I love the NFL Draft. There, I said it. I know what many people are probably thinking right now: based upon the kind of person they think I am (and they're usually right), and the fact that I once went on a diatribe specifically denouncing the folly of the NFL Draft, that statement should make no sense on a logical level.
It does, though. Allow me to explain what I honestly am thinking the weekend of the NFL Draft (from here on out ending in an exclamation point!). One, I want to know who my team, the Chicago Bears have decided is worth the effort of procuring into a talent worthy of the world's highest level of American football (played in America, shockingly). So far, I have noticed that they are addressing needs that surfaced throughout a lackluster 7-9 campaign last year, one that was especially frustrating coming off of the 2006 season that saw Rex Grossman lose the Super Bowl.
On a side note, does anyone else think that Brian Urlacher and the rest of the Chicago defense should have gotten one free kick to Rex Grossman's ass after that Super Bowl? Hell, for that matter, let's let the entire o-line get in on the action too. Rex Grossman has carried the banner quite well in the last few seasons as far as powerfully underwhelming quarterbacks. The list is almost as long as powerfully underwhelming Chicago Cubs pitchers, and that's especially inexcusable because there's five pitchers in a starting rotation. The Bears can only have three, and usually only one or two ever sees significant time. In trademark Bear fashion, however, they keep pouring money into Grossman like a 85-year-old widow pouring her pension into a slot machine at an Indian casino. Gah.
One more side note: Brian Urlacher wants a better contract. The Bears might not give it to him, despite the fact that they've labeled him a franchise player. So it could be possible that the Bears will let Brian Urlacher, a future Hall-of-Famer, go somewhere else... but they'll stand behind Rex Grossman. Welcome to Chicago Bear fanhood. Also, it's kind of funny that when I typed "Urlacher" into the spell-checker, it came back with "Bellyacher" as a possible option. How deliciously coincidental.
Anyway, the other reason I keep up on the NFL Draft! is because I want to see if anyone from the University of Northern Iowa will get drafted. Granted, this doesn't happen often, and I usually don't need to check on this aspect until well into Sunday afternoon. But I'm just saying... one of these days it's going to happen again.
But back to my original point. The NFL Draft! has made itself felt in the hearts of football dipshits everywhere. ESPN calls them "hardcore fans," but this is usually only during the duration of the NFL Draft! and it's subsequent promotions. I'm sorry, I have to refer to these people as dipshits. You can make as big of a deal as you want about signing some completely unproven prospect, but the fact is he might be a total douchebag that you just poured 30 million guaranteed into. You have a pretty good idea that some guys are going to do well. You have a pretty good idea that some guys are going to flame out worse than a drunk pilot at an air show. Ryan Leaf? Who the fuck was that guy? He played for Washington State? What the hell of have they done? He passed for 3,000+ yards? So did Ty Detmer. Ty Fucking Detmer.
Another side note: here's a tip, NFL scouts: if a guy passed for more than 5,000 yards in a single season, I'm willing to bet he's a going to be a cumstain when he reports for camp. Why? Product of the system. Come on, work with me here. Show me a quarterback who passes for 5,000 yards in a season and I'll show you a pissed-off and scorned halfback and a defense so inept that they should probably be wearing tinfoil pirate hats and speaking in tongues.
But you can't stop the NFL Draft!, so don't even try. Too many people these days want to pass off promotional tidbits they learned from Darth Kiper, Jr. as knowledge. You can be sitting at a bar, chatting with your friend about the upcoming season, and some guy you don't know will sidle up and want to join the conversation. If he interjects with "you really think Glen Dorsey can make an immediate impact?" my friend, you have just scored a new drinking buddy. If he responds with "Glen Dorsey will save the Kansas City Chiefs!" you should probably move to another bar. This man is a product of ESPN's hype machine, which is almost Orwellian in its ability to tell people they're being educated about sports when essentially ESPN just wants them to buy more shit or watch more useless speculation passed off as "expert analysis." Just say no, for Christ's sake.
