Monday
5/18/06
I Have Seen The Future, And It Is... Dorky.
To wit, the lofty: The theory of relativity tells us that if you're standing still, a beam of light emitted from a flashlight in your hand will scamper away from you at exactly 1,079,252,848.8 kilometers per hour, and yet if you began to run with that flashlight at incredible speeds you would never be able to catch up to the light because it will keep receding from you at exactly the speed of light no matter how fast you go. Oh sure, you say, that's possible because it's time that's relative bla bla bla, but do you really understand how the whole theory fits together? No, of course you don't, and that's why you're sitting there reading my dopey blog instead of working on some sort of super-sciency-government project building shiny death ray guns or some such nonsense. And of course if you really are building shiny death ray guns, then shame on you.
Now where the hell was I? Oh yeah, things I don't get. And the mundane: like why my two boys who are otherwise perfectly intelligent, reasonable people can't remember to flush the damn toilet. It's a mystery. Anyhoo, the point of all this is that recently I've begun to notice a mysterious phenomenon that not only do I not understand, but would categorize as both mundane and inexplicably annoying: People Who Wear Bluetooth Headsets Everywhere And At All Times.
Really now, why? I've never seen any of these people actually talking; it looks as if they've got these things permanently attached to their heads just in case someone should call and they just can't get to the phone in their pocket fast enough. Maybe they're all waiting for a call from Commissioner Gordon and they just can't get to the phone fast enough to avert a bank robbery! Or maybe they're all waiting on a call from the President and they just can't get to the phone fast enough to help avert a terrorist attack! Or maybe they're all waiting for a call from mom and they just can't get to the phone fast enough to be reminded to pick up a quart of milk from the QuikieMart!
What a bunch of dorks. Not only do I see a few of these people every day now, but while my Lovely Bride and I were at Stir Crazy last weekend there was, I sh#t you not, a guy at the table next to us who was wearing one of these things while on a date. With a girl. For the entire meal. Never talked on it. But boy was he ever ready to take a call. Dork.
Or maybe we need to coin a new term. Bluetooth dork... Blocutus? No... Blork? How about just bork? Yeah, thats it, bork. I just hope this guy doesn't mind.
Oh well, have a nice day!
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5/04/06
That's My Boy!
It’s been said that having the confidence of your convictions is a key to success. Now certainly having convictions is an integral part of that formula, but I would argue that studiously ignoring real world evidence that may contradict your convictions is, how shall we say, stupid.
But of course our lives are full of examples of such foolishness. I, for instance, remain convinced that I will someday be good at golf, that the next pepperoni pizza I eat won’t give me heartburn, and that watching Stargate One doesn’t make me a geek. A guy can dream, can’t he? (Now it’s obvious that at this juncture I could take this premise and make a sharp right hand turn into the driveway of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, but I’m really not in the mood today; and really, who has time for a laundry list of grievances that long?)
Anyhoo, the flip side of my occasional moronic stubbornness is the joy of having a cathartic experience that takes me by the hand and leads me from the fog of arrested opinion into the light of reasoned enlightenment. (Anyone for a second helping of hyperbole?) So yes, once again I’ve seen the light, and today it shines on… little league. I am, for the moment at least, now a big fan of the game and my kid’s team. Yes, I know, the past few springtimes I’ve posted diabolically clever indictments of the institution of little league; postings that employed brilliantly withering sarcasm as well as breathtakingly insightful social commentary. (Well, perhaps mildly snarky and a bit grumpy is a more accurate way to characterize those posts, but once again, a guy can dream, can’t he?)
My change of heart about little league is really pretty straightforward: my oldest is playing pretty well. He’s getting plenty of field time playing third base and he’s getting hits to boot. What’s more, he’s been making some good plays in close games that are actually exiting. Whoda thunk? What finally tipped the balance for me though was a play last Saturday: my boy was playing third when a kid on the other team hit a long ball to the outfield. Our team missed the runner at second when the ball was overthrown, and then when the runner came around third the ball was overthrown again, but my boy hustled for it like a pro and threw the runner out at home to save a tie game that they went on to win. Woooo!
And there I was, screaming and cheering like a sports-parent-maniac. Go figure. So anyway, today’s lesson: you really need to pay attention when life walks right up to you and pokes you in the forehead, otherwise you’ll just look like an obdurate nitwit. Or a Neo-con. Whichever.
.
|
5/04/06
That's My Boy!
It’s been said that having the confidence of your convictions is a key to success. Now certainly having convictions is an integral part of that formula, but I would argue that studiously ignoring real world evidence that may contradict your convictions is, how shall we say, stupid.
But of course our lives are full of examples of such foolishness. I, for instance, remain convinced that I will someday be good at golf, that the next pepperoni pizza I eat won’t give me heartburn, and that watching Stargate One doesn’t make me a geek. A guy can dream, can’t he? (Now it’s obvious that at this juncture I could take this premise and make a sharp right hand turn into the driveway of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, but I’m really not in the mood today; and really, who has time for a laundry list of grievances that long?)
Anyhoo, the flip side of my occasional moronic stubbornness is the joy of having a cathartic experience that takes me by the hand and leads me from the fog of arrested opinion into the light of reasoned enlightenment. (Anyone for a second helping of hyperbole?) So yes, once again I’ve seen the light, and today it shines on… little league. I am, for the moment at least, now a big fan of the game and my kid’s team. Yes, I know, the past few springtimes I’ve posted diabolically clever indictments of the institution of little league; postings that employed brilliantly withering sarcasm as well as breathtakingly insightful social commentary. (Well, perhaps mildly snarky and a bit grumpy is a more accurate way to characterize those posts, but once again, a guy can dream, can’t he?)
My change of heart about little league is really pretty straightforward: my oldest is playing pretty well. He’s getting plenty of field time playing third base and he’s getting hits to boot. What’s more, he’s been making some good plays in close games that are actually exiting. Whoda thunk? What finally tipped the balance for me though was a play last Saturday: my boy was playing third when a kid on the other team hit a long ball to the outfield. Our team missed the runner at second when the ball was overthrown, and then when the runner came around third the ball was overthrown again, but my boy hustled for it like a pro and threw the runner out at home to save a tie game that they went on to win. Woooo!
And there I was, screaming and cheering like a sports-parent-maniac. Go figure. So anyway, today’s lesson: you really need to pay attention when life walks right up to you and pokes you in the forehead, otherwise you’ll just look like an obdurate nitwit. Or a Neo-con. Whichever.
.
