Football makes the world go 'round

This weekend, I went to the Bears v. Bucs game in Tampa. My team lost, but as I sat there watching the bungled chip shot field goal that capped off 60 minutes of distress, I couldn’t help but notice the multitude of Chicago fans in the stands. There were a bunch of them. But the fact that they had come to support their team wasn’t really the problem; it was the fact that a clear majority of them were drunk and obnoxious. There was this one fellow sitting on the north end of good old section 317 with a lip ring and a tendency to get loud and intolerable.

When I got home, I decided to take a look at the previous home opponents of this year and assess the merits of those particular fans.

We faced the Jaguars in the preseason and lost, but the bald, shirtless man who could beat the tar out of me who sat immediately to my right made up for it. He was so manly that he could pull off calling people “Brother” like Hulk Hogan. He constantly screamed for his defense in spite of the fact that his booming yell probably made absolutely no difference from the third row from the top of the stadium in a secluded corner of Ray Jay. He was a nice guy, though, bantering with the children in my section and ultimately not being a jerk about his win. He offered a hand shake and an invitation to his section in Alltel Stadium.

Then we played the Texans. I did not have the chance to meet any of the four Houston Texans fans that live in the United States. Maybe next time.

The regular season then began and we played Buffalo. You have to understand something about the Bills: they’re from Buffalo, which is essentially the reject city in New York. So you don’t really get any of the jerks from New York City coming down to watch the Bills. This is a plus when it comes to away fans in Tampa. I only saw one opposing fan being taken down the stairs by security, so all in all it was a good day. Oh, we won by 16 points, too, which was nice.

I sat in a seat on the opposite side of the stadium for the Detroit game. With Detroit’s record, no one really has the right to get haughty. Some young fans in their twenties sat to my left during that game, and aside from the time period during which the Lions’ victory was taken from them by way of a booth review, they were all relatively quiet.

The Dolphins game was a popular one for visiting fans because it was so close to Miami. But here again, there weren’t many fans packed into one section. This is probably because upper level tickets for that game were selling for $400 on the Internet and Fins fans were sporadically dispersed throughout the stands. But the ones that were there were not so obnoxious, probably because they had a pretty hefty drive home ahead of them.

I refused to make any contact with the Carolina fans. Some wore bright blue feather boas. This is not cool.

The Redskins game was the best of the season. I took Angus to this one and, because our seat neighbor Joe traded up for some club seats, we had the pleasure of sitting next to this older man. He sat there in his glasses and ball cap and kindly notified me of all of the rules in football, including one I hadn’t heard concerning the fact that four steps out of bounds that can be seen by 65,000 people on giant video screens actually means that the kick returner is in bounds. You learn something new every day, I guess. But I digress. This fellow didn’t know much about football, but he was kind enough. He put out the fist for brotherly poundage after the final second ticked off the clock. And any man who does this is just fine in my book.

But the Chicago fans? Please. You can take your Miller Light and your silly lip ring and your foul mouth and go back to the Windy City. Have a nice winter.

I’m also looking forward to your immediate loss in round one of the playoffs.

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Thunder's Bad Day in School

In honor of my 18th birthday, I thought I’d take the opportunity to show you how my genius has remained steadfast throughout my growth. Take, for example, an epic piece I wrote in kindergarten. For 12 years, it has made readers laugh, cry, and inevitably learn something about themselves and the state of mankind.

Consider the following (text in bold, comments in italics):

“Thunder’s Bad Day in School,” by Casey Peterson

Note: Thunder is a brontosaurus, and does not resemble in any way the stupid tyrannosaurus rex sticker my teacher slapped on at the end. Gosh.

“Thunder, sit down!” the kids say. So he sat down. Uh oh! Gum on the seat! Thunder is stuck on the seat on the bus.

Notice the detail given to that piece of gum. It’s not just a blob, like the rest of the photo, but actually resembles a chewed wad of Bubblicious. The idea there was that the reader would focus upon that main piece while the other parts of the picture sort of revolve around it.

The driver has to unscrew the bus seat because Thunder is stuck to the seat. Then, as he got to the bus driver’s seat, he couldn’t get through the door. So he had to walk sideways through the doorway.

