The Nature of Competition Has Changed

In watching reality television shows, particularly the the competitive ones, something interesting occurred to me:

The strongest competitors don't always win.  In fact, they are often eliminated prematurely.  The rationale being that they exist as a threat to the other players.  Thus, by voting them off, they are they eliminate said threat.

This, is bullshit.

It is my opinion that the strongest competitor should win.  Any other way is chicken shit.  I know what they were attempting to do, introduce a component whereby not necessarily the strongest, but the smartest could also prevail.  Perhaps the most potent blend of both physicality and intellect would be victorious.  The most complete player.  The strongest physical competitor shouldn't ever have to consider taking a dive, or losing intentionally so as to not appear as strong.

These do however do appear as tenants in The Art of War as militant strategy.  Appear as weak when you are actually strong.  To provoke an attack?  You're still putting the option in the hand of your opponent.

Can you tell I am interested in military strategy?

Survivor was good enough to introduce a feature called "immunity" whereby players who win certain challenges are now exempt from elimination or being voted off.  While beneficial for the strong competitors, it's also a double-edged sword.  You start winning challenges, and winning immunities to prevent from elimination, and you identify yourself as a strong competitor.

I would argue that, if you had to vote off the strongest competitor to win,  you didn't really win.  You were, essentially unable, ill-equipped, and frankly too chicken shit to go up against the strongest and win.  I would much prefer to lose to the best than to win under false pretenses.

I considered myself a strong competitor in N64's Super Smash Bros.  Actually, I considered myself next to infallible.  Naturally when my friend Tank, said:

1. He could mop the floor with me.
2. There was someone out there (Dustin) exponentially better than him.

I was naturally skeptical  having rarely been toppled in a game of Smash, even by some of the fiercest competition.  I was extremely disheartened to learn however that Tank was indeed on this one occasion, considerably better at smash than I.  I say this one occasion intentionally not because I have since defeated tank.  Quite the contrary.  I feel my ego is unable to sustain another blow of this magnitude.

The Now Infamous Ham Wallet Story

I had this friend in college.  You need not know his name, it is of little consequence.  Only know he did a great many drugs.  One fateful night when he was dabbling with LSD or some manner of hallucinogenic, he needed to listen to his three favorite albums (Why three?  Because his CD player held three).  However there was one problem:

His floor was covered in snakes.  Why'd it have to be snakes?

Long story short, he traversed the lake of snakes and triumphantly inserted his three favorite CDs, one of which was Jimi Hendrix's Greatest Hits album, pictured below.

My friend was staring intently at this album whilst it played and he was sure to tell me that Jimi was kind enough to take a break from one of his mind-blowing solos to leap off the cover and jam.  Jimi paused for a moment, looked directly and my friend and exclaimed  "Ohhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhhhh!"  He didn't exclaim it like the cool-aid guy, it was much higher pitched.

The next day my friend awakens, three albums still cycling, and realizes he has a powerful hunger.  He drives to the nearby Hanneford, and you know how it is, when you're shopping hungry, your list goes out the window and everything is on an impulse buy.  Arriving at the checkout, he has no reason to suspect any foul play of any kind from the subsequent night of debauchery.  The grocery bill exceeds two hundred dollars and my friend reaches to his wallet to pay.  His primary source of income being the procuring and trafficking of certain goods, his primary currency is American dollars.  Much to his bewilderment, there are no American dollars within his wallet.  What, you may ask is there instead?  You guessed it.

Slices of ham.

"Don't panic," He told himself.  It is unlikely that the unit of currency has changed from the American dollar to the American slice of ham.

What's a guy to do?

Simple:  Silent, head down, walk out.  If they say something, run.  Let it blow over for a couple of weeks and avoid the same cashier you had.

The part that gets me is, my friend had no idea what was coming, his surprise was genuine, as was the cashier's.  To be there for that moment, the questions arriving as well as more questions following the sudden departure of the young man with the Ham Wallet.  I can only hope this turns into a fable, gets mother goosed.

The moral is simple:  Don't do acid or Jimi Hendrix will replace your hard earned dollars with slices of ham.  It's like the tooth fairy in reverse.

Just Breathe

I've been waiting for a day like today for so long.  I'm all set up, in the recliner, it's pouring, my work, for the most part, is done.  Yesterday I was productive, today is about football, food with my old man and godfather, pandora radio, inception later, pajamas, applying for jobs on the side.

The day is mine Trebek.

Like I said before, all about values, what you value and how much.  What you'll do for ten dollars, what you'll do with ten dollars.

