Okay, so last week I had the bright idea of asking for blog topics. Actually, I didn't think anyone would respond. But they did. I received eleven responses. I guess that proves that more people care about what I'm blogging about than I had originally predicted. I got to four of the eleven responses in my last blog, but I felt obligated to tackle the other topics, so here we go!
I guess the easiest way is to just write about them in the order they were received. Jordan Fish asked me to write about myself. While I'm hesitant to unleash all of the glorious secrets that make up me, I figured I'd start with three things about me that you probably didn't know. Hmm, what haven't I told people.Well, I was born in Holland and my mom is Dutch, when I was a kid my sister cut my thumb with scissors and when I was in college I worked as a busboy at the Olive Garden. Man, that was harder than I thought.
Okay, one down six to go. Daniel Drake asked me to write about music, the illuminati and freemason. While I don't really know much about that, I figured a good blogger does research, right? So here we go. The illuminati is defined as persons possessing, or claiming to possess, superior enlightenment. Also the name given to societies or sects because of their claim to superior enlightenment. I actually remember falling asleep to a Tom Hanks moving that talked about this sort of thing, but obviously I didn't buy into it that much or I would have stayed away. I guess one of these orders is the freemasons, a widely distributed secret order having its objective be mutual assistance and the promotion of brotherly love among its members. That sounds pretty groovy to me. I can get down with some brotherly love. I guess the group started with stone workers in the middle ages that would possess secret signs and passwords. The group later accepted masons not connected to the trade. So you're saying there is hope for me yet. Ya, that's it! I could become a freemason and pass secrets through my blog. Now wouldn't that be exciting. Hell, maybe I'm doing it right now and you don't even realize it. Okay, count every sixth word and that's the message you'll have to decode this week. Good luck!
Speaking of secret messages, Stan Kingsberry asked me to tackle politics. Well, I thought about it and started to run after Obama in my head, but he dipped and dove, then sprinted away from me. That dude was faster than I ever imagined. If I can't even tackle politics in my head, I probably shouldn't tackle it in my blog. I suggest you watch Politically Incorrect by Bill Mahr. He's always good for a few chuckles. And if he doesn't work. Try The Steven Colbert Report. That's about the extent of my research into politics these days. If I can't find out what I need to know on Comedy Central, then I probably don't need to know it. Yes, I am what's wrong with the world today. Haven't I been telling you that all along?
Of course, what's right with the world is that we appear to be on the precipice of another sexual revolution. Big word warning!!! Ya, I tried to slip one in on you. Did I use it correctly? If not, please disregard. Well, since Cindy Peters asked me to write about sex, let's get into it. You hear that Ralf, your wife has sex on the brain! You better do something about that buddy...haha Well, in case you didn't know, a 42-year-old American Aids patient living in Berlin was reportedly cured of the Aids virus after undergoing bone marrow transplant of genetically selected bone marrow. The patient had the virus for over a decade and now shows no signs of the virus in his bone marrow, blood and other organ tissues. While doctors say more tests are still needed to confirm it's completely gone, if you ask me that's still very good news about the virus that has infected 33 million people worldwide and kills two million each year. So go and get you some people.
Speaking of "gettin' some" Dell Martin told me to keep it up. I'm 90 percent sure he was talking about my blog writing, but just in case he was sending me a "secret message" in his comment, I figured I'd let everyone know about the latest and greatest cure for erectile dysfunction. Ya, that's right, I Googled it. I guess that in addition to the blue pills you see regularly advertised on television, doing Kegal exercises can also help improve libido and sex drive. The exercises consist of contracting and releasing the pelvic floor muscles that you use to control your pee stream when urinating. The forum post I read this morning described a guy who reportedly changed his diet and added Kegal exercises to start "banging again". While his wording choice and sexual terminology might be a bit misogynistic, I guess it doesn't hurt to try. But it's probably not the best idea to "bang" away on your partner.
Speaking of banging, Tyler Taft asked what I thought the worst possible crime would be. Obviously, murder and rape would be up there, but if you ask me, there's nothing worse than a thief. When people make the decision to take something that's not theirs, it really ticks me off. Why not just work for what you want. Get off your lazy ass and get a job and save the money needed to get all the things you desire. It's not that hard people!!!
