My Inklings of Coherence

Meandering to the beat of a different drummer, these are my thoughts. If you are offended or angered by this blog, or feel it is of low-quality, please accept a full refund of your contribution.

Monday, April 25, 2005

400 Channels and nothings on?!?

When I was growing up, we were one of the few people being left behind by the cable television craze. We didn't get full-time cable until I was like 13 I think. That meant anytime I wanted to watch Bozo the Clown and the GI Joe cartoon on the great WGN Superstation, that meant I had to go all the way to my boy David's house. While it wasn't a case of my parents being techno-phobes (my dad was one of the first to bring home the wonder that was the Beta-max video player complete with remote control with 8-foot wire), no it was more of a protection against the hedonism of MTV which I'm sure they believed controlled everything on the cable box.

Well, eventually we eroded their parental need for protection, and the beauty of 60 channels graced our television. Well, 59 actually because my parents were able to comfort themselves by having MTeVil blocked out with a filter. Thus, their cherubs were kept unsoiled from the likes of Pauly Shore, Kurt Loder, MTV Raps and the like. (How do I know about them anyway? Thanks David!)

Why bring this up now? Because I now have digital cable. Yes, part of me would like to think that I have done the whole cool rebellion thing and gone completely overboard with what my parents denied me. But, apparently I am the child of my parents because I have digital cable, without premium channels. HBO? no. Bravo Network? sure. Showtime? no. The Game Show Network? of course. Cinemax? Absolutely not. Noggin? Certainly. The cool channels that carry every single live sporting event from around the world, 24/7? No, not here. The Black College Football Classic Channel? Yep, right here.

So while I may pay the extra $50 a month to have 400 channels, its back to ABC, NBC, CBS and FOX to see what's on tonight. You could say that when it comes to cable tv, I ponied up the big bucks for the wonder that is the Beta-max. My dad would be proud.

Saturday, April 16, 2005

And whose BRILLIANT idea was this?

Do you ever find yourself knee deep in something you really don't want to even be ankle deep in and look around and say, "Whose brilliant idea was this?"

This is an excellent way to begin the process of shifting blame or assigning responsibility for an endeavor that has gone horribly awry, even if its not even done yet. However, this only works when there is someone else available to take the fall. Whether it be co-worker, colleague, neighbor, friend, parent, spouse or 3-year-old son, if you can figure out a way to assign them ownership of the idea that got you into the mess, things start looking up. But--

If you are the genious who came up with the plan, you are stuck. And asking this question can only cause the immediate introspection and realization that--


I had one of these moment this past week. Let me correct that, I had another one of these moments this week. No, wait, let me try that again: I continually have these moments, but I would like to fill this particular blog space with what happened to me this week. Yeah, that's better.

While it would be entirely possible to hide behind this electronic curtain and allow the world to believe that yes, I am regularly called to stand in for Mr. Universe for his photo shoots on the cover of GQ, truth is I am more likely to be called to stand in as the "before" picture in the latest infomercial from Chuck Norris and the former Mrs. Billy Joel.

My struggles with my weight, or excess thereof, and my physique, or lack thereof, have been a lifetime affair. I know there is a future blog extolling the joys of school clothes shopping in the "Husky" section of Sears, but I will have to wait until my therapist clears me for that one. But lately, I have been making some strong decisions about addressing this issue. Notice I said decisions, not actions.

Well, somebody had the "brilliant idea" that I should act upon one of these decisions and get out and excercise. And that the form of excercise should be joining the weekly pick-up games of basketball at church on Wednesday night. Now this isn't too far out there for me. I am a sports fanatic and love to actually play most of them. My prowess on the Junior Varsity baseball team in high school is legendary (Future blog: George Warren, and what he cost the world). I am a regular in the annual softball, volleyball and basketball tournaments at church. And I take them seriously, you don't get technical fouls called on you in church basketball if you are just there to enjoy the fellowshipping.

So I made my way to the church gym Wednesday night. Upon arrival, I realized: a. I haven't exerted much in the way of physical activity in probably a year, and b. I haven't touched a basketball in probably twice that. So when I get there and see 9 guys, average age of 24, average weight of, well about my dinner portion for that night, I started to think "And whose BRILLIANT idea was this?"

Well, with 9 guys already there, my presence made 10, which meant 5 on 5. Now, they had started playing about 30 minutes before I arrived, so I figured they were probably good for one, maybe two more games. I thought, "I can fake it for one game. I can play tough defense and never ever shoot for one game. I can make this." Well, after the 2nd game, when everybody else was loosening up for the 3rd and I was trying hard not to throw up on the court, I was beginning to realize the full extent of what I had gotten into.

I will give those guys credit, the actually tried to talk me into staying for the 3rd game. I know it was because I was the one to even the teams, even though half way through the 2nd game I was presented with a pink jersey with the name "Liability" on the back. And you know what? I stayed. I believed those lying, no good, small waisted, toned legged, ab having, child free boys when they said it would just be one more game to 11. Well, that last game to 11 turned into a game to 21 to be followed by one more last game. Did I stay for that last game? Well, I figured I could no longer feel my legs, my arms were useless (although after watching me attempt to shoot, one could argue they were useless to begin with) and my body had miraculously figured out a way to survive without oxygen, so why the heck not. My only real aspiration in that last game was that I would either have a full blown heart attack or allow somebody to break my leg so that I could be carted off heroically in an ambulance and have my embarrassment from the previous two hours erased by sympathy.

So to sum up: when you get yourself into something where the idea of a major physical injury or catastrophe is the best case scenario for the end, you must ask yourself, "and whose BRILLIANT idea was this?"

Oh yeah: mine.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Well world, here I am

I have now joined the blogging world. I'm sure those closest to me will be glad to know that they will no longer be the sole sounding boards for my ramblings and incoherence.

I am not sure if the world is ready for me. But look out, cause here I come.

I'll be gentle.