, Not Freddie

2008-01-16T14:01:00.001-05:00

Even though I am not happy with the perfect season New England is putting together, I must admit that Mercury Morris is a giant douchebag. "A husband always needs a wife," Merc says. Really? Are you that petty?

This is a cool idea, but they could've done a much better job with the design. And, to be fair, the Patriots haven't completed their undefeated season yet. Yet.

A Superstar Showing Genuine Emotion

2008-01-15T14:25:00.000-05:00

I love this.

I don't care what anybody says: TO is a great player, and any team would be lucky to have him. Is he a flashy, self-absorbed egomaniac? Absolutely. Was he a colossal distraction in the locker room with the Eagles? Yup. But has he ever given anything less than 100% on the field, a la Mr. Randy Moss? Not once. He is the modern day Achilles.

Let's not forget Super Bowl XXXIX, where TO grabbed 9 balls for 122 yards only weeks after suffering a broken ankle. This man will do anything to win (and not only when it's convenient).

And c'mon. Be honest. You love the shades.

We're Not Worthy! We're Not Worthy!

2008-01-14T09:27:00.000-05:00

Before the Pats/Jags game on Saturday, I honestly believed New England would leave the game 16-1. On paper the Jaguars presented the perfect challenge to Brady's squad: Jacksonville's strengths (solid running game, a QB who doesn't make mistakes, a stout D) addressed the Pats strengths and weaknesses. I wasn't alone in this belief. Also, I just couldn't believe that any one team could maintain complete dominance for 17 weeks. Something had to give.

And then I turned on the television.

All the on-paper strategy and stats were immediately irrelevant once I laid my eyes on the Patriots -- defeat was impossible. Jacksonville played an excellent game, with a near-perfect performance from Garrard. The only problem? Brady was perfect, regardless of what Ms. Howard says.

In short, it doesn't matter how well the Chargers, Packers, or Giants against the Patriots. Tommy Boy and the rest of the gang will out-play their opponents every time. Perhaps it is time to face the inevitable: the Patriots are our overlords, and we should feel lucky to be in the presence of greatness.

[Side note: I no longer believe the 1983 Raiders would beat the Patriots. What was I thinking?]

Why the Raiders Are Still Relevant...Sort Of

2008-01-12T10:27:00.000-05:00

I know that every retired Hall of Famer from a Super Bowl team believes that his team could beat the Patriots, but this is different. I don't think I'm out of line to say that the 1983 Los Angeles Raiders really could've beaten the Patriots, and I certainly don't think it's crazy to say that the '83 Raiders would've beaten the '07 Pats. [Side note: what tense is approriate to use when talking about past teams playing present teams?] Here's why:

1) The Raiders had Hall of Famer Michael Haynes and should-be HOFer Lester Hayes as our cornerbacks. These guys didn't just play well, they dominated. Quarterbacks didn't dare throw to Lester Hayes' side of the field, for fear of his stickum-laquered paws. The other option wasn't much prettier. Add to that dangerous duo FS Vann McElroy (8 INTs) and DEs Howie Long and Greg Townsend (combined 23.5 sacks) and the passing attack of the Pats would be, at the very least, flustered.

2) Did you see what we did to the Redskins in the Super Bowl? I didn't, not having yet been born, but thank God for YouTube. The highest scoring team in NFL history (at that point) was held to a single touchdown. Oh yea, and we blocked the extra point. None of this only-winning-the-Super-Bowl-by-three-points crap. 38-9. Black Sunday.

3) In the playoffs the Raiders outscored their opponents 106-33.

4) Marcus. (Not as good as the Bo runs, but this one actually happened! Sort of.)

I'm not saying that the '83 Raiders are the only team that would've or could've beat the Pats ('85 Bears, '89 and '95 49ers), and I know that playing the woulda-coulda-shoulda game is pointless. What I'm saying is simply this: even though the Patriots just completed the most dominating regular season in NFL history, and even though they have a history of playing their best football in the post-season (where it really matters), and even though they look (and have been) completely unstoppable, they are still human, even though it might not look that way. I refuse to believe that, in modern day sports, a single team can completely obliterate the competition every single game for an entire season. And let's not count the eggs before they hatch. They haven't won the Super Bowl (yet).

Still not convinced the '83 Raiders would've trounced (Trounced!) the '07 Pats? The just take a gander at this.