No human elements were introduced into the picture like the bus driver’s hand to portray the insatiable sentiment of loneliness in a dreary and unforgiving world that Thunder is experiencing presently. Also, the basic ideals of the three-element plot that is implemented in many, many fairy tales begins to take shape here. Problem 1: Gum on the seat. Problem 2: An immovable seat. Problem 3: You’ll see.

When Thunder got to school, he got off the bus, he got into his red line, he got inside the school, and he sat down in his cubby. Then, he gets stuck in his…

To clarify, the “red line” is a colloquialism to my particular elementary school, as it was a line painted on the ground upon which you were until the school opened its doors in the morning. Also, it was cool at my school to sit in your “cubby,” which was pretty much a locker sans door and made of pressed cardboard. We hung our lunch boxes there. You should pay special attention here to the suspense implemented by the discontinuation of the final sentence. Even in kindergarten, I knew that suspense is a vital component necessary for making any climax more exaggerated.

Cubby! Then he goes home with the cubby on his back and the bus seat on his bottom.

Problem 3 has arrived! It’s the cubby on the head, which is pretty much the oldest trick in the book. I like how suddenly I changed my mind about the type of dinosaur Thunder is, which caused me to draw him like Nessie of Loch Ness fame. I did this to convey the inherent feeling of belittlement within Thunder: with the entirety of the world looking upon him, he had to come to terms with the fact that the being he had become was totally different from the Brontosaurus that got on the bus that morning. He was now devoid of all confidence and made his sojourn home, dejected and alone.

By Casey Aostin Peterson, C.A.P.

I included my picture along with Thunder’s on this page to convey the message that Thunder’s tale is not an isolated event. Deep down, aren’t we all a little like Thunder, green and herbivorous? Also, I used the less common spelling of my middle name to make it look fancy and European.

The End

This piece serves two purposes. There’s the obvious fact that it exists to formally end Thunder’s tale of hope and heartache, but there’s something deeper in the conglomeration of pictures gathered below the text. The rain clouds, rain, and mud all serve to convey a motif of sadness and hatred, but the smiling sun in the midst of all of Mother Nature’s fury hints at a small bit of hope: hope that Thunder had, hope that the author has, and hope that, I think, exists deep down in the hearts of every person who is to read this classic piece of modern American literature.

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(cute x cuddly) = math

I hate math. With a passion. I think it was my experience last year in Calculus that turned me off to it. It was a combination of three things, really: the teacher, the fact that I couldn’t do it, and the teacher. But I digress. I hate math.

The only thing that makes the two hour block that occurs every three days bearable are the cute and motivational signs on the walls of the mathematics classroom.

There’s the classic “Cute and cuddly is IN!” poster that features a picture of a cute kitten. While it doesn’t particularly stimulate me to take any integrals or find x in any way, I’ll be darned if that’s not the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

Or is it? There are also some posters on the wall that, in addition to being cute, have actual motivational messages and stimulating undertones. The only problem is that none of these slogans have anything to do with the photo with which they are presented.

There’s on with a picture of a kitten that has gone and gotten himself stuck in a water pitcher. Oh, you silly little kitty. It reads, “Half of being smart… is knowing what you’re dumb at.”

I’ll just ignore that ellipsis for the time being and focus on content. Being dumb has nothing to do with a cat in a pot, aside from the fact that the idea of a cat in a pot is pretty dumb. Maybe the sign makers were trying to tell us that they were no good at their jobs and, thus, they were halfway smart by planting a subtle message in the form of two pounds of adorable feline in one over sized jug.

This trend continues across the walls of the classroom. Apparently, our teacher is an avid fan of puppies, kittens, and little fragments of pep talks. And, you know, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Those little buggers make math fun.

Well, as fun as math can be.

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The Caste System of Adolescence

Before I begin, you should know that this entire tirade is not a manifestation of my extreme bitterness toward, well, everything. In fact, things are on an upswing and this is just a collection of thoughts that only a small demographic of society will agree with. I’m certainly aware of this fact.

But, without further adieu, I give you the Peterson Male/Female Mutual Attraction Theory, authored on 28 October 2005:

At the point of conception, the male is placed at a certain disadvantage. Granted, the female obligations of childbirth and menstruation are definite points in the negative column for that particular group, males are given the arduous task of finding a mate.

