Wait, she lost?

Ramblings Post #304
There are Champions, and then there are champions. A lot of the greats are crowned by the media.  Full Disclosure, I hate Tom Brady and the Patriots, cheaters all. I measure the greatness of the ages by the caliber of whom they compete against: Magic vs. Bird, Ali vs. Frazier, the 1990-94 Buffalo Bills vs the entire NFC East. Greatness in the abstract has never impressed me. All of sport knows that "to be the man you gotta beat the man." But what if there is no man to beat, or in this case, no woman? Well then you're just practicing. Then you're just wasting time.

Listening to the build up I got the impression that they'd have to carry a crying Holly Holm to the ring kicking and screaming like a human sacrifice, then scoop her up broken after her encounter with the Tasmanian Devil incarnate, Rhonda Rousey. One person joked they didn't want to pay for the fight, a twenty second .gif would show the whole thing later.

We found this not to be the case.   

I never was a Rhonda Rousey fan. There I said it. Something always felt off about her. Not because she was a woman fighter, that registers as an "eh" with me. I used to watch wrestling back in the day and the Fabulous Moolah was no joke I can assure you. Or that she came off as arrogant, after all lots of fighters are arrogant. You kind of have to be more than a little arrogant to want to climb in the ring and risk getting beaten up regularly. No, I didn't like her because she didn't look like she enjoyed it. She looked mad all the time for some reason, even after the press started playing her up. You get played up not just as the best in the sport or a once in a lifetime talent, but possibly the best that ever will be and you continue to look like someone stole your lunch? And not that ham and cheese sandwich with potato chips lunch either, I'm talking the lasagna leftover with the garlic rolls and a piece of cake lunch kind of angry.

And her supporters, currently in denial, need to own up and admit that the loss exposed her fighting style as extremely limited. She had Plan A - Be Rhonda Rousey. True it has served her well when she was facing fighters who were scared to step into the ring with her. But when that didn't work, when the other fighter was able to keep her distance and tag from the outside like the boxer that she was instead of the judo victim Rousey was used to facing, this "great talent" apparently had no Plan B. Great fighters, no, pretty much all athletes in every sport know they have to adjust to fit the circumstances. If the other team is shooting three pointers like layups, you chase them off the perimeter. When the offensive line can't stop penetration, you run screens or change your protection package. Ali stood in the corner at the end of the first round of the Rumble in the Jungle and redesigned his whole game plan when he realized he'd underestimated Foreman. After the first few jabs Rousey just kept trying to be Rousey. Why didn't she have another strategy? Oh, right. MMA. My bad.   

And by the way it's not the losing that will be the hardest. It's the complete and utter dominance that Holm was able inflict while doing it. Had Rousey lost a decision, I could see using that to build on for the future rematch. But getting man, um, woman-handled around the octagon and ending up wrecked, knocked out on the mat bloody while your opponent looks like she might have just finished a grueling spin class? Especially after all the social media shit talk? Um, she might want to take minute. My thinking is that if the "Rowdy" one can't come up with another fight strategy, if she can't adapt, she might just want to consider her other life options. I heard she's filming a movie, so she might want to stick with that. The prospect for the rematch doesn't bode well for her right this second, considering the thoroughness of her ineffectiveness in this first fight.

Will she return much like Ali and take back what she has proclaimed as hers? Now we get to the nitty damn gritty.

Barkeep. I need a Gentleman Jack and Mountain Dew. No seriously. You didn't know the Dew was actually invented to be drunk with whiskey? Like specifically. 

You Betta Check Yourself...

Ramblings Post #186
"You betta check yourself before you wreck yourself". The words from the wise sage of my age, an O'Shea Jackson, better known by his public persona Ice Cube. It's a way of saying that overconfidence can get you big trouble. I'm no stranger to overconfidence, especially on those things I think I know. Okay, call it arrogance. And since I don't like myself when I get like that, and it's a slippery slope, I tend to stay low-key. But then there are moments like this...

Yes, that is a "Mike Tyson" quote....go figure.

I'm getting the big head.

My litigation class, and the subsequent exercise associated, is a pass/fail class. Now, they are handing out two A's in the section, but provided you showed up enough, turn in all the assigned work, participated and can actually show them you have a grasp of the material via the aforesaid exercise, you get to pass the class. Which is how the vast majority of the class views it. Way too much work for just a chance at an actual grade.

And since I have two other what look like very lengthy exams, a 24 hour and a 72 hour open book take home, I was all ready to just get on through this so I could concentrate on my "substantive" coursework. I really hadn't thought about being a litigator. Then my first assignment got good marks and I started thinking I could get the A, I got a little excited. I mean, who couldn't use an A on their transcript? But I figured it was wishful thinking.

