"I don't care what anyone says about me, as long as it isn't true."
- Truman Capote
Monday, June 23, 2014
On the USA vs. Portugal Game
http://i48.tinypic.com/jrqhiw.jpg
Mixed emotions here, folks.
On the one hand, our boys clearly outplayed the supposed 4th ranked team in the world.
On the other hand, that don't mean squat when we can't come away with the three points. And I can't help but think the Portuguese were handicapped to begin with. All that hair gel and spray tanning has to clog the pores and make sweating a laborious affair.
Still, never have I seen "the best player in futbol" look so totally pedestrian for 94 minutes. A complete non-factor. Our boys put the leather to him and it worked in a big way.
Some other positives to take from this game:
1. The USMNT is no longer happy just to be competing against the best teams in the world. It's win, or go home, and that's the attitude we need to advance.
2. At long last, the US has found itself a long shot artist. I mean, talk about range. Jermaine Jones was actually moving AWAY from goal when he let that thing rip. I'm getting hot under the collar just thinking about it...
3. Clint Dempsey can score with any and every part of his body. Literally. Next game he will score via no-look booty bump. You heard it here first, folks.
4. We still have the best goalie in the tournament. Don't let those two cheap shots fool ya. Big Time Timmy Jim is the real deal. As stout as it gets. If he can just get our back line to focus up for a full 95 minutes, we'll be a tough out for anyone.
That final goal last night was a definite WTF moment, but we still have a 75% chance of advancing, and I like those odds. This USMNT has shown time and again they aren't your poppa's soccer team. Before last night, Portugal had never lost or even tied after scoring first in the World Cup, and the US had never come back from an early deficit. But this new US team seems particularly unconcerned with history or expectations. Not only did we come back, but we dominated that game.
And now the rest of the world knows that we're not afraid of them.
Thomas out.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Quote of the Week for 6/16/2014
"But you ought to know that What is Grand is necessarily obscure to Weak men."
-William Blake
-William Blake
Monday, June 9, 2014
Shamelessly Pretentious Quote of the Week for 6/9/2014
"I've never even heard of that position. Did the missionaries not swing by here?"
-Sterling Archer
-Sterling Archer
http://www.gq.com/images/entertainment/2012/01/archer-excerpt/archer-628.jpg
Thursday, June 5, 2014
On Harper Lee's TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD and "the Classics"
Mark Twain on John Milton's Paradise Lost:
"It's a classic... something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read."
I feel like Twain is even more right today then he was when he said this. And I'm not trying to sound snobbish or elitist. I graduated with an Major in English and a minor in Creative Writing, (which means reading is pretty much my thing that I do a lot) and I don't want to read most of high-waisted drivel the English literary establishment has deemed "classic" either. Most classic literature before 1850 was either bumbling in structure, boring, or both. If it was deemed a classic post-1850, it was probably overly self important and needlessly difficult. Especially anything written between 1910 and 1970. I mean my God, why did nobody tell Joyce to rein it in a little bit? Seriously.
All this to say that I went into Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird--basically the classic of all classics--expecting it to be just as disappointing. But it wasn't. It was delightful. Scout Finch is maybe my favorite narrator of all time, primarily because of all the things that make her different from every other classic narrator of the period. She's simple. She's funny. She's unique. She doesn't hide behind overly complicated allegory or metaphysical, philosophical impositions.
I get a lot of shit for it, but my reading interests have always trended towards genre fiction because, despite the fact that these stories are about aliens or monsters or ghosts or dudes with swords and codpieces, genre fiction writers never forgot the most important of fiction: from Mary Shelley to George R.R. Martin, it's all about telling a great story. It's both the most simple and the most elegant thing any good novel can really hope to accomplish, but for some reason, literary fiction writers often sacrifice that commitment to storytelling in service of some loftier ideal or goal, be it experimentation with form, or psychological exploration, or an allegorical examination of some aspect of modern society. Literary novels started out telling great stories; shouldn't "classic" novels seek to carry on in that tradition, no matter the ulterior motives?