Yesterday I spent what I thought was a lot of money, until the guy in front of me at Best Buy spent 13 grand.

On one laptop.  What does that thing do?  Better question:  What doesn't it do?

The gentlemen that purchased said laptop were foreign, from where I cannot be sure.  They appeared Indian (Not Native American) or Hindu.  Are people from the country India Middle Eastern?  Is Arabian derogatory.  I hate to stand accused of bigotry.  Whatever's P.C. these days.  They paid in all one hundred dollar bills which were individually inspected by a Best Buy employee.  I slide up my Toshiba Laptop weighing in at a measly four hundred dollars.  Measly in comparison.  I had to shop for this price too, and deliberated if could/should get something of lesser value for cheaper.  These guys didn't even blink.  The price appeared, they paid, and left.

The Crossfire Commercial is the Most Adrelaline Fueled Commercial Ever

Excellent usage of taco bell sauce

CROSSFIRE!
The year is 1992.  As I write this I can bearly sit still. That's how fired-up the cross fire commercial has gotten me. What a brilliant marketing strategy. Get two prepubescent boys to square off in an arena with fire and lighting shooting everywhere. Dress these kids in leather, bandanas and fingerless gloves. Get a catchy, dramatic, song that showcases the name of the product.  Boom.  Every kid around the country wants the crossfire game.

The commercial features gunfire sound effects, showcases the game from bird's eye view as metal balls zing from side to side knocking their respective targets ever closer to victory.


But there's more on the line.

This is a game of life and death people.  This is crossfire where the loser will be banished from the arena following defeat. The focus and intensity of the two young men is nothing short of commercial acting gold (if there exists such a monumental achievement).

Is there a better expression of victory and exuberance than the young man at the end?

(Fistpump) "Yeah!"  (Double Fistpump) "YEAH!"

The truth is, if you can make someone else feel even a little better, you should consider yourself lucky.

Why So Sirius?

Sheila, my new car came complete with a Sirius Satellite Radio 3 month trial.  The end is neigh, and the question looms, to renew or not to renew?  It all comes down to values.  What you value and how much.

What you'll do with ten dollars what you'll do for ten dollars.

Do I value Sirius?  To the extent of the variety that it offers.  As well as the nostalgia, which wore of as quickly as nostalgia can sometimes.  I'm speaking to a very particular station.

90's on 9 is the crown gem of my Sirius Satellite radio experience.  All the songs you remember half the words to but swore to god you loved so much?  They're on.  Back to back to back.  No commercials.  I guess that's huge when you're suddenly concious of it.  However for 90's on 9 particularly, seems woefully repetative.  With an entire decade of eclectic, quirky music (in it's own right) to pick from, every session listening in on 90's on 9 recounts the listener with at least one they've already heard that day.

Was it part of the 90's to be repetitive?  Not that I recall.  Not that the 90's were any sort of renascence in America or a rediscovery of the classic music traditions.  Grunge was brand new, alternative was surfacing, indie was flourishing, and dance made a brief sudden impact.  I hardly consider myself a music historian, just recalling what I remember of 90's music.  There was rap in the mix too.  Rap and hip hop have to an certain extent, always been present, lying dormant in the minds of those seeking to poetically express themselves through song without having to go through the trouble of learning an instrument.  I'm being fesicious.  Hip hop has, in my opinion as much potential for artistic expression as any type of music.

Back to the question at hand, to shell out the cost of subscription to Sirius?

Here's the thing.  The value of Sirius to me has the value that Pandora has, to expose me to songs I will love that I have not yet heard.  Then taking those songs, either purchasing the entire album at Bullmoose (provided I've previewed the album and it is appealing enough for me to consider supporting the artist/band) or downloading the individual track via iTunes or the yet to be downloaded Frostwire.  I have an extremely eclectic taste in music that is ever changing, ever evolving.

R.I.P. Limewire.  (May 9th, 2000-Oct. 19th 2010)  She was ten years old.  Lived as full a life as a P2P sharing program could ever hope to live.  Provided millions with illegal Mp3 files, MPGs, JPGs, etc.  I mean Napster lasted what?  Two years?  Fuck you Lars Ulrich.

  Several key differences:

1. Pandora asks for a specific song or artist and then builds around that (I think actually that it does do entire genres as well).
2. Sirius is mobile, that is traveling across states in my car.
3. Pandora has minimal commercials whereas Sirius has none.

I'm compartmentalizing Sirius into 90's at 9 being the only station to which I listen.  The selection is enormous, and I've hardly explored all it has to offer.  Rarely, however am I afforded the opportunity to hang out with my computer and allow Pandora to run for an extended period of time.  That's a complete lie.  I have those opportunities, I rarely take advantage of them.  More often than not, I'm in control of what plays on my iTunes.

