Last night a compatriot and I took part in America's newest, favorite past-time: scrolling through Netflix's instant catalog. After a shorter-than-usual perusing of titles (20 minutes), we landed on Bobcat Goldthwait's ironically-titled "God Bless America." The movie had been endorsed fby my friend's co-worker, and I had enjoyed what I heard from Goldthwait on the Harmontown podcast. We were both aware of the movie's basic premise (spoilers ahead): a man goes on a killing spree of annoying people. We were both prepared for the darkness that followed, but in the end, the ensuing violence felt counterproductive and the thesis, ham-handed
I'm an admittedly cynical person. I use comedy and snark to combat things I don't like (which is an ever-growing list). My twitter feed is full of criticism and subtle jabs at media coverage. Cynicism is the tool I use to deal with many of the issues I have with society. It's the reason I love The Daily Show so much, and it's the reason this movie seemed right up my alley.
But it didn't turn out that way.
The first 15 minutes of "God Bless America" are somewhat pleasurable to watch. The main protagonist, Frank, confronts all sorts of annoyances in his life: his inconsiderate neighbors, his droll co-workers, and the insufferable media all around him. He daydreams of disposing these elements of his life in a particularly satisfying fashion (skeet-shooting a crying baby is the most horrifying, but also the funniest). After losing his job and being diagnosed with a inoperable brain tumor, he decides to turn this fantasy into a reality, and that's where all the fun was sucked out of the film.
The next 80 minutes are filled with Frank overbearing us with rants about society sudden decline into a bunch of celebrity-obsessed, loud-mouthed dickheads. None of the commentary is particularly eye-opening, but that doesn't stop Frank from jumping into a preachy monologue in nearly every scene.
Perhaps the most perplexing aspect of the film was its relationship with violence. For all of the negative social commentary on America, the country's infatuation with violence is left completely ignored. In fact, it is clearly celebrated in the film. During the kill scenes, Frank and his sidekick are beautifully framed while disposing of the wicked. The young girl's hair whips in the wind as she leans out of a yellow sports car and fires on unsuspecting protesters wielding "God Hates Fags" signs . Frank's final massacre literally takes place center-stage with lights flashing upon him and his body shaking majestically in slo-mo from the kickback of his assault rifle.
Defenders of the film will no doubt point out that the film is just harmless fun. The film isn't promoting violence, it's just supposed to be a silly, "wouldn't it be awesome if..." scenario, but 'we totally wouldn't ever do it.' And I get it. I'm not going to go out and murder a bunch of people, and neither is anyone who saw that movie (probably). But this movie got very preachy at times and took very serious tones. Because of that, it's impossible to view the glorified violence as a complete break from reality.
But it wasn't really the violence that really bothered me. It was the films snarky, sarcastic tone.
When talking with his co-worker about an annoying shock-jock radio DJ, Frank rolls his eyes at his peer's suggestion that he's "just saying what we're all thinking." He replies radio DJs aren't being edgy, they're just saying what sells. But the exact criticisms can be made of this movie. It's a mass-targeting of arrogant teens, fear-mongering talking heads, and celebrity culture. All of it is well-traveled territory and has become the culture of the new media. We constantly mock and debase others through tweets and internet comments, and none of it is accomplishing anything.
The culture of cynicism that has spawned from places like the depths of internet forums and shows like "The Soup" (which I admittedly enjoy from time to time) is a growing issue. It started with anonymous comments on the internet. But we've become so comfortable with trashing everything we see, that it has spilled over into popular culture. Rather than create anything positive in our life, it has become much more commonplace and "cool" to tear down others. We're beginning to identify ourselves by not what we like, but what we hate. And to what end? Even Frank accomplishes nothing. The news barely picks up his murders, and after killing a conservative pundit, the victim becomes a martyr, only strengthening his cause. Frank, unsurprised by this development, mutters "I'm just glad he's dead." Which brings us to the real point of all this cynicism and hate: it's completely masturbatory.
Being negative brings nothing to the table. It's completely self-serving. A shitty comment on the internet, a fan booing his team. All it does is please the criticizer and does nothing to better the world around him. Even murdering dozens of people changed nothing for Frank. It briefly gave him a smidge of happiness, then he died. Nothing else.
"God Bless America" tries to paint this country as a land inescapable from the incessantly-stupid media and all-around terrible people. Frank is constantly seen on his couch watching terrible reality shows, and when he tries to change the channel, it is either something equally as offensive or a regurgitation of the same program he just saw. And while this culture is certainly pervasive in America, it is anything but inescapable. Many believe, myself included, that we are in a golden age of television right now. While there are channels like TLC and MTV that have completely lost their way, there are stations like FX, AMC and IFC, who are doing amazing things right now. Perhaps instead of literally shooting down dumb, hateful culture, we should spend our energy supporting the good things in life. Turn off "First Take" and support intelligent debate through podcasts, or donate to public radio.
