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Welcome to my utmost random thoughts on random shit that really doesn't matter much.
This is where my mind takes a dump.
~ Sticks, Stones and Funnybones ~
Part 17 - The Stand
The Stand
Right now the world is at an absolute standstill. The Ivory Coast called of the raging civil war for a week, Trinidad & Tobago first declared a National Holiday and then a Day of National Grief instead, in England the unions are putting up websites for their members’ benefit on how to ditch work for a month and get away with it, and in Argentina they have danced in the streets for a week.
Why?
Sadly you will never get it if you’re American.
It’s the World Cup of Football – or, “soccer” as some ignorantly choose to call it. Football is more important than life, death and God to most people in the civilized world (and the uncivilized parts too, for that matter), and the World Cup is the very pinnacle of a four year qualifying ordeal that has propelled the 32 best teams in the world to dish it out for the title – for a full month of wonderful play.
To most Americans, football/soccer is that game “them skinny snaggletoothed Brits” play as they “chase a goddamn ball around on a lawn”.
Not so… Football/soccer is the Game of the Gods. The World Cup is the very apocalypse of the sporting world, returning in 4-year cycles to rewrite history and dispose of past and former deities and world orders. The Gods themselves play the game; Ronaldinho, Crespo, Luca Toni, Rooney and Drogba - and humanity is confined to the stands as a puny spectator in this Battle for World Domination, holding its collective breath for the outcome.
There are some requirements you need to meet to properly appreciate football/soccer:
1. You cannot have ADD
The game consists of two halves, both 45 minutes each, and it’s all continuous play with no natural breaks that would allow you to go get another hot dog or in which to cut to commercial. For that reason alone most Americans are disqualified by default from participating in viewing this game. American sports are hacked up beyond any sort of sense to cater to the drooling hordes of junkfoodivores stuffing their faces, and to the commercial enterprises that have messages to display in between plays. Who in the hell can sit still for 45 whole minutes and actually follow one long on-going play? Stupid fucking European assholes.
2. You must love the Art of the Game, not the result
It’s the flow of the Beast that is the Game that should wet your senses. It is the dance of the Devil that takes you away and rips you between hope and despair. A heel-pass, a bicycle-kick and a well-balanced chip are just as important as the result. American sports are focused on instant gratification. In basketball both teams score 100 points each. Who the hell cares? In baseball there are an infinite number of innings and repetitive plays. Yawn. In American “football” there are only so many seconds available to you before you get tackled to a pulp. Ho-hum…
3. You have to be born into it.
In the rest of the world your team is your birth right. If you grow up in Hammersmith, you’re a Fulham fan. Period. Those Chelsea motherfuckers you would have rooted for if you had been born down the block are the spawn of Satan himself. Likewise you live and die in the stands as according to the sways of the game. Nothing is more important than what is going on right there and then – and in between matches during the week. When you die you’re buried in your team’s colors. Your team comes before God and government. To “sell” the team to another city is unthinkable. Could never happen. Period. It’s not a franchise. It’s a team. In America there is no team loyalty and no die hard fanaticism for a home team. That home team was somebody else’s home team three years ago. That is not loyalty. That is selling out.
So, America… just sit back and wait for the “football” season to “kick” off while the rest of the world is cracking out in seventh heaven.
(Sweden has to beat England on Tuesday to qualify for the second round. Who’s with me?)
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The Ex-Idol
Remember Ruben Studdard? No, me neither, but apparently the ex-American Idol winner from 2003 finally found a way to get rich. Since the sweaty-faced Studdard had no talents for selling records he recently sued his former manager instead, for neglect and poor financial decisions, and was awarded $2,000,000. Only in America can talent-less people go on a talent show, viewed by millions, win it, then sell nothing and sue for it.
Maybe he can ask to get the $2,000,000 in food stamps? That sounds more like a sound long-term investment for poor Ruben. Kid’s gotta eat, right?
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The Lists
Entertainment Weekly has listed the “Ten Funniest Movie Dads”. Are they running out of lists, or what? What the hell is that? What’s next? “The Ten Naughtiest Gremlins” or “The Ten Most Predictable Steven Seagal Movies”?
The best Movie Dad ever was Regan’s father in “The Exorcist”. He had the common sense to stay the fuck away from that psycho.
An EW list we will never see: “The Ten Best Bill Murray Movies Ever”. Small comfort.
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The Show
Speaking of entertainment. I find myself strangely drawn to the ever derailing train-wreck that is VH1’s “Super Group” – for all the apparent reasons. I was really excited about Sunday’s episode since, according to the trailer, Evan Seinfeld would clock Sebastian Bach in the face. Could I be lucky enough to see Evan break his “fist” on Sebastian’s teeth – thus putting this fucking “savage animal” out of its misery? Sadly it turned out to be more of a sloppy play fight between a drunk primadonna and a dwarfism-addled biker wannabe. The dwarf won. The day after Sebastian Bach cried and begged for forgiveness, apparently because his dad had died ten years earlier, or some sappy shit like that. Jesus fucking Christ. Grow a set, kid. Evan may be just as annoying as you are, but he still should have beaten the shit out of you for crying on camera. Bad ass, my ass.
Have you guys been watching this show? Please do. Between horrible rehearsals of forgotten songs (forgotten for good reasons, mind you) and nude photo shoots of chicks who put on their make up with a spatula, we are treated to virtuous words of wisdom on how to live our lives from Uncle Ted (Nugent), Uncle Evan (Seinfeld), Uncle Sebastian (Bach) and Uncle Scott (Ian). The exact guys I would always look to for tips and hints on how to cope with the dire realities of life.
Please take special note of Jason Bonham in the background, perpetually shaking his head at whatever transpires. The fucking guy is making serious cash off of his father’s estate, plus he's collecting "hired gun" employment checks from Foreigner – he probably makes more than all the rest of them combined. He can afford to laugh at their dumb asses.
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The Heretics
Famous physicist Stephen Hawking recently revealed that he was personally, and strongly, discouraged by former Pope John Paul II to attend a world seminar where the beginnings of the universe were to be discussed. Hawking, who was the main speaker, naturally attended anyway.
See how much the Catholic Church have learned since they wanted to burn Galileo at the stake – how much has changed since the execution of Bruno? Right, nothing, really. Even though the ex-Pope had earlier issued a rather belated apology for the erroneous ways of the Church back then (supposedly based on "mutual incomprehensions"), he was still condemning scientists for going about their works of unlocking the mysteries of the physics of our reality. If the Catholic Church feels so goddamn threatened by what these scientists could possibly hope to find, then what does that tell you about their own faith in the Higher Power?
The Catholic Church needs a new PR-agent. Most other faiths seamlessly incorporate new scientific finding into their beliefs, justifying it by re-interpreting cryptic passages in ancient writings. That is smart marketing. The Catholic Church keeps denying anything that sheds another scale off its serpentine powers, like a retarded 14-year old child who still believes in Santa.
God, Santa, the Easter Bunny, tooth fairies, tree spirits and Sweden winning the World Cup… it’s all just desperate fantasies to cuddle us from the harsh realities of life – while making mundane things seem more interesting than they are.
Some people say there are only one two realities: time and space.
One day I will explain to you why there is only really one reality: space. Time is but a conditioned figment of our imagination.
Amen.
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