The people at Sirius have devised a compromise to which I'm aminable.  Rather than pay the whole $13/month (which is steep for satellite radio) pick and choose up to 50 (I think) stations and pay like $5-6/month.  I'm still on the fence about that.  One thing is for sure though:  It would make wife happy.  In the end, isn't that what it's all about?

That's a trump card if I ever heard one.

Better call the people at Sirius.

Ruby Tuesday's to the Rescue

I want to begin like some movies do: At the end of the story. Then it flashes to the real beginning where the characters are either faced with the initial problem or character devlopment occurs. Anyway, the duration of these movies are spent with the knowledge that the characters will inexorably return to the ending, which was in this case the beginning.  Confused/Outraged?

The ending of this story is wife and I in a Ruby Tuesday's, loving life. This was a very Harold and Kumaresque style story in which the characters (Wife and me) searched aimlessly for beers after a hard day of Six Flags standing in lines that have no forseeable end, and move so slow that by the time we got to the ride we were waiting for, construction had successfully finished on a brand new ride. Wife and I tend to have misadventures rather than adventures, perfectly understandable and usually make better stories anyway.

Did I mention that the obligatory line standing was preceded by an 8 hour drive? The duration of my driving shift was under harsh scrutiny by wife for the manner in which I operate a motor vehicle. Most affectionately described by her as "Hyper" "Disturbing" or "Jesus Christ I thought for sure you were going to hit that fucking truck." I can't help it if I love action movies and it manifests itself in my driving (self note to blog on awesomely bad movies). Each of her disparaging remarks on my wheelman skills was accompanied by a grasp of the sidebar, while thrusting her body back into the seat, simultaneously making this strange noise that for the life of me, I can't reproduce or find a suitable combination of letters to describe it.

So we arrive, we're psyched, digging it. We start our now famous tracking of items in public that we find entertaining. It's a real life game of where's waldo. Only instead of Waldo, in large crowds of people we search out mullets, fanny packs, guidos, and the always facinating PQGs. For those of you unfarmiliar with the abbreviation, I'm pretty sure it's because we invented it. Ever see someone at first glance and you cannot initially discern whether or not they are male or female? Boom. You've just spotted a PQG my friend. They are Persons of Questionable Gender. Some may find it unethical or mean even to seek out the aformentioned persons described. Our take on it is that if you wear a mullet or a fanny pack, if you dress like a guido, or if you blur the lines of gender, you probably deserve to be counted as if you have your own demographic. In certain instances, particularly the PQGs, we feel a tinge of guilt in objectifying their entire existance into a number in our count. It may not be entirely their fault they appear as a blend of both genders. Some blend those lines on purpose. See what I mean? PQGs are the crown gem of the count. They are the mew of the bunch (There's a pokèmon reference in my blog).

Where mullets and fanny packs are pretty self explanitory, PQGs and guidos are a bit more open to subject to debate. In order for the subject in question to qualify, it must first attain a two-thirds majority. Actually it means wife and I debate whether or not the person in question has enough guido features or characteristics (i.e. swagger, jewlery, chin-strap, tattoos, wife beater, jelled hair, voice/terminology). In the case of PQGs it is determined by whether or not the subject can be identified as belonging to either gender in 3 seconds or less.

Results have varried.

Interestingly enough in Six Flags, New Jersey we expected guidos to have a strong showing. Jersey, afterall being their Mecca.  Their score was dismal. Conversely, fanny packs demolished the competition. As I recall PQGs won the battle in Six Flags New England.

Flash to in line, Kangra-La or whatever it's called. Fastest rollercoaster in the world. Legit, 128mph. We're right before the transitional part of the line, which is to say where the second part of the line begins. We were in line for a line essentially when, unexpectedly the ride breaks down. Actually, not the least bit unexpected. We witnessed someone's phone decide quite suddenly that it no longer wanted to be the phone of that owner, and jump from the owner's pocket and onto the track of the ride.  Phoneicide = death of phone. (Curses!  It appears that term already exists in Urbandictionary, ergo I cannot take credit for it's conception).

Tragic.

In retrospect and it actualspect, because at the time I was generally and quite publicly hoping that whatever cellular device it was, it was both expensive and implacably as it caused an immovable status in the line for the ride to be repaired.  Further adding to our frustration was the ambiguity and frequency of the messages from the Six Flag's staff via the radio device.  The exact terminology eludes me, but it was something to the effect of:

"Hi there Six Flags riders!  There has been an unexpected development in the machinery of the Rollercoaster, we are unable to provide you with an estimated time for when it will be operational.  You are welcome to wait as we provide you updates, however feel free to check out our other rides.  We don't know what the fuck we're talking about!"

