"The college years are the best years of your life."
Depending on who you ask, this is either a common expression or the least funny anti-joke of all-time.
In just a few short months, I will be turning 25 years old. Maybe it's the prospect of finally being able to rent a car or maybe I am going through what, according to the average lifespan of my undying ancestors, would amount to a "quarter life crisis", I can not help but take some time and reflect on my past for a moment. According to the expression above, my best is behind me and all I have in store for me now is the steady loss of senses, everyday household items and an increased percentage of my paychecks. At this age, gifts become more practical than exciting and I receive a cake that, with each passing year, becomes a greater fire hazard to my home.
As a chapter closes, I believe that it's natural to think about things I wish I had done differently. For example, I wish that my infant agent had talked me out of doing that Preemie Playboy shoot that permanently put semi-nude photos of myself out into the universe. I wish I could somewhat confidently spit the hot fire that is the lyrics to "Lose Yourself" by Eminem without sounding like someone who's trying to angrily recite the dictionary while running on a treadmill, but given my age and current level of cardiovascular health, these will remain regrets.
It's certainly not all bad though, I was and am very fortunate growing up. I got to go on a lot of nice vacations all over the world, experience new hobbies and have a rum and coke at a diner in Madrid, realizing a little later than I would've hoped that, despite our language barrier, the waiter was pouring a "tell me when" portion with the rum.
If, in fact, my physical and intellectual apex is behind me, I'd like to share with you what I consider to be my two crowning achievements
Accomplishment #1. I Ran a Half Marathon in 2008
From 5th grade up until I graduated high school, I spent the Fall running cross country and the Spring running track. The physical benefits of participating in these activities was far outweighed by the social and psychological schism my sporting choice had created. The thought process behind the Men's cross country uniform seemed to be "Let's take a fragile, paper-thin little high school boy and put him in a sleeveless shirt and booty shorts." The terminology associated with the sport didn't help either. Football and basketball players had games, that's exciting! It's game time! Cross country and track gatherings are referred to as "meets" as if we are all getting together to hang out.
"Hey man, what's up? Good luck out there. Watch out for the roots in the woods on Mile 2."
"Thanks. I appreciate that. Hey, what's that guy yelling at us about over there with the pistol?"
"I don't know. Let's get out of here."
You are just never going to here monumental sports movie monologue when all that a coach really needs to say is "Everybody run fast, okay?" In all fairness, runners did try to make it cool, Basketball had those And1 shirts that said "Not in My House" and Cross Country countered with a T-Shirt that said "My Sport is Your Sports Punishment" because that sounds a lot better than "My Sport Is That Thing You Instinctively Do When The Linebacker From The Football Team Finds Out That The Answers You Gave Him For His Geometry Test Got Him A D+."
At the end of the cross country season my sophomore year of high school, my dad and I ran the Detroit Half Marathon. We had trained for months and overall, I was very pleased with how I did. Although, I don't think any training or motivation is required to place someone in the middle of downtown Detroit and tell them to move as quickly as possible. The sad part about this whole thing is that I trained for months and months in order to be able to run a half marathon. To me, it sounds much more impressive to say "I ran a 13 mile race." People run full marathons. You'll never hear someone brag about climbing halfway up a mountain. Even in the Dixie Chicks song, "Landslide", they climb the entire way up before taking natures' earth-quaking elevator down. A few days ago, I ran on the treadmill for the first time in years. Remembering quite clearly the physical feats I was once capable of, I assured myself that I had definitely not lost my mini marathon mojo and cranked the treadmill up to that speed that made the old lady on the elliptical next to me stare. I finished five miles. I had neither the aspirations nor the ability to get out of bed the next morning, but I had run five miles. My point here being that, if that half marathon was the peak of my running performance and 13 miles is my limit of the furthest I will ever go, I would be best served to keep it to myself treat it like the North Shore Mathletes final answer to take home the championship, as though the limit did not exist.
Accomplishment #2: I am an Olympic Gold Medalist
Prior to arriving on a college campus, incoming freshman are usually sent a list of things that they will need along with a list of items that are and are not acceptable in the dorm or around campus. This list typically includes everything from clothes hangers to binders, an alarm clock to Ramen noodles. I would not find out until I arrived on campus that there was another item required of all incoming freshman. That being an expert level of understanding and application of knowledge as it pertained to playing Halo 4. I had never really played these games before, but I thought I'd participate purely for the social aspect of electronic engagement. Waiting to try out Halo for the first time in college, on the games' fourth installment was kind of like someone deciding they want to start working out again at the NFL Combine. At this point, it seemed as though everyone that I played against knew every nook and cranny of every map and could kill me with a head shot through a two centimeter hole four buildings over. Or the video game glitch that allowed you to shoot someone through the wall on the Longbow level provided it was between 1 and 3 p.m. on a day starting with "T" and the game was being played on a Samsung television that was facing east. I am no quitter, but after a few agonizing attempts, my response to Halo invites became the same as my response to the invitation to play football with my church members on Thanksgiving, "I will just watch, thanks."
Not that I didn't play video games. Oh, I played video games. I was much more partial to sports video games, particularly, hockey video games. I bought NHL Blades of Steel '99 for the Nintendo 64 and continued to purchase the the latest and greatest in holographic hockey games up until NHL 13 for Xbox. I now realize that this is the greatest financial faux pas of all-time, annually purchasing a similar game, with a similar objective just because the players' toothless mouths and black-eyes are a little less pixelated.
