August 19th, 2005

Moose With Mug

The Intelligent Philadelphia Sports Fans

Everyone once in a while, it's nice to see instances where true, decent humanity wins out. Even more rare is when you see an article showing Philadelphia sports fans in a positive light. Yesterday, during the Phillies doubleheader with the Nationals, a couple neanderthals decided to exercise their right to free speech and protest the fact it was Gay Day at Citizens Bank. In a way, I prefer such narrow-minded bigotry out in the open -- it's far easier to identify the ass-holes when they insist on farting in public. Anyway, the best of humanity came out when the police escorted them out of the park:

Marcavage and the second man rolled up their sign at the end of the sixth inning, prompting cheers from the fans around Section 303. As the police officers and Phillies officials escorted them out of the grandstand and to an employees' elevator, fans booed and chanted obscenities.

It's always nice to see such morons shouted down in a public forum.
  • Current Music
    "I'm Too Sexy," Right Said Fred
Moose With Mug

Oh, Those Wonderful Phillies Memories

Anyone who wants to see why I am not excited about the Phillies current lead in the wild card race can just read a gem from my old LJ page from this date last year, timestamped 19 August 2004 @ 03:17 pm. If you'd rather not look, let me recap:

The Phillies start the day in the thick of the wild card race (sound familiar?) and have a day game at home against the Astros. The Astros take the lead in the second by stealing home, thus ensuring that the Ghost of 1964 makes his mark on the 2004 club. The Phillies overcome this by taking a 7-2 lead by the fifth inning, which ends when Todd Pratt hits into a triple play. The Phils bullpen does its usual stellar job that year and gives up seven runs in the 7th. When the madness ends, the Phillies lose to the eventual wild card team 12-10.

As I wrote in the post:

You know, if the Phillies didn't exist, the gods of comic tragedy would have to invent them. Initially, the ghost of 1964 rears its ugly head in the second inning... The ghost of 1964, once tracked down by a local reporter, was quoted as saying, "It wasn't enough to let the Astros score a run by stealing home. I had to make sure the Phillies blew a 5-run lead and give up an extra 3 runs as well. Excuse me while I go get a cheesesteak!"

Last night, the Phillies blew a four-run lead in the second game of a doubleheader with the Nationals. Is history beginning to repeat itself again? We'll see soon enough. I'll believe the Phillies are a playoff-caliber team when they are actually in the playoffs.
  • Current Music
    "Centerfield," John Fogarty
Moose With Mug

Random Thoughts

Things I miss:

  • College. I'm sure I'm not the first person to say this, and I know I won't be the last, but if I could do it all over again I'd pay far more attention to my courses, do all my work and actually read everything I was assigned. Yes, I have excuses -- I had a girlfriend... my time with the college newspaper was just as important... I was working my way through school... my trips to the Irish Pub were just killing brain cells that would store that information, so why do the work -- and deep down I actually don't regret anything I've ever done because those experiences made me who I am. However, I also know I cheated myself of something valuable, and it's proving to be rather difficult to get it back.

  • The early days of AOL. Back when spam was only associated with Monty Python and the excesses of the American food industry, there was a time when I would logon to my AOL account and be excited at the "You've got mail!" prompt. That excitement died a little bit the first time I got spam promising to make my dick bigger. Thanks, spammer, my self-esteem issues were serious enough without some anonymous gonad telling me that I won't be able to satisfy a woman. Thankfully, I've learned a lot since then... like how I can make millions of dollars helping this Nigerian heiress get her money out of Africa.

    By the way, a double-fuck-you goes out to the makers of You've Got Mail for helping to further cheapen the phrase. Now I've got Meg Ryan waxing philosophical about it in my head.

  • The body I had on my wedding day. Seriously, can I sue somebody over this? I know I'm mostly to blame, but clearly in today's litigious society there's some lawyer out there who can help me pinpoint who is really responsible for my regaining those 50 pounds I lost in 2002. I'm sure that person can help me sue them for all they're worth, and then sit back and watch my court case get ridiculed by proponents of tort reform who insist my case proves we've all gone too far.

  • Crystal Pepsi. Yes, I really did like the stuff, so according to the Bloodhound Gang, I really should just "lift my head up high and blow my brains out." Actually, they list a number of other reasons why I should do so, but I refuse to get into them.

  • The original 99¢ bag of Doritos. Frito Lay started selling these bags during my college days, and at the time there was something like four servings per container. I know I shouldn't eat that many serving of any Frito Lay product in one sitting, but those bags really fit a nice niche between the regular-size bags and these crappy, far too small snack bags. Unfortunately, rather than increase the price over the past 10 years to keep up with inflation, Frito Lay has cut the size of the bag. Now the 99¢ bag isn't much bigger than the snack-size ones I disdain.

  • Wawas. Can we please get some in the Northern Virginia area? Please!?
  • Current Music
    "Birdhouse in Your Soul," They Might Be Giants
Moose With Mug

Needing to Write More

Occasionally, when I encounter an author's work for the first time, I start fixating on how much I wish I wrote like that. I'm not saying I can't write -- I know for a fact that I can, just like everyone knows he/she has a good sense of humor -- but most of my adult life has been spent figuring out where my strengths as a writer lie. I've tried my hand at poetry, only to find it far too much like Vogon poetry for my own tastes. I've also written about a dozen short stories, but for the most part they read like I ate a couple dictionaries and vomited complete sentences onto a page, possibly badly paraphrasing some rock/pop lyrics and making ridiculous pop culture references along the way.

Now I don't want to go off on a rant here, but... oh, wait... I'm doing just that.

Anyway, the author who now has me wanting to write like him is Chuck Klosterman. He's approximately my age, and the first essay in his book Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs is exactly the type of material I wish I could write. In fact, while reading it I realized that I rarely write the way I used to. I don't know how long I'll have this newfound determination to write more -- if my own personal history is any guide, about as long as it takes for me to get distracted by a new, bright, shiny object, or the next time a Philadelphia sports team makes the playoffs -- but I will try to spend more time doing so. Hopefully, you'll regularly see more posts like the preceding one.

Oh, wait... look at that Powerbook over there. Pretty...
  • Current Music
    "Monster," Steppenwolf