Self Conscious, the J Eric Miller blog

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

Football. Baseball. It’s Goin’ Rain. Quiet Desperation? Bad Cops. Who Won the Election.

--A friend watches MNF with me.

Why is he [the player] using the telephone? she wants to know.
When a player scores a touchdown, I tell her, they allow him to call his parents.
Really? That’s wonderful.

And the innocence of her ability to believe my answer, to believe that players are encouraged to celebrate key moments with calls to family, tickles me.

--Says Keyshawn Johnson of female report Pam Oliver, who he accuses of misreporting a sideline situation, "I almost wanted to get on a plane, find where she is at, and sit her down and spank her with a ruler really." Naturally this is some big scandal. Why it should be is beyond me. Just ask McLintock.

Seriously, I’m not sure it was an awful or even that sexist thing to say. Take out the word “ruler” and it would be a little more questionable, but still, not a big deal.

Anyway, Pam came back with an equally well thought out retort. She promises that if Keyshawn ever tires to spank her, she'll "...punch him in the face." Glad all those years of broadcast school paid off. --Another sports scandal: a Red Sox players revealed a team ritual of drinking a shot of bourbon before all the last six games in the playoffs and world series.

Naturally, everybody is up in arms about this too.

And why?

They aren’t flying airplanes.

--Each morning when I wake up it sounds as if it is raining, and no matter how many times since I’ve moved to this apartment I realize that this is not true, I never remember that upon the first moment of awakening.

Perhaps it is the ceiling fan. Or the venting system outside my window.

Or maybe it is that I have a nihilistic frame of mind and am ever vigilant for the end of the rainbow covenant and the beginning of the final flood.

--I realize after my run that we don’t remember pain properly. We only know when we’re in it. When I put on my shoes, when I go out the door, it is impossible for me to really imagine how awful I’ll feel coming back through it.

No wonder it so hard to learn our lessons.

--There are the desperate moments. You’re aware of all your muscles. Your can feel your heart in all your chest. The package that you are will keep together on the outside, but what is happening within? What does it mean when you feel your blood rushing? When you hear your eyelids blink?

--Watched Black Rain. Good role for Douglas, and Andy Garcia decapitation scene is actually moving. One of my favorite not-so-good cop films.

Top five:
1. Year of the Dragon. Why this is not out on dvd, I have no idea.
2. To Live and Die in LA William J Peterson way before CSI.
3. Bad Lieutenant. Harvey Kietel’s penis gets more screen time than Ron Jermey’s usually averages, but it’s still an interesting movie.
4. Black Rain. Makes me want to cut off pink and offer as a tribute to somebody.
5. Dark Blue. The dialogue is off but the riot scenes are a trip down memory lane. Oh, nostalgia.

--I know who is going to win the election:
A man who couldn't care less about the Palestinians

and a man who thinks it says something about him that he can shoot birds out of the sky with a shotgun.

You've got to love the most recent South Park: giant douche or turd sandwhich...?