I accomplished everything there was to do in these games. I created a player and brought him from the fourth line of an AHL team with a nagging girlfriend telling him he's never going to make it to the starting Left Wing on a Stanley Cup championship winning squad and an entourage of ice hunnies. I made trades and brought a tailor-made team from the preseason to the top of the postseason totem pole. Without a doubt, my greatest on-ice accomplishment was when I entered into the "Olympic" mode where I got to pick a country and compete for the glory of the gold.
With the computer set to All-Star mode, which allows the opposition to be injected with electronic adrenaline and special software steroids, I dismantled the likes of Canada, Russia, Sweden, Finland and in an unfortunate Gold Medal match-up, the United States. Do you know what country I did all of this with?............Nope, it was Japan. I wanted to challenge myself and as uplifting and unlikely as the story of the Jamaican bobsled team was in "Cool Runnings." The story of how I brought together a bunch of ice inept underdogs onto the podium is hardly deserving of the title "Memoirs of a Gretzky." While I am grateful that my Honda CR-V handles fantastically on the New England ice. I can promise you that based on what I saw in these imaginary Olympics, the guy who made it definitely does not. I missed a lot of wide-open shots and struck air most of the time I went to check someone, but my thumbs had a decade of sports dynasty building under their belt and I was not to be denied. You may think of Japan as that place that made your cell phone or your car, but I think of them as the 2006 Turin Technological Electronic Olympics Gold Medalists.
Monday, May 8, 2017
Friday, May 5, 2017
What's the Meaning of This?!
Beyond a certain age, adults and technology seem to go together about as well as myself and a stick shift. I can try to grasp the concept if you like, but someone, at some point, will probably die. It was evident which side of the tech savvy timeline my dad fell into when he referred to fad of fantasy creatures from my early childhood as Pokemen or the hot, new turn of the century CD he bought my brother and I as being by the "Main Street Boys." Growing up, along with serving as a money leech and constant questioner of everything, the arrival of the DVD player ushered in another familial role. I became my parents personal technician for their weekly small group, charged with the dastardly duty of putting the demonic disc into the digitized box of witchcraft and making the whole thing "go." I was then banished to the basement so that they could have intelligence exchanges about adult stuff. Technology has continued to move forward at a feverish pace. This occurred to me when I realized that in a statement above, I referenced buying a CD, something no one has probably done in quite some time.
One of the great milestones as a Millennial was the day I got my first cell phone. I was a freshman in high school and one day, as my dad and I were driving in the car, he reached into his pocket and handed me my first slice of flip phone freedom and said "Here." It was so uneventful and yet so momentous, because up until that point I thought cell phones were only needed by special agents or important businessman, but now I had one of my own. Thus began a new era in my existence, I would never have to look up again.
In one of his talks, linguist and professor at Columbia University, John McWhorter, lays out a case refuting the common argument that texting is killing the English language and may in fact have far greater benefits than many people realize. He states that those who are able to separate "texting" English and written English are, in some ways, bilingual. John references texts from early American and ancient history from academics of the day who believe that language constructs are completely lost on the youth of the time, bringing to light the reminder that grumbling grownups far out-date any Apple products.
I'm not here to explain away the perceived deterioration of modern dialogue, are people today far too "plugged in?" Probably. However, this is simply a modern mode of communication. I wonder if anyone forty years ago ever got bashed by their parents for spending far too much time in their room writing letters. My goal here is to reach across the generational gap so we can communicate from a place of commonality. I'd like to share with you some common texting acronyms and what they mean so we can better understand and interact with each other.
LOL - Lost Old Lady (to be texted out to others when grandma can not be located in the grocery store or in any other setting where she may tend to wander off.)
BRB - Bed Rest Break (This is an indication from one person to another that the sender is tired and in need of sleep. The communication with the recipient is over for the time being.)
TTYL - Take Two of Your Lyrica (This is another indication that conversation is over because one party is spending far too long complaining about their Fibromyalgia and they are no longer a pleasure to converse with. They just need to take their meds and chill out for a bit.)
LMAO - Learn More About One Direction (This is a personal reminder to try to learn something about current pop culture so people can have conversations with the preteens in their life.)
LMFAO - Left My Fone At Office (This is to be used in an instance to explain a prolonged period of unresponsiveness to a text. In this case, the recipient was not reachable by phone because they had left it at the office. Spelling phone with an "F" simply eliminates the need to text out so many pesky letters. Both words look like they are pronounced the same so, why not?)
ROTFLOL - Reach Out To Finance Lawyers On Loans (The purpose behind this one has a bunch of money related mumbo jumbo that I, myself, don't have the capacity to understand just yet. It has to do with finances and needing the help of a professional. That's all I got for ya on that one.)
OMG - Obliterate My Grandchildren (They're a bundle of joy, aren't they? Most of the time yes, but it gets to a point where the constant noise and rapid movement is just too much and they break into a story about what they did to punish mommy or daddy back in the day and the passage of time has only allowed them to further hone these sinister skills.)
