I read this again last night and tonight: http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2012/11/sunday-soccer.html It makes me happy. Maybe not happy. It comforts me. Maybe that isn't the right word either. It does something.
But how did I get there? What was it that brought me to that place, that group, that time? How did I, all of those years ago, end up at a park that most people can't spell, during the hottest part of the day in the summer, with a group of people I had never met before, some of whom are now young enough to be my kids?
Its been 36 years or so since I first kicked a ball. 36 years falls, winters, springs and summers of chasing a round ball on a big field. For a while, the point was to kick the ball into the other team's goal. Lately, the point has been to run around a big field, run my mouth, teach the kids, and enjoy that 90 minutes when no one can bother me, no one can bug me, no problems can exist.
My dad started my soccer playing. He taught me the basics. How to kick a ball. How to trap a ball. How to play the game.
My teammates taught me more. They taught me how to play together. They taught me how to work as a group to achieve a common goal. They reminded me that it wasn't what happened, as much as that it happened. I look back, fondly, on the time I played with my team.
We were young. We were small. I don't know if we fully appreciated the sacrifices our parents made so we could play. We traveled a lot.We made memories, memories that we did not fully appreciate until we were older. Now, in our late 30s, early 40s, we have reconnected and rekindled those memories.
Now, soccer is a connection between my son and I. All of them. They all played. And while only my middle son continues to play, I can still talk soccer with any of them. Even my daughter, at age 3, will talk soccer with me. Its great.
But, it is so much more. Sunday, I went to my soccer game. I was grumpy. I was not in a good mood at all. I got there. I started to warm up. A guy drove up. He did something (I can't share what he did since some people may not approve of it.) Immediately, I broke into laughter. He laughed. It lightened the mood. It started putting me in a better mood. I realized that no matter what happens, for that 90 minutes a week, there are no problems. There can't be problems. I simply can't worry about the rest of the world when grown men are kicking a ball at me, running at me, and putting a shoulder into me. Well, I could, but that would probably result in me getting hurt.
Today, I had practice for my U14 team. We had a guest show up. He plays with me. He is getting ready to tryout for a professional team. My boys, wonderfully, stepped up to the challenge. We had a great practice. The music was playing. The boys were running. The old coach (me) got into the goal and started making saves. We scrimmaged. We ran. We did drills that I haven't done since I was 11 years old playing for the Freehold Thunder.
Soccer connects me to my dad. It connects me to my kids. It connects me to guys I haven't seen in over 25 years. It connects me to guys I see every week, guys from the US, and guys from around the world. Soccer gives me a few hours a week where my problems simply disappear.
So thank you. Thank you to the guys who grew up playing with me. Thank you to the kids I have coached. Thank you to the guys who play with me now, putting up with my mouth, my jokes, both appropriate and not so appropriate, and my decreasing skill! Thank you to soccer!
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Friday, September 6, 2013
An Open Letter to My Middle Son
Dear Son:
I love you. Always remember that.
I have tried to talk to you, but you don't always want to listen. This isn't surprising, I didn't always want to listen to my dad either. Why didn't I listen? I knew I was smarter than my dad. I knew he had no idea what I was going through. Oh, and I was stubborn.
Do you know why you don't listen to me? You know you are smarter than me. You know that I have no idea what you are going through. Oh, and you are stubborn.
Guess what? You are also wrong. How do I know this? I was also wrong. I know. It is stunning to hear. It stunned me when I learned I was wrong. But, it happened. I was older than you, but I realized it.
One day, I was in college. I asked my dad about a problem I was working on in economics. He closed his eyes, as he did, and a few seconds later, he gave me an answer. There was no way he could be right. You needed a book with a table to get the answer - or a computer. He had neither. He couldn't be right. Except, you know what? He nailed it. His answer was perfect. He couldn't tell me how he did it or how to get the right answer. But he got it. At that moment, my son, I realized that I was wrong.
You and I have talked about how smart my dad was. You know I think he is the smartest man I have ever met. And, quite frankly, its not even close. But, what you don't know, is that I didn't realize that at 11 or 12 or 13. I didn't realize that until I was 20.
My dad and I sat outside one day, talking. We were at Del Mar, where I learned to boogie board, and where you now learned to boogie board. He looked at me and said "I know its harder for you growing up than it was for me." I didn't understand. So I asked him. He said "Each generation it gets harder. My generation had to deal with a war, but that was about it. You have cigarettes, drugs and things like that to deal with. Those weren't problems when I was a kid. I know that its harder for you, but you can always talk to me."
Guess what, my son? I know its harder for you growing up than it was for me. You have drugs to worry about. You have cell phones, Facebook, text messages. Kids talk about things much faster than they did when I was a kid. I know its hard. But, you can always talk to me.
I know school is hard. It was hard for me. I know its tough when you are the smallest in your class. I, too, was small. I know middle school isn't easy. There is more work. There are new kids, more kids, different kids. There is puberty and all of those hormones. And there are girls! Its hard, dude. I get it.
