The Lead Cox and the Skankees

Since my departure from the land of Provo to a place that can (at least a little bit) appreciate baseball, I've found myself thinking about the knuckleball more and more. It's a magnificent pitch that, when thrown correctly can keep hitters bent over like Paris Hilton at her 18th birthday party. It's also a great pitch for guys like me with little to no arm strength over long periods of throwing.

My thoughts on the knuckleball naturally lead me to the greatest knuckleballer of our generation, if not of all time, Tim Wakefield (which is a great name for a knuckleballer, by the way). Like any pitcher, he has his good outings and his bad, but he has consistently won ball-games into and through his 40s and probably still has a few good years left.

This got me to thinking: "Wow, I'd really like Wakefield a lot more if he didn't play for the soulless Lead Cox." (Red Sox, for those less baseball inclined.) I've found over the years that my propensity to hate the Red Sox has grown exponentially over the past few years. In the late '90s and early 2000s I was a Red Sox fan by default because of my undying hatred for the New York Yankees. By the time 2004 rolled around I found myself as a sympathizer for a team that had not won a World Series in over 90 years. By 2007, I was more or less neutral on the topic, seeing as the Red Sox had won a championship about 3 years before and the Yankees hadn't won one since 2000. It wasn't until October of 2007 that I found myself in any real conflict. With my Colorado Rockies in the World Series facing off against the Red Sox, it was necessary to root against them, but I found no real necessity for hatred.

And them my eyes were opened. After the 2007 World Series, I found myself in reflection on my position concerning the Red Sox. It was at that point that I realized that the Boston Red Sox of the late 2000s were the exact same Yankees team that I had hated about 10 years earlier. I'm sure that if I went into downtown Boston and said that the Red Sox were exactly like the Yankees, there would be a mob ready to crucify me; and to those people I say, "Eph you raw!" The phrase, "This team is a maniacal baseball baron that throws obscene quantities of money at high-dollar free-agents in order to worship the idol gods of championship rings and World Series trophies with absolutely no regards to morals or the spirit of the game," could be easily applied to either team interchangeably.

This is not to say that I will now go out and buy Yankees apparel and throw up an A-Rod Fathead in my room. I still hate the Yankees with a fiery, burning passion from deep within my soul. They are still the same team as they were 10 years ago, just with less firepower. George Steinbrenner got senile for a year or two there before handing over the team to his sons. In a few years, they'll return, more or less, to their maniacal, idol-worshiping ways.

The bottom line? I hate both of these teams, and wish that both of them would go 0-162. Sadly, this isn't possible considering that they play one another 18 times a year. I guess I'll just have to settle for 9-153 apiece.

Things that make me swear

Before yesterday, I had found that there were about 3 things that made me swear, almost regardless of the situation. These are: Windows Vista, n00b$, and mass transit. Allow me to elaborate.

It might not be Windows Vista; in fact, it probably isn't, but Vista is just the most recent manifestation of it. Whenever I make attempts to used computers for anything other than screwing around on teh interblags I generally end up with a steady stream of expletives flowing from my lips. Case and point: CE En 270-Computational Methods. This class involved using the microsoft office programs excel and visual basic for applications to create spreadsheets. I'm glad that I had to take the tests for this class in a very public place with high Mormon density, the CAEDM lab. That's the only thing that kept the expletives quiet instead of being shouted at the top of my lungs.

When I say "n00b$" you should know that I am refering to college freshman, and anyone who's still in high school, who happens to be on a college campus. I generally call these pre-n00b$. The problem with n00b$ is that there are 7000 of them each September, and not a single one of them has any idea where they are going or what they are trying to accomplish. This last year, I was living at the Riviera Apartments, which is incredibly close to campus. The problem here is that one living at the Riv generally has to cross the dreaded... Helaman Halls. At the beginning of last school year, I had already moved all my stuff into my apartment at the Riv, and was all ready to go after just taking care of some things on campus. Just a tip, don't go into the ID office anytime before the first day of class... probably a few days after that too. I went in there to acquire an off-campus meal plan. Why, you ask?... to pick up lunch at the Cougareat when I feel the need, but back on task. After waiting for an hour and a half amongst eleventy trillion n00b$ I made it up to the desk and the following conversation ensued:
ID Center Lady: "What's your NetID?"
Me: "Uhh... I'm not a freshman, actually."
IDCL: "Oh [that's refreshing] what can I do for you then?"
This and going into the bookstore before the first day of class, has caused me to swear at the n00b$ ever since.

