I attended my Bebbeboo’s nephew’s Tee-Ball game a few weeks ago. The team was comprised of kids 4-7yrs old. I don’t know how to describe the experience other than as “frustrating hilarity”.
One tee-ball kid was OCDing over a patch of dirt. I’m pretty sure that he was sorting pebbles alphabetically. Every time my eyes would check up on him, it was obvious that he had zero interest in the game that was going on around him. His dispassion fueled lengthy debates about his commitment to the sport and triggered arguments speculating as to his ability to perform the sport. At some point, because of his intent gaze and furious digging, I became certain that he … Click Here to Read On! …
I do not follow sports. Amateur, professional, it doesn’t matter ‘cuz I don’t follow them. I never did. The closest I ever got to following sports is with MMA. I love the UFC.
The English football club Arsenal was the talk of the Twitter-town a few weeks ago and I thought, as I always do when I hear their name: What a great fucking name for a sports club! It’s the kind of name that makes me want to watch football just so I can root for them. Go Arsenal! I’d wear the jersey and everything. Paint the club name on my car, too. They’re named after a cabinet full of guns! Cannons, bombs, black powder kegs!
“Don’t open that cabinet!”
“Why not? What’s inside?”
“It’s an arsenal!”
“Of what?”
“GUNS!”
“Aaaaaiiiiggh! We’re gonna die!”
It’s a way better name than anything America has come up with in sports. Especially in baseball. The name Arsenal is way tougher than “The Cubs” or “White Sox.” Really? There’s a team called the White Sox? What the fuck do … Click Here to Read On! …
Who cares? Republican hero George W. Bush smoked the tweeds, Obama smoked, Clinton tried to smoke, but his greens were too harsh to inhale — but still he tried! He tried very hard! Are we seriously spending time with this? Do we really think that Phelps did something wrong? He smoked some grass. The same grass the Rastafarians say Jah Almighty put upon this earth to smoke. This was the same Jah who put those Bob Marley and Grateful Dead blacklight posters on your parents’ wall. Jah wanted us to smoke the shit out of them weeds, and so we did. What the fuck did Phelps do that was so out of the ordinary, anthropologically?
If your parents smoked grass, and if you smoked grass, you have no legitimate complaint against this Michael Phelps kid. Grass appears to be a totally natural part of our culture. If it was good enough for your mother in the 60s, and probably your grandmother in the 80s, then it should be good enough for your 2008 national sports hero. Although contemporary opponents argue that the pot of the 60s wasn’t NEARLY as strong as the pot of the 21st century — but what exactly does that mean? If the pot of today is 20x more powerful as the pot of the 60s, does that mean that you would get 20x more stoned? Or does it mean that you are smoking 1/20 as much as you used to get achieve the equivalent amount of stonedation?
Athletes shouldn’t be our role models. I don’t want jocks teaching children about drugs, sex, alcohol and morality. The only thing I want a jock to teach a child is how to avoid crotch rot and athlete’s foot. But many of my peers across the nation disagree with me and think that athletes make for the best babysitters. Scientists would be a better choice for role models than athletes. And even scientists aren’t the best choice. Kids should have PARENTS as role models, because even SCIENTISTS are smoking weed. And if your scientists are smoking weed, you should probably ask them what’s so special about it, because maybe they’d have a scientific answer involving anthropology. Bruce Parry from the TV program “Going Tribal” knows what I’m talking about. He not only helps white-skinned people understand isolated, indigenous cultures, but he also convinces these cultures that he’s their child, he goes through their coming-of-age rituals and experiments with their psychopharmacopoeia. But for you to be so incredulous when a 20-something year-old America kid smokes pot to the extent that you plan to eviscerate him and strip him of the insane number of Olympic medals he’s achieved, is absolutely ridiculous. Mixed-martial-arts fighter Nick Diaz had to forfeit his loss to Takanori Gomi for his use of marijuana. I’m sorry, but marijuana can’t be considered a performance-enhancing drug unless you’re an artist, funk musician or comedian.
Today I wished a co-worker “All My Best” when what I really meant to wish her was “Most of My Best.” I can’t give her all of my best, can I? This isn’t sports, so I don’t have to give 100% or more. And giving ALL of your best to a woman is usually reserved for a relationship, isn’t it? I’m not dating her and I don’t even WANT to date her – she’s mean! And even if I did want to date her I don’t think it would be a good idea to give a woman ALL of my best under ANY circumstances, and especially not this soon in our acquaintanceship.
Maybe over the course of thirty years it’s okay to give a woman ALL of your best but over thirty years you still probably only want to give her MOST of your best. That’s how you keep surprising her, right? By giving MOST, but not ALL, of your best?
“Hey baby, I brought in MOST of the groceries in for you.”
“Oh Russ, that’s so sweet! I’m glad you left some in the car because now it feels like I’m making a contribution to the household.”
“Whatevs.”
Even by giving MOST of your best you’re probably setting yourself up to disappoint her on a regular basis. For example, if you were to do your housework with MOST of your best effort, she’s going to expect you to do MOST of your best housework effort every Saturday. Even if it’s your Shabbat! So maybe what I meant to say to her was that I wish her “Some Of My Best” because I think that’s achievable and reasonable.
“Hey baby, even though it’s Saturday morning and you know I never do anything before 1:30 on Saturday because it’s my Shabbat, I wanted you to know that I put my beer cans in the recycling bin and I cleaned my piss off of the toilet seat.”
“Oh Russ, that’s so sweet! I know how you like to enjoy your Shabbat. Thank you for making that effort.”
“Whatevs.”
The point is that I may not give you ALL of my best, or even MOST of my best, but if I like you, you can definitely have a few scraps of SOME of my best. I hope you enjoy them. The rest of my best I save for myself. You can live with that, right?
Prone to over-analyze, I thought some more about this strange woman who got All My Best and I am confident that I don’t like her. She doesn’t deserve All My Best, Most of My Best or even Some Of My Best. She has earned the coveted spot in life where next time she will receive Absolutely None Of My Best, and that comes with extra piss on the toilet seat.