As a recovering cynic myself, I know how hard this can be. It is so much easier to make fun than it is to support things. I still find it hard to pass up the occasional shot at movies like "Grown Up 2". Saying you hate something tells nothing about yourself and is therefore easy to state. To admit you like or love something is to open yourself up. You become vulnerable. You, yourself, could become a cynic's target. But it's worth it.
It's worth it to take all of the things you hate in life, all the haters in life, and put them so far in your rear-view mirror that you can't make out their figure any longer. I'm a huge sports fan, but have grown tired of ESPN's "embrace debate" format. For a while, I screamed at the top of my lungs at people like Skip Bayless and Stephen A. Smith and how they were ruining the sports media. But now, I can't even remember the last time I watch ESPN for anything other than a live sporting event. There is plenty of great sports coverage available at SB Nation (full disclosure, I write for one of their blogs), Sports Illustrated, Bleacher Report, Yahoo!, and plenty of others. There's no shortage of good things out there, if you spend the energy to look.
But negativity can occasionally produce good things. The aforementioned Daily Show has done a brilliant job skewering cable news networks and has created a culture of skepticism and critical thinking. The key word there is created. They don't just blindly trash CNN and Fox News, they, in turn, create counter-arguments and offer viewers an alternative way of thinking.
However, most negativity in this culture creates nothing. We trash Justin Beiber because it's "edgy" (for an adult, nowhere near his target audience) to mock his fame. He took a picture with the Stanley Cup? Great. Who cares? Why waste your effort pretending to be outraged by something so meaningless? It's all a waste of time, effort, and pent-up emotion.
While youtube comments and angry letters are individually harmless, together they have created a culture that thrives on snarkiness. We are creating terrible things, just so we can enjoy devouring them. It's carnivorous. It's not edgy, nor clever. It's a waste of time, and worse, it's counterproductive. Do us, and yourself a favor, use social media to promote and spread the good, not trash the bad. I'll do my best to follow suit.
Why are you even here? Go to DetroitOnlion.com
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Friday, April 5, 2013
Hanson Would've Made It
I started going to Lions games around 1992, Jason Hanson's rookie season. My eyes widened as I saw Barry Sanders bounce around the turf like a methodical pinball. I saw the passion in the crowd, the scheming on the sidelines, the tribalism of the enitre event. It was infectious. It was intoxicating. It was where I belonged.
For the next sixteen years, that was home. Whether it was the long stroll through the cluttered Silverdome parking lot, or the short trek along Adams Street to Ford Field, my body was pulled by aura of football to my Mecca. I was there when Barry Sanders reached 2,000. I marveled over the physical specimens that were Herman Moore, Cory Schlesllinger and Chris Spielman. The great catches, the huge hits, the insane jukes. They are all branded permanently against the walls of my memory. Hanson was barely a blip on my impressionable radar.
-------
The NFL during the '90s would hardly be recognizable today. Football didn't dominate Sundays. There was no Sunday Ticket. There was no Red Zone channel. If you were lucky, you'd get a few replays of the other games going on, but, mostly, Sundays were purely about your team. Therefore, my Sundays were dominated by the Lions. I occasionally tried to watch other teams, but if their performance didn't directly affect the Lions, it didn't interest me much. I obviously knew of the other teams. But without any visual evidence of these teams, I hardly knew anything about them. I knew that the Cowboys and 49ers were pretty good. But mostly, I assumed, teams were pretty much like the Lions.
Because of this, field goal kicking always just seemed like a formality. Every now and then I'd hear about a team losing because of a missed 40 yarder. But in my jaded mind, that was some sort of crazy abnormality, like a Barry fumble or a playoff victory. And with no internet to compare Hanson's statistics to anyone else, I assumed everyone had it as good as us. I probably couldn't have named another kicker in the league, and I only knew Hanson's name because I knew every Lions' name.
But when the NFL expanded and because much easier to consume, it slowly became obvious how special Hanson was. As I watched more and more games, I saw game-tying 30 yard field goals shanked. I saw overtime kicks fly far wide. I saw teams like the Cowboys go through several kickers in one season. I learned why "Wide Right" had become synonymous with the Buffalo Bills. I even saw a missed extra point lose a game. It was absolutely shocking. An aspect of the game I had paid so little attention to had been secretly essential to the Lions for decades.