Mass transit. It's pretty self-explanitory. The bus doesn't come when you want it too, of even when they say it will. You have to make 17 transfers to go more than a mile. It takes a month of Sundays to make a journey that should take 45 minutes by car. Most of my "company" on my bus journeys have also been Mormon college students. I can only imagine what it would be like to ride with the degenerates that ride busses in places other than Provo. Moral of the story: I would pave paradise and put up a parking lot... and an 8-lane mega-freeway.

Until yesterday, I really thought that these were the only things that would really make me swear. Yesterday, my father and I took a motorcyling/shooting trip up to North Park, Colorado... which is indeed the converse of South park. :) Anywho, when we got to the place where we were headed, and started unloading all of our crap, I found another thing that will make me swear. The scourge on human existence know as the mosquito. Denver, CO and vicinity have recently been stealing some climate from Seattle, WA, and as such, there has been a bunch of standing water, and thus, the dreaded scourge of mosquitos. I they had been flies, I would have honestly believed that we were defecate... they were on us that bad. Just trying to swat at them sucked bad enough. Then one gets in your ear and you smack yourself clean across the face. I woke up this morning honestly expecting to see my own handprint on my left cheek, but alas 'twas not so. The bottom line: When mosquitos swarm, I swear, loudly and boisterously... thank goodness for Deep Woods Off.

So, I guess, now I'm gonna need to say that there are four things that cause me to swear... and that I really need to avoid those things.

My Parents are Insane

Disclaimer: You might read this and say, "I've met his mom, and she's a really nice lady, what's his problem?" But I assure you that she's been much nicer to you than she has to me or my dad, because she's more concerned with what you think.

Anywho, today I went to the funeral for one of my friends dads. It was a very nice service and everyone involved said very nice things about the deceased. But it got me thinking, "If my parents were to end up dead for whatever reason, would I really have anything nice to say about them?" I've now thought about it for a while, and I really haven't come up with anything.

So here's about what I'd say about my mom:

Charlotte Sue Schaffer White, born July 30th, 1956, deceased (insert date here). My mother taught by example. Unfortunately, it was a consistently bad example. Honestly, when I have an important decision to make, I think of what my mom would do, and then do the exact opposite. She was never tested, but I think she might have been borderline retarded. Saying that she spent money like a drunken sailor on a three-day pass would be a gross understatement. One time we passed a guy driving a Corvette in the opposing lane, when she said, "Well, I think that to be able to get a Corvette, you kinda have to do something wrong." To which I replied, "Mom with all the money you've charged on credit cards, you could have afforded a Corvette!" We then discussed the price of a Corvette and she confirmed that she indeed could have. In all honesty, my mom was never all that malevolent to me; as my dad said I was her "Golden Boy" and could do no wrong. But she treated my dad like a three-day used tampon that had given her TSS. She criticized literally everthing that he ever did. She even told him that his breathing did not meet her exceptionally high standards. The way she treated him probably caused more harm to me than any other single factor in my life... though this could be disputed considering the things she said to me that I dare not repeat over this pulpit...

For my dad:

Gary James White, born May 10th 1962, deceased, (insert date here). The great irony of my dad's life was that he spent his life at home working hard, and his life at work hardly working. When he was at home, he'd wake up at 4 am and work his @$$ off until 6 pm when he would promptly pass out in his uncomfortable chair. When he was at work he'd do his best impression of Wally from Dilbert; avoiding being seen or heard, and working. The thing that was really sad to me is that even when he was trying to have fun he was working his @$$ off. Him and I would go motorcycle riding, and he would ride until his legs and derriere were falling off (even though he rode a Honda, so it wasn't that hard). We'd go duck hunting until either he got a limit of ducks, or I passed out, whichever came first. There are some good things I can say about my dad. He was one of the smartest men I knew and taught me incredible lessons about planning ahead, but in the end, the thing which I will remember most is his die-hard tenacity which was much more of curse than a blessing.