But you know what would make it easier? If you would give in, just a little, and listen to mommy and I. We have been through middle school. We both survived. We do know what we are talking about. We just want to help you and see you succeed. I promise it won't hurt.
Give it a try, my son. You know how I tell you I am a lot like my dad? I am. But this is one way I am different. My dad helped me when I got to high school. I will tell you that story when you are older. But, in middle school, my mom and dad didn't support me like your mom and I support you. My dad was still traveling and my mom was working. Looking back, I wish they had been around more, like your mom and I are around for you. That is the biggest reason I work for myself - so I can be there for you.
Let us help you. Then, one day, you will look back and tell your kids about how they are not smarter than you, even if they think they are!
Love,
Dad
I love you. Always remember that.
I have tried to talk to you, but you don't always want to listen. This isn't surprising, I didn't always want to listen to my dad either. Why didn't I listen? I knew I was smarter than my dad. I knew he had no idea what I was going through. Oh, and I was stubborn.
Do you know why you don't listen to me? You know you are smarter than me. You know that I have no idea what you are going through. Oh, and you are stubborn.
Guess what? You are also wrong. How do I know this? I was also wrong. I know. It is stunning to hear. It stunned me when I learned I was wrong. But, it happened. I was older than you, but I realized it.
One day, I was in college. I asked my dad about a problem I was working on in economics. He closed his eyes, as he did, and a few seconds later, he gave me an answer. There was no way he could be right. You needed a book with a table to get the answer - or a computer. He had neither. He couldn't be right. Except, you know what? He nailed it. His answer was perfect. He couldn't tell me how he did it or how to get the right answer. But he got it. At that moment, my son, I realized that I was wrong.
You and I have talked about how smart my dad was. You know I think he is the smartest man I have ever met. And, quite frankly, its not even close. But, what you don't know, is that I didn't realize that at 11 or 12 or 13. I didn't realize that until I was 20.
My dad and I sat outside one day, talking. We were at Del Mar, where I learned to boogie board, and where you now learned to boogie board. He looked at me and said "I know its harder for you growing up than it was for me." I didn't understand. So I asked him. He said "Each generation it gets harder. My generation had to deal with a war, but that was about it. You have cigarettes, drugs and things like that to deal with. Those weren't problems when I was a kid. I know that its harder for you, but you can always talk to me."
Guess what, my son? I know its harder for you growing up than it was for me. You have drugs to worry about. You have cell phones, Facebook, text messages. Kids talk about things much faster than they did when I was a kid. I know its hard. But, you can always talk to me.
I know school is hard. It was hard for me. I know its tough when you are the smallest in your class. I, too, was small. I know middle school isn't easy. There is more work. There are new kids, more kids, different kids. There is puberty and all of those hormones. And there are girls! Its hard, dude. I get it.
But you know what would make it easier? If you would give in, just a little, and listen to mommy and I. We have been through middle school. We both survived. We do know what we are talking about. We just want to help you and see you succeed. I promise it won't hurt.
Give it a try, my son. You know how I tell you I am a lot like my dad? I am. But this is one way I am different. My dad helped me when I got to high school. I will tell you that story when you are older. But, in middle school, my mom and dad didn't support me like your mom and I support you. My dad was still traveling and my mom was working. Looking back, I wish they had been around more, like your mom and I are around for you. That is the biggest reason I work for myself - so I can be there for you.
Let us help you. Then, one day, you will look back and tell your kids about how they are not smarter than you, even if they think they are!
Love,
Dad
Friday, August 30, 2013
No, the world is not against you
I was going to write something funny. A parody of some dumbass doing some dumbass thing like racing their dumbass POC car up and down the road. Or maybe it was going to be a parody of a mayor who thinks his bleep don't stink. But, alas, someone ticked me off. So here goes.....
Look, not everyone in the world is against you. Not everyone is out to get you. Sometimes, some things just happen. That doesn't mean that people hate you or your (fill in the blank minority issue).
Huh, you ask? I know. That is what I ask. I admit I am not black or brown or yellow or purple. I sit in my office as a white guy who has never been pulled over for DWB. But, I am a short, white, Jewish guy. So, don't tell me I don't know what its like when people make comments or say something dumb or do something dumb. Do you know how many people have said they don't want someone to "Jew them down." So, I have some basis for saying this.
Scheduling an event on Christmas or Easter or Martin Luther King's birthday or Columbus day or fill in the blank day does not mean that people hate Christians or black's or Europeans. You know what it means? It means its 2013 and we should stop worrying so much about this crap.
Yes, I am fully aware that there are events scheduled for Jewish holidays. And you know what? It happens. It doesn't mean anyone has down anything wrong. It means that sometimes in society we have to make choices. Not just me, not just you, but all of us. Look, no one is anti-Jewish for doing things on a Friday night or on Hannukah. They have to look at a schedule and make decisions as to what is best for everyone.