Finally, Teresa Kingsberry suggested I write about goals. I used to make these long lists of goals for myself, but typically they'd just end up stacking up in front of me and I'd rarely cross anything off as accomplished. I mean, who needs a bunch of goal lists sitting on the counter reminding them of what a failure they are. So, I say to give up on setting goals. Let life happen. It'll all work out in the end. Hey, I already warned you that I'm what's wrong with this world. The fact that you're still reading this is your fault! haha
BTW...For Drake, There's a band called the Illuminati Congo. I suggest the song "Get My Bruce Lee On" There's also a band called the Freemasons. I suggest the song "Nothing But A Heartache". It's quite a toe tapper. Actually, they all are. If you want to throw a dance party, try putting on the Freemasons.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Friends, Music, Heat & Competitive Running - give em what they want...:)
When I think of man's best friend, I obviously first think of a dog. But has the definition of man's best friend changed over the years? Sure it has. Most men would admit that their best friend is likely no longer a dog. Some would say it's their woman. Still others might argue that they don't interact with their woman enough to warrant best friend status. If you ask me, having a best friend is becoming more and more of a foreign concept. The internet has helped replace having a best friend. Why have just one friend you share your life with when Facebook, Google, Twitter, Pinterest and the rest of social media allows you to share your life with thousands. Even millions! A person's relationship with a computer or cell phone is now the most important best friend you can find. God forbid you lose your best friend, they slide between the couch cushions or you drop them in the toilet.
Speaking of the toilet. What's with music these days? How's that for a transition? hee hee Does anyone remember when music was politically and socially charged? When it actually had a message about more than riding a beat, dropping it like it's hot and feeling the boom boom boom. Sure the boom has it's place in music these days, but what about putting a real message to that boom the way musicians did in the past. Artists like Bob Marley, Stevie Wonder, U2, Rage Against The Machine and Marvin Gaye did it right. Maybe the masses no longer wanna hear about war, the environment and politics in their music. We're all just happier riding the beat.
Speaking of the beat, how about the Heat. Another stellar transition. Okay, that one sucked, but it's harder than you think. At least it does rhyme. I must say that the NBA finals didn't surprise me. It went to 7 games and Miami won just like a lot of people predicted. After San Antonio blew their lead in game 6, I didn't even bother watching game 7 because I knew it was over. The Spurs didn't deserve to win. Poor ball management allowed two three pointers and an overtime loss in game 6. The Heat just wanted it more and Lebron James and his crew were the better squad. When it comes to sports, momentum is a bitch. That bitch shifted on the Spurs like a teenage gamer addicted to Need For Speed.
Speaking of shifting. Life after competitive running has been quite a trip. It's fun to see what everyone from high school is up to and how their fitness levels have changed. My life after competitive running has changed quite a bit. When I was in high school I ran competitive cross country and track. My coach Jim Hampton always said there were racers, runners and recreational enthusiasts. Well, it's official, I've gone from a racer, to a runner, to a recreational enthusiast. Well, technically I'm not a recreational enthusiast in coach Hampton's definition, but I have gone from running on a team to running for myself to running for my health. I guess it's a classic transition. But I'm still proud of myself for keeping up with it. I see some runners from high school who have abandoned it entirely and others like Ryan French and Grant Harrington who have gone from high school basketball and soccer stars to embrace the world of competitive triathlons. While I have yet to jump on that bandwagon, the life of a competitive runner can continually change. Who knows what's next for me. Maybe my best friend will text me a race schedule and I'll be racing again real soon. Although something tells me when it comes to triathlons, momentum might not be on my side.
Speaking of the toilet. What's with music these days? How's that for a transition? hee hee Does anyone remember when music was politically and socially charged? When it actually had a message about more than riding a beat, dropping it like it's hot and feeling the boom boom boom. Sure the boom has it's place in music these days, but what about putting a real message to that boom the way musicians did in the past. Artists like Bob Marley, Stevie Wonder, U2, Rage Against The Machine and Marvin Gaye did it right. Maybe the masses no longer wanna hear about war, the environment and politics in their music. We're all just happier riding the beat.
Speaking of the beat, how about the Heat. Another stellar transition. Okay, that one sucked, but it's harder than you think. At least it does rhyme. I must say that the NBA finals didn't surprise me. It went to 7 games and Miami won just like a lot of people predicted. After San Antonio blew their lead in game 6, I didn't even bother watching game 7 because I knew it was over. The Spurs didn't deserve to win. Poor ball management allowed two three pointers and an overtime loss in game 6. The Heat just wanted it more and Lebron James and his crew were the better squad. When it comes to sports, momentum is a bitch. That bitch shifted on the Spurs like a teenage gamer addicted to Need For Speed.
