The operation was a success

You know how everybody seems to be a doctor nowadays, I felt it my obligation to repair Ryan's broken Rock Band pedal. If I must say, I think it was a resounding success.

Rock Pedal, bass drum. A pedal barely alive. Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to build the world's (probably 15,000th) bionic pedal. Rock Pedal will be that bass drum. Better than he was before.

Better, stronger, faster.

I am not good at planning meals

Nightcap

I'm totally ripping off Truehoop's bullets here, but I think it's unique in applying that approach to news. I'm probably just bored. And nobody is really ever going to read this. But it's for my own amusement, so bear with me and this way we can all have common conversation topics the next time I see you in person.

• An absolutely thought provoking article in the Times about the subjects of what define art and photojournalism, and perhaps where those two are beginning to overlap. Particularly it looks at the infamous Obama red-white-blue graphic. Also, some fascinating insight into the ongoing discourse concerning art-as-appropriation. "Copyright lawyers have been arguing over Fairey’s appropriation of a news photograph of for his “Hope” campaign poster and whether it constitutes “fair use.” But no one has disputed that it is a work of art. But what about the photograph on which the poster is based?"
• UConn was caught violating NCAA recruiting rules. I know this goes on everyday. Only a few days ago, there was a great article (also in the Times) about the seedy underworld of elite-amateur basketball all the way down to middle school. Am I the only one still waiting for a Nick-Nolte-from-Blue-Chips moment to actually go down any one of these days? I can absolutely see Tim Floyd walking out and retiring after USC wins a big game because he'd rather coach street ball kids on West Long Beach.
• More talk from Waterfront Toronto this week, this time about renovating Queens Quay with at $192-million boobjob. Are these guys ever going to actually do anything? What happened to that Harbourfront plan? Oh, it turned into a condo. What about the Cherry St. project? On the back burner you say. East Don Lands? What? Ok, let's pour imaginary money into Queens Quay then. I like David Miller, he's got some great ideas. But please. Follow them up with action. I'll even pay taxes for it, I swear.
• Oh the French. Can you imagine if, in Toronto, laid off workers of 3M barricaded the national manger in his office for a day, holding him hostage until he signed a deal to renegotiate with said-economic casualties? It'd be front page news. On the BBC website, this story barely made a squeak on the RSS feed. I kind of respect their proletariat-perseverance I suppose. Or as some may call it, "the crazy".
• The CBC is letting go of 800 employees Canada wide. The Ceebs has never been a shining example of fiscal responsibility. It's a company that loses money, but is paid for by the people, for the people. Therefore, it is owned by, the people. To see it have to start selling off properties is painful, particularly when this affects a few of my personal colleagues. Hopefully the industry is going to bounce back eventually, or I'll be writing these blogs to nowhere for a very very long time.
• North Korea is apparently going ahead with plans to test a long-range missile, says the Times in breaking news. Oh KJI. You whine about sanctions, run your country on hay, your people sleep in the dark because you don't have enough power, and yet you're building weapons... why? Even if you can get a single working nuke, do you honestly think you'd have the wherewithal to actually harm anybody but yourself with it? You're being watched by the world like Michael Jackson at a daycare centre. For pure entertainment though, you can never go wrong with a good North Korea story.
• The Raptors won last night, but really, there is no winning with this team. Ever. Just look at the talent on our bench. We're horrible. Even our starters are suspect at this point, when they're not out ducking alimony payments and such. For the rest of this season, I'll be rooting for the Suns, who are keeping the hope alive with a tense win over Utah last night. Grant Hill turned back the clock big time. That's the difference between the Suns and the Raptors. Their glue guy is a former NBA MVP. Ours is a former Euroleague MVP. Oh well.

And finally, something to really get excited about.

Self-awareness

I came home tonight and was all ready to settle down with a glass of bourbon, when I sadly realized I actually polished the last of it off... uh... right before I left the house.

I was filled with a tinge of panic.

Luckily, I realized I have both juice and gin on hand.

Problem resolved.

After some deliberation, I've decided to try and turn this little corner of the internet from personal blog to a news blog. Essentially, I want to just post stories and thoughts on current events, linking to all the interesting news that I come across from my many trips around the internet.

I calculate I spend roughly 4 hours a day, on average, surfing the internet. I figure the least I can do is provide informative, conversational news, in a somewhat entertaining format. We will see how this turns out.

Keitha? That's a man's name!