Pardon the Schmaltz

2008-01-11T07:27:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it takes something like this to remind us of the utter meaninglessness of the sports minutiae we consume on a daily basis.

I used to think it was incredible that million-dollar athletes could squander their fortune faster than they had earned it (this guy comes to mind). But after reading Jeff Pearlman's tear-jerker piece, I find it incredible that some manage to make it to the pros at all. Clayton Holmes' story should serve as reminder of caution to young athletes from broken homes and/or poor neighborhoods: it's not simply getting to the bigs that counts, it's staying there and living "a righteous life" that really ends the vicious cycle of poverty.

And while many athletes fail to mature, in part, because of horrific socio-economic conditions or familial circumstances, the reason behind other failures remains a mystery.

Workplace Email Chain About Hockey

2008-01-10T08:30:00.000-05:00

Coworker #1 emails our department this, a seven minute brawl between two minor league hockey teams. His claim: this bench clearing fight where players, coaches, and trainers slug it out is "hockey at its finest."

My reply: Are there any actions that constitute the game of hockey (i.e. the attempt by one squad to advance the puck into the opposing squad's net) on this video, or is it just a bunch of guys beating the hell out of one another for seven minutes?

Coworker #2 retort: You must have been so excited at the beginning of the video that you didn't realize this all took place between periods. Putting the puck in the net would have been a waste of time, unlike beating each other down, which was well worth the effort, I'm sure. Besides, didn't the announcer say that the president of the league was in tha house? They had to put on a good show.

Reply #2: So hockey at its finest, as I've come to understand it, occurs when no hockey is actually being played? Sounds like a fine game.

QED.

Art Garfamudis is My New Favorite Fake Sportswriter

2008-01-09T09:48:00.000-05:00

I read this fantastic spoof piece about the baseball Hall of Fame on ESPN.com this morning. I laughed out loud (that's a variation of "lol" for Generation AIM) when I read this section:

The people who want you to vote for [Don Mattingly] say he was great before he hurt his back. Well let me tell you something: My cousin used to be a math whiz until he fell out of a pickup truck when he was 12 and hit his head on the curb. He couldn't count his fingers after that. Did they let him into MIT anyway? No, they did not. End of parable.
Getting into the Hall of Fame isn't just a congratulatory nod of recognition. Oftentimes, greatness isn't even enough, nor should it be. The Hall of Fame is the highest (I repeat, the highest) honor baseball can bestow upon a player. Does Jim Rice really belong with Babe Ruth and Willie Mays? If you let Jim Rice in, then you've gotta consider "good" players like Will Clark and Bobby Bonds--guys who could've had HOF careers had circumstances been just a tad different. To even consider ball players like Robb Nen and Harold Baines is akin to dancing the foxtrot on a very slippery slope (just pretend I didn't say that). Guys like that are good to very good, but not worthy of Cooperstown.

I applaud the writers who only voted in one candidate this year. The voters aren't handing out invitations willy-nilly, and that's why the Hall of Fame is still the highest honor in baseball.

Goliath Didn't Win, and the Pats Won't Either...Maybe

2008-01-08T15:17:00.000-05:00

Let's just say that history is working against the Patriots.

1) Tom Brady was named AP Offensive Player of the Year, and only one QB who has earned that honor went on to win the Super Bowl in the same year (Joe Montana, 1989).

2) The Patriots broke the record for the most points scored in a single season this year, racking up an incredible Tecmo-with-Bo-Jackson-esque 589 points this season. The last two teams to hold that record did not win the Super Bowl (the 1983 Washington Redskins and the 1998 Minnesota Vikings).

3) Randy Moss broke Jerry Rice's single-season TD record this year (well, sort of). And while Jerry won three rings, the 49ers lost to the Vikings in the playoffs that year.

4) Tom Brady led the league in passing yards, with 4,806 three-footers. The quarterback with the most passing yards has NEVER won the Super Bowl that season. 0-42. An amazing statistic.

Oh, who am I kidding?

The Pats are going to stomp Jacksonville and whoever has the unfortunate luck to play them in the AFC Championship game, and beat the Cowboys in the Super Bowl 1,353-7 (that's 193 TDs and a safety). I hear the NFL is even on the verge of disbanding entirely because of a "palpable lack of competition due to the dominance of the New England Cheatriots." [Ok, they didn't ACTUALLY say that.]

