05 May 2008

It's a Man's World

I like men. Always have. Since I was a baby, my mother says, I have always preferred to hang out with the guys. But this isn't without its pitfalls. No matter how much a woman likes to hang out with men, she isn't one. And no matter how much a guy thinks he's modern and in touch with his feminine side, he's still a guy and thinks like a guy. We're different animals, and there is nothing wrong with that.

I have often used this as my argument against women in combat in the military. It's not that I have doubts women are capable of doing their jobs. It's because men assume certain roles and develop certain agendas, and they can't help it. And when they do this it throws everyone off their game. Again, it doesn't make them bad. It just makes them men. Recently I have solidified this theory thanks to the football forum.

It's the same situation: you have an army, if you will, of fans, allied to a certain team. Ever vigilant, they patrol the posts for trolls and interlopers from other fanbases. Like different branches of the military, they break into their own little factions vying for importance and dominance, and sometimes engage in mock battle, like the Army-Navy game. It's all very primitive and exciting! Throw a woman into the mix, and all this standard Man Business gets disrupted.

In battle, as in sports forums, men will far outnumber women. For every one woman you may have a dozen or more men. Of this dozen men, they break down roughly into four categories: He-Man Woman Haters, Casanovas, Knights in Shining Armor, and Normal People.

Get this straight right away: In a dozen men there will be no more than two Normal People. Those are the guys who treat you as a peer and go on about business in an efficient way. Of the other 10 you will have three HMWHs who, as their description suggests, hate you for your female silliness and how you damper their willingness to post about bowel movements and naked chicks. You'll have four Casanovas who imagine that you are somehow desirable (based on little to no real knowledge), and spend the day trying to virtually seduce you. The remaining three are the KSAs who rise to your defense against the HMWHs, usually to their own detriment.

Based on my own experience, it makes it difficult to just be yourself as a woman. Should you be combative and take on your critics "like a man?" Should you return the playful innuendo or not? Should you be grateful to those big brother types who want to guard you, or tell them to mind their own shops? There is no right answer. And I dare suggest that if my theory held up in a military unit you'd find quite a few men getting gunned down in not-so-friendly fire by some overwhelmed lady soldier. I maybe wrong, but I can see it happening.

Scary Fun

I was watching the remake of Dawn of the Dead again last night, and loving every second of it. I realize the zombie flick purists don't care for the remakes (and trust me, the remake of Day of the Dead is a steaming pile of feces), but I liked this one. The first time I watched it realized it was because these zombies can haul ass. They don't just wait for you to make an error in strategy and accidentally find yourself surrounded by slow and lumbering living dead; they will run you down to eat your brains. Fun stuff!

Don't get me wrong. I understand the symbolism of the slow and lumbering living dead. It suggests inescapable mortality and also the slow-but-steady decay of civilization. While I appreciate these things, that isn't why I go to a scary movie. I go to be scared. I want to be creeped out and go to bed with the lights on. I want to be afraid to walk out on the porch at night (just for a day or two). I want those feelings without having to put a lot of thought into it because a good scare makes you aware of your mortality in the best way: by taking you to the edge of it. If a movie is good enough to really put you in the moment, you will feel it. Nothing makes you feel more alive than being pushed to the edge of death. Anyone who has crawled out of a totalled car can tell you that.

And I confess the scary movie appeals to the more prurient interests as well. What is a vampire's bite if not illicit penetration with exchange of body fluid? It's bloody porno that keeps it PG-13 while still satisfying the carnal desire. At the heart of it, a good horror film should make girls squeal and jump and clutch their boyfriend's leg tightly while keeping the adrenaline pumping at a high enough rate that she will put out later. Smart boys have been taking girls to scary movies since they were invented.

04 May 2008

RIP Eight Belles

I always wanted a horse and never had one. Owning one is yet another item on the "Someday..." list. So until I have one, I indulge my equine imagination by watching the horse sale at the livestock barn or by watching horse racing. Naturally, I was watching yesterday when Eight Belles tried to become only the fourth filly to beat the boys in the Kentucky Derby.

I have been watching the Triple Crown, and primarily the Kentucky Derby, since I was a kid. I got interested by reading the Walter Farley series of Black Stallion books. On top of this, the Derby manages to combine three of my loves: sports, horses and chapeaux. And this year there was a little something extra, that being the fact that a girl was taking on the men and stood a chance to win it. I think the odds they posted at the track put Eight Belles at 12-1 just before the race, which was very respectable given that most of the field was going off at no better than 20-1 and some down in bottom-scraping 48-1 area. In the end, she placed, beating 18 of the boys and losing only to the horse that is this year's real Triple Crown threat. Good girl!

Sadly, of course, everyone now knows she broke both front legs shortly after the race was done, and was put down right there on the track. So now the questions come. Just two years after Barbaro broke a rear leg at the Preakness (and was euthanized 9 months later), people are going to start asking if horse racing is cruel. They are going to say the horse doesn't have a choice. They are going to question whether a breed of horse, with those slender and elegant legs, should be pushed to a 35 mph run carrying that much weight.

