It's just a game

Ramblings Post #409
Now, let's be clear, and so my point doesn't get misinterpreted, the Bills-Bengals game point didn't need to start again. That it can't be made up shouldn't even have been an issue. They can just mark it down as a tie and keep it moving for all I care. The injury was devastating, the aftermath traumatizing, and if the players had just walked out of the stadium to go wait at the hospital instead of lining up I wouldn't have blamed a soul. It is just a damn game. That is a man's life.

I'm surprised that the NFL didn't have a protocol for this. It's a game where grown men are paid vast sums of money to run at each other at top speed and make contact. Hard contact. Repeatedly. They should have seen this as a possibility, even if the chances are one in a billion. And despite the obvious trauma stemming from the situation, they really seemed poised to throw the usual "Okay folks, shows over, nothing to see here" process that normally follows an injury. And if they had gone ahead with that five minutes to get your head together plan, I'm not sure what would have happened. Hamlin didn't have an ordinary injury.

That's a just weird thing to write. "Ordinary Injury." Sigh.

We've see injuries in the sport before. Twisted ankles and knees, head shots that left players twitching. But in those cases as the player is carted off he's sitting up, sometimes angry at his body for failing him, other times hiding his face to mask the terrible agony he's going through. Even players in the neck brace give the stadium a thumbs up as they're loaded into the ambulance. And we know they'll be okay. Maybe they won't be playing anymore, but they'll be someplace - coaching, in the booth, on a Sunday analysis show or selling used cars. They'll be somewhere. But this was not that. To see the sheer terror on his teammates faces told you that. That the term CPR was used. He had to be revived on the field, implying that at some point on the field...well, you know.

In high school, one of my teammates broke his neck during a game. He wore that Halo neck-brace for the next year I think. It did not look comfortable. Because we were young and naive we later joked that when he went down his mother had high hurdled the fence getting to the field she was so scared for her son. And after he'd been worked on, stabilized, loaded into the ambulance and carted off, without a second thought we lined up and went back at like we were invincible, when the truth was it could have been anyone of us.

"There but for the Grace of God, go I." Because on every play when I suited up, it could have been me. Grown men running at each other at top speed to intentionally make contact. Violent contact. Nature of the beast. Despite the rule changes and advances in all the padding, helmets and other safety equipment improvements of the last 50 years injuries are still expected, which is why you have the training staff there, the medics, and at that level even spotters to make sure no one is trying to walk something serious off. But not this. We expect a stinger. A sprain. A hyper-extension. But not this. This is from the football before modern football. We'd left this behind. Or so we'd thought.

I am hoping for Demar's recovery. That he rises in a week or so and finds his charity funded through 2040 with even more money to hand out scholarships. I hope he thinks about it long and hard should he decide to put the helmet on again. I hope is family is overjoyed to have him back. I hope for him many blessings going forward no matter what path he chooses.

This was just a game. That is a man's life.

What I Learned in 20....No, I'm not gonna say it.

So, what as the passing of another year into the books taught me? What lesson have I taken to heart and tried incorporate into the "new me," who is now the "old me" since twelve months have passed. What secrets have I gleaned from my trials and tribulations that I might share so that those who would walk behind me might find the path easier?

Let me get back to you on that.

I spent the last week or so trying to find the lessons. I thought about during the drive down to see the parents, while I slept on that single bed with the brand new mattress in the guest room at my parent's house, during the long drive home. And all this week while I kinda tried to keep my mind on my work tasks at the new chicken plucking factory. And since my plucking is now "hybrid" and has quite a bit of transport, I thought about it during those drives home. I bubbled and burbled a bit. The always consistent Life goes on. The tried and true Love endures. Even the paradoxical Sometimes getting what you want isn't the best thing, that last one in light of my re-submergence into Atlanta traffic. But nothing clicked. 

I've spent another year just mulling things over. I've planned and schemed a lot, and put in place a lot of things to get me to where I want to go. But I'm still in a mire of my own creation - replaying conversations and reexamining my actions instead of moving forward. It partly irritating because I know I can do better....but have apparently chosen this as the better option.

Some of this is still Covid related. Because unlike a lot of folks I see in social media, I'm still masking when I go out in most situations. I still limit my trips out to just the basics, despite seeing stadiums filled to capacity, night clubs jumping and concerts in full rock. But then I haven't had covid yet either, so there is that as a plus. But this limited interaction also limits that thing I realized last year that I actually need - the person in personal contact. I've done one social event this year and honestly...I miss it. But I'm also of the opinion that with my luck even vaxxed and boosted I'll end up flat on my back if I get it adding up my sins and looking for heavenly frequent prayer miles. 

This past year has been a...year. A number of things happened that I wish I had been a larger part of and the reason I wasn't because my own actions. I've said before and will continue to say that I'm responsible for 95% of things that happen to me through my own actions. I guess that's also true for my failings as well. And unfortunately for me, as I explained earlier, I'm probably going to dwell on that for far too long as well. Sigh.

So, words of wisdom.... eh? I'm not sure I'm as qualified to be handing them out as I like to believe I am. But here goes....