I know it sounds like sour grapes, and maybe it is. But I am not ready to embrace the sort of complete dominance the Patriots are trying to acheive...unless of course it's by the Raiders.

When It Rains, It Pours

2008-01-07T19:01:00.000-05:00

I was watching the premier of American Gladiators last night when the depressing reality of my sports world became apparent. After winning the Power Ball competition, Anthony, a Fireman from New York, commented on the athleticism of the Gladiators (the American ones, at least): "These guys are really great athletes. I think the Raiders could use some of them."

Yes, my beloved Oakland Raiders, the winningest organization in professional football from 1963-2005, three-time Super Bowl champions, the Silver and Black Gods of the Pro Football World, have been reduced to a punchline on American Fucking Gladiators.

The worst part? Tony's right. While we show promise of improvement, we have an embarrassing 19 victories since our 2002 Super Bowl appearance. The Patriots, on the other hand, over the same period, have 66 wins.

Sometimes I wonder why I get out of bed in the morning.

I Have a Dream...

2008-01-07T15:29:00.000-05:00

If this past year in college football isn't evidence enough that the NCAA desperately needs to stop romanticizing the pageantry of the bowl system and implement a playoff system, then nothing short of a cataclysmic plummet in Nielsen ratings will force the heads of the major conferences (namely, the Pac-10 and Big-10) to consider reforming the BCS, which needs reform. Bad.

Just playing this playoff simulation can provide hours of entertainment. Imagine how much fun a real playoff, with ACTUAL GAMES would be. And how much revenue it would produce.

But, no. Instead of endless excitement and cash, we have stubborn conference heads who consider the history of the Rose Parade (who cares?) more important than the integrity of the National Championship. Even those who are trying to reform the Bowl System are not doing enough. To make things worse, you have d-bags like this guy claiming that those in favor of a playoff "misunderstand the nature of their arguments." See if you can understand the nuanced subtleties and theoretical foundations of this argument: the commisioners of the Pac-10 and Big-10 can take the bowl system and shove it up their Rosy asses.

It doesn't matter who wins tonight because the system is flawed. Ok, I don't really believe that tonight's game is meaningless (or, at least, any more meaningless than every other "meaningful" athletic contest). But it would be a hell of a lot more legitimate if the bowl system were to magically disappear, never to return again.

The Common Man

2008-01-06T18:27:00.000-05:00

I'm reading George Plimpton's Paper Lion, and I'm having a difficult time picturing Mr. Plimpton in an NFL training camp. It's a truly laughable notion: a Harvard educated intellectual who rubs shoulders with the political elite seamlessly blending with the likes of Night Train Lane. Doesn't sound very plausible.

That situation is odd enough, but Plimpton compounds the absurdity with his attempt to assume the role of the common man. George Plimpton is anything but the common man, though his intentions, I'm sure, are innocent. Nonetheless, Paper Lion is an entertaining read, and Plimpton's prose accurately captures the overlooked beauty of modern sports.

Medea: The Answer to All Problems Political and Metapolitical

2007-11-24T12:13:00.000-05:00

It has become post-modernly hip to read a classic work of fiction and apply the lessons learned to the modern political arena, the desired end result being a new found respect for the person who has not only brilliantly exposed the holes in our American political process, but has provided an immaculate and complete solution for our current Washingtonian woes. [1] Of course, I cannot stand the pomposity and arrogance of those who participate in self-gratifying displays of intellectual indulgence for indulgences sake. But, on the other hand, I am prone to self-gratifying displays of intellectual indulgence from time to time, if for no other reason than for unmitigated indulgence. So without further delay, I present to you my most recent masterpiece, Medea: The Answer to All Problems Political and Metapolitical.

In Euripides’ seminal Greek tragedy “Medea,” we see glimpses of the earliest formation of what can be called the modern American political “split”—namely, the battle between conservative and liberal ideologies within the American political system. In “Medea,” Jason, the conservative, believes in the power of free-market capitalism, self-interest, and choice. Indeed his decision to leave his wife Medea for a younger, more politically connected woman can only be described as self-interested. Medea, the proverbial liberal, establishes her decision making process on the belief of equality—she acts only when she feels that civil liberties have been slighted. [2] In short, Jason is the capitalist pig and Medea is the bleeding-heart liberal.