I will not fake the funk in this matter. I enjoy watching the races just like I enjoy watching football, but that doesn't mean I really know anything about it. I'll leave those questions to the experts, although I do suspect that if a half-ton animal doesn't want to race you ain't gonna make her.

The three girls who won the Derby in years past were Regret (1915), Genuine Risk (1980) and Winning Colors (1988). I expect the name Eight Belles will be just as famous in terms of fillies who ran the Derby, and famous among them all, colt or filly alike. In 134 years, she's the only horse the Derby ever lost.

29 April 2008

Playoffs? Playoffs??!!?!?

Don't bet on it, but I'd love to see it. This week the Bowl Championship Series committee is meeting and, allegedly, will discuss the possibility of a "Plus 1" championship game. This is being proposed by Southeastern Conference commissioner Mike Slive, who suggests a two-week playoff among the top four teams at the end of the regular season. Naturally this proposal would come from my conference, since we have the most recent credible team to go undefeated and get fucked out of a chance to play for the title. Oh well. I'm an Auburn fan, and as good as it has been recently, deep down we know we are born to suffer.

And suffer we will continue to do. The commissioners of the Pac-10 and Big 10 already say they will vote against any such playoffs plan, which kills the deal from the start. I sense sour grapes on the part of the Big 10, having lost two straight years in the BCS championship game to an SEC team. If they supported a playoff system, be it the Plus 1 or even my preferred Top 8 playoff, then the Buckeyes would not be able to whine that they had too long a layoff to be effective in the title game. God knows, we must preserve our excuses when possible.

So we'll be stuck with the Bull Chit Series for the foreseeable future and just hope another undefeated team isn't left to sop gravy. Maybe the Buckeyes will be happy.

It's Not Just About Ability

For the first time in 38 years, Alabama did not have a single player selected in the NFL Draft. To be quite blunt about it, Bama just hasn't had the talent. Bama homers will always think their guys are the best--just like all fans think their guys are the best--but it wasn't the case this year.

But of all the guys eligible, people had high hopes that D.J. Hall, the wide receiver, would surely go in the fourth or fifth round. He's signed as an undrafted free agent with New York now, but why didn't he get drafted, and, as a result, get the big bucks?

Rumblings on sports radio this morning suggest it is "character issues." In fact, that has been the talk about several players, not just at Alabama, but all over the place. Kids get drafted lower than their ability would dictate because most of the big ball teams are not going to invest in a punk anymore. Darren McFadden was once the predicted No. 1 overall pick, but dropped to fourth, perhaps in honor of his four illegitimate children.

After all the Michael Vick and Pacman Jones drama, not to mention the personal baby-mama-drama that so many of these guys go through, NFL teams are not just going to take a chance on guys they don't think will be reliable. And if you add a questionable work ethic into the mix, your chances of a high draft get smaller and smaller. Add a mouth to your list of problems (T.O.? Chad?) and, rather than being seen as a potential asset to a team you'll instead be seen as a potential cancer in the lockerroom.

The lesson here is plain, kids. Keep your noses clean. Do your work. Stay out of jail. Show up for practice. Don't take plays off. Wear a condom, Darren McFadden! You're under the microscope now. The money is just too big and too important to waste on you.

21 April 2008

Deep Fried Junk

I admit to eating too much junk, but even I am mesmerized by the gastronomic horror show that is a convenience mart deli.

There is one next to my office, and sometimes if there is no time to drive into town I will go there for lunch. Luckily, they have sub sandwiches available, but the big sellers are in the fried food case, sweating under heat lamps, cooked to golden brown perfection. Egg rolls, something called taquitos, potatoes, corn dogs and so on, all deep fried and ready to go. Today I discovered they have macaroni-and-cheese nuggets. Seriously.

First you take macaroni-and-cheese, which is already one of the worst things you can possibly consume, and you roll it into balls, dip them in batter and deep fry the damn things. And then, supposedly, people eat them. Probably dipped in ranch dressing.

I'm sorry, are you feeling queasy? Me too, and believe me, I have eaten plenty of junk in my day. At this point I'm thinking that not even the fair can beat deep-fried macaroni-and-cheese nuggets in the Heart Attack Inducing Foods department. Well, unless they figure out a way to serve them on a stick.

I bought a bag of cashews and called it lunch.

Milestone

Way to go, Browns fans, for reaching the milestone 500,000th post in the forum. Special props go to BigBrownNICE for hitting the mark perfectly. Additional kudos for including the name of a permanently banned, yet daily venerated, former forum regular. Nice work (NICE). It's a shame the post has already been deleted, though I have no doubt it was copied for future reference and study.

17 April 2008

Just Enough To Be Dangerous

OK, I admit it. I don't know nearly as much about football as I would like to think.

When it comes to my favorite sport, I know a lot more than some people and horrifyingly little compared to many others. Some of my friends say, using only rolled eyes and annoyed expressions, typically, "How do you know all this stuff? And more importantly, why?" Then I try to talk football with those who know their business and will often hear, "Are you an idiot? You need to LEAN football ASAHMFP." (Yes, I know it's misspelled. Long story.)