Then it happened.

My "opposing counsel" had a mini-fit over a minor difference of interpretation, and insisted we all interpret the discrepancy his way, which happened to be in his favor. I had originally joked to the three people in my exercise, my trial partner and the two opposing counsel, that we simply script the whole thing out, pass and keep it moving. Then he decided he wanted to win. Needed to win. You could see it in his eyes. It was a must have.

So I'm not gonna let him.

So for the past two weeks, I've actually gone over this thing with a fine tooth comb. And since you've got either be a witness or juror for one other exercise besides your own, I've been to a pair that have been pretty straight forward if not basic. The exercise is a "fact pattern", designed to have issues both sides are supposed to exploit to show they understand the law and it's application. Our little two person teams will make the legal arguments, develop testimony, the whole schmear, as judged by an actual practicing litigator.

The whole idea of the problem as proposed is that there is no actual answer. Both sides are supposed to put on the best presentation and a group of individuals, typically the first year law students - who know none of the facts until we present them - act as a jury. In the end they reach a verdict and we get graded on if we hit all the needed parts to pass the class. It's a murder case, and its supposed to so ambiguous it could go either way.

Now, I think I've solved it. THINK, mind you. Solved it as in figured out who the real killer is. You see, when I was a kid, my mother got us a subscription to GAMES magazine, which my brother I fought over, and it included puzzles like the two minute mystery. So I've been looking at this as a big something to unravel. I don't think I was supposed do that though, so I got a problem.

What I'm trying to do now is figure out how to get through the session without getting smug. Okay, overly smug. Without playing to the imaginary cameras in the back of the room. Without turning into Vinny Gambini. Without believing that I have been anointed with the undeniable truth and will smite those who blaspheme against my message, as no weapon can be formed that can cleave the solidity of the word, as I have seen it. Which I have occasionally been prone to do. And have occasionally been wrong while doing it.

I mean, I could use the A, but I'm not sure what I want to do, how I want to play the whole thing will actually get it.

Some of my previous strategic decisions regarding law school have not gone over as well as I'd hoped (no complete disasters, I'm still IN law school). I so want to just get through this. Well, wanted. Past tense.

Now, because of my ego. I have to win.

Whoa. I DO have an ego. Well, there goes that theory.

Barkeep. A five hour energy drink and hot toddy.

By the that much...

This is a political post.

Well damn.

219 - 212.

It's like the score to one of those old time NBA Allstar games where nobody played defense and just came in the arena and shot the ball with reckless abandon. And so, as it turns out, after some all night hardball politicking....the Obama presidency gets new life.

How he probably looked afterwards...

And all it took was to raise the anger and vitriol of the latent racist and homophobes that populate the Republican party. When people feel comfortable using the N-word to congressmen, we have a much, much deeper issue. At least this week they didn't raise the subtle specter of the something being ramming down anyone's throat, I mean, what with a black president and all and the imagery I'm sure they were trying to conjure up. Although I'm not too certain they didn't actually raise the interest of a few of their own closeted members.

And they did it without a single Republican vote. Which just bodes ill for way too many reasons. I realize the people on the other side of the aisle are assholes, but if that wasn't a metaphorical finger of biblical proportions I don't know what was.

What I really find hard to believe is that I live in a country where people feel its okay to let people die in the streets, which is what the opponents of Healthcare reform were really arguing for. I've heard the discussions of some of those opposed to Healthcare, that the individual should be responsible enough to carry insurance on their own and etc, and the selling them insurance after the auto accident metaphor. And they would have merit if the average American could buy insurance like buying a hamburger, or if the going rate was $50 or so a month. But for the average working American whose job doesn't supply health insurance, the choice is usually between eating now and paying for health coverage for the future. I've heard of premiums on family packages as high as $800 a month. Eating or Insurance. Is that really the American dream?

The really sad part is, those protesters didn't realize that they already live in the world they cry they don't want to live in, that they're already paying for the insured through higher premiums based upon higher fees charged by hospitals to treat the uninsured by law that they cannot turn away. The current legislation makes everyone chip in, which is just...I dunno, crazy talk. Almost comical screams for fiscal responsibility, I mean, as long as it isn't for something I'd like to spend the money on, like defense or that plant that will make jobs in my district. That insurance companies were planning to drop unprofitable customers to raise the bottom line - now that is REAL death panel - should have been unsettling, but it wasn't for the ones blinded by unfounded rage.

It's strange, this plan just might even help some of them.

And if helping the person who just spit in your eye - literally - isn't American, I don't know what is.

