[Consolation Brackets]

I'll probably never win an election in my life. Sure people like me, but when it comes time to politick, I'm not good at it. I lost my homeroom's student council election in 7th grade (I think I got two votes, the guy who won never attended any of the meetings, I never filled in as the alternate in protest), I lost the class presidency in 10th grade (I was never serious about it, I ran against 10 other people). Which makes me wonder why anyone would cover college football with a passion. It seems like a fool's game.

Big time college football is a cash cow. The revenue stream it creates for colleges and universities nationwide is immense. These institutions can pack 80,000 strong into a rolling concourse of bleachers on half a dozen weekends every Autumn. Geographically displaced into conferences, a hundred or so teams compete for supremacy and bragging rights. Yet only 20 or so have a legitimate chance of making a run at the national championship. This is true because politics and controversy dictate the landscape of big time college football. Your reputation precedes you everywhere you go. Win and you are golden, lose and you're history. That's the way it should be, but it isn't a level playing field.

Some teams play easy non-conference schedules, some teams play in tough conferences with many talented teams. What is a quality win? My 3 losses are better than your 2 losses. The verdict is currently determined by polls consisting of media members, former coaches, former players and a statistical formulaic analysis of hard data. The shades of gray are ultimately behind my love/hate relationship of college football. I was never a big fan of college football growing up, but recently I've accepted it for what it is. I think Chuck Klosterman put it best when he explained his passion for the sport when he summed it up as an 'event-oriented' experience.

That's what it is - it's hundred year old rivalries, it's meaningless bowl games that'll be forgotten seconds after they transpire, it's a hype machine that lives in the moment, it's all that and then some and then not as much.

With that being said, if Missouri meets West Virginia in the BCS Title Game in New Orleans to kick off 2008, it is what it is. There is no playoff, sure it would bring some clarity to an imperfect system, but boosters all over that continental 48 states would complaining about seeding. And any blowhard that says 'You can't have a playoff because you are already taking kids out of the classroom enough' needs to sit on it. These are grown ass kids, they can wipe their own bums and make their own decisions. Players that'll get drafted in the NFL can get their degrees during the NFL offseason in later years. And for the other players, people can accelerate their course loads to graduate in 2 and a half years. Missing class time, it's not like you get a tuition reimbursement for perfect attendance, you can't even get half price on books you sell back to the bookstore after the course is done, give me a break.

Speaking of colleges and politics - instead of having a Miss USA pageant, they should have a Miss NCAA pageant. You get all the hottest ladies at campuses nationwide (real broads too, not any of these pageant regular Habitat For Humanity gals, I'm talking about the ones that pose in Playboy 'Girls Of Insert Conference Here' issues). It doesn't even have to be sanctioned. You could have traditional rounds like swim wear and evening gown. You could also have rounds like Party Etiquette (just a fancy name for congeniality) and Wet T-Shirt. I'm just making this up, but I could see this going straight to DVD or PPV. Hell, the pageant held at each school would be worth it.

Like A Leopard In A Leotard

I think I'm beginning to understand why people hate cliches. I'm not just talking about cliched things (I've despised those for years), I'm really talking about phrases that are cliches. I realized this as I drove home from work into the depths of a foggy night. No, it wasn't London Fog, it wasn't even Colorado Rockies starting pitcher Josh Fogg or the old band Foghat and the fog definitely wasn't thicker than split pea soup. Cliches are like verbal crutches for unoriginal bastards. I think I know why my teachers didn't want me to use cliches because they wanted me to be unique in my eloquence. I'd take a cliche, add sarcasm and spin it on its head. It's easy to understand verbally, but as written word, there lies the degree of difficulty.

I could dive off the high board (who am I kidding, I would never dive off the high board, my nerves would prevent me from even getting that high, I'd have to be on drugs. No, I'm not currently on any drugs (at least any hard ones...and by hard, I mean cake icing)) and do the triple lindy like Dangerfield did in Back To School (if you've never seen it, go and watch it at your leisure (it features Robert Downey Jr. - if you ever thought he was anything more than a mediocre actor, you get your jollies from getting off to an elbow macaroni sculpture of him you made while watching Zodiac). Sidebar: I don't have enough parentheses to contain my abundance of thought filled tangents.

But with difficulty comes misunderstanding. I'll stick to diving into shallow hotel pools. That's a risk I'm willing to take. I will actively seek out what it would feel like to be 'your brain on drugs'. Just don't bang my head with a skillet any time soon. That's just stupid. Which comes to the lesson of this tale (I originally typed the word tail instead - as a result I know have two lessons)....

a) spellcheck doesn't prevent homonym misusage
b) don't get into fights on the Internet - it's one thing to have a healthy debate about topical matter (Tabasco sauce, fieldturf, underwire, cold remedies, etc.), but when tempers Flair (intentional) up for real, you need to put down the weapon and step away from the computer.