I'm not saying those goals aren't worthy. If that's what the author set out to do, who am I to say what's wrong with it? I've just got a problem with people calling them classics. Classic shouldn't mean too challenging in form or conceit for 99% of the literate world to comprehend. That's not what classic means in any other application of the term... when something is classic, that means no matter who's looking at it, that something can be instantly recognized as a timelessly apt representative of its contextual influences, a champion that can stand up for it's brethren and say, this is what we're all about, and that's never going to change.
A classic shouldn't be something we have to take a class on in order to understand. I'm reading William Faulkner's Sound and the Fury right now. Why should I need to study the sparknotes (which I did) just to figure out what this book is saying, and why it is supposedly a classic of southern literature? I'm southern--shouldn't I be able to figure that out on my own? Shouldn't the book speak to me, and not at me?
To Kill a Mockingbird is a classic because I don't need a Ph.D. to understand what makes this book great southern literature. No theoretical explanations necessary; it's just something you can feel from page one right through to the end. Harper Lee got it.
Makes you kinda sad she only wrote one, don't it? I mean, talk about raising the bar.
Thomas out.
"It's a classic... something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read."
I feel like Twain is even more right today then he was when he said this. And I'm not trying to sound snobbish or elitist. I graduated with an Major in English and a minor in Creative Writing, (which means reading is pretty much my thing that I do a lot) and I don't want to read most of high-waisted drivel the English literary establishment has deemed "classic" either. Most classic literature before 1850 was either bumbling in structure, boring, or both. If it was deemed a classic post-1850, it was probably overly self important and needlessly difficult. Especially anything written between 1910 and 1970. I mean my God, why did nobody tell Joyce to rein it in a little bit? Seriously.
All this to say that I went into Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird--basically the classic of all classics--expecting it to be just as disappointing. But it wasn't. It was delightful. Scout Finch is maybe my favorite narrator of all time, primarily because of all the things that make her different from every other classic narrator of the period. She's simple. She's funny. She's unique. She doesn't hide behind overly complicated allegory or metaphysical, philosophical impositions.
I get a lot of shit for it, but my reading interests have always trended towards genre fiction because, despite the fact that these stories are about aliens or monsters or ghosts or dudes with swords and codpieces, genre fiction writers never forgot the most important of fiction: from Mary Shelley to George R.R. Martin, it's all about telling a great story. It's both the most simple and the most elegant thing any good novel can really hope to accomplish, but for some reason, literary fiction writers often sacrifice that commitment to storytelling in service of some loftier ideal or goal, be it experimentation with form, or psychological exploration, or an allegorical examination of some aspect of modern society. Literary novels started out telling great stories; shouldn't "classic" novels seek to carry on in that tradition, no matter the ulterior motives?
I'm not saying those goals aren't worthy. If that's what the author set out to do, who am I to say what's wrong with it? I've just got a problem with people calling them classics. Classic shouldn't mean too challenging in form or conceit for 99% of the literate world to comprehend. That's not what classic means in any other application of the term... when something is classic, that means no matter who's looking at it, that something can be instantly recognized as a timelessly apt representative of its contextual influences, a champion that can stand up for it's brethren and say, this is what we're all about, and that's never going to change.
A classic shouldn't be something we have to take a class on in order to understand. I'm reading William Faulkner's Sound and the Fury right now. Why should I need to study the sparknotes (which I did) just to figure out what this book is saying, and why it is supposedly a classic of southern literature? I'm southern--shouldn't I be able to figure that out on my own? Shouldn't the book speak to me, and not at me?
To Kill a Mockingbird is a classic because I don't need a Ph.D. to understand what makes this book great southern literature. No theoretical explanations necessary; it's just something you can feel from page one right through to the end. Harper Lee got it.
Makes you kinda sad she only wrote one, don't it? I mean, talk about raising the bar.
Thomas out.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
On Blogging
Well, let's see...Pretentious title referencing a (necessarily) obscure quote by a literary figure? Check.
Rant on politics? Check.
Rant on why my favorite thing is better than your favorite thing? Check.
Rambling pieces on just about anything that even remotely interests me? Check check.