To say I took Hanson for granted for the majority of his career would be a gross understatement. Like most of us, I was too busy being wowed by Barry Sanders or angered by the football gods to even notice Hanson go about his business in such routine fashion.
Hanson currently ranks 18th among kickers in career kicking percentage with an 82.4% success rate. Alone that doesn't seem much like an accomplishment. But Hanson had one thing almost none of these kickers had: longevity. Hanson played for 21 straight seasons, all in Detroit. The 17 kickers above him averaged just a 9.9 year career collectively. The only player that outlasted Hanson was John Carney, who was in the league 23 years. But Carney spread out his career with seven different teams (also, he was the one that missed that extra point). Hanson was always a Lion. He gave the Detroit Lions consistency that is historically unmatched.
But now he's gone, and our Lions head off into unfamiliar territory. No longer can we run to the bathroom early as Hanson trots on the field for a routine 37-yarder. We won't be able to breathe easy as Matthew Stafford brings the team within the 30-yard line down two points in the waning minutes of the game. The schadenfreude of watching some other team lose on a wide field goal will no longer carry the same pleasure. Instead, it will serve as a haunting reminder that the Lions are now just as vulnerable to the same fate.
Today, we all appreciate the time Hanson has given us. We hail him as the most reliable Lion in history, and a great man. But our full appreciation won't be known until we all feel the bitter pain that 31 other franchises know all too well. That first missed game-winning kick without Hanson is going to suck.
Obviously, Hanson missed some game-winners in his career. In fact, he missed one last year on Thanksgiving. But it happened so infrequently that when it did, we hardly blamed Hanson. There was always some larger reason the Lions lost. But going forward, with every crucial field goal that is sent wide, there will be a voice in the back of our heads haunting us, "Hanson would have made it."
For the next sixteen years, that was home. Whether it was the long stroll through the cluttered Silverdome parking lot, or the short trek along Adams Street to Ford Field, my body was pulled by aura of football to my Mecca. I was there when Barry Sanders reached 2,000. I marveled over the physical specimens that were Herman Moore, Cory Schlesllinger and Chris Spielman. The great catches, the huge hits, the insane jukes. They are all branded permanently against the walls of my memory. Hanson was barely a blip on my impressionable radar.
-------
The NFL during the '90s would hardly be recognizable today. Football didn't dominate Sundays. There was no Sunday Ticket. There was no Red Zone channel. If you were lucky, you'd get a few replays of the other games going on, but, mostly, Sundays were purely about your team. Therefore, my Sundays were dominated by the Lions. I occasionally tried to watch other teams, but if their performance didn't directly affect the Lions, it didn't interest me much. I obviously knew of the other teams. But without any visual evidence of these teams, I hardly knew anything about them. I knew that the Cowboys and 49ers were pretty good. But mostly, I assumed, teams were pretty much like the Lions.
Because of this, field goal kicking always just seemed like a formality. Every now and then I'd hear about a team losing because of a missed 40 yarder. But in my jaded mind, that was some sort of crazy abnormality, like a Barry fumble or a playoff victory. And with no internet to compare Hanson's statistics to anyone else, I assumed everyone had it as good as us. I probably couldn't have named another kicker in the league, and I only knew Hanson's name because I knew every Lions' name.
But when the NFL expanded and because much easier to consume, it slowly became obvious how special Hanson was. As I watched more and more games, I saw game-tying 30 yard field goals shanked. I saw overtime kicks fly far wide. I saw teams like the Cowboys go through several kickers in one season. I learned why "Wide Right" had become synonymous with the Buffalo Bills. I even saw a missed extra point lose a game. It was absolutely shocking. An aspect of the game I had paid so little attention to had been secretly essential to the Lions for decades.
To say I took Hanson for granted for the majority of his career would be a gross understatement. Like most of us, I was too busy being wowed by Barry Sanders or angered by the football gods to even notice Hanson go about his business in such routine fashion.
Hanson currently ranks 18th among kickers in career kicking percentage with an 82.4% success rate. Alone that doesn't seem much like an accomplishment. But Hanson had one thing almost none of these kickers had: longevity. Hanson played for 21 straight seasons, all in Detroit. The 17 kickers above him averaged just a 9.9 year career collectively. The only player that outlasted Hanson was John Carney, who was in the league 23 years. But Carney spread out his career with seven different teams (also, he was the one that missed that extra point). Hanson was always a Lion. He gave the Detroit Lions consistency that is historically unmatched.