Speaking of shifting. Life after competitive running has been quite a trip. It's fun to see what everyone from high school is up to and how their fitness levels have changed. My life after competitive running has changed quite a bit. When I was in high school I ran competitive cross country and track. My coach Jim Hampton always said there were racers, runners and recreational enthusiasts. Well, it's official, I've gone from a racer, to a runner, to a recreational enthusiast. Well, technically I'm not a recreational enthusiast in coach Hampton's definition, but I have gone from running on a team to running for myself to running for my health. I guess it's a classic transition. But I'm still proud of myself for keeping up with it. I see some runners from high school who have abandoned it entirely and others like Ryan French and Grant Harrington who have gone from high school basketball and soccer stars to embrace the world of competitive triathlons. While I have yet to jump on that bandwagon, the life of a competitive runner can continually change. Who knows what's next for me. Maybe my best friend will text me a race schedule and I'll be racing again real soon. Although something tells me when it comes to triathlons, momentum might not be on my side.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Kindness isn't gonna be enough Mayor Boudreau
As I sat and listened to Mount Vernon Mayor Jill Boudreau give the commencement speech to this year's graduating class of Skagit Valley College the other night, I couldn't help but wonder if she was giving the graduates the wrong message when she spoke on the importance of kindness.
As I looked around the room, I knew that many of those students would be transitioning to their next stages of education and still others were getting ready to join the working world. But the commencement speech was a little off the mark in my opinion.
Mayor Boudreau, who earned her bachelors degree at age 34, expressed the importance of lifelong and daily learning and said that establishing this passion for daily learning would make these students better people. She commended the students for being comfortable with change and for having expanded their brains. She encouraged them to continue being lifelong learners through college classes, workshops, regular library visits and even plain old Googleing.
Sure, everyone can agree with all that, but where I couldn't help but scoff a little was when Boudreau brought up the importance of kindness. She told a story of her grandfather being the kindest person she knew and how he took the trains in search for work during the depression and worked for two meals a day. She said her grandfather studied human nature, was not afraid to fail and was kind until his dying days. He even asked for a cell phone in his 90's -- proving he truly embraced learning, innovation and change. Sadly, Boudreau's grandfather passed away at age 99 last year.
Boudreau went on to say that being kind is successful and that her husband sends her regular kind texts before board meetings that she's able to read like "really good fortune cookies". She encouraged the students to send others funny notes, let someone in when in traffic, resist gossip, coach others when encountered with unscrupulous behavior and let someone know when they have something stuck in their teeth or nose.
Boudreau expressed the importance of resisting quick assumptions, hate speech and the negative emotions that might cause you to shut off your brain and react like animals. She said that kindness pulls us back to our humanity, is attractive to employers and even girlfriend's parents. It restores our dignity and is something everyone can do.
Sure, kindness does all those things, and it never hurts to be nice, but are we forgetting that we live in a capitalist economy that doesn't give a damn about how nice you are? There are only a limited number of good jobs in Skagit County and just being kind isn't gonna get you to the top of that work ladder. You can be the nicest person on the planet, but that doesn't mean the competition isn't gonna be cruel in it's pursuits to step by our kind ass on their way to the top.
I think that if Boudreau REALLY took a look at the big picture and asked herself how she was elected mayor, kindness would be a mere dash in the collective cocktail of traits that earned her the position. Sure, being kind is a nice thing to say about your passing grandfather, and it's easy to write a nice speech filled with colorful anecdotes that will give those in attendance a happy feeling, but to preach kindness to an auditorium filled with eager students joining the working world seems a bit naive and irresponsible.
These students will be entering the most difficult transition of their lives and I'm here to tell you that simply being equipped with kindness isn't going to be enough. Being nice only gets you stepped on. Letting someone merge in traffic or telling your buddy he has food stuck in his teeth, or a booger in his nose, will only get you that much further behind in traffic and a buddy who will likely get the job instead of you. Sure, kindness has its place in our collective worlds, but if you ask me, it's not the message our future needs to rely on.
As I looked around the room, I knew that many of those students would be transitioning to their next stages of education and still others were getting ready to join the working world. But the commencement speech was a little off the mark in my opinion.
Mayor Boudreau, who earned her bachelors degree at age 34, expressed the importance of lifelong and daily learning and said that establishing this passion for daily learning would make these students better people. She commended the students for being comfortable with change and for having expanded their brains. She encouraged them to continue being lifelong learners through college classes, workshops, regular library visits and even plain old Googleing.
Sure, everyone can agree with all that, but where I couldn't help but scoff a little was when Boudreau brought up the importance of kindness. She told a story of her grandfather being the kindest person she knew and how he took the trains in search for work during the depression and worked for two meals a day. She said her grandfather studied human nature, was not afraid to fail and was kind until his dying days. He even asked for a cell phone in his 90's -- proving he truly embraced learning, innovation and change. Sadly, Boudreau's grandfather passed away at age 99 last year.