It is no coincidence, then, that the foundational conflict that drives "Medea" is the selfsame fracas that plagues our democratic process in Washington: a lack of compromise. Jason shows no remorse for his complete disregard for his wife’s feelings, and Medea displays little if any compunction for a) giving her husband's mistress a dress that eats her flesh and a crown that burns her head and face, b) slaying Jason’s soon to be father-in-law, Creon, while he mourns over his daughter’s death, and c) stabbing her own sons to death just so Jason could feel just a bit more pain. Oh! If there was ever a need for a marriage counselor!

The misunderstanding between Jason and Medea could have been easily fixed if both parties had compromised and listened to the other’s concerns and issues. Perhaps Jason could have worked things out with Medea. If that didn’t work, he could have simply left his wife, but not banished her from the country. And maybe Medea should have written a strongly worded letter to Jason when she was angry, instead of horrifically murdering everyone that Jason holds dear. And, likewise, if the conservatives and liberals in Washington could simply talk through their differences, the world would be a better place. Perhaps, instead of conservatives and liberals bickering over differences in foreign policy or economic stability, individuals from both sides of the aisles can come together to create a better place for the children. Can't we learn from Medea? [3]

[1] It also doesn’t hurt that the person can claim mastery of dense works of classic fiction. Show-off.

[2] Though, admittedly, one could argue that Medea acts out of self-interest because she is the one being slighted, her feminist musings in the beginning of the book lead us to believe that she is perfectly aware of the greater injustices being committed.

[3] Look at what I just did! I solved America’s political turmoil! And all I had to do was a) read a piece of classical literature, b) identify the fundamental conflict within said piece, c) project that conflict onto the American political landscape, d) ignore the elephant in the corner, in this case, the very real and serious political and cultural rifts in American society, and e) oversimplify an already ridiculously simply solution to an unbelievably complex problem. Just add a little snobbery and academic overtones and, VOILA! Problem solved. Now onto world hunger…

Greatest. Of. All. Time.

2007-11-15T18:40:00.000-05:00

I may have been born
In nineteen eighty five
But it wasn’t until ‘93
That I truly came alive

With Barry in the Bay
My childhood began
I now had my hero
I could now be called a “fan”

With forty-six home runs
Wins, one hundred and three
Bonds was untouchable
San Franciscans, filled with glee

The Giants stayed in Norcal
Our pulses no longer flat
The Golden City was saved
All because of Barry’s bat

As the nineties progressed
More wins and more home runs
And people filled the stands
Fathers brought their sons

In two thousand and one,
In the house that Barry built
Seventy-three were hit
And all the kids were thrilled

In two thousand and two,
The World Series came to town
And though we did not win
Our city still had a crown

“The Greatest Player Playing”
Was our mantra of choice
With every single swing
We regaled, we rejoiced

Five-hundred home runs went
And six-hundred dingers too
As the sacred number approached
Wrong, Bonds could not do

In August of this year
At home with mom and dad
I watched seven-fifty-six
Fly off of Barry’s bat

I hugged and kissed my mother
And shook my father’s hand
I cried and cried and cried
And then I cried again

In September the hammer fell
The Giants would not pursue
The man who saved the franchise
Barry, wrong he now could do

And now today, the curtains close
The baseball hat hung up
Barry saunters off to court
My childhood officially bust

Oh, somewhere in this favored land
The children laugh and play
But there is no joy in this kid’s heart
Because his hero is going away

762. No asterisk.

Guaranteed to Blow Your Mind...Anytime!

2007-10-31T14:00:00.000-04:00

Do you like having a real good time?

I know I do. That's why, last weekend, I went to see Almost Queen, the preeminent Queen cover band in the tri-state area. But, much to my surprise, I didn't have a good time: I had a great time. No, a great time doesn't sum up the emotional cartharsis I underwent. It was...transcendant (almost).

For the past week I've been telling anyone who has ears that a) I saw Almost Queen, b) they rocked me (as promised) AND looked exactly like the band, and c) it was, without a doubt, the greatest concert experience of my life. Yes, I'm totes serious.

I've been thinking about why I felt so stone cold crazy during/after the gig, and I've come up with a few plausible answers.