IDK - I'll let the Doctor Know - (This is when someone identifies a new and emerging ache, pain or bruise that they were not previously aware of. They make a mental note to themselves to bring it up at their next doctor visit.)
the final two have similar letters and meanings, they are to be used when the grandkids simply need to be whipped into shape and put to work the acronyms are WTF and FTW which respectively stand for Wash The Floors and Fix The Washer, because washing the floors hurts granddaddy's back and trying to figure out that darn washing machine hurts his head so he shouldn't have to it. His house, his rules!
Happy Texting!
One of the great milestones as a Millennial was the day I got my first cell phone. I was a freshman in high school and one day, as my dad and I were driving in the car, he reached into his pocket and handed me my first slice of flip phone freedom and said "Here." It was so uneventful and yet so momentous, because up until that point I thought cell phones were only needed by special agents or important businessman, but now I had one of my own. Thus began a new era in my existence, I would never have to look up again.
In one of his talks, linguist and professor at Columbia University, John McWhorter, lays out a case refuting the common argument that texting is killing the English language and may in fact have far greater benefits than many people realize. He states that those who are able to separate "texting" English and written English are, in some ways, bilingual. John references texts from early American and ancient history from academics of the day who believe that language constructs are completely lost on the youth of the time, bringing to light the reminder that grumbling grownups far out-date any Apple products.
I'm not here to explain away the perceived deterioration of modern dialogue, are people today far too "plugged in?" Probably. However, this is simply a modern mode of communication. I wonder if anyone forty years ago ever got bashed by their parents for spending far too much time in their room writing letters. My goal here is to reach across the generational gap so we can communicate from a place of commonality. I'd like to share with you some common texting acronyms and what they mean so we can better understand and interact with each other.
LOL - Lost Old Lady (to be texted out to others when grandma can not be located in the grocery store or in any other setting where she may tend to wander off.)
BRB - Bed Rest Break (This is an indication from one person to another that the sender is tired and in need of sleep. The communication with the recipient is over for the time being.)
TTYL - Take Two of Your Lyrica (This is another indication that conversation is over because one party is spending far too long complaining about their Fibromyalgia and they are no longer a pleasure to converse with. They just need to take their meds and chill out for a bit.)
LMAO - Learn More About One Direction (This is a personal reminder to try to learn something about current pop culture so people can have conversations with the preteens in their life.)
LMFAO - Left My Fone At Office (This is to be used in an instance to explain a prolonged period of unresponsiveness to a text. In this case, the recipient was not reachable by phone because they had left it at the office. Spelling phone with an "F" simply eliminates the need to text out so many pesky letters. Both words look like they are pronounced the same so, why not?)
ROTFLOL - Reach Out To Finance Lawyers On Loans (The purpose behind this one has a bunch of money related mumbo jumbo that I, myself, don't have the capacity to understand just yet. It has to do with finances and needing the help of a professional. That's all I got for ya on that one.)
OMG - Obliterate My Grandchildren (They're a bundle of joy, aren't they? Most of the time yes, but it gets to a point where the constant noise and rapid movement is just too much and they break into a story about what they did to punish mommy or daddy back in the day and the passage of time has only allowed them to further hone these sinister skills.)
IDK - I'll let the Doctor Know - (This is when someone identifies a new and emerging ache, pain or bruise that they were not previously aware of. They make a mental note to themselves to bring it up at their next doctor visit.)
the final two have similar letters and meanings, they are to be used when the grandkids simply need to be whipped into shape and put to work the acronyms are WTF and FTW which respectively stand for Wash The Floors and Fix The Washer, because washing the floors hurts granddaddy's back and trying to figure out that darn washing machine hurts his head so he shouldn't have to it. His house, his rules!
Happy Texting!
Wednesday, May 3, 2017
Cognitive Derailing
“I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
It’s the statement that you never want to hear from your
parents, a private eye detective or a Jehovah’s Witness.
Sadly, this is exactly how the cognitive testing I underwent
began. Cognitive testing involves a series of exercises used to examine ones thought process and their ability to
acquire knowledge and understanding. If you are still unsure as to what cognitive testing is at this point, all that means is that, like myself, you have definitely had some form of it done in the past.
The awkwardness of this medical moment begins in the waiting room when they hand you that "Tell Us a Little Bit About Your Medical History" sheet. It's just me and five other people out there scribbling away as if we are signing up for some kind of medical Match.com. That's the biggest mystery to me. what is everyone else in here for? I could never just outright ask someone because that'd be rude, you know? "So, what's wrong with you?" However, it gets to a certain point, mostly when the guy sitting next to me need to use the backside of their sheet to continue to explain their medical misfortune and I'm thinking "Ummm, can I finish my questionnaire in the hallway?" I could always tell when people got to questions about having back problems, because I'd suddenly see them straighten up like a meerkat for no reason at all. "Wait for it.....wait for it.....there it is!" I've never seen such immediate response to a possible problem quite like that. If we were all honest with ourselves, we would openly admit that the only time we care about our posture is when someone mentions posture.
The testing itself covers a wide range of areas including verbal fluency where I am asked questions such as "Mark, what is the opposite of populated?"
"Ummm, my sixteenth birthday party."
"Mark, tell me a word most similar to argumentative."
"I DON'T WANNA!"
"What is another word for perplex?"
".......for what??