But now he's gone, and our Lions head off into unfamiliar territory. No longer can we run to the bathroom early as Hanson trots on the field for a routine 37-yarder. We won't be able to breathe easy as Matthew Stafford brings the team within the 30-yard line down two points in the waning minutes of the game. The schadenfreude of watching some other team lose on a wide field goal will no longer carry the same pleasure. Instead, it will serve as a haunting reminder that the Lions are now just as vulnerable to the same fate.
Today, we all appreciate the time Hanson has given us. We hail him as the most reliable Lion in history, and a great man. But our full appreciation won't be known until we all feel the bitter pain that 31 other franchises know all too well. That first missed game-winning kick without Hanson is going to suck.
Obviously, Hanson missed some game-winners in his career. In fact, he missed one last year on Thanksgiving. But it happened so infrequently that when it did, we hardly blamed Hanson. There was always some larger reason the Lions lost. But going forward, with every crucial field goal that is sent wide, there will be a voice in the back of our heads haunting us, "Hanson would have made it."
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
I just had the greatest movie experience ever, and I want to tell you about it
I constantly find myself stricken with jealousy over people with great stories. I never can wrap my head around the idea that these ridiculous things keep happening to the same people. I had assumed they were liars, or at the very least, gross exaggerators. But on the afternoon of Wednesday, March 20th 2013, I experienced what can only be described as the greatest movie-going experience I will ever attend.
Let me back up. I had a rare day off of work, and decided it was about time to see Django Unchained, a film I had been trying to avoid since it's release last December. My friends wouldn't stop talking about it, and I heard it won an Oscar, so it couldn't be that bad, right? Luckily for me, the movie was still hanging around low-end Los Angeles theaters. I have never had any qualms about low-end theaters; sound and picture quality has come such a long way that spending literally four times the price so that I can hear people talking very clearly doesn't seem like a worthwhile investment.
And so I headed to the Valley Plaza 6 in North Hollywood to catch the 11:30 AM showing of Django. Upon arrival at around 11:10, I was met with a distraught elderly woman outside the theater doors. As I drew closer, her frustrations came to light. The theater was yet to open and she needed her popcorn! It was company policy that the doors would not open until ten minutes before the first showing. The visibly-shaken ticket taker, clearly new at his job, was having a hard time properly conveying this piece of information to the woman. "BUT I NEED TIME TO GET MY POPCORN!" the woman pleaded, trying to convince the employee of the terrible strife he and his terrible company were putting her through. The ticket taker tried to muster a rebuttal through his nervous stutters, but popcorn lady had already won.
Noticing I had drawn closer, popcorn lady then shot me a look that I can only describe as the non-verbal equivalent of a heavyset construction worker from the Bronx screaming, "HEYYYYY, YOU BELIEVE THIS JAG-OFF?" Caught off guard, I mutely shrugged my shoulders and headed back to my car for 10 more minutes of the latest "Comedy Bang Bang" podcast. I can only assume the popcorn lady did the same.
After a brief time out, I headed inside for my three dollar ticket and dollar hot dog. Ticket in hand, I began my short trip to theater one. Outside the large double doors, I awaited aside the ticket taker's podium, patiently searching for the theater employee. After seeing a few patrons walk right by me, I quickly realized the podium's existence was purely aesthetic. "How clever!" I said aloud.
Chuckling to myself, I headed into the bowels of the theater. It was much larger than I expected and in surprisingly good shape. Having only a half a dozen fellow moviegoers in attendance (including popcorn lady, SHE MADE IT, GUYS! HAPPY ENDINGS DO HAPPEN!), I had my choice of seat. Opting to settle in the direct epicenter of the theater, I plopped down, ready for some coming attractions.
Younger readers may not be aware of this, but in a time not too long ago, movie theaters used to have a kind of slideshow feature before the previews. These stills would include movie trivia, fun facts, and advertisements. Since the days of yore, these slides have been replaced by full-length commercials and behind-the scenes looks at upcoming movies. But in this hidden theater in North Hollywood, the art of the pre-movie slideshow was alive and thriving.
But this slideshow was like none I have ever witnessed. Foregoing all of the pesky interaction of a trivia format, this theater decided that two features were good enough to entertain the early birds: "fun facts" and a single advertisement for concessions. Alone, those two would have made for a conventional pregame to the movie, but these were no ordinary "fun facts." No, these facts were the funnest of them all. Take, for example, this actual fact they were nice enough to provide the eight of us with:
Well, clearly you don't understand the point of facts. We don't listen to facts to learn things. We listen to facts so that when hear one we already know, we get to turn to the other person and boast, "Oh, I already knew that." I mean, what's the point in having a brain full of facts when you can't proudly disclaim your pre-existing knowledge of those facts?