Mediocre original poetry? Cheque.
Hyperlinks leading to silly pictures and random cultural references? Yup, got those too.
Looks like I've got the all the makings of a blog. Ugh.
Usually my attitude toward people with blogs is the same as my attitude toward people with ukuleles or foot fetishes: do whatever you want, just don't bother me about it. But since I have many important things to say, and lack any kind of official, professional outlet, my thoughts on the world will, for the time being, appear here.
Along with the aforementioned ramblings on anything and everything that pops into my attention-starved head, I will be posting the Shamelessly Pretentious Quote of the Week every Monday. I've always despised and coveted those individuals who can recall and regurgitate famous quotes, perfectly and from memory, to suit any occasion, and so about two years ago I started keeping a notebook in which I recorded, in fine black ink, any quote I came across which I considered worth remembering. This hasn't helped my memorization skillz in the slightest, but it has helped me preserve a few thoughts which I consider particularly perceptive (or hilarious). Since I'll never be able to say it better myself, I've decided to just go ahead and share the love. Once a week. Let's not get crazy; I don't have an unlimited number of these things.
For anybody who cares (by no means should you feel obligated), my long-term life goal is to become a professional writer/author, but I won't be posting any pieces of the original, fictional variety on here. As somebody (probably) great once said, if you're really good at something, never do it for free. Who knows if I'm any good, but I'm going to go ahead and pretend, at least until this blog blows up, and I can start charging a monthly subscription, or some shit. You can do that with blogs, right? No? Well, ok then.
Thomas out.
On the FIFA World Cup
It's almost upon us, folks. Can't you just smell it all around us, a spicy, international aroma which assaults the senses like a opaque cloud of Drakkar Noir wofting off two dozen quaffed, manscaped Portuguese men?
That's right. It's the FIFA World Cup. Time to break out your red, white and blue face paint and your weird, knit USA scarves. Where do you get those things, anyway?
Four years ago, I regarded soccer much the same way I regarded dubstep--I was content to leave it to the hipsters and the immigrants. But I'm nothing if I'm not a nationalist, and like it or not I rose in the small hours of the morning with my futbolphile of a younger brother to cheer on my country. If I could do it for archery or curling, why not soccer? Little did I know that by the time the national treasure formerly known as Landon Donovan was busy burying the go-ahead goal in the back of Algeria's net in stoppage time, I'd already be hooked. Real talk, though-- that replay still gives me the heeby-jeebies.
Turns out, I went through something of a personal transformation during the 2010 World Cup. I like to think I became a little more open-minded, a little more accepting. I've devoted countless, irretrievable hours to the FIFA's 12, 13, and 14 for the Xbox. I've opened up my heart and let soccer in.
Four years is a slow, slow burn, but this time I'm ready. I'm pumped. The US is almost certainly doomed, but our chances weren't super to begin with. LD isn't even going to be there, after all. But who cares? There are still a host of compelling story lines outside the 50 states.
Will Neymar finally tell us his last name?
Will Cristiano Ronaldo play naked to distract his opponents? And will this backfire by distracting all of his flamboyant teammates?
Who will Luis Suarez bite first?
Will Hulk smash?
Get psyched, boys and girls. FIFA says turn down for what, and though I haven't yet figured out what that means, I still intend to waste most of my June in Brazil. Figuratively.
Thomas out.
That's right. It's the FIFA World Cup. Time to break out your red, white and blue face paint and your weird, knit USA scarves. Where do you get those things, anyway?
Four years ago, I regarded soccer much the same way I regarded dubstep--I was content to leave it to the hipsters and the immigrants. But I'm nothing if I'm not a nationalist, and like it or not I rose in the small hours of the morning with my futbolphile of a younger brother to cheer on my country. If I could do it for archery or curling, why not soccer? Little did I know that by the time the national treasure formerly known as Landon Donovan was busy burying the go-ahead goal in the back of Algeria's net in stoppage time, I'd already be hooked. Real talk, though-- that replay still gives me the heeby-jeebies.
