• Sports metaphor

    What freedom loving American hasn’t used a sports metaphor to describe some facet of life? They’re about as common as a two strike fastball in the bottom of the ninth. But what happens now, when the metaphor doesn’t have anything nice to say?

    I heard about the events of the sports world this weekend, and like many news stories of the day, I dismissed them as typical and unsurprising. Then a funny thing happened on my way to blissful detachment, I saw the film at eleven.

    Why do I even care? As it turns out, I am no better than my fellow television watching, American reactionaries. I am the victim of an image. I keep seeing a frightened courtside child, and the parent whose comforting embrace seems so inadequate; to both the parent and the child. I keep thinking of the inebriated idiots in the stands that hurl insults and objects with equal detachment. I keep thinking of the players who are ill-prepared for their role as model. I keep thinking of that child, whose life will be shaped by the idiots in the stands as well as the idiots on the court.

    I keep thinking it’s a shame that sports works so well as a metaphor in our lives, especially now.

  • Coming clean

    Faced with several hours of free time, post prime-time, I had several choices with which to fill my time.

    1. Pick a chore, any chore.
    2. Watch a Netflix movie.
    3. Read a book.
    4. Get a little more value out of our Bright House Networks subscription (our local cable company).
    5. Bring down a perfectly good server, configure a new one, try out new software, bring it online after four hours of tinkering – with the old software – and no outward appearance of anything different.

    Why didn’t I just stay at work for sixteen hours? There’s plenty of grief there, and I get paid to put up with it.

  • Recipe for a haircut

    Having a wife with a longer memory, greater follow-through, and a stronger will, puts a husband at a severe disadvantage.

    Consider the issue of outward appearance. My philosophy on hair care can best be described as Laissez-faire. This approach just happens to be in direct conflict to Cheryl’s approach. Then there’s the issue of pride. I have very little and Cheryl has a more generous portion. So when it comes time for a haircut, Cheryl’s word tends to be the law. Well, for the last seven years or so, this hasn’t been a big problem. We had a hair “guy,” and she would just give me a monthly call at work and say, “you’ve got an appointment after work today. I’ll see you afterwards.” Mostly, this worked for both of us. Now our “guy” is retired. No replacement for our “guy” has been negotiated. Now Cheryl’s comfort zone has been corralled. Now we’re thrust back into the dark ages; a time of grueling hair care negotiations.

    “John, I think you need a haircut.”

    A week passes.

    “John, you better get your haircut.”

    A week passes.

    “John, I don’t want you to go out like that any longer.”

    A day passes.

    “John, it’s today or tomorrow.”

    A few hours pass.

    “I’ll see you after your haircut this evening.”

    A few pleading replies pass.

    “It’s either you go after work or I wake you up early tomorrow morning.”

    Now that’s playing dirty.