Boudreau went on to say that being kind is successful and that her husband sends her regular kind texts before board meetings that she's able to read like "really good fortune cookies". She encouraged the students to send others funny notes, let someone in when in traffic, resist gossip, coach others when encountered with unscrupulous behavior and let someone know when they have something stuck in their teeth or nose.
Boudreau expressed the importance of resisting quick assumptions, hate speech and the negative emotions that might cause you to shut off your brain and react like animals. She said that kindness pulls us back to our humanity, is attractive to employers and even girlfriend's parents. It restores our dignity and is something everyone can do.
Sure, kindness does all those things, and it never hurts to be nice, but are we forgetting that we live in a capitalist economy that doesn't give a damn about how nice you are? There are only a limited number of good jobs in Skagit County and just being kind isn't gonna get you to the top of that work ladder. You can be the nicest person on the planet, but that doesn't mean the competition isn't gonna be cruel in it's pursuits to step by our kind ass on their way to the top.
I think that if Boudreau REALLY took a look at the big picture and asked herself how she was elected mayor, kindness would be a mere dash in the collective cocktail of traits that earned her the position. Sure, being kind is a nice thing to say about your passing grandfather, and it's easy to write a nice speech filled with colorful anecdotes that will give those in attendance a happy feeling, but to preach kindness to an auditorium filled with eager students joining the working world seems a bit naive and irresponsible.
These students will be entering the most difficult transition of their lives and I'm here to tell you that simply being equipped with kindness isn't going to be enough. Being nice only gets you stepped on. Letting someone merge in traffic or telling your buddy he has food stuck in his teeth, or a booger in his nose, will only get you that much further behind in traffic and a buddy who will likely get the job instead of you. Sure, kindness has its place in our collective worlds, but if you ask me, it's not the message our future needs to rely on.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Oh Jesus, not another dream -- Don't wake me when it's over
So, last night I had a dream. I was late for a lecture in a crowded room full of strangers and, before I took my seat, the professor looked at me and asked me if I believed in Jesus. In my head, I knew that a vast majority of those strangers were believers, so the easy answer would have been. "Yes, of course." I could have said that, sat down and blended into the crowd. But what I said was "No, not so much."
As I sat down, one of the students asked me why I wasn't down with Jesus and I told him I didn't really wanna talk about it. Truth is, I woke up with a feeling of shame in my answer. It was strong enough that it woke me from my dream to wonder about it some more. Am I really not a believer. Just because I don't regularly attend a place of worship, own a bible or read the good word -- all the things that make someone a good Christian.
Sometimes I find myself quoting the Bible. You know, do on to others...blah blah blah. Just yesterday I searched the internet for a quote on silence and something out of bible seemed fitting, so I posted it on Facebook. I guess if I can put the good word out there to my 2,000 Facebook "friends", then one must assume those words are anointed and my life has been dedicated to the service of God. And if dedication is all it takes, then how come the only preacher I've ever known spent his entire life devoted to teaching the word of the good book and in his golden years he's stricken with cancer. Sometimes life doesn't make sense.
It isn't the first time I've questioned my belief in something. In fact, I do it a lot. Just last week, I found myself wondering if mermaids and aliens exist. And also questioning whether 21st century technology is really the greatest the world has ever known. I mean, could there have been societies in the past that were able to accomplish technological feats greater than ours? Why do we assume we're the end all be all? Are we really that pompous and conceited?
With me, if you believe in one, then you gotta believe in the other. If I see God in my world everyday, then don't I also see the work of the devil. I mean, anyone who turns on the news these days hears about the evil in the world. I'm positive that there's both good and evil in me. My actions aren't always morally accepted by the vast majority, but who says life has to flow exactly how the majority says it should. Sometimes standing up to the majority is what we need in this world to create change. Without change, we can't grow as individuals and collectively. Word!
When asked about my belief system, I've always said I'm a realist. What that means, who knows, but if Jesus is real, then why hasn't he shown himself to me? I've never met the guy, so how can I believe? For me, the Bible is just a good book full of great stories. Heck, there are a lot of good books that someone wrote. And the fact that someone wrote it, leaves things open to interpretation. In every book there's room for interpretation. We read the words and involve ourselves in stories knowing darn well that it's not EXACTLY how it really happened. When I was a journalist that was the toughest thing about covering sports. I never wanted to play favorites, but I couldn't help but let my bias trickle in to what I was writing. That's just the nature of it. An author can claim to be objective, but that's a claim nobody can fully achieve.
