Mea Culpa; You A Tween Sensation

"This information cannot leave this room.  Okay?  It would devastate my reputation as a dude." -  The Geek (aka Farmer Ted)

Wow!  Must be something about the month of February that has folks in full on confession mode: Would be cabinet appointees confessing to not being very good at paying their taxes, baseball stars confessing to taking the banned substances they once vehemently denied taking and husbands across America confessing to removing The Devil Wears Prada from their Netflix queues even though their wives had like a bazillion chances to see it in the theater with their girlfriends and, besides, it's running constantly on cable right now but, sure, let's waste a selection on a three year old movie that Anne Hathaway doesn't even get naked in.  Makes sense!  (CORRECTION:  Further research has unveiled this last confession not nearly as widespread as originally reported, but specific to just one household in Northern Kentucky. Currently, one very cold and disdainfully quiet household.)

Before the month closes, I would like take the lead of those before me and confess the following sin: 

I drunk downloaded on iTunes and bought Love Story by Taylor Swift.  And.  I.  Love it.

Whew.  That felt so good. 

A couple things here: 1. I was not "drunk" drunk, in that it was not alcohol that made me hit "BUY SONG."  No, it was the inebriation I always experience after activating an iTunes gift card.  When this happens I am to my iTunes account what Robert Downey Jr. once was to city streets: reckless and unpredictable. 2. I have no regrets.  It is morning and I still respect myself.

What can I say; we like what we like and nobody can truly explain why. I've rolled it back and forth in my head what it is about this tune I enjoy.  The melody is downright catchy, no question.  To say that the lyric is a bit juvenile is ridiculous since it was written by an actual juvenile (at least at the time of composition.)  And, I'm sorry, but if you're not affected in some way when the song comes out of the bridge, hits that key change and we discover that he asked her dad if he could marry her, drops to his knees and pulls out a ring then I don't wanna' know you.  I don't wanna' know you.  You kick puppies and bite the elderly.  You are soulless.

I'll take all slings; I'll take all arrows.  I'll go on record and say that this is one of the best pop songs ever recorded.  It references both Hawthorne and Shakespeare for chrissakes!  Go find that in Womanizer!

Just a final note - and this is more for my wife, but -  don't worry that the purchase of this song is the beginning of some sort of trend.  Taylor Swift is not a gateway drug to the likes of the Jonas Bros.  I've had the unfortunate experience of hearing that song Love Bug and, as far as I'm concerned, that song can go do to itself what each Jonas has sworn not to do until marriage.

  

Run With Your Own

Towards the last three or so years of living in Los Angeles, it seemed that the number of wildfires, and the destruction as a result, grew exponentially.  There was very little rain that period allowing the smallest ignition to set the parched land ablaze. Thousands of acres were decimated.

Unfortunately, on a great number of those acres sat many homes that were reduced to smoky rubble.  The news at night would feature resolute residents admitting that they knew the risk of building and living in such volatile areas but that they'd just start over, rebuild or move.  It was heartbreaking.

What I found to be less heartbreaking - not to mention inconceivable - were those few interviewed that were just downright astonished that anything like this could happen!  Shocked! that their homes, which sat on bone dry lots surrounded by bone dry trees and grass could ever fall victim to wildfires.  This never crossed their minds before they signed closing docs?  How did they not see this decision could prove tragic?  That they unwittingly put themselves in harm's way baffled me.

I was thinking of all of this last Tuesday at our basketball game as our team was - yet again - getting torched by another younger, faster and far better team; the general makeup of the teams we've seemed to face each game.  How did we not see this coming?  How did we - this cobbled together band of mid-thirties/do you have a stitch in your side too? brothers - unwittingly put ourselves in the position of going home to our wives wintry Tuesday evenings with battered egos and shin splints?  We should have known better; we are to be afforded no pity.

There was the option of running with the 35 and over teams but we decided against it despite the fact that most on our team are able to count on one hand the months ahead that would separate us each from 34.  We'll dominate that division next year! we figured.  We're gonna' skool these young bucks whose hubris surely surpasses their skillz!  What they had in strength and speed we would counter with sound fundamentals and maturity.  Alas, you win with a strong transition game and suffocating defense; not pretty chest passes - although textbook! -  and life experiences.  We've not won one game.

Due to life, at times, being cruel, a couple of bad snow storms and suspect scheduling we've had the Sisyphean task of facing the same team three of the last four games.  The margin of victory of those games combined would be an awful golf score, but, were it your IQ, would certainly get you into MENSA .  I wish you could've seen some of their fast breaks.

What I am proud of - besides our vomit not traveling any further than the backs of our throats (and, even then, it's really only bile and orange Powerade) - is that we, as a team, have not fractured despite such beat downs.  Nope.  It didn't take long into our first game to realize that we had made one horrendous mistake but, instead of taking it out on each other, decided, rather, to focus on the positive!  We were getting one terrific workout which, in turn, would only improve our physical fitness, reduce our stress and get better sleep!  We get to hang together amidst our busy schedules! 

Next season, because league rules mandate it, we'll move up to the 35 and over league and, hopefully, fair a bit better than we have at present.  As to the rest of this season, we'll remain upbeat and look at this as a chance to hone our fist tapping skills and yell encouragements like "Good shot," "Nice 'bound," and "Don't worry!  I think my wife still has the Percocet they gave her after the Cesarean!"