I next had to listen to her tell me a story and then retell the same story back to her word for word. This test presented two major issues for me. Firstly, the pace and volume she used to tell the tale suggested to me that she already had her mind made up about what the results of this test were going to tell her about my level of intellect. She goes "JOHNNY WOKE UP FOR SCHOOL AT 6 A.M. JOHNNY COULD NOT FIND HIS COAT!" Geez lady, was this his favorite coat or are there an orchestra of jackhammers at a construction site outside that my ears aren't picking up?" The story continued with pacing issues and a lack of action that couldn't keep the attention of the most intellectually inclined individuals. It was, in many ways, the Star Wars: Phantom Meance of mental testing. After a minute or so of listening to Johnny's minuscule misadventures of not being able to find his jacket, nearly missing the bus and then racing into school only to realize he had left his homework on the dining room table, I'm sitting there thinking "Someone better get stabbed, cheated on or Darth gosh darn Maul better show up really flippin' quick. We've all been forced to sit through elongated and uneventful stories, but to have this done to me by a medical professional just seemed cruel.
The critiquing went both ways though, because a part of the exam that I did not perform to their liking on was when the doctor said "OK Mark, I want you to name as many animals as you can in thirty seconds, go! So off I went "Arthur, Aslan, Batista, Bugs, Dory, Alvin, Theodore, Simon." Apparently, the "M.D." on this woman's lab coat stood for "Majorly Dispassionate" because she managed to look right passed the creative genius of what I was doing and dryly said "Name real animals please." Although years have gone by since this exam, I'd like you to realize that my answers objectively took a higher level of thinking and also, this story will probably be the only time you see the names Batista and Dory mentioned in the same sentence, unless the two of them go through this same cerebral functionality testing at some point.
I moved on from the viciousness of the verbal to be vehemently blindsided by a visual test of my spatial reasoning skills. This involves manipulating shapes in space to make them fit appropriately. Unlike the approach used by many between a stubborn outlet and a cell phone charger cord, the doctor did not appreciate me just trying to forcefully fuse the shapes together. Unfortunately, all this nonsensical shape-shifting made me think of was the midweek makeovers that my mother would perform on the layout of our home furniture while my dad was away on business. In this equation I played the part of an unwilling moving crew member. Of course, my dad was upset, he comes home and all the furniture had danced around like some off-Broadway production of The Business Trip and The Beast. So this poor woman was probably very confused when she said "Move the shapes to make them fit in the best way" and my response was "I think dad won't like that very much. Remember last time?"
The next intellectual antagonist I came face to face with was the mathematical portion of the test. This was an area everyone in school figured I excelled in simply because I wore glasses, a correlation I have yet to understand to this day. "I can't see where I am going, therefore, I understand numbers" makes absolutely no sense to me, but maybe that's just because my numerical knowledge far outweighs my ability to think rationally. As if everyone who's ever worn glasses just spends their childhood bumping into walls in their living room and just reaches this point of sad seclusion "Well, I guess I'm not going anywhere, so I might as well work on my times tables chart." It's the only impairment with a perceived advantage. I'd never look at someone with their arm in a cast and think "Now there's a guy who's got the Periodic Table of Elements memorized." To fulfill this part of the test, I was told to count backwards from 100 to 0 in increments of 7. Or maybe I did this in order to secure a job as NFL commissioner, Roger Goodell's personal assistant in his quest to disallow any New England Patriot touchdowns that he felt were gained via an unfair advantage such as having deflated footballs, tampering with headphones or throwing the ball to Julian Edelman,
If simple subtraction was considered dipping my toe in my personal pool of paranoia, I was forcibly flopped into the deep end with the next segment which my doctor called Data Checking. which is the ability to look at information to verify its accuracy or identify differences. I was asked to quickly and effectively analyze numbers and written pieces of information on in two groups to make sure data was carried over properly on tables, lines and charts. Interestingly, Tables, Lines and Charts was also the name of the lowest grossing but most intellectually stimulating pay per view event in the history of the WWE. As the younger of two siblings, this test really hit on a touchy spot with me, because as I went through school I ended up having a lot of the same teachers my brother had had before me and given my unique last name, I was quickly and continuously identified as "Michael's Little Brother." My brother and I share the same last name, the same parents, the same birth date two years apart and the same initials. So, as an outsider looking in, it would be easy to treat us the same. However, he was more into math and science and things that would benefit him and usher in a decent paying career in his future. Whereas, I preferred English and Social Studies because I learned vocabulary words such as bumfuzzle and got to say Frigate Raleigh under the safeguard of knowing I was talking about a Revolutionary War vessel. My brother played football and lacrosse and was rather sturdy. I ran cross country and track and was practically transparent. He was in Future Business Leaders of America because it would look good on his college application. I joined Spanish Honors Society, because one night a year we organized an All You Can Eat taco night in the cafeteria. I think that we can all agree if data and numbers send you into hysterics, there's a problem. Halfway through this exercise I proceeded to blurt out "BOTH OF THE CHARTS ARE FINE! SO WHAT, IF ONE IS DIFFERENT? THEY'RE BOTH SPECIAL!!!" This was not the kind of out of the box, emotions driven answer that they were looking for.
