Just stumbled across this little tid bit through my late-day-god-just-end-this-hellish-experience-now-so-I-can-go-home ramblings through Jezebel. Lance and an Olsen? Say it ain’t so.

I’ve been a Knicks fan since I’ve liked basketball. Thankfully that began in the early nineties when the Knicks were actually relevant in the NBA. The past 10-12 years has seen a steady decline in the Knicks record and overall quality of their play. I found this link via Deadspin that chronicles the demise of the once great franchise.

But here’s the great thing about being a sports fan, last year doesn’t matter. Every year (besides one or two in there), I thought to myself: this is the year we make some progress. I’m realistic. I don’t think the team is going to the championship much less winning it. All I ask for is improvement. Playoffs. .500? Maybe? And yes, this year is one of those years despite all markers to the contrary that I am excited for Knicks basketball (Note: I think this has to do with my general regained excitement for sport in general but that’s another story). The problem is that the Knicks seem determined to undermine any possibility for hope. They make poor decision after poor decision. I thought maybe we’d gotten over that with the Randolph trade (I liked it, especially after watching Frye play some in the Portland-San Antonio game last night), but then the whole Anucha Browne-Saunders (ANUUUUUUUUUCHA will be the new chant in MSG) thing came up and we all know that debacle. Then the Curry injury so that the most important 1-2 part of the time (Curry-Randolph) has gotten no time to really play together. See their dynamic is at the center of the team. How do they work in the high-low together. Is this going to be Duncan-Robinson all over again? (NO, NO, and NO)
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The NBA season tipped off last night (WOOOOOO!!!!), which means that an increasing number of these posts will cover basketball, which means I’ll lose my general readership.  Wait, I have a readership?  Hello?  *Crickets*

I watched a few quarters of basketball last night when I couldn’t sleep due to the mosquitos in my room (seriously, they kept me awake for three hours.  I killed six of them and yet when I finally fell asleep I swear I heard one in my ear.  Also, have you noticed that as soon as you realize you’ve been bitten by a mosquito, everything starts itching?   My beard started to.  My jock so to speak.  Scabs.  Everything that could itch started itching - okay, I’m unsure how the verb usage worked in that and I have digressed beyond necessary means.) and I’ve got a few initial  impressions:

1.  That Blazer team is going to be GOOD.  Maybe not this year and maybe not next, but man, they held with the Spurs for at least three quarters.  I mean, given, it’s early season Spurs but still.  Martell Webster looked good.  LaMarcus Aldridge.  They will be good.

2.  I have a hearty dislike for Kobe Bryant.  Not just because of the whole trade demand drama and everything, but also just watching him play, and not because he’s a ball hog etc etc.  He just bitches all the time on the court.  He got fouled, he didn’t foul, this guy did that, this that and the other.  He just wore this constant look of like a young spoiled brat who wasn’t getting their way.  Lakers fans were right to boo him.   Also note on this game, when the Rockets really gel and get into the system.  Look out.

A video from a Japanese quiz show that answers the question if the world’s fastest walker is being chased by samurai, does he walk or run away?

And I don’t mean that in a vulgar way what so ever. I am, instead, talking about Wynton Marsalis who I had the pleasure of see at Jazz at Lincoln Center (which is in fact at the Time Warner Center). Watching Marsalis play and speak, it made me realize that every breathe this man took, every exhalation was meant to be put through a trumpet. The sheer joy he took from playing music, from being around music and musicians was so evident. You got the feeling that even if he wasn’t able to play in front of audiences in elaborate (and I’ll admit pretty beautiful) concert halls, he would still want to blow on that horn. There was so much passion in what he was doing, and it was interesting watching him amidst the rest of the orchestra. All of the orchestra (group?) were obviously talented musicians or they wouldn’t be there and they all obviously loved music, otherwise, again, they wouldn’t be there, but still it seemed like there was something different about Marsalis. Maybe it was simply that along with playing he was MCing the event, but when he came to the front of the stage to play, it was like the room changed. His playing literally gave me goosebumps at one point.