If you don't like it, here are a few suggestions:
1. Get involved. You don't really have a right to complain if you are sitting on your ass just complaining. Get up. Get off the couch. Put down the bon-bons and get involved. Oh wait? You want to go with the "I work" excuse. Sure. Great. I am glad you have a job. So do the other people who are volunteering to put events on, to support your kids, to make sure that fundraisers happen. I don't care that you have a job. I have a job and twice a week I manage to get to the field in time to coach 15 kids, only one of whom is mine!
2. Explain your position without accusing people. Look, you don't like it? Fine. Say something. But don't tell someone they are forcing you to make a decision or forcing your kid to make a decision. I studied economics in college. Economics is the study of decision making. You have to make a decision. What is the most important thing when you have two choices? Maybe you decided that your race/religion/color/creed/sexual orientation is more important. That is your choice and I will defend your right to make that choice. But not everyone is going to agree with you. Some of us are going to choose something different. And that isn't wrong either.
And what do you tell your kid? Look, kid, sometimes in life we have to make decisions. This doesn't mean that Johnny's decision is right or wrong. It means Johnny has to decide what is best for him and he chose X. I am choosing Y. Let me explain to you why. That is how you raise a kid who can think for himself and won't be a follower.
3. Stop assuming the worst in people. The world would be a much better place if everyone would assume the best in each other instead of the worst. Those kids walking down the street? They may not be thugs, George Zimmerman. The kid who yells out in public may not be a brat, but may have a condition that makes that happen. The guy who decides to stop working may be sick or may have a sick family member. Lets start assuming the best in people, instead of the worst!
There, now I feel bad. Maybe next week I will go mock some douchebag who races his douche car down the street!
Look, not everyone in the world is against you. Not everyone is out to get you. Sometimes, some things just happen. That doesn't mean that people hate you or your (fill in the blank minority issue).
Huh, you ask? I know. That is what I ask. I admit I am not black or brown or yellow or purple. I sit in my office as a white guy who has never been pulled over for DWB. But, I am a short, white, Jewish guy. So, don't tell me I don't know what its like when people make comments or say something dumb or do something dumb. Do you know how many people have said they don't want someone to "Jew them down." So, I have some basis for saying this.
Scheduling an event on Christmas or Easter or Martin Luther King's birthday or Columbus day or fill in the blank day does not mean that people hate Christians or black's or Europeans. You know what it means? It means its 2013 and we should stop worrying so much about this crap.
Yes, I am fully aware that there are events scheduled for Jewish holidays. And you know what? It happens. It doesn't mean anyone has down anything wrong. It means that sometimes in society we have to make choices. Not just me, not just you, but all of us. Look, no one is anti-Jewish for doing things on a Friday night or on Hannukah. They have to look at a schedule and make decisions as to what is best for everyone.
If you don't like it, here are a few suggestions:
1. Get involved. You don't really have a right to complain if you are sitting on your ass just complaining. Get up. Get off the couch. Put down the bon-bons and get involved. Oh wait? You want to go with the "I work" excuse. Sure. Great. I am glad you have a job. So do the other people who are volunteering to put events on, to support your kids, to make sure that fundraisers happen. I don't care that you have a job. I have a job and twice a week I manage to get to the field in time to coach 15 kids, only one of whom is mine!
2. Explain your position without accusing people. Look, you don't like it? Fine. Say something. But don't tell someone they are forcing you to make a decision or forcing your kid to make a decision. I studied economics in college. Economics is the study of decision making. You have to make a decision. What is the most important thing when you have two choices? Maybe you decided that your race/religion/color/creed/sexual orientation is more important. That is your choice and I will defend your right to make that choice. But not everyone is going to agree with you. Some of us are going to choose something different. And that isn't wrong either.
And what do you tell your kid? Look, kid, sometimes in life we have to make decisions. This doesn't mean that Johnny's decision is right or wrong. It means Johnny has to decide what is best for him and he chose X. I am choosing Y. Let me explain to you why. That is how you raise a kid who can think for himself and won't be a follower.
3. Stop assuming the worst in people. The world would be a much better place if everyone would assume the best in each other instead of the worst. Those kids walking down the street? They may not be thugs, George Zimmerman. The kid who yells out in public may not be a brat, but may have a condition that makes that happen. The guy who decides to stop working may be sick or may have a sick family member. Lets start assuming the best in people, instead of the worst!
There, now I feel bad. Maybe next week I will go mock some douchebag who races his douche car down the street!
Thursday, August 1, 2013
We need to teach kids to jump
Sen Ted Lieu is a moron. Wait, that is not right. A moron wouldn't even do what he does. This guy might be the worst legislator ever. Seriously.
He has introduced a new bill to regulate trampoline places. You know, those places you go where your kids jump on a trampoline. They jump, they play games, then they jump some more. Apparently, Lieu took his son to one of these places. And now has decided these places need to be regulated. From the Sacramento Bee "There was no training of any kind...." That's right, folks, there was no training on how to jump on a trampoline.
Stop the presses! You mean kids don't know how to jump. Up. Down. Up. Down. My 3 year old has figured out how to jump on a trampoline. Its a freaking trampoline. Its not rocket science. Its not like we are asking the kids to ride a bike or drive a car. Its jumping. UP AND DOWN! Seriously. Training? What kind of training do you need?