No thanks to a little help from my fellow Battlestar Galactica fans, I must go buy myself another bottle of bourbon tomorrow. I must say my ruminations on the finale cannot be shared for fear of revealing spoilers (basically, just for Cammie), but rest assured I was not blown away in a good way.

I also watched the series finale of Flight of the Conchords this weekend. Not exactly a complex show, but it was quaint, unpretentious and incredibly funny television. It will be missed, and I'm hoping that both Bret and Jemaine go on to do more incredible, unique projects.

My recent days have been full of sleeping, eating out, and doing things with friends. This is wonderful. However (there doesn't always have to be a but!) I feel some balance is starting to be called for, and today I felt those darn pangs of productivity pulling at me again. Unfortunately, I was limited in my capacity to satiate those desires. You know, outside of reading a book. At least it makes me feel smarter.

Anyways, to make this a mostly television related post, I must say that for the past six weeks, I've been following Dollhouse with casual interest, not wanting to commit myself to the show due to its somewhat vapid acting, so-so debut episode and decidedly un-Whedonlike writing.

Well, this last weeks episode was some what of a breakthrough. It really was an excellent episode, probably a more solid chunk of television than anything else that was on TV Friday (damn you Battlestar...). My expectations are now raised. Please don't disappoint me.

Also, on an unrelated note, I am again watching Korea and Japan slug it out in the WBC Championship game. If Asians are so great at baseball, why aren't I more of a pro-star at softball? Clearly I should dedicate myself to it and drop this silly basketball business....

Flap-gate

Is it actually an issue that people are getting upset about some Ontario flags being made in China?

It's understandable you might want "patriotic" items to stay local, but saying that its national pride is so completely hypocritical that one can't really take that argument seriously.

A Flag costs $18, and you're upset about outsourcing that while you have no problem wearing $120 sneakers, not to mention typing on a keyboard connected to a computer all probably made in China as well?

Seems pretty weak to me.

Simple pleasures

It's funny how temperamental we are. The smallest things can brighten my day.

For example, I found two dollars when buying subway tokens today. I suppose somebody forgot to collect their change? Either way, finding money is always a bonus. My highlight found money moments are probably:

1) When I went to the ATM to get $60 and it gave me $160 for no reason

2) When I got cash back from those Loblaws self-checkout machines and it gave me $60 when I only asked for $40

Everything else is just loose change. Has that ATM thing ever happened to anybody else?

Anyways, settling in with the laptop to do some light work while soaking in another solid 4-5 hours of March Madness today. I am disappointed Minnesota lost yesterday, but my bracket is still in somewhat decent shape.

Syracuse kicking off the day. Life is good.

What I'm drinking

Bulleit Bourbon. 90 proof, smoky but silky. I'm normally sipping on plain old Johnnie Black, but I read about this on Uncrate and saw it at the LCBO. It also helps that the bottle and packaging have won product design awards. You could definitely mug somebody with this corked, solid glass bad boy.

*It's currently 4:17am, and let me tell you -- Bulleit and Life Brand sleeping pills do not a happy experience make. Feels... like... brain dead...

Presidential Matters

I also picked UNC to win it all, although I have them facing UCONN in the championship game.

Also, I love this little bit at the end:

"UNC, I picked you last year, but I'm picking you again. Don't embarrass me in front of the nation."

Talk about pressure, yikes.

Who are these people?

$43M divorce settlement not enough, Swedish countess says

I actually don't think I can imagine a world where you require $54,000 a week to maintain your standard of living. How do you spend $8000 on travel a week? Are you flying around the world every other day?!

That's just nuts man.

television goodness

After watching the first season of True Blood, I've been seeing a lot of Anna Paquin. All I can say is... enh.

With that in mind, here are the top five shows you probably haven't watched, but should:

5) Undeclared

Judd Apatow before Judd Apatow was cool. This was only around for I think two seasons, but it's hilarious. Think of a mash-up between Superbad and the O.C. and you have a rough idea of what this is like.

4) Mad Men

Drinking, smoking and impeccable men's tailoring have never looked so good. Also, an entire cast of well-written, well acted, believable characters. The most important facet of any good tv in my books.

3) Friday Night Lights

I've spent enough words praising this show in the past. Watch from the start. It takes time to get to know the characters, but you'll eventually grow so close to them even the simplest life experiences will draw your empathy to wondrous heights. Watching a show about normal life is boring, unless you feel like you care about the people involved. And if you stick with this show, trust me; you will care.