Turns out, I went through something of a personal transformation during the 2010 World Cup. I like to think I became a little more open-minded, a little more accepting. I've devoted countless, irretrievable hours to the FIFA's 12, 13, and 14 for the Xbox. I've opened up my heart and let soccer in.
Four years is a slow, slow burn, but this time I'm ready. I'm pumped. The US is almost certainly doomed, but our chances weren't super to begin with. LD isn't even going to be there, after all. But who cares? There are still a host of compelling story lines outside the 50 states.
Will Neymar finally tell us his last name?
Will Cristiano Ronaldo play naked to distract his opponents? And will this backfire by distracting all of his flamboyant teammates?
Who will Luis Suarez bite first?
Will Hulk smash?
Get psyched, boys and girls. FIFA says turn down for what, and though I haven't yet figured out what that means, I still intend to waste most of my June in Brazil. Figuratively.
Thomas out.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Quote of the Week for 6/2/2014
"A furious Party Spirit, when it rages in its full Violence, exerts itself in Civil War and Blood-shed; and when it is under its greatest Restraints naturally breaks out in Falshood, Detraction, Calumny, and a partial Administration of Justice. In a word, It fills a Nation with Spleen and Rancour, and extinguishes all the Seeds of Good-nature, Compassion, and Humanity."
-Joseph Addison, Spectator No. 125
-Joseph Addison, Spectator No. 125
On Picking Sides
"A furious Party Spirit, when it rages in its full Violence, exerts itself in Civil War and Blood-shed; and when it is under its greatest Restraints naturally breaks out in Falshood, Detraction, Calumny, and a partial Administration of Justice. In a word, It fills a Nation with Spleen and Rancour, and extinguishes all the Seeds of Good-nature, Compassion, and Humanity."
-Joseph Addison, Spectator No. 125
My grandmother, a woman wise beyond her (considerable) years, once told me the story of the first time she registered to vote in Bowling Green, Kentucky. Mamie seemed to me a pretty staunch Republican, and loves that Sean Hannity almost as much as her favorite, most intelligent grandchild (cough cough), and so I was roundly surprised when she told me she registered as an independent. The more surprising part, however, was that, according to county clerk's office, she was the first and only person who'd attempted to do so, and they couldn't quite understand why she couldn't pick a side.
I pride myself (rather haughtily) on my general indifference to the tomfoolery of politics, but sometimes you read or hear something and it just smacks of the plain old truth (with the kind of weight only a meaty, ink-stained, 18th Century palm can deliver), even after 300 years. Now, I've definitely been listening to too much Joe Rogan Experience--that guy's got me hating the Man (and believing in Bigfoot) everywhere I turn. As if that weren't bad enough, my brother's turned me on to Bill Burr and his weekly podcast, and that guy never runs out of topics on which to call bullshit. It's exhausting just listening to him rant about one thing or another, but at this point I'd rather listen to comedians rant and rave about solar roads or Egyptology or Testosterone Replacement Therapy than watch the news. One gets me laughing, and also thinking critically about the craziness that is our culture; the other just gets me depressed about it.
What's my point? Well I haven't really made one, but lets try it. When your a kid, you feel enormous social pressures to pick sides, whether it be for in-class debates or kickball teams, and politics is no different. Whether they're aware of it or not (and, most likely, they are), parents influence their kids heavily when it comes to choosing a political side, and too often kids and young adults approach that choice thinking it's irreversible, a family inheritance they can either accept or reject, but no take-backsies. Like they're choosing between the Light and Dark sides of the Force, and anyone who chooses other team is more despicable than a sleep-deprived, grey-fleshed Darth Sidious. You're a Republican or a Democrat. You watch Fox News or MSNBC (and either way you disparage CNN). But that all seems rather restricting, and inhumane. Doesn't it? Shouldn't we always reserve the right to make our own choices, and to change our minds when we realize no choice is perfect?