The following conversation will happen if this idiotic, moronic, not worth the paper it is written on law is passed:
Some 18 year old acne covered kid at a trampoline place: "Hey, kids, come over here. Before you jump up and down, I need to train you on how to jump up and down. First, you stand with both of your legs on the trampoline. Then, you bend your knees, and push off the ground with both legs. You will then be in the air. When you are coming down, you will bend your knees again and land on both feet. If you don't land on both feet, you will fall on our fabric. Yes, kids, its fabric. It will feel like a short carpet. Then you will bounce a time or two. Then get on your feet and jump again. Any questions?"
Some 10 year old kid who is bored and checking out the 11 year old girl next to him: "Um, sir, I don't get it. I need to jump. Up? Then land?"
18 year old who is making $8.50 an hour and wants to be out kissing his girlfriend: "Yes, kid, you do."
10 year old trying to be cool in front of his friends: "Holy crap. You just wasted 5 minutes telling me how to jump. I am 10 years old. I needed someone to tell me how to jump? Are you kidding me? Its a trampoline. Who needs training on a trampoline?"
18 year old kid now wanting to yell at the 10 year old, but who knows he will get even during dodge ball: "Well, kid, it is required by law. If you don't like it, talk to your legislator."
Seriously, what the hell is this? Kids need training on how to jump? Really? Is this grandstanding because Lieu wants to run for a new office next year? Or is he serious that kids need training on how to jump? What's next?
I propose the following laws:
1. Kids shall not be allowed to swing on a swingset, be it a private one, one at school, or one at a public park without getting 2 hours of training in swing safety, including how to hold on to the chains, how to sit safely in the swing, proper technique on kicking their legs out and bringing their legs back in;
2. Kids shall not be allowed to slide down any slide, be it a private one, one at school, one at a park, a dry one or a water one, without getting an hour of slide safety, including how to sit on a slide, how to get on the slide and how to get off the slide. If the kid wants to go down a water slide, they must also get 1 hour of safety on how to put on a bathing suit;
3. Kids shall not be allowed to walk down the sidewalk without getting at least 3 hours of training in how to be safe on a sidewalk, proper walking technique so they do not injure their legs, knees, arms, shoulders, backs, butts, or any other body part. Such training shall include the best method to walk like you are an Egyptian;
4. Kids shall not be allowed to play any sport without obtaining at least 10 hours of training from someone who is an expert and has spent at least 10,000 hours learning the sport plus another 10,000 hours learning how to teach the sport as those numbers are the minimum required to obtain proficiency according to some douchebag who thinks its a rule;
5. Kids shall not eat food except under adult supervision when said adult has either procreated to create a kid or has received specialized training from the Department of Education on how to teach kids to eat food, chew their food properly and swallow (not that kind of swallowing, get your heads out of the gutter!).
I am sure I can come up with more. Heck, I am sure Ted Lieu has already come up with more stupid ideas on things we can regulate. How about if we regulate breathing? How about if you introduce a dumb law in the legislature you don't get paid for a year? This might be the worst bill ever introduced and its an embarrassment to the entire state!
He has introduced a new bill to regulate trampoline places. You know, those places you go where your kids jump on a trampoline. They jump, they play games, then they jump some more. Apparently, Lieu took his son to one of these places. And now has decided these places need to be regulated. From the Sacramento Bee "There was no training of any kind...." That's right, folks, there was no training on how to jump on a trampoline.
Stop the presses! You mean kids don't know how to jump. Up. Down. Up. Down. My 3 year old has figured out how to jump on a trampoline. Its a freaking trampoline. Its not rocket science. Its not like we are asking the kids to ride a bike or drive a car. Its jumping. UP AND DOWN! Seriously. Training? What kind of training do you need?
The following conversation will happen if this idiotic, moronic, not worth the paper it is written on law is passed:
Some 18 year old acne covered kid at a trampoline place: "Hey, kids, come over here. Before you jump up and down, I need to train you on how to jump up and down. First, you stand with both of your legs on the trampoline. Then, you bend your knees, and push off the ground with both legs. You will then be in the air. When you are coming down, you will bend your knees again and land on both feet. If you don't land on both feet, you will fall on our fabric. Yes, kids, its fabric. It will feel like a short carpet. Then you will bounce a time or two. Then get on your feet and jump again. Any questions?"
Some 10 year old kid who is bored and checking out the 11 year old girl next to him: "Um, sir, I don't get it. I need to jump. Up? Then land?"
18 year old who is making $8.50 an hour and wants to be out kissing his girlfriend: "Yes, kid, you do."
10 year old trying to be cool in front of his friends: "Holy crap. You just wasted 5 minutes telling me how to jump. I am 10 years old. I needed someone to tell me how to jump? Are you kidding me? Its a trampoline. Who needs training on a trampoline?"
18 year old kid now wanting to yell at the 10 year old, but who knows he will get even during dodge ball: "Well, kid, it is required by law. If you don't like it, talk to your legislator."