2) Spaced

This was the BBC show that made Simon Pegg (the guy from Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead) famous. It's a sitcom, and I would describe it as a mix of Seinfeld, Friends and Family Guy all rolled into one. Wildly entertaining, and although it may not be as perfectly crafted or timeless as the shows that sandwich it, it's probably less well known and so deserves some extra props.

1) The Wire

Actually, many people have already seen parts of this show, but to understand and appreciate it fully you really have to watch it through from beginning to end, completely. It's a masterstroke and fulfills all the potential for storytelling that television offers as a medium. It's a novel told one hour at a time, and one that speaks on everything from social commentary to the dark nuanced humour of our daily lives. It's informative, educational, argumentative and incredibly captivating. It also has lots of scenes of people shooting other people, which is like, totally awesome. This is the greatest television show ever made. ever.

One year later

Interesting.

Apparently I am the recipient of a 2009 Collegiate Circle award, presented by the Columbia Scholastic Press Association. The awards were for Sweat magazine, which I was art director for during my final year at Humber. Apparently because of the timing of Humber's publishing cycle, it was entered in the 2009 awards instead of 2008.

Still, surprising and welcome news.

For those wondering, it's the magazine with the chick showering on it, if you've ever seen that lying around my room. I will hence refer to that as my "award winning cover."

And for those who haven't seen it... uh, it's not what you think.

The best of Craigslist: January

Here are my personal favorites, from the early going's of 2009. These are all from the US, unfortunately, and mostly from the West Coast. Apparently either Craigslist just hasn't caught on quite as much here in the East (except NYC, naturally) or Toronto just isn't as witty and swarmy as we'd like it to be. But I refuse to believe that.

girl who dumped me over the phone at 1:30am - m4w

You called me at 1:30 AM to tell me over and over that you don't want to be with me any more. The problem is, I don't know who you are, and I tried to explain that.

In retrospect, it would have been more fun to play along, but I was a bit too groggy to think fast. Oh well, next time a wrong number breaks up with me, I'll be ready.

Give me a call if you want to practice dumping guys, I guess my number's probably in your phone now. Try to call before 10 though.

Dear Mr Scammer, I am sorry

Dear Mr. Scammer

I owe you a few apologies:

• I am sorry for responding and saying sure I am happy to engage in a bizarre business deal with you knowing full well it isn’t real.
• I am sorry you wasted time to print a horrible fake check.
• I am sorry you spent $4.90 UPS’ing it to me overnight.
• I am sorry for taking a few days to get back to you after I got the check and ask you for your phone number which you can’t give me. I knew that and still I emailed you for the phone number.
• I am sorry that I lied to you and said I could not find a western union office near me, making you look them up, emailing me a list and me telling you those two liquor stores are shut down.
• I am sorry that I lied to you about getting pissed at the western union office because they wanted $1.75 to cut a check and that I said that’s robbery and left in a huff. The truth is I never went there in the first place. Sorry for wasting your time that day.
• I’m sorry I lied the next day after you threaten to call the FBI and local police on me because I cashed your check and would not pay you. I knew you would not, but I wrote you an email begging you not to call the police and that I would pay you tomorrow after I cashed the check.
• I’m sorry that I lied the next day and said the western union office girl was rude to me so I left in anger, again delaying your money by another day.
• Im sorry I lied about sending the money to western union in your name vs the shipper so you could not pick it up. I realize this cost you a day or so.
• I am really sorry that I lied and said that the money order was at your western union, but off by 1 zip code making you drive 30 minutes to find out I am a liar.
• Your last email to me was justified. Obviously from your language you were pissed. The fact that as you "YELLED” and your grasp of the English language seemed to fade away like my Mom’s when she is livid showed me what a bad person I am.
• Your phone call from Africa? was upsetting because as you were trying to explain to me how to go down to western union and pay the $1.75 and you would pick up the fee, I realized how frustrated you were getting. I also lied about being hard of hearing and asking you to yell. Sorry.
All in all, I am sorry for sucking up your bandwidth. I realize that my actions probably sucked up 6-10 hours of your time and kept you from fleecing some gullible person in America.
Please forgive me. Go ahead and send me another forged check and I will send you my cash to your shipper. Please try me again. Even though I lied you to about 15 times I won’t do it again.
Your friendly computer person.
MHF

Wanted: time machine DESPARATE!!!