The Two-Party system is now synonymous with Democracy in America, but maybe we've taken it too far. As a country we're letting it get to us; we're all too ready to badmouth the other side, too willing to gloss over the splinters in our own eye. And it's not necessarily an issue with the system itself: people naturally align with others of a like mind, no matter the topic. I think it's a mentality problem. In my shamelessly pretentious quote of the week, Addison says it best. When we draw these uncross-able lines in the sand, we cannot help but begin to view those on the other side as something essentially opposed to our well-being, as something to be overcome, surmounted, defeated. It bereaves them of their humanity, and ourselves of our empathy. That's not progress, and it's not democracy; it's Civil War, and I find it strange that so many are will to treat it as such: a fight to the death, Thunder Dome-style.
Aight, rant over. I'll part with this thought: if there's one thing I've learned from Game of Thrones, which I've come to regard as the great, cultural allegory of our time--the Gospel by George--it's that the world is never so black and white as Right or Left. You may hate the Lannisters, but not all of them are Cersei's; there are Tryion's on both sides, if you're willing to look.
Thomas out.
-Joseph Addison, Spectator No. 125
My grandmother, a woman wise beyond her (considerable) years, once told me the story of the first time she registered to vote in Bowling Green, Kentucky. Mamie seemed to me a pretty staunch Republican, and loves that Sean Hannity almost as much as her favorite, most intelligent grandchild (cough cough), and so I was roundly surprised when she told me she registered as an independent. The more surprising part, however, was that, according to county clerk's office, she was the first and only person who'd attempted to do so, and they couldn't quite understand why she couldn't pick a side.
I pride myself (rather haughtily) on my general indifference to the tomfoolery of politics, but sometimes you read or hear something and it just smacks of the plain old truth (with the kind of weight only a meaty, ink-stained, 18th Century palm can deliver), even after 300 years. Now, I've definitely been listening to too much Joe Rogan Experience--that guy's got me hating the Man (and believing in Bigfoot) everywhere I turn. As if that weren't bad enough, my brother's turned me on to Bill Burr and his weekly podcast, and that guy never runs out of topics on which to call bullshit. It's exhausting just listening to him rant about one thing or another, but at this point I'd rather listen to comedians rant and rave about solar roads or Egyptology or Testosterone Replacement Therapy than watch the news. One gets me laughing, and also thinking critically about the craziness that is our culture; the other just gets me depressed about it.
What's my point? Well I haven't really made one, but lets try it. When your a kid, you feel enormous social pressures to pick sides, whether it be for in-class debates or kickball teams, and politics is no different. Whether they're aware of it or not (and, most likely, they are), parents influence their kids heavily when it comes to choosing a political side, and too often kids and young adults approach that choice thinking it's irreversible, a family inheritance they can either accept or reject, but no take-backsies. Like they're choosing between the Light and Dark sides of the Force, and anyone who chooses other team is more despicable than a sleep-deprived, grey-fleshed Darth Sidious. You're a Republican or a Democrat. You watch Fox News or MSNBC (and either way you disparage CNN). But that all seems rather restricting, and inhumane. Doesn't it? Shouldn't we always reserve the right to make our own choices, and to change our minds when we realize no choice is perfect?
The Two-Party system is now synonymous with Democracy in America, but maybe we've taken it too far. As a country we're letting it get to us; we're all too ready to badmouth the other side, too willing to gloss over the splinters in our own eye. And it's not necessarily an issue with the system itself: people naturally align with others of a like mind, no matter the topic. I think it's a mentality problem. In my shamelessly pretentious quote of the week, Addison says it best. When we draw these uncross-able lines in the sand, we cannot help but begin to view those on the other side as something essentially opposed to our well-being, as something to be overcome, surmounted, defeated. It bereaves them of their humanity, and ourselves of our empathy. That's not progress, and it's not democracy; it's Civil War, and I find it strange that so many are will to treat it as such: a fight to the death, Thunder Dome-style.
Aight, rant over. I'll part with this thought: if there's one thing I've learned from Game of Thrones, which I've come to regard as the great, cultural allegory of our time--the Gospel by George--it's that the world is never so black and white as Right or Left. You may hate the Lannisters, but not all of them are Cersei's; there are Tryion's on both sides, if you're willing to look.
Thomas out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)