I'm spent like Parker Brothers loot (although I've seen ads for a version of Monopoly without the colored money notes anymore instead they have debit cards that are stuck into mini-computers that keep track of your totals - technology trumps nostalgia - I was never a big Monopoly guy, I was never greedy enough to win).

Trail Of Beers

So last weekend, I went to a casino situated on Native American land. I found irony in the fact that I did not see one Native American in the casino while I was there. Maybe I wasn't looking hard enough or maybe I saw one or more, but have a stereotypical take on Native Americans. Not like I was expecting Wahoo McDaniel to come out hit me with an axe handle, but I would've taken Tatanka strut skipping in a circle whooping it up as a consolation prize. Maybe it was for the best as there was a great dichotomy in the attitudes of your average casino patron. It was either someone who was cold, callous, desperate, shrewd, avaricious, tobaccy or it was someone who was drunk, horny, excitable, happy, carefree, vivacious.

At any rate, more irony as you are fulfilling a reservation at the reservation when you check into the casino hotel. I felt as if I needed an Incredible Hulk (Hennessey, a cognac (brown) mixed with Hpnotiq, a blend of fruit juices and cognac (blue) which turns green like the comic character).

I'm trying to diet as part of an on-going trend of weight loss competitions amongst groups of people ala the reality show 'The Biggest Loser'. I'm doing decently, it's a good motivational tool to lose weight and improve the quality of your life. It isn't easy and the holidays are a good test to one's willpower. I've managed to stay away from most sweets. My first question when I started this thing was what could I booze with? I've moderated my alcoholic intake, the occasional beer. I don't buy into light beer, it's a scam. Bacardi and Diet Cola isn't bad. I can't believe I stayed away from Bacardi all these years. It was my parents' vacation libation, I probably held a grudge because they would ask me to make them that concoction constantly. I stayed away from Captain Morgan for a shorter period of my life, but grew to enjoy it with Ginger Ale after years of loathing the smell of it.

So here's to gluttony on Thanksgiving. I probably won't be as bad as I am on most years. But I'll leave you with this thought. Why doesn't anyone recreate the 2nd Thanksgiving? It would be hilarious. There would probably be a couple of people who didn't make it back. Grace would include the thought of being thankful that the feast could become an annual event. I'm sure they tweaked the meal a bit. They were probably able to get rid of practices that they didn't like. But the mashed potatoes were probably still little lumpy and the gravy was probably a trifle thin.

Presidence Under Some Arrangement

I was born during an election year. It was the year the peanut farmer took on the veteran Hollywood actor. And show business won, Ronald Reagan would go onto rule the nation for 8 years. I don't remember much about Reagan except he reminded me of that third grandpa I never had. His wife Nancy was grandma and she along with Punky Brewster told me to 'Just Say No'. I didn't really say much until I was in elementary school anyway and most of it was school related. Saying 'yes' was like a curse word because I took everything literally.

But enough about me, let's stop beating around the bush and briefly address the elder Bush. He was Reagan's VP and he was another old fart who guided us through that brief skermish called Desert Storm. I remember Lee Greenwood scored a hit with 'Proud To Be An American', I was disappointed that Rick Derringer's theme for Hulk Hogan 'Real American' didn't own the slot of captivating the nation in the early 1990s during this conflict. But then again, Hulkamania was waning at that point. Figuratively speaking, we needed someone to moon us in the 1990s.

We got our wish with Bill Clinton, a charismatic younger gentleman who took up for the Democrats as the Republican wave of the 1980s was passing by. Bill was a ambiguously lovable yet immoral figure who had sexual relations with a woman that wasn't his wife. It was a sign of the times that he was able to come out looking like a bouquet of roses after that debacle. That's politics for you, this was an era where the most ignominious figure of the era was O.J. Simpson, a man whom all the evidence pointed to him killing his own wife, but he was absolved of the crime by a jury that couldn't prove him guilty. This would mark the beginning of the rise of tabloid culture where the general public would seek out famous people's dirty laundry and put it out on the proverbial clothesline of popular consumption.

This leads us to another Bush, the prior Bush's son. The class clown, The Lone Star Forrest Gump, G.W. would lead the nation in an ever changing world full of terrorism, devastating natural disasters and untenable global conflict with a shit eating grin. Soldiers are scarce and the ruckus is a plenty. Never has the nation been more divided about a leader in my lifetime. In a two-party political system such as the U.S., you either like or dislike the figurehead.