Desperately need a time machine to take me back 6 weeks in time, plus or minus a day. If you have a time machine and are willing to let me borrow it, or know of someone with an impending trip back in time, please let me know ASAP!

I will pay big bucks to have myself warned to NOT sleep with that tramp at the One and Only Bar on the Boulevard.

Tell me that she is very, VERY fertile that night in question, and has a whopping 3 STDs that I will get if I copulate with her.

VERY VERY IMPORTANT THAT I GET THIS MESSAGE!!!

I WILL WRITE YOU A BLANK CHECK IF THAT'S WHAT IT TAKES!

Key things that will let the me in the past know you are for real:

*Tell me that you know about the rubber ducky incident

*Tell me that you know that I pissed in my friends pool last week, when he was in it.

*Tell me that no matter how hard I try, the lesbian at Barnes and Noble will NEVER go for it, no matter how many sex books I ask her opinions on.

If I still doubt you- use this one-----

*Mention that you know I made out with my cousin when we were drunk at a kegger last summer- NO ONE KNOWS THIS BUT US TWO!!

VERY VERY IMPORTANT THAT I GET THIS MESSAGE!!!

To the Asian Girl Whom I offended with my Asian-ness - m4w

You: Asian, young(ish), cute, petite, left-of-center, cosmopolitan.

Me: The Asian guy you would never dream of giving a second glance.

Hi! I’m so sad that you were offended by my very presence at your favorite boutique coffee shop. Seriously, I was just there to do some work and maybe a bit of reading – I didn’t mean to draw attention to the fact that you too, are also Asian. I was just looking for a quiet place to sit, and the seat by you just happened to be open. It’s not like peed all over you, put my arm around your shoulder, and screamed to all the other patrons in a heavy Chinese accent, “She mine! You all stay away!”

After I sat down and pulled out Said’s Orientalism (no joke), you, in all of your ignorant glory, proceeded to loudly flirt with the nearest non-Asian man with a pulse to dissuade any romantic overtures from me. Lady, I already know you only date white guys; you don’t even have to open your mouth.

Ever since Chad took you out back in high school and made you the envy of all homecoming, you’ve understood the magical power of white boys. Your parents balked until they saw how well Chet treated you and made you so so so happy. You tell yourself you don’t see color lines, and that you’re ending racism by only dating white guys – and you give yourself a little pat on the back every night before dreaming of waking up with beautiful blonde hair. You’ve even thrown in a black guy or two, just to get back at daddy. Asian guys? Like, gag me with a spoon!

Hey, I applaud you. You’re totally progressive. Never mind all that bukakke stuff Jeremy keeps wanting to do (I wonder where he gets these ideas?). No need to worry about Scotty’s browser history pointing to asianteensluts.com. Totally normal! What red-blooded American man doesn’t want to bang a Japanese high school girl?

Honestly, if I were in your stilettos, I’d do the same thing. If white girls were all over me ‘cause of my nice, smooth skin, my mad computer skills and wispy peach fuzz, I’d ride that white stallion to all glory.

But since I’m 6’2”, 200 lbs. with 4% body fat and a PhD, I guess I’ll have to settle for one of our more racist Asian sistahs.

Sunshine lollipops

This ad is hilarious. Dave Perkins wrote an article in The Star about it just this morning actually articulating exactly my thoughts when I first saw it though:

Why the hell would the other guys agree to be in this commercial?

Isn't it bad for your ego to admit you're scared of a direct competitor? Even though he's been out of action for almost a year and coming off arthroscopic knee surgery?

I understand Nike sponsorship has some sway, but if I'm not sure I'd have agreed to this. It's a psychological advantage, and in the micro-sliced world that is professional sports, every little bit of an edge could be the difference between winning and losing.

Nonetheless.

Instant classic Nike ad. Right up there with Bo Knows, The Federov, and of course my all-time favourite, the Jordan 21 spot.

That's two out of the three original Pro-Stars! Sadly, Wayne's didn't make the cut. You gotta love that intro to the cartoon though.

"Pro Stars! It's all about helping kids!"

Yes I am that bored

It's a little tough to tell, but yes, that is a cookie.

Recipe courtesy Irene (via the New York Times)

I don't think I have it in me to enjoy baking. Every once in a while perhaps, but for the time, effort and patience involved, I'd much rather cook an actual meal.

More than likely, I'd feel different if I actually liked sweets.

When degradation works in our favour

There are perks to being a man.