1) This cover band was spot on, right down to the fucking Brian May/Zandra Rhodes/Gandalf-the-White costumes and post-glam Freddie-stache. I don't mean to suggest that they were all flash and no bang -- they could play too. Every little nuance of the original Queen recordings (harmonies, triangles, and the much-needed bicycle bells) were reproduced with unbelievable precision, accuracy, and depth, considering there were only four guys on stage. [1]

2) There were no expectations, from the crowd OR the performers: I don't expect much from a cover band, and a cover band doesn't expect much from a crowd. It's a simple transaction really -- you pay $15 to see four guys who love Queen dress up and play their favorite Queen songs for 2 hours. It's fun! There's no artistic motive or "I-need-to-fix-the-world-with-my-shitty-anthem-about-blah-blah-blah". There is only one thing that matters when a cover band plays: having a ball.

3) This is the closest thing I will ever get to living in 1979. I've seen the current incarnation of Queen + (no ampersand) Paul Rodgers. It was good, but the event suffered because the members of the band were old -- simple enough. That and Freddie Mercury wasn't there and Paul Rodgers made NO attempt to look the part. Really shameful.

4) I was really, really drunk.

In concert, more "real" bands should aspire to be like cover bands. With "real" artists, fans have to deal with antiquated notions of integrity or innovation. That stuff should be reserved for albums, where experimentation is encouraged. But when a band gets on stage, they need to fucking rock. So take my advice: if you're in a band and you want to please the audience at your next show, just pretend to be in a cover band of your band. Who gives a fuck if it's "not real" or "lacks integrity"? Those ideas are a fallacy (like Frankenstein and Superman). Fun should always supercede "realness". And that is why Almost Queen is as good as any other band around.

Well, almost.

[1] Setlist, almost complete and in almost no particular order:

1) We Will Rock You (Killer's Version)
2) Tie Your Mother Down
3) Death On Two Legs
4) Bicycle Race
5) Fat Bottomed Girls
6) Another One Bites the Dust
7) Crazy Little Thing Called Love
8) I'm In Love With My Car
9) Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy
10) Keep Yourself Alive
11) Liar
12) Dragon Attack
13) Love of My Life
14) I Want to Break Free
15) Don't Stop Me Now
16) Killer Queen
17) Radio Ga-Ga
18) Save Me
19) The Show Must Go On
20) Bohemian Rhapsody
21) We Will Rock You
22) We Are the Champions
23) God Save the Queen (complete with crown and robe)

The Last Generation of Smokers

2007-10-18T11:20:00.000-04:00

Well, it finally happened.

It is with a heavy heart that I announce that I, Michael Gawley, have officially quit smoking. It has been a long time coming, but I could no longer withstand the physical and cultural pressures of smoking, and I have succumbed to a life of tobaccoless banality.

In short, I have lost the good fight. And it is a good fight. There is no sign more telling of a weak society or a crippled people than an overwhelming fear of death. Somewhere along the line, Americans lost their zest for danger (I blame the hippies). George Washington, Babe Ruth, and Evel Knievel all embodied the quintessential nature of what it meant to be Americans: they pushed the limits of health, good sense, and propriety, if for no other reason than to push the limits. That is what defined America.

But sadly, being a renegade is no longer en vogue. Rehab has replaced reckless abandon. Exercise and proper diet in place of sex, drugs, and rock n roll. And the cigarette was the first victim of the monstrous health trend that is now so thoroughly entrenched in the American way of life that nobody blinks at insane fucking statements like, “Did you know that most wheat bread isn’t even WHOLE WHEAT?” [1] Why did Americans become such pussies?

We lost our spines because we fear death. It makes prefect sense: in this country, our lives are so comfortable we don't ever want to stop living. We are in denial about our mortality. [2] Is this a good thing? Maybe. Does it make sense? Probably. Do I like it? Hell fucking no. But, as I mentioned before, I have made a decision to join the fearful mob and quit smoking.

Now, realistically, I will enjoy the occasional social cigarette (which, I believe, represents the last acceptable form of tobacco consumption and will never go out of style). But I will never again be a part of that enviable club: the regular smokers. Kudos to the young, American smokers who continue to cackle and cough in the face of an early demise. I wish I had your moxie. And while I will no longer be on your team, remember this: I secretly wish for the day when smokers rule the world.

But I also don't want to die.

[1] Unless, of course, you live in the middle-of-butt-fuck-nowhere, in which case fried chicken, rodeos, and chewing tobacco are still king. Keep up the good work!

[2] I hate people that make the nihilistic argument too. You know: "Nothing really matters, man. I mean, why do we need things? We're all gonna die anyway, man -- you might as well embrace death and drown in the nothingness of existence." Fuck those guys.