And that, my friends, is the NFL Draft! in a nutshell. A similar beast would be all these shit-smellers who consider themselves "recruiting gurus" in the college ranks, but they are far worse. That's a rant for another time, but I'll say this: at least in the NFL Draft! people can talk about how much they're being signed for monetarily.
To recap: the NFL Draft! should simply be a draft, nothing more. To cover the event for the whole weekend is absurd, stupid, and breeds a generation of hopeless knuckle-dragging sports twats who probably smell like stale pee and are at least fifty pounds overweight. Thank you for your time.
4.27.2008
4.25.2008
At Least I Don't Have Scurvy
All right, let's get one thing straight. For those of you who know me, you probably know a few things: some of you were starting junior high the year I started going to college. Get your jollies from that as long as you'd like. We all make choices we wish we could have back if given a second chance. There. Feel better? No? I can wait.
Second, there's a few of you who seem to think attempting to verbally sabotage my looks is going to have some sort of effect on me. Think again, sphincter. First of all, you can try to bring me down as much as you can. You WILL fail. I know in my heart of hearts that I am the most attractive, suave, interesting human being I know. Oh? You'd like to point out the fact that I'm probably fat to look at if I have no clothes on? There are people out there who could confirm your assumption. You know what? I still don't care.
And therein lies the problem. In this world of self-image, self-esteem, self-affirmation, and self-pleasure (I wrote the book on that one), it can be hard to know where you stand. Allow me to tell you all what I think the right amount of self-confidence is:
If you don't think you are the greatest thing to ever grace the planet earth, just get the fuck out.
Don't get ahead of me on this.
You see, no one is going to do you any real favors by telling you how awesome they think you are. The fact is that anytime anyone has to reaffirm you themselves, they kind of just lost some respect for you. If you can convince others that you are the bomb-diggity or whatever you kids are saying these days, they will likely believe it without them ever having to tell you. Sure, some people will think you're an asshole, but fuck them. They've got their own 300-pound, over-eating demons to worry about.
To recap: Satan is not a woman in a beautiful red dress to most. Maybe some, but not most. No, Satan is a grossly obese, whiny cunt-stain who just wants you to join him on the couch so you can eat buttered Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies and watch episodes of Rock of Love. Don't give in. Satan is a twat. You are not.
Second, there's a few of you who seem to think attempting to verbally sabotage my looks is going to have some sort of effect on me. Think again, sphincter. First of all, you can try to bring me down as much as you can. You WILL fail. I know in my heart of hearts that I am the most attractive, suave, interesting human being I know. Oh? You'd like to point out the fact that I'm probably fat to look at if I have no clothes on? There are people out there who could confirm your assumption. You know what? I still don't care.
And therein lies the problem. In this world of self-image, self-esteem, self-affirmation, and self-pleasure (I wrote the book on that one), it can be hard to know where you stand. Allow me to tell you all what I think the right amount of self-confidence is:
If you don't think you are the greatest thing to ever grace the planet earth, just get the fuck out.
Don't get ahead of me on this.
You see, no one is going to do you any real favors by telling you how awesome they think you are. The fact is that anytime anyone has to reaffirm you themselves, they kind of just lost some respect for you. If you can convince others that you are the bomb-diggity or whatever you kids are saying these days, they will likely believe it without them ever having to tell you. Sure, some people will think you're an asshole, but fuck them. They've got their own 300-pound, over-eating demons to worry about.
To recap: Satan is not a woman in a beautiful red dress to most. Maybe some, but not most. No, Satan is a grossly obese, whiny cunt-stain who just wants you to join him on the couch so you can eat buttered Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies and watch episodes of Rock of Love. Don't give in. Satan is a twat. You are not.