I realized that this is an unfortunate commentary on life, but it's been burning on my mind for the last 8 hours, and was going to make it out one way or another. I realize that they have done the best they could with what they had to work with, but that doesn't make a very good eulogy. :P

Worst Ad Campaign... Ever!

I really hope it's not me, but I think that Quizno's ad campaign for the "Toasty Torpedo" is about the stupidest thing I've ever seen in my life. First of all, the talking grill with a voice similar to James Earl Jones is speaking seductively to a 23 year old, male Quizno's worker. This alone is enough to make me vomit the entire contents of my digestive system. If I ever do walk into a Quizno's again, I'll demand that my sandwich is kept at least ten feet away from the grill, for fear of contracting gonhorrea. But this isn't even the worst part of it. They are quite literally passing off their "Toasty Torpedo" as a phallus. You might try to argue this point, but I would just respond "Put it in my Scott," in my best James Earl Jones voice over voice. Quizno's has joined the ranks of Enzyte, Extenze, Maxoderm, Viagra, Levitra, Cialis, and Every American Beer company in taking advantange of men's sexual insecurities and their uh, ahem... size, if you will. Quizno's has decided that an 18" sandwich that entirely resembles a phallus will sell. I can't speak for all men, but such ad campaigns might work for the aforementioned medications and beverages, but not for sandwiches. I can honestly say that the last thing I think when I'm hungry is, "Hmm... I think I'm gonna put an 18" sandwich that looks suspiciously like a phallus in my mouth. And hey, why not wipe down the deep-voiced grill with a chamois." This ad campaign might work in say, San Francisco, Key West, and New York City, but elsewhere, I think Quizno's would be well-advised to remove it. But maybe that's just me.

The Perfect Storm... of Dating

Recently I've been pondering the lack of any real of meaningful communication with the opposite sex which has seemed to be an ever-present part of my life as of late. There are many fairly obvious reasons for this. One is that I see about five times as many men as women on any given day. Another is that my mother's paranoia over... virtually everything has lead to a certain distrust of people in general, but mostly of women. Yet I've found that there is a very simple set of factors which acts as a barrier between myself and any person who I'd want to meet, but most especially those of the female persuasion.

This simple barrier, is actually a combination of three even simpler concepts which form a "Perfect Storm," if you will, of communication barrier. The first element of this 1-2...3 punch is the fact that I'm part Indian (feather, not dot). It's not that women who I meet are necessarily racist in any way, but the fact that I'm part Indian gives me somewhat of a somber facial expression. I like to call it the "disapproving scowl." I have to consistently tell people that I'm indeed not angry or sad, but when I relax my face, I just look like I am. This "disapproving scowl" tends to intimidate most everyone who doesn't know me very well, but especially those of the "fairer" sex.

The second concepts operates along the same lines and has similar pretenses to the first. I think it's safe to say that I am quite large in stature. At 6'2" and 220 (or so) pounds I'm by no stretch a small person. This gives me the appearance that I could easily knock your lights out if I was so inclined... and the disapproving scowl from part 1 gives me the air of being so inclined. The combination of these two alone would be somewhat of a disadvantage, but could be easily remedied given the proper attributes.

Sadly, I do not currently possess said attributes. The primary attribute of which I am thinking is that of being outgoing. The first two obstacles would not be too difficult to overcome if the man who had them also possessed an ability to make small-talk with anyone and everyone he meets, as well as the inclination to do it. I, on the other hand, am not found in possession of such personality traits. I tend to be a fairly shy person who is slow to "warm up" to people. I also really don't respond that well to pressure. When I know that the remainder of my natural life as well as any life to be hoped for afterward is on the line, I'm not incredibly likely to perform all that well.

All this adds up to give me the air of a guy who looks big, angry, standoffish and disinterested. Anyone who knows me knows that that's not really who I am. I'm actually a really mellow and approachable guy if you'll give me the time to get to know you. I'm not entirely sure what the final solution to my dating perfect storm is, but I'm pretty sure I'll make it through to the end.

