Blurred Lines

Like so many others, I am a creature of habit. My wife may think it occasionally borders on OCD, and she’s not wrong. Recently, I tweaked (I might have to retire the use of “tweak” as it’s just way too close to “twerk” but I digress) my bedtime routine. I used to just put on the television, and find something that was just interesting enough that I didn't want to flip the channel, but lacked action and humor. Usually it ended up with me watching an episode of “Lockup” or “Drugs Inc.” Then, in an effort to make it easier for my wife to fall asleep, I swapped an iPad in place of the television.

Now I look for documentaries that fit the bill; interesting enough that it holds my attention for 20 minutes, but not so interesting that it gives me a second wind. Last night I found Miss Representation.  Miss Representation is a documentary that delves into how the media portrays women, and how that impacts young girls to teens, to women and even men. See, it doesn't even sound all that enthralling, right? Sure, I've noticed how almost every commercial includes a beautiful woman and her beauty is the focus of the spot, no matter if the ad itself is selling perfume or a hamburger.

But what really hooked me, was listening to a group of high school girls talk about their stories. Hearing tales of how they worried about their weight in 5^th grade. As well as the stories about how harsh women are to each other. It really struck a chord with me, as a father, husband, uncle, son, brother and as a compassionate human-being. I couldn't help but think about how we could diminish the impact of the onslaught of images and influences the Kyd sees on a daily basis. Unfortunately, and predictably, I haven’t been able to come up with a silver bullet. Instead, I've decided that I’ll sit and watch Miss Representation with down with my wife and daughter. I’ll do my best to not say anything. I’m sure the Kyd will be plenty embarrassed by all the shots of cleavage and skimpy outfits. It’ll be hard for me to keep my lips sealed, but I’m hoping she takes away two thoughts.

One, it’s all crap. Her worth isn't derived from her body. Winning the adoration of a boy isn't the end game, and she should never sell herself short for any reason.

Secondly, I want her to know that I’m aware of the burden society puts on her and her friends. Then maybe one day down the road when I make a crack about how she’ll never be allowed to wear the house in a skirt as short as the one that girl over there is wearing, isn’t about me wanting to prevent her from attracting boys or because I want her to be afraid of sex. I just want her to be seen for the smart, funny, talented, beautiful, compassionate, and creative young woman she is. And more than wanting her to be seen that way, I want her to see herself as smart, funny, talented, beautiful, compassionate and creative young woman she is.

Maybe she’ll start to understand why I refuse to listen to Miley Cyrus’ latest song, when it comes on the radio when we’re on our way to volleyball practice. And maybe I need to turn the channel the next time a Victoria’s Secret commercial comes on during the basketball game we’re watching. Or maybe I just need to be sure she hears me compliment her, as well as her mother’s sense of humor, intelligence and kind heart.

Breaking Wish

Like most of the country, I am obsessed with “Breaking Bad”. No, that’s not even accurate. I am addicted.  I’ll skip all of the obvious metaphors, but I can’t get enough of the show or the cast. I want to have surgery so that I sound like Aaron Paul. I hate myself for being a couple of years late to the party, but I’ll be first in line for Vince Gilligan’s next project. He could write a note on the wall of a bathroom stall in whatever they now call the Oakland Coliseum, and you’ll find me literally knee deep in it.

I think the writers are nothing short of brilliant, and for me to place this show above “The Sopranos” on my Mount Rushmore of television dramas is the highest compliment I can give.  There hasn't been a wasted episode, pointless character or a single line that wasn't meticulously thought out. The premise itself doesn't sound incredibly interesting.  And a show about a middle class and middle aged white person becoming a drug dealer, just three years after “Weeds” premiered, smells of a copycat. Yet they made the most interesting and most original series, the best ever.

That all said, I think they’re making a mistake. Not with the direction of the show, but with the Saul Goodman spin-off. For me, Saul has always been a great character, who has given the show great comedy relief at the exact right time. Before I stopped biting my fingernails, and began devouring entire fingers. But he isn’t the character to carry an entire series. He’s like Jack Black. Fantastic in a supporting role, but should only be the lead in the perfect situation. Think: High Fidelity, School of Rock, King Kong, and Shallow Hal.