You know how, as a society, we do this thing where something evil eventually becomes part of mainstream culture? I'm talking about the cycle where something starts off as an underground signifier, gathers counter-cultural momentum (usually with a young generation), becomes established and eventually is accepted as a societal norm. Some examples might include: Galileo's theory of the universe, electric guitars, dancing, smoking pot and Ellen DeGeneres.

Well, currently we are witnessing the gradual acceptance of a previously taboo activity. And it really, really snuck up on us.

Pole Dancing.

Think about this. Consider your reaction when you read the above statement. It was probably something along the lines of "Pole Dancing? That's not so bad. It's a good workout. I wonder if that place is free for stagettes?"

It's remarkable. There's pole dancing videos on YouTube, many of which are tutorials. Women appreciate the athletic coordination required and want to take lessons. There is a national championship for many countries, and some women are lobbying for it to become an Olympic sport.

Essentially, as a man, you fall into two camps on this one: you have a daughter, or you do not.

If you do not, this is a golden age for humanity.

If you do, this is the equivalent of growing up in the cold war era of whoredom.

The pole is proving an even crueler double edged sword than ever we could have imagined.

Say your daughter takes pole dancing lessons recreationally. Say she then falls on hard times. Well, she has all these skills already, what might a natural stop-gap employment option become? The greatest fear of every father -- nay, the sole purpose -- is keeping your girl off the pole.

Yes, I am aware having a skill set does not preclude a conscious decision. However, this is like sending your child to meth-cooking class for summer camp and saying the skills will prove useful in AP chemistry. Just don't use that knowledge for anything bad kids!

The YouTube factor (a very accurate gauge of day-to-day society I find) is even more amusing. Sights that we once had to pay money to sit in a sticky club for are now available at the click of a mouse for pre-pubescent teens worldwide. The bonus? It's legal and culturally justified! No content warning! No secrecy! No stigma! (OK, less stigma.)

Being in the no daughter camp, I'm not going to lie; I am greatly pleased by the fact that I can watch Miss Pole Dance Australia on a whim, or some chick who calls herself a "vertical ballerina", or a talent show that places pole-dancing right there alongside break dancing and stand up comics.

And for proponents who think it can be carried by it's technical merits solely? Please, go ahead. Take all the eroticism out of it. Make it as kosher as you'd like. But you'll sell me a bridge before I believe that if Nastia Liukin hoped onto a pole in her Team USA uniform, males wouldn't flock from the five continents to judge her technical score.

You can put an ugly sweater on Natalie Portman and call her dowdy, but sometimes there's just no hiding the truth.

It's a great time to be a man.

I hope I never have a daughter.

Speaking of black and white

If only one of Charles Chaplin's films could be preserved, "City Lights'' (1931) would come the closest to representing all the different notes of his genius. It contains the slapstick, the pathos, the pantomime, the effortless physical coordination, the melodrama, the bawdiness, the grace, and, of course, the Little Tramp--the character said, at one time, to be the most famous image on earth.

Roger Ebert

Allow me to perch upon my ever precarious soapbox por uno momento, in order to discuss a topic near and dear to my heart.

Times critic A.O. Scott just yesterday posted a video review of Charlie Chaplin's immortal classic 'City Lights'. If you have not seen this movie, I implore you not to watch the review. For some inexplicable reason he shows the entire last minute of the movie in it. Do not do yourself this disservice.

For those of you who are thinking "Charlie Chaplin?" and have now gone back to looking at your spreadsheets, please, I beg you, return.

'City Lights' is probably right up there with my favourite all time movies, and in a sea of three hour comic book spectaculars, Chaplin's greatest artistic achievement is 80 pure minutes of cinematic perfection.

No talking. No colour. No fancy effects or complicated plot.

Man falls in love. Man goes on adventures. Man woos girl. Hilarity ensues throughout.

Could there be a more distilled form of on-screen entertainment?

I mention this movie only because I dug it up from the bottom of a drawer a few days ago, and it is by sheer coincidence that I noticed the feature on the Times front page tonight. So I feel like spreading the silent film gospel a bit.

In regards to the Times, it's not that there is any special surprise ending. It's just that the final scenes of 'City Lights' are such a perfect, indelible memory in the context of a fantastic film, and watching it out of that context is like playing a single note in order to express the greatness of an entire symphony.

Anyways, if you haven't already done so, go watch 'City Lights'. Great things always deserve to be shared.