Personally, my least favorite ingredient in the days' cocktail of cognitive analysis was the first one that was added during our introduction. I am given three words and throughout our tumultuous time together, she will ask me to repeat the words to her. This part of the test reminded me of that one friend we all have that caught that ONE big fish that ONE time you went out on a boat with them an now you need to hear about it every time you see each other, which in your mind is always far too often. I hated this because for everything that followed, I felt as though I was only half paying attention. Like when you're talking to someone and they have a bunch of snots hanging out of their nose and you're trying to intently listen to them talk about issues they are having with a relationship while you're thinking to yourself "I think I know the problem!" Among the random bits of information that the email of my intellect has chosen to mark as "Important" is that the three words that I was given when I last had this testing done were: Apple, School and Church. I remember that because I wrote them down on my hand when she wasn't looking. Again, I 'd argue that it took a decent amount of brain power to decide to do this, be at peace with it no matter how morally wrong it was and then wait for a moment when she couldn't see me write it. Really, it would've been easy enough to remember though. "OK, two buildings I reluctantly went into as a child and a food I reluctantly ate, got it."
Now. I am in no position to judge anyone's organization and filing skills, but I'm not sure whether they keep a record of what words they've used in the past, because for whatever reason, as I began the testing this time around, anxiously awaiting the trio of trepidation, she says "OK, your three words are apple, school and church." I felt as though I was a member of the band of Grecian soldiers responsible for rolling the wooden horse up to the walls of Troy like "OK, we give up. Here's your surrender present, bye!" I tried to stifle my excitement. This feeling was like when you were in school and you had a math test on a topic where you and your classmates had unanimously decided to check out for the chapter. So the teacher agrees to do a couple of examples on the board prior to handing out the test. Instead of easing our exam anxiety, these hieroglyphics only served to heighten the awareness of our impending "F." Recognizing a hopeless errand when she saw one, our teacher wiped her hands of responsibility like Pontius Pilate before the crucifixion and retreated to her desk accidentally leaving Playbook to Pythagorean Theorem perfection unerased and available, right in front of us.
Should we have said something to the teacher? Of course. Did we say anything? Absolutely not! This one kid in our class, Aaron, raises his hand to tell the teacher and our entire class that, indirectly, he valued his letter grade more than his life. Everyone else shot him a look like "Aaron, so help me, if you screw this up for us, the second we are off of school grounds, you will be in the ground." In the 6 years since high school, I have encountered crying children in public and an overly confident brother who bet me that Kansas City was located in Kansas, but the valuable lesson I learned that day that could not be taught in any textbook was that sometimes in life, it's best to keep your mouth shut. Do you want to know how many times the topic of life regrets pops up and I've used the phrase "Man, I really wish I had paid attention when my teacher was talking to us about Pythagorean Theorem?" Zero!
This doctor wanted me to remember the words apple, school and church and I can promise you, they will be in the back of my mind until the day I die.
The awkwardness of this medical moment begins in the waiting room when they hand you that "Tell Us a Little Bit About Your Medical History" sheet. It's just me and five other people out there scribbling away as if we are signing up for some kind of medical Match.com. That's the biggest mystery to me. what is everyone else in here for? I could never just outright ask someone because that'd be rude, you know? "So, what's wrong with you?" However, it gets to a certain point, mostly when the guy sitting next to me need to use the backside of their sheet to continue to explain their medical misfortune and I'm thinking "Ummm, can I finish my questionnaire in the hallway?" I could always tell when people got to questions about having back problems, because I'd suddenly see them straighten up like a meerkat for no reason at all. "Wait for it.....wait for it.....there it is!" I've never seen such immediate response to a possible problem quite like that. If we were all honest with ourselves, we would openly admit that the only time we care about our posture is when someone mentions posture.
The testing itself covers a wide range of areas including verbal fluency where I am asked questions such as "Mark, what is the opposite of populated?"
"Ummm, my sixteenth birthday party."
"Mark, tell me a word most similar to argumentative."
"I DON'T WANNA!"
"What is another word for perplex?"
".......for what??
I next had to listen to her tell me a story and then retell the same story back to her word for word. This test presented two major issues for me. Firstly, the pace and volume she used to tell the tale suggested to me that she already had her mind made up about what the results of this test were going to tell her about my level of intellect. She goes "JOHNNY WOKE UP FOR SCHOOL AT 6 A.M. JOHNNY COULD NOT FIND HIS COAT!" Geez lady, was this his favorite coat or are there an orchestra of jackhammers at a construction site outside that my ears aren't picking up?" The story continued with pacing issues and a lack of action that couldn't keep the attention of the most intellectually inclined individuals. It was, in many ways, the Star Wars: Phantom Meance of mental testing. After a minute or so of listening to Johnny's minuscule misadventures of not being able to find his jacket, nearly missing the bus and then racing into school only to realize he had left his homework on the dining room table, I'm sitting there thinking "Someone better get stabbed, cheated on or Darth gosh darn Maul better show up really flippin' quick. We've all been forced to sit through elongated and uneventful stories, but to have this done to me by a medical professional just seemed cruel.