Now, admittedly, as an artist, this type of passion and commitment to your art and the history of your art and everything is somewhat daunting. Given Marsalis has over 24 years on me, but still, I was awed by his knowledge of jazz and then again, his passion for it. I love writing. I really do love it. But I got the feeling that if I took Marsalis trumpet away he’d be sweating like a junky in no time, and that’s intimidating for someone like me who has, perhaps, not yet found that fire. I know I want to write. I know I can write. And I know that there’s times when I’m writing and I’m on a roll and its the greatest feeling in the world. My heart will be racing, my legs will be twitching, and it takes all my energy just to keep me in my chair and to keep me pounding on the keys. But there’s so much more going on in life, and I suppose that’s where Marsalis and I seem to diverge. It truly seemed to me that he lived, ate, drank, and breathed Jazz and always had. (more…)

Maybe it’s ’cause it’s Friday and thus the good brew is on my mind, but I found this article on the greatest drinking stories of all time to be quite entertaining. It, in fact, made me want to have a beer (wait, I already wanted a beer). These drinkers sound like my type of people. Week long parties? Where do I sign up? I’m one of those “hangover be damned” fellows who likes to chase a hangover with a nice Rose with brunch (can’t stand Bloody Marys). Yeah, these historical figures are my types. Maybe even my ancestors.

While scrolling through Deadspin as I do all the time (literally, I have very little else to do at my job usually), I came across this little gem and thought it was pretty awesome. I mean, sure, maybe it was a little dangerous, but I think it was okay. After all it was a 47 year old woman driving the car, not some youth who didn’t know how to get along side a car so that her daughter could lean out the window and take a beer from a car next to it. Not that that’s a hard thing to do.

I feel as though no punishments should be handed out. It was all good in the hood. No one was hurt. If there’s grass on the field, play ball. (Wait, what? And actually, that’s technically wrong -though now righted, slightly).

Longest. Blog.  Title.  Ever.  Okay that’s probably not true, but at the behest of a certain someone, I would like to invite you all to examine the difference in the relief efforts in San Diego with those in New Orleans following Katrina.  I mean there are differences in the diasters and the spread of them and I would also believe in the population density of the areas that the disasters hit, but still, Qualcomm Stadium is handing out back rubs and turning away supplies ’cause they have too many.  Quite different.  Whatever card you want to play feel free to play it, but there are all sorts of differences in the demographics of the two areas that could provide fuel to the fire (a figurative one, not the literal one).

Some of you may be aware that the New York Giants and the Miami Dolphins are playing their American football game in Wimbley Stadium in London this Sunday. In preparation for the event, some guys have built a 26 foot tall animitronic Jason Taylor that will go around various parts of London. When I saw this massive robot, I fully expected steam to spread out from behind it, its eyes to start glowing, and it to begin asking who dares disturb the great and powerful JT. No? Not you, too?

Anyway, interesting advertising ploy if completely and utterly terrifying. Would this really make you want to watch a football game? Much less an American football game? This would be the equivalent of putting a giant Wayne Rooney in Times Square when Man U came to play at Giants Stadium. DO NOT WANT!

So in applying to graduate schools these days, I’ve come across the dreaded “Personal Statement” once again.  What I enjoyed about the college application process (okay, I didn’t enjoy anything about the college application process) was that the essay section had more of a purpose than just saying why I want to go to school there.  You said something in that essay that wasn’t necessarily apparent from the rest of your application.  You wrote about things that inspired you or strange things in your life that changed the way you look at the world.  Every “Personal Statement” that I’ve come across has said “Please write a brief personal statement about why you want to apply to graduate school.”  How many interesting responses are there to that question?  I mean, seriously, how many people write in and talk about the divine revelation they had when they suddenly realized they absolutely positively had to apply for an MFA in creative writing?

More than likely a lot of kids simply realized they loved to write and that they hated office work so much that they couldn’t possibly hold a day job and write at the same time, so they should teach.  I would guess that something like 85-90% of these personal statements say that A) they want more editors and B) they want to teach.  What other reasons are there?

Also of note, whenever I hear personal statement I think of something more along the lines of “I had 13 toes as a child” (NOTE: I did not) than I think of “why I want to go to graduate school.”  Perhaps some rephrasing is necessary, or just something more interesting.  God, I hate this process.