New Baseball Concept

So recently I've been able to view lots of baseball over the past few weeks, and have thought of a new and extraordinarily offensive new idea. Four strikeouts in a single game has come to be know as a "Golden Sombrero"... along with other variations like the "Bronze Sombrero" for three strikeouts and "Platinum Sombrero" for five strikeouts in a single game.

Now this new idea requires a little bit of background information for those who are not entirely familiar with the game. When a player strikes out, the symbol "K" is used on the scorecard to denote such. My new and revolutionary baseball lingo idea is to call three strikeouts in a row a "White Hood." Why you ask? This is where the offensive part comes in (especially when you consider my last post.) Since a strikeout is denoted by the letter K three strikeouts in a row would result in "KKK" being emblazoned on that players slot on the scorecard. Thus three strikeouts in a row would be called a "White Hood." :D

Obamanation

Recently, I've been thinking about the Presidency of Barack Obama thus far. As a relative conservative, I've found that I cannot entirely agree with many of his ideologies. I mean, the 2008 election was the first presidential election in which I was eligible to vote... and I definitely voted for John McCain. (At least partially because I wanted to see Tina Fey do impersonations of Sarah Palin for four years, but that's beside the point.) I've been comtemplating the presidency of the left-handed black man known as Barack Obama, and have been thinking that he hasn't really been a bad President... though he really hasn't been all that good of a president either. Much of his administration so far has focused on repairing and maintaining middle-east and Muslim relations. His actual policy and decisions have been questionable at best. He has made great claims about pulling US troops out of Iraq and Afghanistan, and did in some small degree for some period of time, but has now begun to resend many of the same soldiers which have already served one or more tours of duty. He has also many more idealistic claims which he has yet to deliver. This is not entirely to say that he won't, or is incapable of delivering on such promises, but that he has thus far made a habit of sitting striaght up on the fence of indecision. The true litmus test for President Obama will come when he has to make a decision which will undeniably change the course for the United States of America.

The true point of this entry is not merely to rag on Obama for not making any ground shaking decisions, but more to reflect on the nature of the presidency of the United States. President Obama has managed to impart a sense of security to the American people and people's all over the world. This sense of security may or may not be warranted, but it is important for all the people of the United States and the world to have some sort of feeling of security and consistency in a constantly changing world. The point of this entry is to explore the role of a President's ability to BS not only the people which he leads, but also people and leaders all over the world. Throughout recent history those which have been considered to be "good" Presidents were those who were most able to convince America that all was well, when the $h*7 was actually hitting the fan. Likewise, those who would be called "bad" Presidents would be those who weren't as skilled in PR. Allow me to explain with a few examples:

"Good" Presidents

Ronald Reagan: Considered by most conservatives to be the best president of all time. He combined good decision making skills with an incurable optimism, and a natural talent for acting that could could up the most dire cases of the defecate hitting the oscillating device.

Bill Clinton: Actually accomplished very little as President. Along with Alan Greenspan managed to ride a wave of economic prosperity for the ages. He was also the master of BS, managing to convince the world that "[He] did not have sexual relations with that woman." And then later on that he was actually sorry about it. See also, "That depends on the meaning of the word, 'is'"

"Bad" Presidents

"W"-Took most of the monkey defecate left for him by the last 5 or 6 Presidents. His relative incompetency combined with his entire incapability of articulation made many refer to him as one of the worst Presidents of all time.

"Lame Brain" Johnson-I'd like to think of him as Bush v.0. In LBJ's case, his predecessors were mostly competent, but like "W" he went into a conflict which was doomed to fail. His inability to correctly manage the Vietnam War could easily be chronicled as the worst in US History. Much of this failure was due to his absolute disclosure of every event which went on in the war. His inablility to bring comfort to US citizens lead to a mission which was bound to fail.

In all, I suppose that Barack Obama's ability to lay down BS to Americans and all the world will be a principle if not the only asset which he brings to the Presidency. To determine whether Obama is a good President, we will need to observe his conduct and decisions in a desparate time of trial in which he is forced to "Sink or Swim" if you will. Thought his ability to convince the world that all is well, whether it is or not gives him a significant advantage.