The critiquing went both ways though, because a part of the exam that I did not perform to their liking on was when the doctor said "OK Mark, I want you to name as many animals as you can in thirty seconds, go! So off I went "Arthur, Aslan, Batista, Bugs, Dory, Alvin, Theodore, Simon." Apparently, the "M.D." on this woman's lab coat stood for "Majorly Dispassionate" because she managed to look right passed the creative genius of what I was doing and dryly said "Name real animals please." Although years have gone by since this exam, I'd like you to realize that my answers objectively took a higher level of thinking and also, this story will probably be the only time you see the names Batista and Dory mentioned in the same sentence, unless the two of them go through this same cerebral functionality testing at some point.
I moved on from the viciousness of the verbal to be vehemently blindsided by a visual test of my spatial reasoning skills. This involves manipulating shapes in space to make them fit appropriately. Unlike the approach used by many between a stubborn outlet and a cell phone charger cord, the doctor did not appreciate me just trying to forcefully fuse the shapes together. Unfortunately, all this nonsensical shape-shifting made me think of was the midweek makeovers that my mother would perform on the layout of our home furniture while my dad was away on business. In this equation I played the part of an unwilling moving crew member. Of course, my dad was upset, he comes home and all the furniture had danced around like some off-Broadway production of The Business Trip and The Beast. So this poor woman was probably very confused when she said "Move the shapes to make them fit in the best way" and my response was "I think dad won't like that very much. Remember last time?"
The next intellectual antagonist I came face to face with was the mathematical portion of the test. This was an area everyone in school figured I excelled in simply because I wore glasses, a correlation I have yet to understand to this day. "I can't see where I am going, therefore, I understand numbers" makes absolutely no sense to me, but maybe that's just because my numerical knowledge far outweighs my ability to think rationally. As if everyone who's ever worn glasses just spends their childhood bumping into walls in their living room and just reaches this point of sad seclusion "Well, I guess I'm not going anywhere, so I might as well work on my times tables chart." It's the only impairment with a perceived advantage. I'd never look at someone with their arm in a cast and think "Now there's a guy who's got the Periodic Table of Elements memorized." To fulfill this part of the test, I was told to count backwards from 100 to 0 in increments of 7. Or maybe I did this in order to secure a job as NFL commissioner, Roger Goodell's personal assistant in his quest to disallow any New England Patriot touchdowns that he felt were gained via an unfair advantage such as having deflated footballs, tampering with headphones or throwing the ball to Julian Edelman,
If simple subtraction was considered dipping my toe in my personal pool of paranoia, I was forcibly flopped into the deep end with the next segment which my doctor called Data Checking. which is the ability to look at information to verify its accuracy or identify differences. I was asked to quickly and effectively analyze numbers and written pieces of information on in two groups to make sure data was carried over properly on tables, lines and charts. Interestingly, Tables, Lines and Charts was also the name of the lowest grossing but most intellectually stimulating pay per view event in the history of the WWE. As the younger of two siblings, this test really hit on a touchy spot with me, because as I went through school I ended up having a lot of the same teachers my brother had had before me and given my unique last name, I was quickly and continuously identified as "Michael's Little Brother." My brother and I share the same last name, the same parents, the same birth date two years apart and the same initials. So, as an outsider looking in, it would be easy to treat us the same. However, he was more into math and science and things that would benefit him and usher in a decent paying career in his future. Whereas, I preferred English and Social Studies because I learned vocabulary words such as bumfuzzle and got to say Frigate Raleigh under the safeguard of knowing I was talking about a Revolutionary War vessel. My brother played football and lacrosse and was rather sturdy. I ran cross country and track and was practically transparent. He was in Future Business Leaders of America because it would look good on his college application. I joined Spanish Honors Society, because one night a year we organized an All You Can Eat taco night in the cafeteria. I think that we can all agree if data and numbers send you into hysterics, there's a problem. Halfway through this exercise I proceeded to blurt out "BOTH OF THE CHARTS ARE FINE! SO WHAT, IF ONE IS DIFFERENT? THEY'RE BOTH SPECIAL!!!" This was not the kind of out of the box, emotions driven answer that they were looking for.
Personally, my least favorite ingredient in the days' cocktail of cognitive analysis was the first one that was added during our introduction. I am given three words and throughout our tumultuous time together, she will ask me to repeat the words to her. This part of the test reminded me of that one friend we all have that caught that ONE big fish that ONE time you went out on a boat with them an now you need to hear about it every time you see each other, which in your mind is always far too often. I hated this because for everything that followed, I felt as though I was only half paying attention. Like when you're talking to someone and they have a bunch of snots hanging out of their nose and you're trying to intently listen to them talk about issues they are having with a relationship while you're thinking to yourself "I think I know the problem!" Among the random bits of information that the email of my intellect has chosen to mark as "Important" is that the three words that I was given when I last had this testing done were: Apple, School and Church. I remember that because I wrote them down on my hand when she wasn't looking. Again, I 'd argue that it took a decent amount of brain power to decide to do this, be at peace with it no matter how morally wrong it was and then wait for a moment when she couldn't see me write it. Really, it would've been easy enough to remember though. "OK, two buildings I reluctantly went into as a child and a food I reluctantly ate, got it."