This was surprisingly fun to make

And so, I gave birth to my first semi-professional sports team logo. They want old school Charlotte Hornets colours (Upon hearing that, I told them all the players should wear Grape Jordon V's).

I figure it's a little sleeker in black, but since none of that's set in stone, I'll just say it took me forever to get that cityline right. I have to say illustrator is painfully complicated at times, compared to photoshop. Drawing things like, a basketball, or an equilateral triangle, require a little more effort than I'd care to exert.

Next up, more corporate newsletters. Huzzah.

Tending to my lawn

I'm starting to get that strange antsy feeling when you haven't had anything particularly important to do for a while. Part of me wants to go back to school. I'd do graphic design, or culinary school I think. Then afterwards, I could make a food magazine entirely by myself; cook, write, layout.

That would be so awesome...

Is this normal? Is it bad that I haven't been doing any wistful thinking about finding a job in my own field lately, but rather have been spending all my time doing freelance design gigs and cooking/baking random random recipes I find on food blogs? (including Irene's!)

No matter what you do, you always end up feeling like you wish you were something else I suppose. I guess until I actually find a job that I hold down for more than a year, I don't have all that much context to compare with. Still.

All I want is to enjoy what I do as much as I do what I enjoy.

Moving on up

Thought it was time for some new digs. I was getting a little cramped on the sidebar with the last layout, so I figured I'd upgrade and make room for a twitter feed. You know, because otherwise you wouldn't know what I'm thinking in between blog posts.

Baking cookies, watching Watchmen, playing basketball and meeting friends for drinks. Also, my moonwalk is coming along very nicely.

Don't get the wrong idea

I have been watching several of those makeup tutorial videos on youtube.

What began as an innocent foray into looking for attractive girls has taken a decidedly frightening turn.

I noticed recently that these makeup videos are increasing in both popularity and volume. Many of the most viewed videos every day are titled things like "Perfect lashes!", "Makeup for glasses!" or the ever popular and direct "Fresh 5 minute makeup routine".

One of these chicks in particular (Ricebunny, if you must make me say it) is particularly adept at video production, meaning although I have no idea what the hell she's doing or saying, I still find these clips somewhat interesting to watch.

Now, a reminder per today's theme: don't get me wrong.

The first, most important, and last reason I watched this video was because the thumbnail image for this video features this Ricebunny girl, and she is looking stab-my-friends-in-the-heart slamming.

She does this thing where she shows the final "look" first, then takes you through all the steps it took to get there.

Here is where things get weird.

Chalk it up to naivety and male ignorance, but I was absurdly disappointed (and impressed) to find that, without makeup, this girl is utterly, completely, absolutely average looking. She is a six, on her best of best days.

With makeup?

Nine. Perhaps a nine point one, depending on the tutorial (Personally, I am fond of "Romantic Valentine").

I didn't realize makeup could do this.

I mean, don't get me wrong. I understood the powers of makeup. I clearly just underestimated it. I thought at best, it could turn a 6 into a solid 8. But into a nine plus?

What can I trust in this world?? My life is topsy turvy.

Also, I now know more than I ever wished to know about applying mascara. Perhaps one day this will be useful. I am skeptical.

*****

I do not watch the Bachelor.

However, after seeing it completely dominate my RSS feeds today, I grudgingly clicked to see what all the kerfufle was about.

I must say, fake or not, if I was a fan of that show it would automatically be possibly the greatest reality television moment in history. I realize this is like saying I am the best mathematician in a prenatal ward, but it still was pretty awesome.

Whether or not this was actually real or completely scripted (or just 98 per-cent-scripted-real, like the Hills) watching the Bachelor dump his fiancee for the runner up was one of the most engrossing things I have ever seen. If it wasn't real, those actors should definitely be up for daytime Emmys -- I have never seen male awkwardness captured on film so accurately.

So Kudos to the producers of the Bachelor. You don't produce reality, but for one shining night, you crafted a show that presented the most recognizable of romantic train wrecks; one every man everywhere can empathize with.

Hats off.

Like and Basketball

As an avid basketball fan, I consider the sport to be more than merely athletic recreation. Like many armchair athletes who moonlight as professional stars at the gym, I definitely feel that running around with a bouncing ball has the ability to teach us more about life and our own personalities than we often care to admit.

You probably don't remember this, but a while back I made an analogy between dating and the NBA Draft. In many ways it was an imperfect metaphor because it applied for women only. The idea that women pick men in the same way NBA GM's scout talent is -- I think -- still a wonderful notion and often times painfully accurate in both theory and practice.