Seriously, what the hell is this? Kids need training on how to jump? Really? Is this grandstanding because Lieu wants to run for a new office next year? Or is he serious that kids need training on how to jump? What's next?
I propose the following laws:
1. Kids shall not be allowed to swing on a swingset, be it a private one, one at school, or one at a public park without getting 2 hours of training in swing safety, including how to hold on to the chains, how to sit safely in the swing, proper technique on kicking their legs out and bringing their legs back in;
2. Kids shall not be allowed to slide down any slide, be it a private one, one at school, one at a park, a dry one or a water one, without getting an hour of slide safety, including how to sit on a slide, how to get on the slide and how to get off the slide. If the kid wants to go down a water slide, they must also get 1 hour of safety on how to put on a bathing suit;
3. Kids shall not be allowed to walk down the sidewalk without getting at least 3 hours of training in how to be safe on a sidewalk, proper walking technique so they do not injure their legs, knees, arms, shoulders, backs, butts, or any other body part. Such training shall include the best method to walk like you are an Egyptian;
4. Kids shall not be allowed to play any sport without obtaining at least 10 hours of training from someone who is an expert and has spent at least 10,000 hours learning the sport plus another 10,000 hours learning how to teach the sport as those numbers are the minimum required to obtain proficiency according to some douchebag who thinks its a rule;
5. Kids shall not eat food except under adult supervision when said adult has either procreated to create a kid or has received specialized training from the Department of Education on how to teach kids to eat food, chew their food properly and swallow (not that kind of swallowing, get your heads out of the gutter!).
I am sure I can come up with more. Heck, I am sure Ted Lieu has already come up with more stupid ideas on things we can regulate. How about if we regulate breathing? How about if you introduce a dumb law in the legislature you don't get paid for a year? This might be the worst bill ever introduced and its an embarrassment to the entire state!
"There was no training of any kindTheee
"There was no training of any kind
"There was no training of any kind
"There was no training of any kind
Sunday, July 28, 2013
What the BLEEP is wrong with you BLEEPING BLEEPERS?
(WARNING: THIS RANT IS FILLED WITH PROFANITY. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT APPROVE OF THAT LANGUAGE!)
As much as I wanted to make fun of State Sen. Ted Lieu, and I did, I am going to have to postpone that to make fun of some other douchebags first.
So I was at the park today. I was there with 6 little kids. They ranged from 2 to 14. Fine, 14 isn't little, but they were 2, 3, 4, 9, 11 and 14. So little enough! There is a nice park. There is, unfortunately, also a softball field there. As we get to the playground, there is a group of 15 guys and a few women on the softball field taking batting practice. FOR SLOW PITCH SOFTBALL!
Don't even get me started on why you need batting practice for slow pitch softball. I am pretty sure I can hit a slow pitch softball and I haven't swung a bat in over a decade. Its a freaking big yellow ball. It goes higher than your head at about 2 mph. Then it comes down and you SWING THE FUCKING BAT. Its not rocket science. Seriously, if anyone reading this is offended and thinks I can't do it, I will put up $20 to your favorite charity if I can't hit the ball 8 times out of 10. If I do it, you owe me $20 to my favorite charity. Any takers? OF COURSE NOT! Its slow pitch softball.
Anyway, here is the conversation that I had the joy of listening to:
Pitcher "Come on, bitch, lets see how you do it."
(At this point, I am looking around for a female dog, but all I see are other morons on the field.)
Batter "Fuck you man. I can hit this shit."
Pitcher "I dont think you can hit my shit."
Batter "Let me see what you got bitch."
The batter then hits the ball, a grounder, to the 3rd base side. At which point I hear "FUCK!" This is followed by a few more swings at the BIG YELLOW BALL, followed by "FUCK" a bit louder every time. After the fourth fuck, which is different from the fourth fucking, which, lets face it, would be pretty sweet, unless they are slow pitch softball dudes doing the fucking (those guys have really big guts and really small pricks), I say "Could you watch the language please? There are little kids over here."
One would then realize that I am a moron. Why would softball guy possibly watch his language? After all, he thinks SLOW PITCH SOFTBALL is a sport. So the douchebag batter, dressed in his red t-shirt, shorts that go way past his knees and look like he is wearing kulat pants, and matching red shoes (yes, softball dude has his shoes match his oversized t-shirt which is covering his oversized gut), with his red hat, turned backwards of course, yells "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" Then he takes another swing, hits another ball like he is a 10 year old girl, wait, that isn't nice to 10 year old girls, I am sure some of them can hit the ball better, and does it again. And again. And again. He apparently thought this was funny.
Let me be clear. I have some friends who play slow pitch softball. They are nice guys. These idiots are completely different. Here is your average slow pitch softball idiot who drops the f-bomb after every swing of his bat:
He is about 27 years old, not surprisingly single, he wears a 42 inch waist on his capris, er, shorts, he has at least one Home Depot orange bucket of balls to make up for his own lack of balls, 6 bats in a special bag in case he breaks AN ALUMINUM BAT, has a 2" dick, and has a vocabulary so small that he is blown away that I had two different words to describe his stupidly long shorts. These guys generally dive trucks that they raised to make up for their small wieners, drive too fast to try to impress women who have no interest in them, and havent actually fucked since senior prom when they had to invite a sophomore to get a date (and to get laid). He hasn't played a sport since he was 12 and even then he sucked so badly his main job was to get water for the rest of the team.