Now. I am in no position to judge anyone's organization and filing skills, but I'm not sure whether they keep a record of what words they've used in the past, because for whatever reason, as I began the testing this time around, anxiously awaiting the trio of trepidation, she says "OK, your three words are apple, school and church." I felt as though I was a member of the band of Grecian soldiers responsible for rolling the wooden horse up to the walls of Troy like "OK, we give up. Here's your surrender present, bye!" I tried to stifle my excitement. This feeling was like when you were in school and you had a math test on a topic where you and your classmates had unanimously decided to check out for the chapter. So the teacher agrees to do a couple of examples on the board prior to handing out the test. Instead of easing our exam anxiety, these hieroglyphics only served to heighten the awareness of our impending "F." Recognizing a hopeless errand when she saw one, our teacher wiped her hands of responsibility like Pontius Pilate before the crucifixion and retreated to her desk accidentally leaving Playbook to Pythagorean Theorem perfection unerased and available, right in front of us.
Should we have said something to the teacher? Of course. Did we say anything? Absolutely not! This one kid in our class, Aaron, raises his hand to tell the teacher and our entire class that, indirectly, he valued his letter grade more than his life. Everyone else shot him a look like "Aaron, so help me, if you screw this up for us, the second we are off of school grounds, you will be in the ground." In the 6 years since high school, I have encountered crying children in public and an overly confident brother who bet me that Kansas City was located in Kansas, but the valuable lesson I learned that day that could not be taught in any textbook was that sometimes in life, it's best to keep your mouth shut. Do you want to know how many times the topic of life regrets pops up and I've used the phrase "Man, I really wish I had paid attention when my teacher was talking to us about Pythagorean Theorem?" Zero!
This doctor wanted me to remember the words apple, school and church and I can promise you, they will be in the back of my mind until the day I die.
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Rough Draft
Life is like a Jack in the Box, you think you are about to have fun with a toy but you just end up soiling yourself from the fright of having some creepy clown jump out at you following the conclusion of an eerie little tune. Hi, I'm Mark Woonton and these are the real life inspirations for some of your favorite lines in movies:
- "Come on come on, I want you to do it, I want you to do it, come on hit me." - Floyd Mayweather
- "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." Me, after some woman on a radio morning show doing the entertainment update was freaking out about Zayn Malik leaving One Direction
- "I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse." - New England Patriots head coach, Bill Belichick, during the off-season
- "If you build it, he will come." - Mike Pence regarding Trump's border wall
- "Take your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape." - Isiah Gregg, the kid that fell into Harambe's enclosure
- "I'll be back." - aviator, Amelia Earhart, shortly before her disappearance
- "Show me the money" - Steve-O in preschool when someone asked him if he'd eat a fire ant for five bucks
- "We're going to need a bigger boat" - Noah, when he realized Shamu, the whale. was going to have to fit on the ark
- "As far back as I could remember I've always wanted to be a gangster" - There's some dispute as to whether this one originated with Justin Bieber or the first suburban White kid who ever put lyrics to a rap song as his Facebook status
- "Roads? Where we're going we don't need roads." Lewis and Clark as they began their journey to map out the United States
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Media Censorship
"Put it on your Christmas list" and "Put it on your birthday list."
These two statements round out the top four things I most frequently heard from my parents while I was growing up. The other two, quite contradictorily being "I love you" and "you're grounded." I found out at an early age that screaming and crying in order to get what I wanted rarely resulted in the desired outcome for me and most likely just gave me sore lungs and a hand-print on my backside. Unfortunately, having a summer birthday meant that from January to July and July to December, I was foaming at the mouth over fads and was left mesmerized over meaningless merchandise because as a child, you are able to differentiate between "wants" and "needs" about as well as your grandparents are able to explain the functionality upgrades between the iphone 6 and the 7.
I remember the first "big purchase" I ever made. There was something that came out in 2002 that I just had to have. Hip Hops' pasty white, profanity projectile poster boy. Eminem, had just released his fourth studio album, The Eminem Show and I knew that in order to keep within the cool kids circle of the elementary school of southern New Hampshire, this CD was a must-have. Seeing as though my parents leniency for money lending was about equal to the banks in communist Russia, I asked if I could do some extra work around the house in order to earn the money. After several days of chores, I had earned enough money to go and buy the CD on the strict stipulation that I buy the edited version. Was it worth it? No! Here's a tip, if you want the experience of listening to an edited rap CD without spending the money, drive into the city and just roll down your window, because the two elements that create clean versions of rap songs are angry yelling and beeping. And just to knock my internet illiterate parents off of their morality mountain for a second, do you know who gets the money when someone buys an edited Eminem CD? He does! So quite drinking Diet Coke and acting like you're so much better than everyone else! Does this not make sense to everyone now? OK, great.
I was so excited when I got the notice from the post office saying that my CD was ready to be picked up. I immediately popped the CD into the CD player in the car and allowed myself to become immersed in the soothing songs of the streetwise Dr. Seuss. However, this momentary mountaintop moment of Michigan musicianship was brought to a screeching halt about ten seconds into the first song as myself, my mother and anyone within a ten mile radius realized that, for whatever reason, the CD we got was not edited. My mother did the logical thing and began yelling at me, echoing some of the disallowed dialogue I had just heard in her displeasure. For whoever happens to be reading this, I'm sure words that you would associate with me currently are silly and sarcastic, but I would like to add a third "s", that word being sincere and say I PROMISE you I ordered the edited version and for my mother to get angry at me in this instance is kind of like being stuck in a traffic jam 20,000 cars deep and beeping at the person in front of you. I was just as upset as she was, because I knew that for me, restitution for this rap CD meant another week of chores and another trip to the post office.