For the fellas however, I more recently have observed that our love lives are far simpler than the nuances of talent evaluation and drafting in terms of long-term potential.

Basically, dating for guys is scoring -- our goal is to put the ball in the bucket. If this seems oversimplified, pause to consider the many ways that this can be done.

The easiest way to score is a layup. You're close to the net, it's a high percentage shot and even if you miss, there's a good chance you'll be able to follow up with a rebound and put back, or at least create an offensive opportunity for your teammate.

Then there is the mid-range jump shot or baby hook, probably the most under appreciated but most difficult to master aspect of the game. Considering the majority of scoring occurs in this area, it is woefully disregarded in conversations about scoring in basketball.

Finally, there is the three-point shot. It is a niche skill, requiring both natural talent and a tireless work ethic to become accomplished from this range. With this one skill however, an athlete can easily be a professional basketball player for many many years, regardless of any other abilities. An excellent and consistent long range shooter is a valuable commodity for all NBA teams.

Now, parallel the above with how you approach women.

Layups are girls you can have easily. They're high percentage, easy to make and a comfortable place to spend the entire game. In the long run however, it can be difficult and unsatisfying to just make layups. I mean, sure, the easy score is always our ultimate goal. But in order to be a fully rounded player, these forays to the net have to be supplemented by a jump shot, otherwise defenders will simply sag off you and stifle your sole offensive option. It's just not feasible to be a basketball player and only know how to make a layup.

In short, chippies are great. But slashers are dime-a-dozen in the league (see: Gerald Green). We all know this. So you got to work on your game.

Three-pointers are girls you have a decent shot at getting, but frankly so much has to go right -- be it the setup from your teammates, the way the defense is playing, or how you're feeling that particular night -- that to consistently take nothing but three-point attempts is both foolhardy and unrewarding. Hitting a game winning three happens to all of us at one time or another, and it always feels great. But veterans know when to take that shot and when not to. They also know that percentages are what they are, so even if you take a good shot and miss from deep, there's nothing to hang your head about. Good shooters always keep shooting. Still, there is inherent danger. Even shooters need to have a sense of movement without the ball. Somebody who can shoot but can't get open or create their own shot will find themselves a liability in a game, easily guarded and ineffective against active teams (see: Jason Kapono).

Coincidentally, young players almost always become over-dependent on these last two skills. They are labelled as shooters, or slashers. So what separates the inexperienced from the real players?

The mid-range game.

There is no glory in this. Which is why it's a perfectly analogy for life.

Ever watch a sports highlight package full of mid-range jumpers? Of course not. They're boring. Everyone wants to talk about the dunks and the contested, fade away three's. This is exactly like women. When dudes get together, they talk about the time they went home with Swedish twins, or the party they got drunk and did three girls they can't remember in one night. Nobody gets up and yells about the chick who emotionally understood you through tough times, then thoughtfully bought you your favourite cold cut to pack for your work lunch the next day.

But where is the game won? Pure area-wise, and as follows, pure shot volume wise, more attempts are made in the mid-range than any other part of the court. Basketball is, ultimately, a midrange game.

So is life. Much like Jordan or Kobe, often guys learn that it's not about the flash, but instead it's about efficiently settling for what the defense gives you. And almost always, settling means pulling up for the 12-foot J.

It's not glamorous. But it's smart. You avoid incurring charging fouls. The defense stays off balance giving you better opportunities to get to the rim. And much like finding a woman, it's the stable, consistent mid-range jumper that's going to eventually butter the bread of the average man.

We live in in a world where everyone practices their threes and fancy circus shot layups. And naturally there are exceptions to every rule. Shaq doesn't need a jump-hook, and Reggie Miller didn't need to dunk on people.

But in the long run, for the other 96 per cent of us who aren't phenomenally gifted in one of those areas, it's the mid-range jumper that's going to keep us loving basketball. Our quickness may go one day, or our legs to shoot from range. But a guy who can make an open mid-range jumper consistently? He's going to be useful in any basketball game for the rest of his active life.

One day, I will learn to settle for that pull-up, as I would hope most men would. In real basketball, it is probably the skill I am working hardest at to improve, so that I can continue playing effectively into my older age. As far as this analogy goes however, I would definitely consider myself too dependent on my outside shot.

I predict maybe two people in the world will truly appreciate this post. But I had to get it out there.

The game is beautiful... what can I say?