So I do try to learn more by reading and listening and watching, which is all great fun, but I'm still missing something and I've figured out what it is. I never played football, and that said, I don't think you can ever fully know and understand the game unless you have. It would be like reading a book on how some athlete trained for a marathon in comparison to actually training for one yourself. You can know a lot of facts but you can't really "feel" it.

I have seen in recent years that a growing number of girls are playing football. There are even womens flag football leagues in places around the country, and high school girls here and there will actually play on their school's team sometimes. But it's still extremely rare. So men, and more specifically, men who have played football, will always have the knowledge advantage here. It's OK. We who haven't been there just need to recognize this as fact and defer to the experts. Any dumbass can memorize and spout off a bunch of numbers, but if I want a true assessment of whether or not Jamal Lewis has "lost a step," I will ask someone who has made those kinds of steps themselves, and those are, by and large, men.

Of course, this also means that men need not offer their astute views on childbirth, menstruation or PMS. Fair is fair.

13 April 2008

Hurry Up and Wait: How to Stay Busy During The Off Season

I read once that, for some of us, there are only two seasons in the year: Football Season and Waiting For Football Season. I've just about reached my breaking point. It's been two months since the Super Bowl and it's still two weeks until the NFL Draft. And once that is done, it will be another four months until the pre-season games kick off.

Sure, we get thrown a bone here and there: Free agency has provided a lot of excitement for the Cleveland Browns this year and fueled speculation that Phil Savage (a good ol' Alabama boy) will pull some draft day magic and get us back into an early round. College teams have played their spring games, which is a nice treat during this Time of Famine.

But ultimately, it's a whole lot of nothing until you finally get to the something. How does a football fan stay sane?

1. Watch NFL Network.
Right now I'm getting my fix on the Browns/Miami game from last season. Whoo hoo! Bodden just intercepted! Braylon Edwards just scored! The best thing about the replays on NFL Network is that you know how it ends. If you prefer to watch the glorious victories, you got 'em. If you like to mash the bruise that is a defeat (Cinci! Arggggh!) you can do that too.

2. Argue with other fans.
Come on over to the Browns forum on cleveland.com and get into the fray. Pick a side. Waffle. Taunt your fellow fans on their choice of quarterback. Sign up for Stoolers Troll Sniper Duty. And when that gets old you can wile away the time with occasional sexual innuendo, Monty Python quotes and further battles over how your musical taste is far more refined than that of the average fan.

3. Review your fan gear.
Has the guy on your jersey been traded to another team? If you're a Bengals fan, has he been incarcerated? If you're a Miami fan...do they still play football there? How about your caps collection? Time to replace it if there are too many salsa stains or if that "one more beer" during the last home game resulted in fall-induced broken bill syndrome. The off-season is a good time to build your fan wardrobe. Get yourself a golf shirt with a tasteful logo, and get yourself a T-shirt with a less-than-tasteful message to Art Modell (or the scourge of your choice).

4. Proselytize.
We all know those people who understand that football exists but have no further grasp of its importance in our world. Teach them a few terms. Buy them a shirt if you have to, but spread the gospel. And gents, most of these unwashed are women. If it's true that there is no greater zealot than a convert, you may manage to create yourself the perfect girlfriend: one who knows that when the game is on, all else takes secondary status. (Note: You are probably not likely to reform a wife.)

5. Plan Ahead.
Once the final season schedules are released (hopefully soon), you can get a jump start on your watching/attending/tailgating plans for the season. Get a whiteboard and map it out. Get your newly converted girlfriend to plan menus. Give the gameday party room a fresh coat of paint.

Just stay busy. It will get here eventually. Please.

11 April 2008

What's in your iPod?

I was going through my iPod with my friend Steifon the other day. He's a DJ and has wildly eclectic taste in music. When you are African-American and DJ at a country station, your musical taste is broad to say the least. Many a time he's rolled up blaring Dixie Chicks on the stereo, only to follow it with P. Diddy or something equally incongruous.

So we were going through the Pod just to make sure I have a suitably good collection of music. I got points for all my Queen, Eric Clapton, Aretha Franklin, Hank Williams and Loretta Lynn, but I was deducted for style due to having too much Backstreet Boys, My Chemical Romance and Duran Duran. What can I say? While I certainly love the smoky and well-aged flavor of classic rock, I can still be enticed by the refined sugar that is pop.

In any case, I'm open to new sounds. I suppose the oddest thing in my collection is probably William Shatner's cover of the Pulp song "Common People," but I have lots of stuff, from tango and techno to Texas swing. I'm willing to add more stuff but not willing to take anything out. I feel about music the way I feel about movies and books: Yes, some things are vastly superior to others, but if you like it, enjoy it. And don't worry about it. I'm not sure this really is such a thing as good taste. There is such a thing as bad taste, for certain. If you like something, but know it is in bad taste (like a good poop joke), you may laugh but you know it's crass. Good taste is entirely a matter of opinion. I have friends who worship music all day long and think Dave Matthews is a musical god, and other friends who worship music all day long and think Dave Matthews is the anti-Christ. Who am I to say? I can't even play guitar. Still.

So what's in your iPod? I'm taking suggestions.