Go forth and live, taking time to balance between taking in the full of the now while keeping an eye on the future. Despite our best efforts and most passionate wishes, the world will not wait for us. Be kind but firm, and warm but cautious and open yourself up to the possibilities. Feast or famine, failure or triumph, just remember that you cannot stay here because here will not be here for long, so make a choice and go. And at the very least it will have been something you chose, not just let happen. 

To next year.

Let's Make a Deal - An international diplomacy critique

This is a political post. 

There is a lot to unpack with the trade to get WNBA star Brittney Griner out of a Russian gulag.

I mean, it is truly amazing how I'm just finding out so many regular folks do a lil' international diplomacy on the side. And how they all suddenly appeared on social media swearing this was a bad deal. Well, in MY side capacity as an quasi semi kinda pretend international diplomat, astronaut, chef and chicken plucker I disagree. So let me tell you why.

First, this was the only deal on the table. This wasn't a maybe I can talk them into more, this was Griner or nothing situation. And like a coach trying to figure out do you take the field goal or go for the touchdown or fourth down, you take the points. Sure the ones we talk about go for it all, but the guys who win consistently year after year send out the kicker. Here, the points were getting at least one someone home. I've seen the article which indicated that at one point it maybe was one or the other - at which point I'm almost certain the ask was for both. Because a two-for-one is a good trade. Theoretically. But even if it was that fabled either or situation, why would you take the trained "soldier" and leave the citizen. I mean, that's just bad business.    

Then, the other half of this, claiming Viktor Bout is the "Most Dangerous Man in the World." Yes, and Micheal Jordan is the "Greatest Basketball Player in the World." And while it arguably was true when he was in his prime, in real terms it's been a long time since Viktor was in the gym shooting free throws. Bout was taken into custody in 2008, so it's been almost 15 years since he was truly connected. I'm only a geopolitical expert on the odd Tuesdays but I'm pretty sure whatever channels or networks Bout had in place have long since evaporated. Guys like him got their power from knowing who to call or where to go to get what was needed. And all of that, all of it, has changed since he was last in the game. Yeah, I'm certain he's still knows a guy or two who is doing something, but most of his resources are gone if not completely usurped, the circles he operated in have collapsed, transformed or shifted, and a lot of new players would happily knock him off for s-and-g on three ruble bet. He's still dangerous, but I doubt he'll be able to return to his previous level of infamy simply because getting back in just ain't easy.

(Note: Bout's main hook was that he used to sell surplus Russian gear. Well, unless he's going to Ukraine to pick it up where the deserters dropped it, he's got a minor inventory issue I don't see him fixing.)   

And finally, if this "trade" upsets you, congratulations, you've just been played. Because if you think for one minute that the Russians didn't calculate the outrage over a "black gay athlete" going home while a "former Marine" was "left behind" when setting this up then this is your first day. Framing is important here. I keep seeing it as a portrayed even in US media as the government freed a druggie black lesbian athlete over a proud US marine captured behind enemy lines. Why not say that a Two-time American Olympian freed from a hellish gulag? She hates America conservative pundits scream, because she knelt for the national anthem. But this is America, and believe it or not hating America is allowed because we have that thing called freedom. Remember that? Also, why no mention of why that proud US Marine is even in custody, er I mean former Marine. I mean aside from Whelan having been dishonorably discharged for stealing, lied about being a police officer, was arrested on espionage charges, had four passports, well, obviously the situation is exactly the same as some empty cartridges that once held some weed? Why have we taken to referring to him only as "former Marine"? While technically true, it seems like some people in the conservative media are trying to push folks buttons instead of inform them and let them make up their own minds. You know, like the slogan says.

In any case, Brittney needs to get her a big pizza, roll up one and relax. And I for one ain't mad.

Gotta get your mind right...

Ramblings Post #408
I dunno even know anymore. The days all seem to mush together. The weather is all wonky. When I laid out my complete and total plan for how my life was supposed to go when I was in the fifth grade, sitting at home playing video games wasn't on my list. Mostly because at that age, the only video game was like PONG or something, but totally not the point. There were supposed to be yachts, penthouses and jets, and I supposed to be up for my fourteenth Oscar or something. Okay, I had a good imagination as a kid. Dream big. 

Next year I'm stepping outside of my comfort zone. It's pretty comfortable in here, but you can't grow in your comfort zone. And I need to grow. I mean, at this point I need to do something, I've gotten pretty damned lax. So we're gonna get up off our ass and do...something. 

I want to wake up in a villa by the beach and drink coffee as the tide rolls in.

I want to eat foods I've never even heard of while sitting in a country I hadn't been to, with the people who made it.

I want vistas and sunsets. I want guitar solos and singing at the top of my lungs the words to song I don't even know.

I want to dance. 

I want to see the places I told myself I would go when I wrote my bucket list some 30 plus years ago. 

And as much as I wanted someone to share the adventure with, I see now I may have to go it alone. 

...

And I can't do that from the comfort of my couch.

Oh, and I'm gonna get a new couch!

Barkeep. I'm gonna need a flask. Full of whiskey.

 

I need a break...