Which brings me to the couple behind me. I never found the courage to turn and actually identify them as human beings, but based on their voices, I feel safe in the claim that they were indeed Homo sapiens. One (presumed) woman was having so much fun with these facts that she decided it was her civic duty to narrate every single one of these knowledge nuggets to the illiterates of the audience. Her male counterpart would then provide deep, thoughtful evaluation of his new-found knowledge. The entire sequence unfolded like this:
[Image of a "fun fact" appears on screen]
Human Woman [reading]: In the movie Transformers, Bumblebee was a Camaro.
Human Man: That's a nice car.
[Image of a "fun fact" appears]
HW: "Skeeter" was the nickname of Emma Stone's character, Eugenia Phelan, in the movie The Help.
HM: That's weird.
I was fully expecting to spontaneously combust from all the fun that these facts were filling me with, but the facts thankfully gave way to "coming attractions." But a few seconds into the preview for the upcoming biopic on Jackie Robinson, 42, it became apparent that the sound was not working. My suspicions were confirmed when Human Woman announced to the theater, "THERE'S NO SOUND!"
Frequent moviegoers will be familiar with the moment after trailer ends when you turn to one of your peers and whisper something like, "That looks terrible" or "Can't. Wait." or "I think this Paul Rudd guy is going to be a star." But with the lack of sound, this intimate, private conversation was made public to all. And thank God for that. Because when the Jackie Robinson trailer came to an audio-less conclusion, Human Man uttered the greatest statement I have ever bore witness to:
And it's not like this man has just done a little bit of research, he has read "all the ESPN articles." He has a google alert for all things Jackie Robinson. His home page is the first page of results on Ask Jeeves for "Jeeves, has ESPN written anything about Jackie Robinson today?" Are you listening, Hollywood? The Jackie Robinson well is dry, try something new (preferably something with a monkey)!
Eventually, the sound was restored, and the rest of the movie went off without a hitch. As for the movie itself, my biggest fears were realized. Here's a shocker: the guy that was a slave was free by the end of the movie! Get a grip, filmmakers. If you want to make the next moneymaker like Grown Ups, come to Valley Plaza 6: home of the three dollar movie and the pulse of America!
Let me back up. I had a rare day off of work, and decided it was about time to see Django Unchained, a film I had been trying to avoid since it's release last December. My friends wouldn't stop talking about it, and I heard it won an Oscar, so it couldn't be that bad, right? Luckily for me, the movie was still hanging around low-end Los Angeles theaters. I have never had any qualms about low-end theaters; sound and picture quality has come such a long way that spending literally four times the price so that I can hear people talking very clearly doesn't seem like a worthwhile investment.
And so I headed to the Valley Plaza 6 in North Hollywood to catch the 11:30 AM showing of Django. Upon arrival at around 11:10, I was met with a distraught elderly woman outside the theater doors. As I drew closer, her frustrations came to light. The theater was yet to open and she needed her popcorn! It was company policy that the doors would not open until ten minutes before the first showing. The visibly-shaken ticket taker, clearly new at his job, was having a hard time properly conveying this piece of information to the woman. "BUT I NEED TIME TO GET MY POPCORN!" the woman pleaded, trying to convince the employee of the terrible strife he and his terrible company were putting her through. The ticket taker tried to muster a rebuttal through his nervous stutters, but popcorn lady had already won.
Noticing I had drawn closer, popcorn lady then shot me a look that I can only describe as the non-verbal equivalent of a heavyset construction worker from the Bronx screaming, "HEYYYYY, YOU BELIEVE THIS JAG-OFF?" Caught off guard, I mutely shrugged my shoulders and headed back to my car for 10 more minutes of the latest "Comedy Bang Bang" podcast. I can only assume the popcorn lady did the same.
After a brief time out, I headed inside for my three dollar ticket and dollar hot dog. Ticket in hand, I began my short trip to theater one. Outside the large double doors, I awaited aside the ticket taker's podium, patiently searching for the theater employee. After seeing a few patrons walk right by me, I quickly realized the podium's existence was purely aesthetic. "How clever!" I said aloud.
Chuckling to myself, I headed into the bowels of the theater. It was much larger than I expected and in surprisingly good shape. Having only a half a dozen fellow moviegoers in attendance (including popcorn lady, SHE MADE IT, GUYS! HAPPY ENDINGS DO HAPPEN!), I had my choice of seat. Opting to settle in the direct epicenter of the theater, I plopped down, ready for some coming attractions.
Younger readers may not be aware of this, but in a time not too long ago, movie theaters used to have a kind of slideshow feature before the previews. These stills would include movie trivia, fun facts, and advertisements. Since the days of yore, these slides have been replaced by full-length commercials and behind-the scenes looks at upcoming movies. But in this hidden theater in North Hollywood, the art of the pre-movie slideshow was alive and thriving.