So, maybe it was just a dream. And maybe it was my subconscious trying to tell me something. There may come a day of reckoning when I'm asked about my beliefs again. A time when a higher power will compute and calculate all my "immoral" behavior and determine if I'm worthy of that next step into heaven. By then I'd imagine I'll probably be so old and curmudgeon that my cantankerous ways would likely look that person directly in the eye and tell them to mind their own fucking business so I can go back to sleep. Maybe I better think twice before cursing out the Almighty. I could be condemned to a world of eternal damnation. I guess if my sins take me to that place, then that's where I belong. Heck, maybe I'll see you there.
As I sat down, one of the students asked me why I wasn't down with Jesus and I told him I didn't really wanna talk about it. Truth is, I woke up with a feeling of shame in my answer. It was strong enough that it woke me from my dream to wonder about it some more. Am I really not a believer. Just because I don't regularly attend a place of worship, own a bible or read the good word -- all the things that make someone a good Christian.
Sometimes I find myself quoting the Bible. You know, do on to others...blah blah blah. Just yesterday I searched the internet for a quote on silence and something out of bible seemed fitting, so I posted it on Facebook. I guess if I can put the good word out there to my 2,000 Facebook "friends", then one must assume those words are anointed and my life has been dedicated to the service of God. And if dedication is all it takes, then how come the only preacher I've ever known spent his entire life devoted to teaching the word of the good book and in his golden years he's stricken with cancer. Sometimes life doesn't make sense.
It isn't the first time I've questioned my belief in something. In fact, I do it a lot. Just last week, I found myself wondering if mermaids and aliens exist. And also questioning whether 21st century technology is really the greatest the world has ever known. I mean, could there have been societies in the past that were able to accomplish technological feats greater than ours? Why do we assume we're the end all be all? Are we really that pompous and conceited?
With me, if you believe in one, then you gotta believe in the other. If I see God in my world everyday, then don't I also see the work of the devil. I mean, anyone who turns on the news these days hears about the evil in the world. I'm positive that there's both good and evil in me. My actions aren't always morally accepted by the vast majority, but who says life has to flow exactly how the majority says it should. Sometimes standing up to the majority is what we need in this world to create change. Without change, we can't grow as individuals and collectively. Word!
When asked about my belief system, I've always said I'm a realist. What that means, who knows, but if Jesus is real, then why hasn't he shown himself to me? I've never met the guy, so how can I believe? For me, the Bible is just a good book full of great stories. Heck, there are a lot of good books that someone wrote. And the fact that someone wrote it, leaves things open to interpretation. In every book there's room for interpretation. We read the words and involve ourselves in stories knowing darn well that it's not EXACTLY how it really happened. When I was a journalist that was the toughest thing about covering sports. I never wanted to play favorites, but I couldn't help but let my bias trickle in to what I was writing. That's just the nature of it. An author can claim to be objective, but that's a claim nobody can fully achieve.
So, maybe it was just a dream. And maybe it was my subconscious trying to tell me something. There may come a day of reckoning when I'm asked about my beliefs again. A time when a higher power will compute and calculate all my "immoral" behavior and determine if I'm worthy of that next step into heaven. By then I'd imagine I'll probably be so old and curmudgeon that my cantankerous ways would likely look that person directly in the eye and tell them to mind their own fucking business so I can go back to sleep. Maybe I better think twice before cursing out the Almighty. I could be condemned to a world of eternal damnation. I guess if my sins take me to that place, then that's where I belong. Heck, maybe I'll see you there.
Friday, June 7, 2013
A pre-teen moment...Tees are 2 for $5 at Mens Choice!
A little girl walked into my store (1031 North State Street Suite 110) with her dad the other day. Apparently she had spilled something on her shirt and they saw the rack of t-shirts outside my store priced 2 for $5 and just had to find a replacement. Her dad found a tee for himself and a couple for his daughter and I couldn't help but think back to a simpler time when I was 10 years old.
Unlike many who walk by and comment. This little girl didn't care if the tees were second hand. She didn't care that my store was a "Men's" store. She didn't care who saw her hanging with her old man. She was just happy to be spending time with her dad and that he took the time to take her to the store and buy her some new tees. She was so happy with her tees. You could see the joy in her face.
Unfortunately, this 10-year old will soon be a teenager and all that will likely change. She won't wanna hang with her dad anymore. Her friends will convince her that buying second hand is not "cool". She'll likely only buy high end brands that will cost her dad an arm and a leg.
All you parents of pre-teens should be thankful for those times you get to spend with your kids before those teenage tendencies kick in. And if you wanna stop by Mens Choice for some tees, they're 2 for $5. ...:)
Unlike many who walk by and comment. This little girl didn't care if the tees were second hand. She didn't care that my store was a "Men's" store. She didn't care who saw her hanging with her old man. She was just happy to be spending time with her dad and that he took the time to take her to the store and buy her some new tees. She was so happy with her tees. You could see the joy in her face.
