It's Enough to Make You Puke
Today's offering will seem like I'm stealing Paul's material, but that's only half-right, as I was planning on posting about this baseball stuff (go figure). The second item, though, was purely Paul's idea, so hat's off to him.
If anyone wonders why most people view professional athletes as spoiled malcontents deserving of scorn, meet Exhibits A and B. Something tells me that Kenny Rogers wouldn't appreciate someone walking to the mound during a game and knocking the ball out of this hand every time he tried to pitch. Yet, he felt it within his rights as a pampered douchebag to do the very same thing to a cameraman just doing his job. (It wasn't during a game, but the example still works.) He definitely should've known when to walk away. (Pointless aside: Rogers threw a perfect game on my 29th birthday.)
Gary Sheffield has always been a prick, so his comments yesterday about a possible trade to the Mets come as no surprise. However, those comments aren't any less sickening; he basically said he wouldn't accept a trade and, in remarks I heard on the radio this morning that aren't in the above article, implied he wouldn't give 100 percent if he were dealt. Warms the heart, doesn't it? Here's a guy making over $10 million a year, and he doesn't have it in him to try his hardest because he made concessions (yeah, deferred money is a real drag) when signing with the Yankees. There's really nothing about professional sports, baseball in particular, that surprises me anymore -- and nothing that would ever deter me from enjoying baseball purely as a game -- but these two jag-offs make me sick.
Speaking of getting sick, as Paul writes, Ted Leo's song "Me and Mia" is about something so completely apart from what I thought it was about, it's pretty amazing to contemplate. Do a Google search for "mia ana" and then read the song's final verse below. A great song just got that much greater.
Sick to death of my dependence, fighting food to find transcendence
Fighting to survive, more dead but more alive
Cigarettes and speed to live and sleeping pills to feel forgiven
All that you contrive, and all that you're deprived
All the bourgeois social angels telling you you've got to change
Don't have any idea, they'll never see so clear
But don't forget what it really means
To hunger strike when you don't really need to
Some are dying for a cause, but that don't make it yours
If anyone wonders why most people view professional athletes as spoiled malcontents deserving of scorn, meet Exhibits A and B. Something tells me that Kenny Rogers wouldn't appreciate someone walking to the mound during a game and knocking the ball out of this hand every time he tried to pitch. Yet, he felt it within his rights as a pampered douchebag to do the very same thing to a cameraman just doing his job. (It wasn't during a game, but the example still works.) He definitely should've known when to walk away. (Pointless aside: Rogers threw a perfect game on my 29th birthday.)
Gary Sheffield has always been a prick, so his comments yesterday about a possible trade to the Mets come as no surprise. However, those comments aren't any less sickening; he basically said he wouldn't accept a trade and, in remarks I heard on the radio this morning that aren't in the above article, implied he wouldn't give 100 percent if he were dealt. Warms the heart, doesn't it? Here's a guy making over $10 million a year, and he doesn't have it in him to try his hardest because he made concessions (yeah, deferred money is a real drag) when signing with the Yankees. There's really nothing about professional sports, baseball in particular, that surprises me anymore -- and nothing that would ever deter me from enjoying baseball purely as a game -- but these two jag-offs make me sick.
Speaking of getting sick, as Paul writes, Ted Leo's song "Me and Mia" is about something so completely apart from what I thought it was about, it's pretty amazing to contemplate. Do a Google search for "mia ana" and then read the song's final verse below. A great song just got that much greater.
Sick to death of my dependence, fighting food to find transcendence
Fighting to survive, more dead but more alive
Cigarettes and speed to live and sleeping pills to feel forgiven
All that you contrive, and all that you're deprived
All the bourgeois social angels telling you you've got to change
Don't have any idea, they'll never see so clear
But don't forget what it really means
To hunger strike when you don't really need to
Some are dying for a cause, but that don't make it yours
posted by MH at
10:08 AM
2 Comments:
It sure is mindblowing, that Ted Leo thing. I never would've caught that myself. I stumbled across something about it on the Web while looking for a lyric sheet, and I've been weirdly preoccupied with it for a whole day now.
You know what's weird about it? If you were actually a sufferer of an eating disorder, the references would be unmistakable, probably just from the title.
It's also fascinating that he went with that subject matter for what are probably the best hooks and best melody of his career. Considering how deeply political his writing is on the rest of the album, it's an interesting choice for him.
By
Elbo, at 12:42 PM
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By
Anonymous, at 8:31 AM
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