But this slideshow was like none I have ever witnessed. Foregoing all of the pesky interaction of a trivia format, this theater decided that two features were good enough to entertain the early birds: "fun facts" and a single advertisement for concessions. Alone, those two would have made for a conventional pregame to the movie, but these were no ordinary "fun facts." No, these facts were the funnest of them all. Take, for example, this actual fact they were nice enough to provide the eight of us with:
"In the movie Bridesmaids, puppies were given as a gift to attendees at the bridal shower."Now I know what you're thinking: "Isn't that fact just something that happened in the movie, and anyone who saw those movies would already know that? How is that fun?"
Well, clearly you don't understand the point of facts. We don't listen to facts to learn things. We listen to facts so that when hear one we already know, we get to turn to the other person and boast, "Oh, I already knew that." I mean, what's the point in having a brain full of facts when you can't proudly disclaim your pre-existing knowledge of those facts?
Which brings me to the couple behind me. I never found the courage to turn and actually identify them as human beings, but based on their voices, I feel safe in the claim that they were indeed Homo sapiens. One (presumed) woman was having so much fun with these facts that she decided it was her civic duty to narrate every single one of these knowledge nuggets to the illiterates of the audience. Her male counterpart would then provide deep, thoughtful evaluation of his new-found knowledge. The entire sequence unfolded like this:
[Image of a "fun fact" appears on screen]
Human Woman [reading]: In the movie Transformers, Bumblebee was a Camaro.
Human Man: That's a nice car.
[Image of a "fun fact" appears]
HW: "Skeeter" was the nickname of Emma Stone's character, Eugenia Phelan, in the movie The Help.
HM: That's weird.
I was fully expecting to spontaneously combust from all the fun that these facts were filling me with, but the facts thankfully gave way to "coming attractions." But a few seconds into the preview for the upcoming biopic on Jackie Robinson, 42, it became apparent that the sound was not working. My suspicions were confirmed when Human Woman announced to the theater, "THERE'S NO SOUND!"
Frequent moviegoers will be familiar with the moment after trailer ends when you turn to one of your peers and whisper something like, "That looks terrible" or "Can't. Wait." or "I think this Paul Rudd guy is going to be a star." But with the lack of sound, this intimate, private conversation was made public to all. And thank God for that. Because when the Jackie Robinson trailer came to an audio-less conclusion, Human Man uttered the greatest statement I have ever bore witness to:
"I have no interest in a Jackie Robinson movie. I already read all the ESPN articles."The statement: ordinary. The rationale: grandiose. Human Man wants no part in your Jackie Robinson film, because what can a motion picture offer that isn't covered entirely by The Worldwide Leader in Sports? I constantly use the same justification to avoid certain movies. I didn't see Jurassic Park because I have read all sorts of dinosaur books since I was a kid. People always ask me why I haven't seen the movie Titanic. Um...I used to play with boats in the bath tub, I think I know what a sinking ship looks like. In fact, I was weary to see Django, considering I had already read the wikipedia article on slavery several times.
And it's not like this man has just done a little bit of research, he has read "all the ESPN articles." He has a google alert for all things Jackie Robinson. His home page is the first page of results on Ask Jeeves for "Jeeves, has ESPN written anything about Jackie Robinson today?" Are you listening, Hollywood? The Jackie Robinson well is dry, try something new (preferably something with a monkey)!
Eventually, the sound was restored, and the rest of the movie went off without a hitch. As for the movie itself, my biggest fears were realized. Here's a shocker: the guy that was a slave was free by the end of the movie! Get a grip, filmmakers. If you want to make the next moneymaker like Grown Ups, come to Valley Plaza 6: home of the three dollar movie and the pulse of America!
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Reggie Bush Champagne
YOU GET A 20+ YARD RUN! YOU GET A 20+ YARD RUN! YOU GET A 20+ YARD RUN! YOU GET A 20+ YARD RUN! YOU GET A 20+ YARD RUN! YOU GET A 20+ YARD RUN! YOU GET A 20+ YARD RUN!
Seriously, this is pretty big. Now go to Delmas' doorstep and beg forgiveness.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Media Guide to Interviewing a Hockey Player
Why hello, fellow sports media-ite. How are you doing? That Te'o stuff was pretty crazy, right? And Armstrong? Don't even get me started, or else you'll have 3000 words on your desk by sunrise!