So, dear softball fuckhead, please shut your fucking shithole of a mouth. The world would be a better place without the shit that comes out of your piece of crap mouth. You couldn't put together a complete fucking sentence if I offered you $5 and a picture of a naked lady. Hell, you haven't seen a naked lady other than on the fuck-net, er, internet, and you couldn't get laid if you paid a whore $2,000 because not even she wants your small, ball-less dick in her. So please go back to practicing your pansy-ass game without bothering the rest of the world. And, please do so quietly since even the birds fly the fuck away when you start dropping your profanity as if you are a real man. Your slow pitch softball skills suck the big one and its not even a real sport. Shut the fuck up and find something productive to do with your days!
Sincerely,
Me
As much as I wanted to make fun of State Sen. Ted Lieu, and I did, I am going to have to postpone that to make fun of some other douchebags first.
So I was at the park today. I was there with 6 little kids. They ranged from 2 to 14. Fine, 14 isn't little, but they were 2, 3, 4, 9, 11 and 14. So little enough! There is a nice park. There is, unfortunately, also a softball field there. As we get to the playground, there is a group of 15 guys and a few women on the softball field taking batting practice. FOR SLOW PITCH SOFTBALL!
Don't even get me started on why you need batting practice for slow pitch softball. I am pretty sure I can hit a slow pitch softball and I haven't swung a bat in over a decade. Its a freaking big yellow ball. It goes higher than your head at about 2 mph. Then it comes down and you SWING THE FUCKING BAT. Its not rocket science. Seriously, if anyone reading this is offended and thinks I can't do it, I will put up $20 to your favorite charity if I can't hit the ball 8 times out of 10. If I do it, you owe me $20 to my favorite charity. Any takers? OF COURSE NOT! Its slow pitch softball.
Anyway, here is the conversation that I had the joy of listening to:
Pitcher "Come on, bitch, lets see how you do it."
(At this point, I am looking around for a female dog, but all I see are other morons on the field.)
Batter "Fuck you man. I can hit this shit."
Pitcher "I dont think you can hit my shit."
Batter "Let me see what you got bitch."
The batter then hits the ball, a grounder, to the 3rd base side. At which point I hear "FUCK!" This is followed by a few more swings at the BIG YELLOW BALL, followed by "FUCK" a bit louder every time. After the fourth fuck, which is different from the fourth fucking, which, lets face it, would be pretty sweet, unless they are slow pitch softball dudes doing the fucking (those guys have really big guts and really small pricks), I say "Could you watch the language please? There are little kids over here."
One would then realize that I am a moron. Why would softball guy possibly watch his language? After all, he thinks SLOW PITCH SOFTBALL is a sport. So the douchebag batter, dressed in his red t-shirt, shorts that go way past his knees and look like he is wearing kulat pants, and matching red shoes (yes, softball dude has his shoes match his oversized t-shirt which is covering his oversized gut), with his red hat, turned backwards of course, yells "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" Then he takes another swing, hits another ball like he is a 10 year old girl, wait, that isn't nice to 10 year old girls, I am sure some of them can hit the ball better, and does it again. And again. And again. He apparently thought this was funny.
Let me be clear. I have some friends who play slow pitch softball. They are nice guys. These idiots are completely different. Here is your average slow pitch softball idiot who drops the f-bomb after every swing of his bat:
He is about 27 years old, not surprisingly single, he wears a 42 inch waist on his capris, er, shorts, he has at least one Home Depot orange bucket of balls to make up for his own lack of balls, 6 bats in a special bag in case he breaks AN ALUMINUM BAT, has a 2" dick, and has a vocabulary so small that he is blown away that I had two different words to describe his stupidly long shorts. These guys generally dive trucks that they raised to make up for their small wieners, drive too fast to try to impress women who have no interest in them, and havent actually fucked since senior prom when they had to invite a sophomore to get a date (and to get laid). He hasn't played a sport since he was 12 and even then he sucked so badly his main job was to get water for the rest of the team.
So, dear softball fuckhead, please shut your fucking shithole of a mouth. The world would be a better place without the shit that comes out of your piece of crap mouth. You couldn't put together a complete fucking sentence if I offered you $5 and a picture of a naked lady. Hell, you haven't seen a naked lady other than on the fuck-net, er, internet, and you couldn't get laid if you paid a whore $2,000 because not even she wants your small, ball-less dick in her. So please go back to practicing your pansy-ass game without bothering the rest of the world. And, please do so quietly since even the birds fly the fuck away when you start dropping your profanity as if you are a real man. Your slow pitch softball skills suck the big one and its not even a real sport. Shut the fuck up and find something productive to do with your days!