Pla-D'oh: Bart Simpson as Refutation of the Importance of Plato's Rational Soul

2007-10-11T14:23:00.000-04:00

In Book IV of The Republic, Plato establishes his triadic conception of the soul: essentially, each person's soul consists of a rational, an appetitive, and a spirited part (translated from thumos). "It is only appropriate," Plato argues, "for the rational part to rule [the individual] since it is really wise and exercises foresight on behalf of the whole soul" (441d). In short, through subordination of appetite and thumos, Plato declares that what humans truly are is their ability to reason and control their baser instincts.

Since Plato, however, thinkers and non-thinkers alike have attempted to reintegrate thumos and the appetitive into the notion of soul and human 'being'—the reevaluation of the Platonic rational soul is not solely reserved for the academic elite. For instance, the writers and producers of the modern television series The Simpsons have thrown their hats into the ring. It is my argument that Episode 3F02 [1] ("Bart Sells His Soul") is a contemporary refutation of Plato's hierarchy within the soul. [2] (Yes, I know. A blog with footnotes is pretentious and boring. Fuck you.)

From with the opening credits, Bart has a beef with Plato. In the recurring "chalkboard gag" where Bart's punishment is to write on a chalkboard after school, it is evident that he is in detention for affirming the centrality of his physical, animal qualities to his identity. He is forced to repeatedly write, "I am not a lean, mean, spitting machine" – apparently the demonstration of his bodily being went unappreciated by his teachers, who are perhaps avid Platonists. This opening joke, inconspicuous and unobtrusive, is the first stand Bart takes against Plato: I am more than some ethereal soul. I am a lean, mean, spitting machine (even if my teachers disagree).

The episode's narrative begins with Bart successfully pulling a prank during Sunday Church Service. After getting caught, Bart and Milhouse begin a discussion on the existence of souls while cleaning the church organ:

Bart: Well, if your soul is real, where is it?

Milhouse: [motions to his chest] It's kind of in here. And when you sneeze, that's your soul trying to escape. Saying "God bless you" crams it back in! [gestures up his nose] And when you die, it squirms out and flies away.

Bart: Uh huh. What if you die in a submarine at the bottom of the ocean?

Milhouse: Oh, it can swim. It's even got wheels in case you die in the desert and it has to drive to the cemetery.

Bart: [sighs] Oh, how can someone with glasses that thick be so stupid? Listen: you don't have a soul, I don't have a soul, there's no such thing as a soul![3]

In order to prove his point, Bart agrees to sell his soul ("BART SIMPSON'S SOUL" written on a piece of paper) to Milhouse for $5. After the exchange, Bart sniffs his newly acquired $5 bill before putting it in his pocket – this is the last time we will see Bart's appetitive nature (symbolized by his desire for money; see Republic 442a) and thumos (often translated as "a physical association with breath"[4]) until he regains his soul from Milhouse.

Though Bart is convinced he has lost nothing of value in his transaction with Milhouse, odd things begin to happen: his dog won't play with him, automatic doors fail to open for him, he no longer finds his once-beloved "Itchy & Scratchy" cartoons funny, and he can't even force a chuckle after watching Homer fall down the stairs. While Marge tucks Bart into bed, she notices that Bart seems to be "missing something…something important." In essence, he is no longer himself. But what has he actually lost? For one, he no longer has any appetitive urges. When out to a family dinner at the newly remodeled "Uncle Moe's Family Feedbag," he cannot bring himself to touch any of the food on his plate. He also no longer possesses thumos. This is most clearly evident when be blows on the freezer doors at the Quickie-Mart and no condensation forms.

Despite the loss of the appetitive and thumos, Bart retains his ability to reason. He understands that he has lost something integral to him, he schemes to get it back (a few times), and even works out a plan where he can steal the soul of another boy. His ability to think logically about his circumstance and formulate solutions is clear evidence that the rational part of himself is preserved even though he sold his soul to Milhouse. And this is where we find Episode 3F02's central argument: the rational part of your soul is not necessarily the most central to one's being. Without the presence and balance of all three parts (thumos, appetite, and reason), a person is not 'their true essence'. Indeed, Bart only returns to 'being' Bart after his sister acquires his soul (on the piece of paper) for him AND he eats the paper (note the return of the appetitive). Episode 3F02 argues that to deny any importance to the bodily desires/aspects of the soul is to deny personhood and our 'true beings'.