Ramblings Post #407
Where will you be when you get where you're going? This was a question asked by an old country comedian Jerry Clower. It's one of those things what with his accent just sounded funny, but is more a question that makes you question yourself. We wake, wash, work and waste away in this funny little thing called life. Do we know where we're going? Will we even know when we get there? And how much to get in? 

So yesterday I took a sleep.

I had my usual day. I'm ranching from the house, so I logged in early and got started. My breakfast was a pair of sausage biscuits. Not the big ones like fast food places make, but this little one I found that you can microwave. Now I take them out of the package and quick fry them and put them back in the bun because I'm extra. And with the right seasoning and a bacon press they taste like the sausage biscuits from this little spot in my home town. But I digress. And lunch was a salad, my now usual at least four times a week. Ruff-agê!

After work I was a little tired. Okay, a lot tired, I started nodding off in front of the computer while I was playing games instead of actually working on something towards self improvement or something that might make me some money. It's been that kinda season. Ugh. But I was down bad. I'd grabbed a small bowl of Crunchy Cheez Doodles to tide me over until dinner, which was supposed to be chicken curry, but I wasn't going to make it. So I figured, a quick thirty minute nap. I put the iPad on some light jazz, crawled on the couch and pulled up the throw. It was about a quarter after Seven.

So at when I awoke at One AM I was a wee bit confused.

Okay, no, I haven't been getting a solid eight hours lately. One rabbit hole after another on the internet, dumb games, etc., AND no I hadn't been eating right lately, you leave the house to run an errand and the burgers start calling my name. So too much red meat, not enough fish and chicken, and too much sugar because red velvet cupcakes are from hell. I've been pushing it lately not achieving. So maybe I just needed it.

Still. Damn. Hell of a nap.

Barkeep. Tall glass of ice water. I got gaming to catch up on! Okay fine, some work. Ugh. 

Under the sea. They're there too.

Ramblings Post #406
Long is the night, the sounds of traffic and the city outside my window, the last of the summer air hanging about my house. Quiet reigns, and in the stillness the weight of years presses down upon the soul and mind drifts back along the halls of memory, looking for something. It finds words. It's always the words there, waiting to dance, scurrying about, waiting to sing, waiting for me.   

There is so much to unpack here.

Just as my feed became dotted with collages of images of young black girls - and some older black girls - excited to the point of tears of seeing The Little Mermaid's Ariel as portrayed by Halle Bailey, as if on cue, triggered by the idea of some iota, some of a sliver of joy for someone other than themselves - those people arrived. You know who I'm talking about. And in my feed I found where someone had pointed out this comment. And honestly, it begs the question.  

Why would changing this character "fix" the whole movie?

I once theorized in long ago entry that one day something like this would come pass for the film industry. Where the tech would be so good you wouldn't really need actors, just the specs of the people you wanted in the film, and we'd be able to create films whole cloth for a few thousand dollars that looked like they cost a many millions to make. Of course that cheap price tag would be bootleg, as famous actors (or just beautiful people) would definitely charge big bucks to license their images just like now. And I imagined studios remaking films from the libraries with actors who previously could never have worked together, like a prime Marlon Brando co-starring with a young Humphrey Bogart and Brad Pitt in something together. I follow a guy on Instagram who makes posters and everything. It's pretty cool.

But in my naivete, I missed this concept as a possibility.

In retrospect I should have been able to put to the pieces together. There are already a few firms that specialize in sanitizing films for religious audiences, Ala edited for TV only in those cases edited for sin. And the ongoing shenanigans over the very existence of non-white folks in fantasy settings, where people are okay with dragons, magic that works and demons but draw the line at black people. I mean, that's just too unrealistic. And I know that new generation deep fakes which are going to be a real headache for politics in the future. So the idea that somewhere a guy wouldn't work overtime to remove what he might see as "undesirable elements" from his favorite piece of cinema shouldn't have been a stretch at all.   

Why would changing this character "fix" the whole movie?

It's the use of the word "fix" that gets me. As though the idea of a non-white version of an entirely fictional character being the center of the story somehow breaks that story. (Point of order - Disney's live action remakes of cartoon classics have been of dubious quality of late, so I hope they realize they're on thin ice here and take extra care.) It is a STORY, purely fiction and as such it can always be revised. The previous Disney version isn't even the original story. Let's be honest, when studios want to they don't even care if it was a true story,  they switch facts all the time to fit the tale that sells tickets..um, I mean, that they want to tell. So why the outrage? 

These are the stars of 2016's Gods Of Egypt. They gonna "fix" this too? 

Well, the other word he used, the term "woke." It's become the new slur that fills in for the N-word to certain crowd, much like "Brandon" fills in for another not polite term they can use in public. That's the tell here. And the quick realization of what they'd done, that they were no longer just talking to friends but possibly to the whole world - they offered up some sort of half-assed attempt an apology. I mean, not even the courage of conviction at the end. And I say the end because Twitter swiftly suspended this account not long after it hit critical exposure. Yes, the use of the word woke tells me why he was mad.

And I for one hope he stays mad.

Barkeep, let me get some whiskey and Sprite. Two cubes of ice. Long day.