But now that all that is done and the NFL is drawing to a conclusion, we're all going to have to confront the scary elephant in the room: the return of the NHL. Now I know most of you aren't too familiar with hockey and are even a bit intimidated by the mystical being, but, fear not, for I am here to help aid you through this difficult time.
Chances are most of you will not have to worry about this silly league. You may have to post a box score here and there (people still do that, right?). You may even have to attend a game and comment on how cold it was! If you're one of the lucky ones, you'll only have to mention the NHL in passing (if this is the case, may I suggest a never-not-hilarious line like "I didn't even KNOW the NHL was back!"). But, God forbid, the hockey team in your region may have a good season. If this is the case, you could very well be one of the unfortunate souls that have to cover this "sport." (see what I did there *winky face*, oh I could just type a winky face. Actually, I like this better. This must be what they mean by "alternative" comedy.) The unluckiest of them all will have to...interview a player.
Now, I know many of you believe hockey players are a strange, crooked-faced beings (and a lot of them are, LOL!), but I'm here to provide a course to interviewing the shadowy figure that is an NHL player.
Tip one: Lead with your knowledge of the game.
Obviously this is tough, since no one outside of Canada knows anything about hockey, but there is hope. There are the three universal things that everyone knows about hockey: hockey players are tough, hockey players are unusually nice (it's creepy, if you ask me!), and other people say hockey is much more exciting in person (I'm skeptical. I've never been to a game, but if I can't see the puck on TV, how am I going to see it in person?).
Leading with knowledge of the game will tame the foreign beast. He will accept you as one of his own and maybe even invite you to a game (IMPORTANT: come with an excuse already in mind). Failure to display proper knowledge of the game may result in angering the Poutine-eating mongrel and will almost always result in violence.
Suggested questions: Why are hockey players so nice? Why are hockey players so tough? (follow up: how many teeth have you lost? - both hilarious and informative!) What makes hockey so exciting in person?*
*This question is particularly ingenious. While it seems like you're complimenting the sport -- therefore appeasing the "abominable snow man" (trademarked, don't use it) -- you're actually allowing your true condescension of the sport leak through the suggestion that hockey is so boring on TV! But don't worry, the hoser won't notice!
Tip two: Be overly nice.
As mentioned before, angering a hockey player can quickly turn into a violent crime scene. To avoid this, make sure you are overly complimentary about everything: his clothes, his speech, his youth, and even (and I know this is going to be tough for some of you) his sport. He doesn't need to know about the sarcastic, scathing article you wrote on the irrelevancy of the hockey lockout three weeks ago (great job, by the way!). If he's foreign (almost a certainty), make sure you compliment his accent. If he's American (yeah right!), make sure you make a comment on his slight Canadian accent (ALWAYS FUNNY!).
Suggested questions: (if foreign) How did you learn English so quickly? (if American) What's your accent all a-boot? (again, the hockey player will not be able to detect your clever, xenophobic remark)
Tip three: Lie through your teeth.
Even if you know more about hockey than the average Joe, your knowledge will only get you so far. So much about hockey is unknown to literally EVERY single person with an American birth certificate. Soon, you'll run out of questions and realize you've only been interviewing for two minutes.
Eventually, you'll be a little flustered, but don't worry, the lies will just naturally flow out of you! Pretend you've been on the hockey bandwagon since the beginning. Tell them how excited their playoff run is making you and the entire city! Who cares? We don't believe Canada has developed technology to access any articles you've written in the past, so don't worry if you've written anything particularly disparaging lately.
Suggested questions/comments: I've been trying to bring hockey to *city* since I moved here, but why aren't others grasping the excitement that is hockey? I really think the *insert hockey team name* are going to be the new *insert NFL team* in this city! (try REALLY hard not to laugh)
Tip four: Get information!
You've been given the rare opportunity to cover hockey, may as well try and learn something about the mysterious game. You can guarantee your audience knows almost nothing about the game, so no question is stupid. That being said, try and figure out some of the true mysteries of the game. Really dig deep and try to ask questions that get at the true intricacies of the game.
Suggested questions: What IS icing? Is it hard to jump over the boards during a change? I can barely stand up on ice skates, how do you even move in those things? Does it get lonely in the penalty box?
I know this is a tough time for sports writers. We tried to time the Te'o thing perfectly to make the NHL's return as irrelevant as possible, but, in the end, hockey still technically exists and that's an unfortunate reality we all have to face. Hopefully this guide will help you write the one, page-nine article you may have to write this season. Even if it doesn't, I'm sure no one will notice. It's a good thing they had a shortened season this year, am I right? Anyway, keep your head up, we're only a couple months away from a real sporting event: the NFL combine!