Unfortunately, this 10-year old will soon be a teenager and all that will likely change. She won't wanna hang with her dad anymore. Her friends will convince her that buying second hand is not "cool". She'll likely only buy high end brands that will cost her dad an arm and a leg.
All you parents of pre-teens should be thankful for those times you get to spend with your kids before those teenage tendencies kick in. And if you wanna stop by Mens Choice for some tees, they're 2 for $5. ...:)
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
"No homo" ... "Because y'all motherfuckers don't watch us play..." Really Roy???
As much as I love rooting against Lebron James and the Miami Heat, I can't help but get a little angry that Indiana Pacers big man Roy Hibbert used the game's biggest stage to drop a homophobic slur and curse out reporters in a televised interview after game 6.
Hibbert said, "I really felt that I let Paul down in terms of having his back when LeBron was scoring in the post or getting to the paint. Because they stretched me out so much, no homo." He later added, in reference to questions about his low placement in voting for defensive player of the year, "You know what, because y'all motherfuckers don't watch us play throughout the year, to tell you the truth" ... "I don't care if I get fined".
Well, if you don't care, then how about you pay a cool $75K for your remarks. That's what Hibbert had to shell out for his comments. But this isn't the first time the NBA has had to hand out fines for homophobic comments after a game. Kobe Bryant ($100K), Joakim Noah ($50K) and Amar'e Stoudemire ($50K) also received fines for similar remarks.
It just reminds me how important it is to choose your words carefully. It's easy for someone to say screw what others expect of me and make life all about themselves, but it takes a stronger person to admit their faults, tackle problems head on and live in the present.
Someone's sexual orientation shouldn't matter on the basketball court. When Jason Collins outed himself to the world as the first openly gay man in the NBA, Hibbert and the rest should have taken notice and changed their ways.
If you ask me, fining him $75K wasn't enough. The guy makes $14.3 million this year and will get another $14.9 million next season, so $75K is just pocket change. NBA commissioner David Stern needs to get tougher on these guys so they watch what they say in interviews.
If it was me, Hibbert would have been suspended from game 7 and fined $1 million dollars. Maybe then he'll think twice before he opens his mouth and offends an entire population of men and women.
Hibbert said, "I really felt that I let Paul down in terms of having his back when LeBron was scoring in the post or getting to the paint. Because they stretched me out so much, no homo." He later added, in reference to questions about his low placement in voting for defensive player of the year, "You know what, because y'all motherfuckers don't watch us play throughout the year, to tell you the truth" ... "I don't care if I get fined".
Well, if you don't care, then how about you pay a cool $75K for your remarks. That's what Hibbert had to shell out for his comments. But this isn't the first time the NBA has had to hand out fines for homophobic comments after a game. Kobe Bryant ($100K), Joakim Noah ($50K) and Amar'e Stoudemire ($50K) also received fines for similar remarks.
It just reminds me how important it is to choose your words carefully. It's easy for someone to say screw what others expect of me and make life all about themselves, but it takes a stronger person to admit their faults, tackle problems head on and live in the present.
Someone's sexual orientation shouldn't matter on the basketball court. When Jason Collins outed himself to the world as the first openly gay man in the NBA, Hibbert and the rest should have taken notice and changed their ways.
If you ask me, fining him $75K wasn't enough. The guy makes $14.3 million this year and will get another $14.9 million next season, so $75K is just pocket change. NBA commissioner David Stern needs to get tougher on these guys so they watch what they say in interviews.
If it was me, Hibbert would have been suspended from game 7 and fined $1 million dollars. Maybe then he'll think twice before he opens his mouth and offends an entire population of men and women.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Express yourself ... now go find your camera. Wait, I got one!!!
Sometimes it's hard for people to express themselves. That's one of the reasons why I like photography. It allows people to express themselves. Hell, even I can do it. A picture is worth a thousand words and I don't think people should be afraid to express themselves. Use those thousand and then some. Tell us how you really feel. In all seriousness, I commend those who are brave enough to put themselves out to the public through pictures. Whether taken by themselves, a family member or semi-pro like myself, stepping in front of the camera's lens to try and express yourself is tough.
Through my short time playing around in the studio, I've learned how difficult it can be to get a model to convey the vision you have for them. Ya, sometimes I have a vision, but, truthfully, I usually just leave that up to the model. It's just more fun to sit back and watch them create something. Sure, snapping a great picture is sometimes about luck, but, like anything, most of the time it's about trying really hard. The photographer has to try, the model has to try, and the lighting and backdrop have to be just right in order to get that one in a million moment.