Like I said, I'm paraphrasing but it was something like that.

Wife and I, assess our position in line and decide that we are doing quite a bit better than most, besides, how hard could it be to remove a phone or whatever from the tracks?

Impossible it seems.

I hadn't to this point taken to the habit of timing our waits for our own edification, but this was like a DMV wait combined with an hour wait that they promise you at a restaurant which turns out to be closer to two combined with Space Mountain at Disney, combined with the wait you waited back in the day to download anything with AOL.  Yeah, I went there.

It was infuriating, it was demoralizing, it was some other ing word I don't even know.  Wife and I, throughly pissed of after waiting extensively, hearing the same identical message from the same identical person in 5 minute intervals, relinquished our excellent position in the line for greener pastures.  To be fair, we managed several other rides that session before calling it quits on day 1 of Six Flags.  After the bullshit ride breaking experience, 9 or 10 hours of driving, and the lack of food, we're clamoring not for food actually, but absolutely jonesing for some beers.  After the day we've had, it's just deserved.

Little did we know, practically everything in New Jersey closes at 10PM.  What kind of place is this?  Do you think all those Jersey Shore brats are done at 10PM.  False.

We went back to the hotel's restaurant and they're open until 10:30, it's like 10:15 and the people in front of us are, well, for starters they're only in front of us because they blatantly cut us.  They were so arrogant as to turn to us and say "This will only take a second."  Like that somehow makes it okay to bounce the line dude?  This guy had the black rimmed rectangular glasses, and I'll be dammed if that fucker wasn't wearing a beret.  He was so pompous, so arrogant, IN A HOLIDAY INN!

I think they were exchanging bills.  The process of exchanging bills however, should be much more expedient than what we see before us.  Especially hungry.  Especially on a deadline which is unrealistic and frankly irresponsible.  The guy in the beret just had to make a two step process into a twelve.  Wife just happened to be a bit more vocal at the time.

"REALLY?  Stop trying to figure out exactly what to tip in the HOLIDAY INN!"  *Angry glare, storms off*

I storm off too, because that was fucking awesome.  She had the balls to say what we were both thinking in a way that was obvious enough for him to realize how much of a douche he was being.  Now we're out of one more option and it's up to me, wife, and Mindy (the name for my Tom Tom GPS) to figure out plan B, C, D, or whatever letter we're on.

We're aware of a string of chain restaurants down whatever highway was farmillar to us at the time and decide to see if they're still doing "To-Go" shit that we can just bring back to the hotel room and eat this late at night.  Ruby Tuesday's appears like a beacon, and something tells me it's worth a shot, which is interesting because there are hardly any cars in the lot.  We pull in, I hop out planning to order wife something to go when I enter and see the hostess.

The young man is definitely a gasian, or gay Asian.

With his little lilt in his voice "Hi welcome to Ruby Tuesday's! How can I help you?"  Yes the italics are for emphasis like he was especially concerned of how to help me.  Also I would like the record to show that one of his eyebrows raised at both the mention of "Ruby" and "Tuesdays" as though they're codes for something.  Invitations perhaps.  It is at this point irrelevant.  Thinking fast I ask:

"How late are you guys open?"
"Midnight."  Again with the god dammed eyebrow raise.

Anyway the news is like a lightning bolt , and I rush back to the car, and to wife to inform her of the news.  We enter the Rubes and they say there's only seating at the bar.  To which we reply, perfect.

Next the bartender/waitress at the bar informs us that with each drink over 3$ we are provided with a complementary slider, or mini hamburger of glory.

Seriously?  Several hours ago we were ready to impale hapless ride jocky's for not knowing answers, rando line jumpers for exchanging bills, and now we've been ushered into Ruby's loving embrace?  It's not even Tuesday!  Blessed, we were to have our prayers answered by Ruby Tuesday's.  Beers and variety dining!  No rush!

Relief and sustenance swept over us as we realized that we owed something to Ruby's.  It had salvaged some unfortunate turn of events, while managing to do so effortlessly so gracefully.

In the past I've been known to write angry, condescending emails to persons either directly or indirectly affecting my life in a negative manner.  It was with much pleasure that I composed a well thought out, eloquent, articulate, email to the organization of Ruby Tuesday's for how they had come through for wife and I in our hour of need, where no one else in the vicinity would.  As a result, they have secured my business forever, not for every meal that is, but I will always have them considered as an option.