I'm totes serious.

[1] For episode synopsis, refer to http://snpp.com/episodes/3F02.html.

[2] The episode affirms the existence of a Platonic soul, but disagrees with the importance of the three parts.

[3] Though questioning the existence of the soul is not simply a refutation of Plato's triadic construction but, rather, the denial of a soul period, Bart does not hole this position for very long. It quickly becomes apparent that he once had a soul, which Milhouse now owns.

[4] http://en.wikipedia.com/wiki/Thumos

Does Exclusivity Have a Positive or Negative Impact on a Person's Popularity?

2007-10-06T10:26:00.000-04:00

Let's say I throw a party where 100 people are willing and able to show up. However, I only invite 10. Will that have a positive or negative overall impact on my popularity? Will my next party have more than or fewer than 100 people willing to show up depending on how many I invite to the first party? No impact at all?

Clearly, snubbing or getting snubbed by your "friends" is never a good feeling -- everybody wants to be invited to the party, even if they don't plan on attending. On the other hand, nobody wants to go to a party where everybody and their mother is invited -- those parties tend to be unpleasant, sloppy affairs.

At the risk of overgeneralizing, I think it's safe to assume that a basic human flaw is that we want things we cannot have. Using this principle as our foundation, the idea that people want to hang out with people who are difficult to hang out with does not seem far fetched at all. In fact, celebrity culture functions on this exact notion. Even though it's no secret that Paris Hilton is a stupid, spoiled brat, everyone wants to hang out with her. Why? Because it's hard to hang out with Paris. Her exclusivity is an asset.

The perfect example of my party thought experiment in action is Truman Capote's Black and White Ball. In short, it was THE party. Why? Because the guest list was extremely selective. When something is difficult to attain, people want it all the more. Also, Capote was incredibly selective not just with regards to the number of guests, but to the quality of guests. If he had invited 250 construction workers, I doubt the party would have gained the noteriety and reputation it has. But by following two simple guidelines -- 1) make your guest list as exclusive as possible and 2) invite only important, cool, smart, and sexy people -- he managed to make exclusivity work in his favor.

Granted, not everyone has the luxury of inviting important, cool, smart, or sexy people to their gatherings, but I think the principle of exclusivity still works. Maybe it wasn't that the Black and White Ball became exclusive because of who showed up. Perhaps the dynamic is the opposite: important people show up when the guest list is small.

The bigger question, however, is whether this Law of Social Exclusivity applies to the average party-thrower. I argue that it does. You may offend a few of your peripheral acquaintances by cutting your guest list, but it's not snobbish or rude -- you just want to maximize party utility.

And besides, it's your fucking party.

Why the Randy Moss Trade Doesn't Bother Me. Really.

2007-10-02T15:25:00.000-04:00

Lately, I've been receiving text messages and phone calls from friends offering me two pieces of information: 1) Randy Moss is doing very well this season, and 2) He's not wearing a Raiders uniform. I guess the expected response is something along the lines of, "Oh my God! What have the Raiders done?!?! A 4th round pick for Randy Moss?!?! We got swindled!!!"

However, the trade was not nearly as lopsided as the Raider Haters make it seem -- in fact, I would argue that it was not lopsided at all. Randy Moss would ultimately have had a negative impact on the Raiders if we had kept him on board -- not only would he have sucked on the field, faking injuries and sprouting alligator arms, he also would have been a neon-sign distraction off-the-field. The only logical conclusion to this dillema was that he needed to leave the team.

Immediately.

Now, that Al Davis had to get rid of Moss was no secret. And when EVERYBODY knows that you HAVE to unload a guy, his market value plummets. So the Raiders had two options: 1) cut Randy Moss and receive no compensation, or 2) trade Moss for the best offer. Given these circumstances, what would any rational owner or GM do? Keep Moss and have a cancer eat away at your team? Drop him for nothing? Of course not. You take what you can get, even if it's not very good.

It's not as if Tricky Bill pulled a fast one on Al Davis (who, by the way, had won three Super Bowls in eight years, while Billy Boy was still making $25 a week; look it up). Al the Great was the unfortunate victim of market forces affected by Randy Moss's douchebagery. The mistake was not trading Randy Moss. The mistake was acquiring him in the first place.

Dictate. Dominate. Seek and Destory.