Sincerely,
Me
Sunday, July 21, 2013
An Actual Conversation at Nordstrom
This was an actual conversation I overheard at Nordstrom at Roseville Galleria yesterday. Let me set the scene:
A guy walks into the men's department. Our hero, as we will call him, is wearing Reef sandals, the green ones with soccer balls on them, khaki shorts, and a black t-shirt. He is alone, checking out the sale items. He spends about 5 minutes walking through the department, looking at the shirts and pants. There are employees around. He walks up to a table of AG Jeans. He starts to peruse the selection. He looks left - nothing. He looks right - two employees talking about the weather, a coworker or other such nonsense.He looks left again - still nothing. He looks right again - two employees are still talking about the weather, a coworker or more nonsense. They look up, he gets a feeling of hope. They look at him, turn slightly, and continue their conversation.
Hero: "Gosh, I wish I could get some help............"
Employee: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 2: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 3: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 4: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 5: (DEAD SILENCE)
Our hero leaves, emptyhanded, solely because he cannot get someone to help him figure out which freaking pants are loose fit!
Yes, lets be clear. There was a guy in a store that sells ridiculously expensive jeans. He was looking to buy a pair. But, since jeans aren't called "loose fit" or "relaxed fit" anymore, but rather have names like "The Smith" or "The Barnaby Jones" or "The Bieber" (okay, fine, so the 90 year old would know that The Bieber is a ridiculously skinny pair of skinny jeans that no man should wear), he couldn't figure out which pair to buy. He needed help. That is, at least in this man's opinion, the job of the employee.
I don't care if someone comes in an $800 suit or a $10 t-shirt and shorts, they should get the same help. But, alas, this doesn't seem to be the case. So, at least for now, our hero will be looking elsewhere for his jeans!
A guy walks into the men's department. Our hero, as we will call him, is wearing Reef sandals, the green ones with soccer balls on them, khaki shorts, and a black t-shirt. He is alone, checking out the sale items. He spends about 5 minutes walking through the department, looking at the shirts and pants. There are employees around. He walks up to a table of AG Jeans. He starts to peruse the selection. He looks left - nothing. He looks right - two employees talking about the weather, a coworker or other such nonsense.He looks left again - still nothing. He looks right again - two employees are still talking about the weather, a coworker or more nonsense. They look up, he gets a feeling of hope. They look at him, turn slightly, and continue their conversation.
Hero: "Gosh, I wish I could get some help............"
Employee: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 2: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 3: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 4: (DEAD SILENCE)
Employee 5: (DEAD SILENCE)
Our hero leaves, emptyhanded, solely because he cannot get someone to help him figure out which freaking pants are loose fit!
Yes, lets be clear. There was a guy in a store that sells ridiculously expensive jeans. He was looking to buy a pair. But, since jeans aren't called "loose fit" or "relaxed fit" anymore, but rather have names like "The Smith" or "The Barnaby Jones" or "The Bieber" (okay, fine, so the 90 year old would know that The Bieber is a ridiculously skinny pair of skinny jeans that no man should wear), he couldn't figure out which pair to buy. He needed help. That is, at least in this man's opinion, the job of the employee.
I don't care if someone comes in an $800 suit or a $10 t-shirt and shorts, they should get the same help. But, alas, this doesn't seem to be the case. So, at least for now, our hero will be looking elsewhere for his jeans!
Friday, July 12, 2013
Do you want to DOMINATE the law?
I don't either. I didn't think the law was something that was dominated. Well, maybe in San Francisco in some backroom off of a dark alley. I could see it being dominated there. You know, Mistress Beth or something like that dominating the law. Oh, don't tell me you don't get it. You get it. And its funny.
This morning I woke up to an email from the director of marketing for "Dominate Law." Their phone number is 855.2CRUSH1. How cute is that. Its like 1980 and they need an 800 number for people to call. Apparently, they think attorneys pay for their calls and we need to call a toll free number in order to save that FREE LONG DISTANCE that every person born after 1945 has. What the hell? 2 crush 1? Really? And are we supposed to remember that. This, my friends, is a sign of their marketing skills. They will help you get a memorable toll free number like 855.MYFIRMROCKS or 855.THEYSUCK or 855.IAMTHEBEST or maybe 855.IDONTPUTMYPANTSONONELEGATATIMEBECAUSEIAMAWESOME. (Wait, that could be my new favorite hashtag! #IDONTPUTMYPANTSONONELEGATATIMEBECAUSEIAMAWESOME) Maybe, they get me 855.MYSHITDONTSTINK. You see the possibilities here? I mean, I should just run right out and call them!
Then I see that they will help me crush my competition. No offense, I don't have competition. I want very specific cases. Cases that the other attorneys don't take for whatever reason. I don't compete with these folks over cases. Besides, if someone calls me and I am not the right attorney for them, I would tell them that. "Hey, look, I think you have an interesting case, but you really need to call Mr. Jones." I think give them Mr. Jones' phone number. Why? Because I am not the right attorney for everyone and they are not the right clients for me. So I dont want to crush anyone.