No, the character that would make for the most interesting spin-off is the last character they introduced us to. The man with no name, played by the brilliant Robert Forster. (Thanks to the Podcast, I actually do know his name)

What television doesn't need is another show about a lawyer. Not even a corrupt, glorified ambulance chaser who offices out of a strip mall. But a show about someone who owns a vacuum store and on the side helps recreate identities and relocate all sorts of characters? That’s an idea worth exploring.  He’s someone I want to know more about. How did he get into that line of work? Why? What’s his end game? What are his methods?  And can you imagine all the different characters they could introduce?

Not just the criminal masterminds like Mr. White, yo. There’s the abused spouse wanting to start fresh. Maybe a disgraced politician that had to withdraw from a race because of some indiscretions. Or the front man of a band like The Cruisers. 

Breaking Theory

After last night’s “Breaking Bad” I have, like the rest of the world, had to re-evaluate my prediction for how the show ends. Not that I had really committed a single theory, but based on what we knew, Walt was alive in the somewhat near future. Based on the, for lack of a better word, flash-forward, we knew that Walt had left the Albuquerque area and assumed a new identity. Most of the theories revolved around him calling Saul’s vacuum repair guy.

Stop reading now, if you haven’t seen last night’s episode. Also, get your priorities in line.

They left us believing that Hank and Gomez were dead, or that death was imminent. Not since Trayvon Martin, has someone been at such a disadvantage as a couple of DEA agents were against some ultra-militant Neo-Nazi psychopaths. But let’s be honest, they had pretty horrible aim. They had the better angle, more firepower, and shot first. Yet, somehow we never see Hank or Gomez wounded. Or I missed it. This is completely possible, as I can neither confirm nor deny that I had to pause the show, just to change my shorts. I was sure they were going to snipe Hank like Tom Berenger would have.  

Based on the assumption that Hank and Gomez lose the firefight, here is what I think is going to happen:

Walt will be wounded. There’s just no way that none of the bullets strike him. There hasn’t been a sitting duck like that since Tupac on the Vegas strip. Which, by the way, happened 17 years ago Saturday. RIP, Pac. And now, back to our regularly scheduled program. The skinheads aren’t going to kill Jesse. Maybe they think Walt is dead, but Jesse survived the shootout. So Landr-, er, Matt Dam-, I mean Todd’s crazy uncle is going to snatch Jesse. Our beloved Jesse is their best bet at increasing the purity of Todd’s cook as well as adding that blue persuasion.

But we know that Walt did indeed survive. I think he ends up turning State’s evidence, and testifying against the Skinheads. He could just as easily spin a tale about how they got their hooks into him, just like the story he spun about Hank in “Confessions.” And the Government will be more concerned with getting the guys who gunned down two of their own. Also, since the DEA has no knowledge of Hank investigating Walt.

So Mr. White testifies, but something goes wrong. The skinheads have Jesse cooking for them, but Todd finally perfects the cook, and Jesse becomes disposable. We see Walt coming back, not to go after Jesse. Not to face off with Walt Jr. Mr. White, who actually got away with being a drug kingpin for a year, can’t help but come back to avenge his top pupil. The cancer is back, and he doesn't have much time left. Sadly, neither does the greatest show ever.

Fantasy

I've been playing fantasy sports since, well, since before I actually even started playing fantasy sports. In 3rd grade, a friend and I would draft teams. There was never any tracking of stats, so no winner or loser. You won, or lost, just from looking at the rosters. I finally went “professional” in 6th grade, and I've had either a football, baseball or basketball team every year since. 

 But the newest idea for a league that I see in my minds’ eye is a throwback to 3rd grade. Simply because it is pure fantasy. No, I don’t mean that kind of fantasy. It can never be tracked. If you have ever watched a football game, you may have noticed that there were 11 guys from each team on the field. In baseball, there’s nine and in basketball you have five players. My idea is to draft a team of 11 guys, from all three sports. The catch: everyone has to play a position in every sport. Tom Brady can be your quarterback, but you also have to find a position for him on the diamond and a spot for him on the hardwood, as well as a defensive position for him to play in football. 