Sure it's easy to simplify the situation, but in 2007, there are shades of grey. Anyone can get on the Internet and espouse about just about anything from video footage of themselves and other lighting their smelly farts on fire to a harangue about the ill will of sweatshops an ocean away producing cheap goods with even cheaper labor. There are shades of gray, what is right, what is wrong? Do we even know anymore? There is no cut and dry answer.

This leads us to another election. The current Bush can't serve another term and we are searching for another leader. I don't really follow politics on nothing more than what's on the surface. My opinions are purely from a visceral perspective. I see Billy's wife and Barack Obama getting a lot of pub on the Democratic side. Some say they'd form a ticket of a woman and an African-American and pool their demographic. Politicians are supposed to serve the people, but moreso they serve their own self-interests instead of being altruistic figures. It would be an interesting duo. A nation would be divided, there are enough people that would support this unprecedented ticket yet there are just as many that would be unwilling to yield to history in the making.

On the other side, you have what appears to be a dozen different fellows trying to keep the ball in the Republican court at the top of the helm. Somebody has gotta step up, whomever is "Most Likely To Succeed" or fulfills whatever requisite superlative that's in vogue on the day the hammer drops will represent. I abhor primary elections in this day and age. How can you let a state like Iowa play such a pivotal role in determining who is going to run the nation? Name four notable things to ever come out of Iowa. (I think I'm being generous with the number four here)

Politics is show business, this is why a C student with the Kodak smile and Ric Flair swagger can thrive within the legislative climate. I'm unenrolled, sometimes I abstain from voting. People tell me I should vote all the time. I have the power to elect someone based on claims, promises and heresay. People hold their elected officials to their word. I always find it funny when they made when politicians don't necessarily live up to what they say. It's like getting mad at J.D. Drew for taking too many third strikes, flying out or grounding into a double play in the late innings with men on base; you have no control how they act. Sure it's bullshit, but that's the nature of the beast. You see it in the media, you see in the entrepeneural sector, the scams, the double dealing, the ballwashing, it's ubiquitous.

Now let's all do the Macarena.

Awareness Eliminates Ignorance

Apparently from the comfort or discomfort of your home computer (depending on how you look at it), you can kill confined animals by the click of your mouse. You can aim at these animals just like it was a video game, but it's real. It's call 'Internet hunting' and it's banned in over 20 U.S. states. This is along the lines of Vickian dogfighting. I should read the newspaper more often.

Bedhead Counting Sheep No More

Hello, my name is John (my father wanted me to be Jack, but when I was wee, I was steadfast in my desire to be a 'John' - I kind of wished I listened to the man) and welcome to my sick and twisted blog. This paragraph is already garbage because I'm historically awful at introducting myself. Those that know me well enough would agree that I make a horrible first impression. But I grow on you like pubes on a tween. If you were offended by that last statement, I sincerely apologize. I tend to be descriptive and use colorful analogies, you have been warned.

Where do I begin? For the past couple of months, I've been engaging in a social experiment that went extremely awry. I have refrained from getting my haircut. I normally go to Supercuts (the 'Russian Roulette' of haircuts) because if you get 8 haircuts, you get the 9th on the house. If you are male and like to maintain, you may be able to get 2 or 3 of these a year. Me on the other hand gets one every 2 or 3 years. I avoid getting a haircut like it was the plague.

I cannot even remember the last time I got my hair shorn. For about a month, my hair has looked disheveled. I'd go into work with slick combo of hair product (gel, hairspray) in my hair. I was on my way to developing a mullet ala hockey analyst Barry Melrose. This was doing a serious number on my scalp so there were some days where I would fuse my bedhead with a concept where I would toss my hair around like it was a Caesar salad. The latter got mixed reviews as I expected, some thought I was under a great deal of emotional duress in my personal life while others told me that it fit my personality. Perception is the product of the truth and bologna. Needless to say, I achieved a favorable result.

Today, I was out having lunch and drinking Sierra Nevada in the 90 degree heat watching the Red Sox get outslugged by the Tigers. While sweating, I realized I needed to cut it all off. So I went home and let my girfriend enlist me in Marine Corps. She would buzz all my hair off and make me look like Private Pyle in Stanley Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket. So that's the jist of this overblown tale of my reddish locks taking a vacation from my skull. I have the tendency of making the insignificant seem significant and the absurd seem commonplace. It's the nature of my existence.