Football makes the world go ’round
[ 6 Comments ] Posted on 11.29.05 in Buccaneers, football
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.
Thunder’s Bad Day in School
[ 10 Comments ] Posted on 11.23.05 in awesomeness, bad grammar, books
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.
(cute x cuddly) = math
[ 1 Comment ] Posted on 11.14.05 in high school
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.