The reasoning for this disadvantage is ultimately a manifestation of the competing standards for each respective group: females are generally attracted to physically attractive males, while men will generally do anything you put in front of them.

It should be noted that the female “standards” being investigated are those of a purely physical nature due to the fact that the years of life prime for reproduction are those during which females are fickle, maniacal creatures who show more discretion than is necessary while finding someone with whom to mate. (Read: High school girls are heartless, soulless individuals.) In contrast, male “standards” being investigated rely upon physical attraction in addition to such intangible qualities as sincerity, ability to hold conversation, and the like.

Now then, on to the thick of it. Let’s say, for example, that there are three levels of physical attractiveness: low, moderate, and high. Most men are starved for affection and will gladly mate with any female who is at least moderately attractive. It is not uncommon, either, for a man to be attracted to a female of low attractiveness. Shortcomings in these categories can be adequately balanced by other qualities that remain unseen by the female eye.

That being said, the female is an entirely different specimen. Females who are at the prime of their reproductive lives are, by their very nature, closed-minded and callous individuals who rely solely upon looks, and therefore, the only males who have a chance of mating with females are those who are highly attractive. Any other males stand little to no chance, because they cannot compensate for the lack of physical attraction with such qualities as good nature, niceness, or anything similar due to the teenage female’s inability to observe and appreciate such behavior.

Therefore, females hold a distinct advantage in that they have a large base from which to draw possible mates. That is, any given female is likely to be accepted by far more males than would males attempting to be accepted by females.

Consider the following matrix of attraction, where males are on the horizontal axis, females are on the vertical axis, L represents a low level of attractiveness, M represents a moderate level of attractiveness, and H represents a high level of attractiveness. Willingness to participate in a romantic relationship is be denoted by ? for males seeking females and by ? for females seeking males. Only mutual willingness should be considered as potential for a successful relationship, and these are highlighted yellow.

If one uses the same matrix and the same parameters for that matrix, however, it would appear differently in an ideal world, wherein nonphysical characteristics were nonexistent (that is, in a world wherein the men suddenly sprouted vaginas and became superficial jerks). Furthermore, if the variable of living beyond one’s means were eliminated by way of those members of each group mating with members of the opposite sex in that same group, the possible relationships would form a gradient across the scale, possibly incorporating far more individuals into relationships than in the prior model. Observe the ideal matrix:

As you can see, the variance between these two groups is alarming. But as it is, the first model is the true model of the inter-gender social framework. Because this is the sad, sad, reality of life, males born anywhere short of the high class of attractiveness are presented with a harsh difficulty: they must rise above the standards and locate that rare female with whom there will be mutual attraction.

I realize that with this theory, as there are with all other theories, the existence of certain anomalies is inevitable. Sure, there may be an occasional female who takes into account such items as intelligence and personality. And sure, there are many guys who are so into themselves that they judge solely upon looks. You have to understand that I write this as an outlyer on the male spectrum that is trying to find some insight into why things are the way they are.

Edit:
Now then, now that I’ve been privy to the extreme disgust of every girl I know, I’d like to point out that this entire thought process was as much a theory as it was a joke. Added hyperbole to make a point was employed, and there should be no offense taken as these thoughts do not reflect upon the actions of the majority of my comrades. I wouldn’t be friends with people if they were all mirror images of the soulless individuals portrayed here. This much is obvious.

I’m genuinely sorry for any bad feelings I may have caused. Really. Go ahead, comment away and make me look like the fool I am.

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Going up!

When I awoke this morning, I had no idea that this day would amount to what it turned out to be. I rose, took a shower, got my coffee, and went to school as usual, never suspecting that the day would hold anything as wonderful as the events that transpired.

Surprise.

After lunch, I was given the honor of riding in the school elevator for the first time in my academic career. I was on the ground level outside of Mr. Coffman’s room, complaining that I had to walk an unreasonable distance to the stairs so that I could get to my coaching class in Mr. Pete Just’s room – a location directly above where I was. I would have had to walk so far to get to a room that I could physically see.

That’s when Lizzie Wellings lent me her elevator key. God bless her.

The moral of the story: make friends with cripples, because they will make your day that much sweeter.

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