4.02.2008
One Last Effort
If there's one thing I've learned in my time on this earth, it's that people are pretty much hopeless. You need not look any further than fans of Larry the Cable Guy or Dane Cook for affirmation of this sad truth. I've been alive long enough that I'm near the halfway point of existence, and that's sobering. It means that I have yet to make a mark that I consider satisfactory. Some of you can try and convince me that I've affected you somehow, but that's a load of crap because two things have not happened: I have not flown first class, and I have not had a threesome (or possibly more, I'm not picky). I know that you all think I'm joking when I use one or both of those as benchmarks, but trust me: anyone who has scored a threesome has done something right in their life and should feel proud.
Back to my original point, however. Imagine you are on a date, and this conversation happens:
Person one: "So, tell me a little about yourself."
Person two: "Well, I'm really into dance music, and I love the works of Danielle Steele."
Two things here. First, if you are a guy and a woman has ever said the preceeding sentence to you, RUN THE FUCK AWAY. If you are a woman and a man has said that to you, RUN AWAY EVEN FASTER. Second, you haven't said a God damned thing about who you are. You've merely told me things that you do for fun. Every single asshole on earth has said this. Whether you are an avid fan of Tila Tequila or Kurt Vonnegut, you have tried to pass these interests off as a personality trait.
Now, therein lies the problem. I know people who consider themselves big fans of Chuck Palahniuk. Some of them are good people, and some of them should be beaten to death with rotten deer corpses. That doesn't define the kind of person you are. It may say that you enjoy reading fiction about people who are impossibly fucked-up and look down on you, the reader, for it. That's it. There's nothing on the inside jacket of a Curious George book saying "All readers of this book are inquisitive by nature, and enjoy rough bondage during sex." To be fair, though, it would kick ass if they did.
Basically, I'll find out enough about your tastes as I get to know you better. I know people who enjoyed the movie "Glory Road" and while I think that particular film is abysmally stupid and obtuse, I'm not going to immediately file fans of the film as abysmally stupid or obtuse. They'll do that on their own. Want to know what will happen if you fall victim to pidgeonholing people based on their interests?
THIS.
That's right, you become a PhD whose doctorate is cleary in Lossofperspectiveology. Oh, and my sincerest apologies to Joseph Campbell. I'm sure you didn't want to get drug into all of this.
Back to my original point, however. Imagine you are on a date, and this conversation happens:
Person one: "So, tell me a little about yourself."
Person two: "Well, I'm really into dance music, and I love the works of Danielle Steele."
Two things here. First, if you are a guy and a woman has ever said the preceeding sentence to you, RUN THE FUCK AWAY. If you are a woman and a man has said that to you, RUN AWAY EVEN FASTER. Second, you haven't said a God damned thing about who you are. You've merely told me things that you do for fun. Every single asshole on earth has said this. Whether you are an avid fan of Tila Tequila or Kurt Vonnegut, you have tried to pass these interests off as a personality trait.
Now, therein lies the problem. I know people who consider themselves big fans of Chuck Palahniuk. Some of them are good people, and some of them should be beaten to death with rotten deer corpses. That doesn't define the kind of person you are. It may say that you enjoy reading fiction about people who are impossibly fucked-up and look down on you, the reader, for it. That's it. There's nothing on the inside jacket of a Curious George book saying "All readers of this book are inquisitive by nature, and enjoy rough bondage during sex." To be fair, though, it would kick ass if they did.
Basically, I'll find out enough about your tastes as I get to know you better. I know people who enjoyed the movie "Glory Road" and while I think that particular film is abysmally stupid and obtuse, I'm not going to immediately file fans of the film as abysmally stupid or obtuse. They'll do that on their own. Want to know what will happen if you fall victim to pidgeonholing people based on their interests?
THIS.
That's right, you become a PhD whose doctorate is cleary in Lossofperspectiveology. Oh, and my sincerest apologies to Joseph Campbell. I'm sure you didn't want to get drug into all of this.
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