But now that all that is done and the NFL is drawing to a conclusion, we're all going to have to confront the scary elephant in the room: the return of the NHL. Now I know most of you aren't too familiar with hockey and are even a bit intimidated by the mystical being, but, fear not, for I am here to help aid you through this difficult time.
Chances are most of you will not have to worry about this silly league. You may have to post a box score here and there (people still do that, right?). You may even have to attend a game and comment on how cold it was! If you're one of the lucky ones, you'll only have to mention the NHL in passing (if this is the case, may I suggest a never-not-hilarious line like "I didn't even KNOW the NHL was back!"). But, God forbid, the hockey team in your region may have a good season. If this is the case, you could very well be one of the unfortunate souls that have to cover this "sport." (see what I did there *winky face*, oh I could just type a winky face. Actually, I like this better. This must be what they mean by "alternative" comedy.) The unluckiest of them all will have to...interview a player.
Now, I know many of you believe hockey players are a strange, crooked-faced beings (and a lot of them are, LOL!), but I'm here to provide a course to interviewing the shadowy figure that is an NHL player.
Tip one: Lead with your knowledge of the game.
Obviously this is tough, since no one outside of Canada knows anything about hockey, but there is hope. There are the three universal things that everyone knows about hockey: hockey players are tough, hockey players are unusually nice (it's creepy, if you ask me!), and other people say hockey is much more exciting in person (I'm skeptical. I've never been to a game, but if I can't see the puck on TV, how am I going to see it in person?).
Leading with knowledge of the game will tame the foreign beast. He will accept you as one of his own and maybe even invite you to a game (IMPORTANT: come with an excuse already in mind). Failure to display proper knowledge of the game may result in angering the Poutine-eating mongrel and will almost always result in violence.
Suggested questions: Why are hockey players so nice? Why are hockey players so tough? (follow up: how many teeth have you lost? - both hilarious and informative!) What makes hockey so exciting in person?*
*This question is particularly ingenious. While it seems like you're complimenting the sport -- therefore appeasing the "abominable snow man" (trademarked, don't use it) -- you're actually allowing your true condescension of the sport leak through the suggestion that hockey is so boring on TV! But don't worry, the hoser won't notice!
Tip two: Be overly nice.
As mentioned before, angering a hockey player can quickly turn into a violent crime scene. To avoid this, make sure you are overly complimentary about everything: his clothes, his speech, his youth, and even (and I know this is going to be tough for some of you) his sport. He doesn't need to know about the sarcastic, scathing article you wrote on the irrelevancy of the hockey lockout three weeks ago (great job, by the way!). If he's foreign (almost a certainty), make sure you compliment his accent. If he's American (yeah right!), make sure you make a comment on his slight Canadian accent (ALWAYS FUNNY!).
Suggested questions: (if foreign) How did you learn English so quickly? (if American) What's your accent all a-boot? (again, the hockey player will not be able to detect your clever, xenophobic remark)
Tip three: Lie through your teeth.
Even if you know more about hockey than the average Joe, your knowledge will only get you so far. So much about hockey is unknown to literally EVERY single person with an American birth certificate. Soon, you'll run out of questions and realize you've only been interviewing for two minutes.
Eventually, you'll be a little flustered, but don't worry, the lies will just naturally flow out of you! Pretend you've been on the hockey bandwagon since the beginning. Tell them how excited their playoff run is making you and the entire city! Who cares? We don't believe Canada has developed technology to access any articles you've written in the past, so don't worry if you've written anything particularly disparaging lately.
Suggested questions/comments: I've been trying to bring hockey to *city* since I moved here, but why aren't others grasping the excitement that is hockey? I really think the *insert hockey team name* are going to be the new *insert NFL team* in this city! (try REALLY hard not to laugh)
Tip four: Get information!
You've been given the rare opportunity to cover hockey, may as well try and learn something about the mysterious game. You can guarantee your audience knows almost nothing about the game, so no question is stupid. That being said, try and figure out some of the true mysteries of the game. Really dig deep and try to ask questions that get at the true intricacies of the game.
Suggested questions: What IS icing? Is it hard to jump over the boards during a change? I can barely stand up on ice skates, how do you even move in those things? Does it get lonely in the penalty box?
I know this is a tough time for sports writers. We tried to time the Te'o thing perfectly to make the NHL's return as irrelevant as possible, but, in the end, hockey still technically exists and that's an unfortunate reality we all have to face. Hopefully this guide will help you write the one, page-nine article you may have to write this season. Even if it doesn't, I'm sure no one will notice. It's a good thing they had a shortened season this year, am I right? Anyway, keep your head up, we're only a couple months away from a real sporting event: the NFL combine!
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