But, if I did want to crush anyone, would I then be a new member of Kids in the Hall? (Okay, so this reference may be a bit out there for some of you. Watch: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eVJyYXailw and now you know where it came from!) Seriously, I am going to drop boulders on them. Am I going to use my super human strength to break them? What the hell is crushing my competition anyway?
Then they tell me I can be THE ONE dominant legal professional in my area. I can be? Really? THE ONE? Like I am now in The Matrix. I am the ONE! You are not the ONE. You must bow down and treat me as special because Dominate Law is going to make me THE ONE! I shall yell it from the rooftops. I shall be the one and only. I am special. And if you think you are the one now, you are wrong. You are going to be THE TWO once 2 CRUSH 1 happens. Don't you see how cute this is?
Seriously, its like Ron Popeil. But, wait, theres more? If you order now, we will not only make you THE ONE, but we will CRUSH anyone else. And for a limited time, we will make you DOMINATE the world. Then quietly, you hear the legalese "We may spam people from time to time to help you be the one or crush someone, but if you want to dominate, whats a little violation of the CAN SPAM act between friends?"
I mean, they found me by spamming me. I never signed up for their crappy newsletter. I never reached out to them. They emailed me offering me their ridiculous claims that I could dominate or crush or dance a jig barefoot and naked while running down I-5 in 80mph traffic and not get crushed. What the hell is wrong with these people?
Are lawyers really that dumb? Do people fall for this nonsense? Does anyone really think that some Canadian company a) knows how to crush anyone and b) can dominate at anything other than curling or most times using the word "eh" in a conversation? Seriously.
This is BS. These folks probably don't even know how to spell Stein, let alone do any marketing for me. So, Dominate Law, how about when you stop spamming people, then I will consider looking at your website for more than 2 minutes only to find reasons to mock you?
This morning I woke up to an email from the director of marketing for "Dominate Law." Their phone number is 855.2CRUSH1. How cute is that. Its like 1980 and they need an 800 number for people to call. Apparently, they think attorneys pay for their calls and we need to call a toll free number in order to save that FREE LONG DISTANCE that every person born after 1945 has. What the hell? 2 crush 1? Really? And are we supposed to remember that. This, my friends, is a sign of their marketing skills. They will help you get a memorable toll free number like 855.MYFIRMROCKS or 855.THEYSUCK or 855.IAMTHEBEST or maybe 855.IDONTPUTMYPANTSONONELEGATATIMEBECAUSEIAMAWESOME. (Wait, that could be my new favorite hashtag! #IDONTPUTMYPANTSONONELEGATATIMEBECAUSEIAMAWESOME) Maybe, they get me 855.MYSHITDONTSTINK. You see the possibilities here? I mean, I should just run right out and call them!
Then I see that they will help me crush my competition. No offense, I don't have competition. I want very specific cases. Cases that the other attorneys don't take for whatever reason. I don't compete with these folks over cases. Besides, if someone calls me and I am not the right attorney for them, I would tell them that. "Hey, look, I think you have an interesting case, but you really need to call Mr. Jones." I think give them Mr. Jones' phone number. Why? Because I am not the right attorney for everyone and they are not the right clients for me. So I dont want to crush anyone.
But, if I did want to crush anyone, would I then be a new member of Kids in the Hall? (Okay, so this reference may be a bit out there for some of you. Watch: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eVJyYXailw and now you know where it came from!) Seriously, I am going to drop boulders on them. Am I going to use my super human strength to break them? What the hell is crushing my competition anyway?
Then they tell me I can be THE ONE dominant legal professional in my area. I can be? Really? THE ONE? Like I am now in The Matrix. I am the ONE! You are not the ONE. You must bow down and treat me as special because Dominate Law is going to make me THE ONE! I shall yell it from the rooftops. I shall be the one and only. I am special. And if you think you are the one now, you are wrong. You are going to be THE TWO once 2 CRUSH 1 happens. Don't you see how cute this is?
Seriously, its like Ron Popeil. But, wait, theres more? If you order now, we will not only make you THE ONE, but we will CRUSH anyone else. And for a limited time, we will make you DOMINATE the world. Then quietly, you hear the legalese "We may spam people from time to time to help you be the one or crush someone, but if you want to dominate, whats a little violation of the CAN SPAM act between friends?"
I mean, they found me by spamming me. I never signed up for their crappy newsletter. I never reached out to them. They emailed me offering me their ridiculous claims that I could dominate or crush or dance a jig barefoot and naked while running down I-5 in 80mph traffic and not get crushed. What the hell is wrong with these people?
Are lawyers really that dumb? Do people fall for this nonsense? Does anyone really think that some Canadian company a) knows how to crush anyone and b) can dominate at anything other than curling or most times using the word "eh" in a conversation? Seriously.
This is BS. These folks probably don't even know how to spell Stein, let alone do any marketing for me. So, Dominate Law, how about when you stop spamming people, then I will consider looking at your website for more than 2 minutes only to find reasons to mock you?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)