I'm friends with almost 3 thousand people on Facebook, and lots of them are really great photographers, so I get to view a lot of pictures. I must admit that some days it keeps me entertained for hours. Not every photo calls out to me, but I commend those of you who continually express yourselves through photography. The few, the proud, the Marines. Oh wait, that's not what I meant to say...:) I guess I just want to say it's great to have a community of "friends" so willing to express themselves. And if you pick up the camera and get stuck, feel free to call on me. I'm more than happy to point mine at you and watch you create...:)
Through my short time playing around in the studio, I've learned how difficult it can be to get a model to convey the vision you have for them. Ya, sometimes I have a vision, but, truthfully, I usually just leave that up to the model. It's just more fun to sit back and watch them create something. Sure, snapping a great picture is sometimes about luck, but, like anything, most of the time it's about trying really hard. The photographer has to try, the model has to try, and the lighting and backdrop have to be just right in order to get that one in a million moment.
I'm friends with almost 3 thousand people on Facebook, and lots of them are really great photographers, so I get to view a lot of pictures. I must admit that some days it keeps me entertained for hours. Not every photo calls out to me, but I commend those of you who continually express yourselves through photography. The few, the proud, the Marines. Oh wait, that's not what I meant to say...:) I guess I just want to say it's great to have a community of "friends" so willing to express themselves. And if you pick up the camera and get stuck, feel free to call on me. I'm more than happy to point mine at you and watch you create...:)
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Fatherly & White Trash tendencies. Am I the only one?
As I get older, I've realized that I've reluctantly adopted some fatherly and white trash tendencies. Let me explain.
When it comes to the fatherly bug, I don't mean I wanna get freaky and make babies, but I do find myself thinking more fatherly. For example, my new neighbors have a pre-teen boy. As I mowed the lawn today, he and his buddies sped down the hill tucking noses to their handle bars, hair flying as they pedaled furiously and coasted full speed over and over racing to the bottom. It was kind of fun to watch such reckless abandon and their enthusiasm for riding bikes is commendable, but I couldn't help but wanna tell them to slow down and go find helmets. I bit my tongue and kept my mouth shut this time, but the older I get the more I realize these fatherly tendencies are creeping into my consciousness.
When it comes to white trash I guess that's always kind of been in my wheelhouse. I mean, I am about as white as it gets. And I do like Bud Light, Pamela Anderson and muscle cars, but who doesn't, right? Don't get me wrong, I haven't gone full boar and started chewing Copenhagen, wearing trucker hats and "wife beater" tank tops. When your arms are as skinny as mine, tank tops are the enemy. I leave that look to my Cambodian brethren. Lately, I have found myself wanting to use white trash language. It just sounds cool to me. Unfortunately, women down't like to be called broads and wives aren't keen on being referred to as old ladies, but when you hear some dude talk white trashy, it just sounds cool.
When it comes to the fatherly bug, I don't mean I wanna get freaky and make babies, but I do find myself thinking more fatherly. For example, my new neighbors have a pre-teen boy. As I mowed the lawn today, he and his buddies sped down the hill tucking noses to their handle bars, hair flying as they pedaled furiously and coasted full speed over and over racing to the bottom. It was kind of fun to watch such reckless abandon and their enthusiasm for riding bikes is commendable, but I couldn't help but wanna tell them to slow down and go find helmets. I bit my tongue and kept my mouth shut this time, but the older I get the more I realize these fatherly tendencies are creeping into my consciousness.
When it comes to white trash I guess that's always kind of been in my wheelhouse. I mean, I am about as white as it gets. And I do like Bud Light, Pamela Anderson and muscle cars, but who doesn't, right? Don't get me wrong, I haven't gone full boar and started chewing Copenhagen, wearing trucker hats and "wife beater" tank tops. When your arms are as skinny as mine, tank tops are the enemy. I leave that look to my Cambodian brethren. Lately, I have found myself wanting to use white trash language. It just sounds cool to me. Unfortunately, women down't like to be called broads and wives aren't keen on being referred to as old ladies, but when you hear some dude talk white trashy, it just sounds cool.
F-it, recovery means it's time to embrace the heater crew & nipple burn
So, if you've asked, I must admit that I've been telling people it's been almost a decade since I started doing the running leg of the Ski To Sea Race each year. I did some research and it turns out I started in 2006, so it's only been like 8 races, but sometimes it feels like a lifetime. Now, almost a week after my latest trek down the mountain (last Sunday), my body has finally recovered. After two days of hobbling around like an invalid and three more stretching and gingerly jogging the pain out of my legs, the good news is that I'm almost back to full force again.