Nothing Like "A Charlie Brown Christmas" To Evoke All the Innocence and Charm of a Cartoon About a Prepubescent Bald Boy

Today I bought the soundtrack for A Charlie Brown Christmas for the purpose of sparking my lack of Christmas spirit thus far.  The result?

Sweet resounding success.

The album essentially smacked me in the face with ripe nostalgia that could not be repressed.  The soft jazzy tunes are a fantastic introductory piece particularly to youths unfamiliar with jazz music and what it has to offer.  Arguably the most famous track on the album "Linus and Lucy" doubles as the shows theme and underlying chorus.  It is undeniably catchy with the layered piano riffs and that breakdown with the cello bass.

Cellos are badass.

However the track most responsible for my inexorable leap into Christmas spirit is "Christmastime is Here", a lulling harmonious track which features a boy's choir.  It is endearing and eloquent, and is made all the more magical by lights, snow, eggnog, etc.  The television special and corresponding album were both released in 1965, and I had come to realize how closely I knew many of the songs without actually knowing their names or even that they were from A Charlie Brown Christmas.  That goes for so many classic songs I think, knowing their tunes, some of the words, then years later it dawns on you, "Oh thaaaaaaat song!"

Many object to the consumerism that surrounds the holiday season.  I believe their focus to be too narrow.  Stepping back, it's less about getting the deals, the black friday, the stress, the wrapping paper, shipping costs.  All the logistics are non-factors.  At the risk of sounding cheesy, it's about the giving of gifts, and the joy from giving.  Although they say the best gifts are home made, let's face it that your manufacturing skills are not on par with the Chinese or Japanese.

Less About What's Right, More About Who's Right

Infuriating is the reoccurring one dimensional thinking that consumes certain parties I know. My way or the highway sort of logic. Which, by the way, means what exactly? If we're driving along and we have an argument either agree with me or I'll kick your sorry ass to wander down the road in the rain.

Hardly.

I wouldn't do that.  

My point is I guess, (though I'm rarely accused of sticking to one) how can one expect to be an effective leader of others without their voices heard? It becomes stifling and demoralizing. What happened to the storm of ideas where all are encouraged to contribute, pitch in, and hopefully that storm of ideas will produce the best results having been able to work together toward a consensus. You know the last company to conduct themselves in such a manner? Apple. The result? The iPod.

You're welcome pricks.

I'm not saying I have the answers. Fact is, I wouldn't like the responsibility of making all the calls. Fuck that. However a panel of advisors, the ones in it, in the thick of it, would be favorable. Dispense with the fear of your ideas rejection. If it's said aloud and listened to, that's a miracle alone. Rejection is a small price to pay.

My issue is, and why I am so pissed off for lack of a better expression, is that my ideas involve other people's health and welfare. I refuse to be silent, refuse to not advocate for the well being of the persons under my care simply because I meet resistance each time I do. I relate it to the quote from Boondock Saints (1999) "Now we must all fear evil men. But there is another type of evil we must fear most, and that is the indifference of good men." I'm not suggesting I'm some sort of martyr. To me, however, to be indifferent would be an evil.

Communication is vital. In a society where we have language to convey ideas, one would be best served to be proficient in our language so as to provide the smallest margin for misinterpretation of the points one wishes to convey. That whole sentence can be sumized to: Use your big boy/girl words correctly and people will know what the hell you're talking about.

Enough with the hypothetical scenario: I can't do it anymore with the god damn memos. They're irritating as they are poorly articulated. Which, to be honest, compels me to disregard their "requests."

Side note: My nephew, when he was four began air quoting things. The kicker? He used them in appropriate situations. For instance, Wife and I were headed to a baseball game, and we made the mistake of sharing this information with him. To which he replied:

"Have fun at your (air quotes) BASEBALL GAME!"

Implying of course that we were going to do something other than attend a baseball game.

I quoted the word requests to suggest the requests were anything but requests. Demands were more appropriate. The entire memo would be written center justified, in all caps, with no less than three exclamation points following each sentence. The language that already conveys emphasis, words like most, absolutely, important, etc. such words were underlined for good measure. Last but not least all memos are required to be some shade of florescent color.

This sort of overkill is offensive to all persons. It belittles the readers, suggesting that you are ill equipped to realize the importance of the message without the use of such forceful application of the English language. I like to believe it entices the reader to do percisely the opposite. I believe it is inherint in our nature to do what we're told not to do. Adam and Eve were instructed whilst in the garden of Eden to chill out and relax, but don't eatith of the apple (more to follow).