 If, for example, you do draft Tom Brady, he has to be your QB. But then you can pick what positions he’ll play in the other sports. For the baseball team, you draft two starting pitchers and one relief pitcher to go along with your eight position players. For the basketball roster, there’s your starting five made up of a point guard, shooting guard, small forward and a center. The bench should have a back-up for every position plus one extra player, and the team owner can select what position they play. As for your football team, you have a little more flexibility. The owner can decide if they have three wide receivers or two. A two back set or a single back. There has to be a quarterback, at least one running back and two wide receivers, but the other three offensive positions are flexible, but every player has to have their position determined upon drafting. 

 Below are examples using current players, and an all-time team:

Fall & Winter Flicks

After summer filled with meh-vies more than movies, here are the trailers of the movies I am most looking forward to seeing in the fall and winter:

American Hustle, December 25th

The Monuments Men, December 18th

The Counselor, October 25th

Inside Llewyn Davis, December 6th

Runner Runner, October 4^th

The Wolf of Wall Street, November 15th

Don Jon, September 27th

Thor: The Dark World, November 8^th

Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues, December 20^th

50 Years

I knew when we took on the challenge, of organizing a weekend to honor my parents for their 50 years of marriage that the payoff would be well worth it. But I never really spent much time thinking about how much it could mean. Because you know, arranging for temperatures under 100 degrees in August in Kansas City, is really pretty time consuming. But my wise uncle put it all in perspective for me, in a single sentence. “You've given them, what might be, the greatest memory of their lives.”

A great weekend was the original goal, but now I would have to consider anything short of their greatest memory ever to be a failure. And with as much confidence as I can muster, mission complete. But giving them a great weekend, or the greatest weekend, wouldn't come close to evening things out.

I’m pretty hard on myself in most areas of my life, but I know this much: I’m a damn good husband with a fantastic marriage. Both facts being a result of the parents I have and the examples they set for me. In 50 years, no matter what life threw at them, they faced it all as a team.  What they say is true, “imitation is the highest form of flattery,” and I can’t think of any better way to compliment my parents, than to imitate them. Minus dad’s walk. 

Too: To a Higher Degree than is Desirable, Permissible, or Possible

He was too young. It happened too soon. It’s all too sad. This is just too close for comfort. He meant too much to too many. Too many are hurting.  

Over the weekend, a friend very suddenly and completely unexpectedly, passed away. He was only 46. We weren’t close friends, but I had known him for a little more than 10 years. He was, however, very close friends to a good friend of ours. And that relationship, amplified the magnitude of this earthquake by a 100 times. Maybe even a thousand. I really can’t do math right now.

I’m not sure why I’m even writing about it, or what I’m trying to say. It’s not as if I can make sense out of this. It makes no sense. He was in great shape. I heard some of the details, rather, I was told some of the details. But, similar to a scene from the movie Spanglish, there was a crack in the world. I vividly remember being told what happened, but none of the details stuck. My brain couldn’t manage hearing while trying to comprehend what had happened.

Now, my heart breaks for his wife. My heart breaks for his son and daughter. My heart breaks for his twin brother. There was so much to admire and respect. He had a close knit group of friends, dating back to high school and college. I saw the kind of relationship every brother hopes to have. They lived within five miles of each other, and spent summer vacations together in Destin, Florida.

Toughest of all, was seeing the relationship he had with his children. When I was in my teens to early 20’s, I couldn’t imagine being so close with my father. Now that I am a parent, I can only hope to immolate what he had. How many 20 year old daughters would post so many photos with their father on Facebook? It sounds like such an insignificant fact, but I was always really impressed. He wasn’t someone I’d text, I’d just see him around from time to time. And while his poker playing style could drive me nuts, I always hoped to learn more about his parenting style.

Life is too short, and too precious. A late night movie with friends is too easily taken for granted. Too many words go unsaid. It’s all just too sad.