This year I got to run the race in the rain and everyone knows that's my favorite (sense the sarcasm?). The 8-mile downhill course is always hard on my body, but running in a downpour of rain makes it that much more grueling. Okay, to be completely honest, it was actually more of a gentle sprinkle, but when it's 50 degrees on the top of the mountain and that gentle sprinkle continuously trickles down on you, it's a "downpour" in my book.
After eight miles downhill in a cold sprinkle, I mean downpour, it was interesting to see the racers huddled around two space heaters at the road bike transition area. The previous year it had been gorgeous weather and everyone basked in the sunshine. Hell, i think I even had to put on sunscreen. So, like me, there were more than a few returning racers who neglected to have dry clothes waiting for them at the transition area. Those people were the heater crew. As I stood there among my heater crew, I couldn't help but think that these were my kind of people. Someone dropped their gloves and everyone let out a collective groan because they knew someone would have to squad in order to pick them up. I took one for the team and painfully squatted for the group, getting some impressive looks for my kind gesture and ability to convincingly pull off a full squad after 8 miles downhill. As we stood there, I tried to be a gentleman and let the females stand closer to the heat, but truthfully I wanted that warmth. Hey, I'm skinny and my body doesn't do well in cold weather.
After seven races, I know a few things about preparing to run the Ski to Sea race. I know that in order to avoid gnarly blisters and losing toenails, you need to wear two pair of socks and cut your toenails short, but this year I learned a new lesson. Since it was cold, I made a last-minute decision to wear two t-shirts while running. After eight miles of those two rain-soaked t-shirts bouncing up and down, I got home, hopped in the shower and discovered a painful nipple burn like none other. It's one time I can be thankful to have a young mother on the support squad so there was someone to empathize with after the race and knew exactly what I was going through. She even offered some of her nipple cream that I begrudgingly declined. When it comes to nipples, I'm as tough as they come...haha!
I guess rain in May is nothing new for Washingtonians, but I do get tired of it. It's one of the few times I get fed up and find myself cursing my life. Sometimes it just helps to say F-it. With me, it's usually F-eBay or F-Washington weather. I guess if that's as bad as it gets I don't have much to complain about. I mean, what's a little nipple burn and a few blisters among friends. I feel better knowing that my heater crew are experiencing the same things. It's still too soon to say if I'll do it again next year, but if I do, I'm adding band-aids and gloves to my bag. You know, to prevent nipple burn.
This year I got to run the race in the rain and everyone knows that's my favorite (sense the sarcasm?). The 8-mile downhill course is always hard on my body, but running in a downpour of rain makes it that much more grueling. Okay, to be completely honest, it was actually more of a gentle sprinkle, but when it's 50 degrees on the top of the mountain and that gentle sprinkle continuously trickles down on you, it's a "downpour" in my book.
After eight miles downhill in a cold sprinkle, I mean downpour, it was interesting to see the racers huddled around two space heaters at the road bike transition area. The previous year it had been gorgeous weather and everyone basked in the sunshine. Hell, i think I even had to put on sunscreen. So, like me, there were more than a few returning racers who neglected to have dry clothes waiting for them at the transition area. Those people were the heater crew. As I stood there among my heater crew, I couldn't help but think that these were my kind of people. Someone dropped their gloves and everyone let out a collective groan because they knew someone would have to squad in order to pick them up. I took one for the team and painfully squatted for the group, getting some impressive looks for my kind gesture and ability to convincingly pull off a full squad after 8 miles downhill. As we stood there, I tried to be a gentleman and let the females stand closer to the heat, but truthfully I wanted that warmth. Hey, I'm skinny and my body doesn't do well in cold weather.
After seven races, I know a few things about preparing to run the Ski to Sea race. I know that in order to avoid gnarly blisters and losing toenails, you need to wear two pair of socks and cut your toenails short, but this year I learned a new lesson. Since it was cold, I made a last-minute decision to wear two t-shirts while running. After eight miles of those two rain-soaked t-shirts bouncing up and down, I got home, hopped in the shower and discovered a painful nipple burn like none other. It's one time I can be thankful to have a young mother on the support squad so there was someone to empathize with after the race and knew exactly what I was going through. She even offered some of her nipple cream that I begrudgingly declined. When it comes to nipples, I'm as tough as they come...haha!
I guess rain in May is nothing new for Washingtonians, but I do get tired of it. It's one of the few times I get fed up and find myself cursing my life. Sometimes it just helps to say F-it. With me, it's usually F-eBay or F-Washington weather. I guess if that's as bad as it gets I don't have much to complain about. I mean, what's a little nipple burn and a few blisters among friends. I feel better knowing that my heater crew are experiencing the same things. It's still too soon to say if I'll do it again next year, but if I do, I'm adding band-aids and gloves to my bag. You know, to prevent nipple burn.
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