Office Breaks and Gold Ping Pong Paddles

Ramblings Post #67
The office is a strange place. You go early in the day, sometimes before the sun comes up, meet and hang out with mostly like minded folks doing pretty much what you're doing for 8 or 10 hours a day and then....go home to real life? If I'm not mistaken, that job is your Real Life, and what you do at home is get ready for it, relax after it and on weekends recover from it. And yet it's taboo to try to pick up dates there. In the dominant part of your life. Go figure.
Sometime ago, while cleaning out her rec room, the director of the department I work in decided to upgrade their family Ping Pong table. And rather than throw the old one out, they took down a few empty cubicles here in the office (there seem to be so many lately) and set up the Ping Pong Lounge, complete with futon couch and chairs, so that we could relax. On Breaks, during lunch and when we weren't working.

This has resulted in sweaty Ping Pong players coming to my desk to ask about client questions.

If you ask me what I do, I am for the most part a professional chicken plucker. It's easier to tell you that than explain what it is I actually do with technology and client's and other people's time. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. So when the Office Moguls and the rest of the office gang aren't plucking chickens, they're playing Ping Pong. A whole lot of Ping Pong.

I knew it had gotten out of hand when.... a) they began purchasing new equipment...like the $50 Ping Pong paddle, b) they started to hang around on Friday night AFTER work to play Ping Pong and finally when c) they started a collection to purchase a NEW Ping Pong table. Yeah, they asked me for money for a game I don't even have time the play. I hear managers looking for people to get stuff done, knowing these fools are on the table. I'm certain in the team meetings "Ping Pong time management" has been discussed.

Sometimes as I'm creeping out on Friday night to go fall into a law book, I'll see someone who has been off for two hours waiting to play. Or someone hovering above the table waiting to return a tricky serve and I'll pass their waiting wife in the parking lot. Is there something about Ping Pong I'm missing? I hear "come and be graced by this whipping I'm about to give you" and other Ping Pong challenges and exhortations on the floor. Guys discussing serves and returns, angles and stances. I get the impression before long I'll get the email about a company "Ping Pong Tourney" complete with prizes.

Hath the Ping and the Pong cometh for us?

If you are looking for a job and getting frustrated, you should be pissed. Because some of the folks still working don't appreciate what they have, and are mad they can't go to the office and just play Ping Pong all day.

Barkeep. A whiskey and soda for me, and round of beers for the guys at the Ping Pong table. They're not going anywhere.

Both sides of the street?

So this weekend, after the city of Atlanta was stopped by an overwhelming TWO inches of snow, I bundled up and rode out to a Fight party.

There's nothing quite like a good fight party. Usually peopled by people who aren't really there to see a fight, but who came for a party, it gives a function substance, a focal point if you will. Usually fight party goers are a little rowdier, a little more vocal, a little more raucous as the fight excitement permeates the crowd. It's a group focal point for an event, a kind of a theme, and not that single focal point, which is usually the chick with that nice butt in them really tight pants. It makes a party a little bit more than an excuse to get drunk and hit on drunker women. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Nothing.

So I show up and it's surprisingly full. The got big screens and flat screens all over, plenty of food, liquor looks plentiful, the women look friendly and all that's missing from the basement is a pole. I'm almost disappointed when the fight starts.

So as we watch Roy Jones play with Trinidad - beating his own stomach, poking out is chin, doing the Harlem Shake between rounds - the cops show up. In like round six.

Now this is a grown folks party. No weed. Everybody still got their clothes on. It's all cool.

Or rather it's not. Cause what has happened is some folks parked on the wrong side of the street.

Party Rule No. 6 - Parking - When partying at a home in a subdivision, one must take care that all invitees park on the same side of the street, as to not impede possible emergency traffic. Failure to follow this rule may result in local law enforcement ending the party prior to your planned time.

(As side note, I once had a party go so well, that 4am I called the cops on myself to get them folks out the house)

During the fight they start announcing that if you parked on the that side of the street, you need to move your car. For the number of folks there, that would be a whole lot of cars. Now, as we didn't all disgorge from the house like ants, a few rounds later the police decide that now...they want both sides of the street in the subdivision clear. Both sides?

I realize a rule or two was broken, but is that grounds to break up a peaceful gathering? Did I just get the new millennium equivalent of the fire hose? What just happened here?

Realizing that it would take the tow trucks time to arrive on scene, I watched until they read the decision, then broke camp. In the future, I'll be reviewing the rules and regulations regarding subdivision parking for wherever the hell I party.

Barkeep, make that a double shot of espresso. I need something strong.