Media censorship can be a hot button issue, especially in countries with freedom of speech and freedom of the press saying that a government can not interfere with ones opinion whether it be spoken or in a printed source. Historically, the Espionage Act of 1917 prevented negative articles about the government from being printed during wartime, but today, if I choose to say something like red apples are the best and that the sinful, sour apple that brought about the downfall of all mankind in the Garden of Eden was most definitely green, you may disagree with me, but I can still say it. The reason why media censorship is so hotly debated is largely because the words or acts that people find offensive are largely based on our own personal experience. While we can all agree that the fact that Kanye West continues to steal oxygen molecules out of the air from conscientious, contributing members of society is utterly appalling, if I were to turn around and say that the 2002 Detroit Red Wings were the greatest hockey team to set foot on the ice, odds are someone, somewhere would have something to say to me about that. They'd be wrong, but they'd defend themselves nonetheless. As I have shown in the example above, even the United States has been subjected to censorship from time to time. Someone with an opinion deciding what can and can not be put on the printed page. I love to write and I have for a long time. If Justin Bieber has taught us anything, it is that the more people you reach, the more people are inclined to dislike you. Beliebe it or not, I myself was once told that a written work of mine was offensive, injurious and ultimately outlawed and I'd like to share that story with you.
It was January of 2001 and my second grade class had just begun our science unit learning about Antarctica. I don't know whether my teacher wanted to welcome in New England wintertime or if she was just tired of hearing all of us wimpy, whiny brats complain about what was comparably a pinch of precipitation and she just hit a point where she goes "YOU WANNA KNOW WHO HAS IT REALLY BAD??!! PENGUINS!" but that was the way it went.We learned about the penguins consumption of krill and the subsequent repulsive regurgitation and re-consumption of that same krill by the penguin babies. We also learned that during their trips to and through the Antarctic ocean, penguins had to be leery of any lurking leopard seals looking to make a meal out of any of these particular flightless fatties. We learned that male penguins would court a female by presenting her with a pebble, which presumably is where Jennifer Lopez got her inspiration for the line "don't be fooled by the rocks that I got."
As we closed out the unit in April (at which point we were hoping to say goodbye to the snow as well) the class was assigned a paper in which we had to use facts and vocabulary that we had learned over the past few months. For my assignment, I decided to write a story about my friends Cameron, Zach, Gabe and myself as penguins. I incorporated information about the penguins diet, community life and the dangers that penguins face. In general, I did everything that was asked of me and then some because my story involved a fast-paced penguin chase scene where we are being pursued by a leopard seal. Sadly, Cameron did not make it back to icy land at the chilling conclusion of my tale.
If you're asking yourself, how much is a penguin life worth? The answer to that question is a letter grade and a half because the teacher gave me a B on my paper as if she were questioning the legality of what I did more than the literary decision and I had gone down there myself with a sniper rifle and a scope to take him out. My teacher told me that I had to change the ending because Cameron was upset that he got killed off, but all four foot nothing of me stood by my work and I said "Well, maybe if Cameron was a better swimmer he would have made it!" Along with the letter grade, my teacher had written a comment saying "Did Cameron have to die? :(" Yes, yes he did. I portrayed the perils of penguin life and refuse to conform to this or "Happy Feet" happily ever after shown by the media. Listen folks, in Top Gun we lost Goose and every now and then we are going to lose a penguin.
These two statements round out the top four things I most frequently heard from my parents while I was growing up. The other two, quite contradictorily being "I love you" and "you're grounded." I found out at an early age that screaming and crying in order to get what I wanted rarely resulted in the desired outcome for me and most likely just gave me sore lungs and a hand-print on my backside. Unfortunately, having a summer birthday meant that from January to July and July to December, I was foaming at the mouth over fads and was left mesmerized over meaningless merchandise because as a child, you are able to differentiate between "wants" and "needs" about as well as your grandparents are able to explain the functionality upgrades between the iphone 6 and the 7.
I remember the first "big purchase" I ever made. There was something that came out in 2002 that I just had to have. Hip Hops' pasty white, profanity projectile poster boy. Eminem, had just released his fourth studio album, The Eminem Show and I knew that in order to keep within the cool kids circle of the elementary school of southern New Hampshire, this CD was a must-have. Seeing as though my parents leniency for money lending was about equal to the banks in communist Russia, I asked if I could do some extra work around the house in order to earn the money. After several days of chores, I had earned enough money to go and buy the CD on the strict stipulation that I buy the edited version. Was it worth it? No! Here's a tip, if you want the experience of listening to an edited rap CD without spending the money, drive into the city and just roll down your window, because the two elements that create clean versions of rap songs are angry yelling and beeping. And just to knock my internet illiterate parents off of their morality mountain for a second, do you know who gets the money when someone buys an edited Eminem CD? He does! So quite drinking Diet Coke and acting like you're so much better than everyone else! Does this not make sense to everyone now? OK, great.
I was so excited when I got the notice from the post office saying that my CD was ready to be picked up. I immediately popped the CD into the CD player in the car and allowed myself to become immersed in the soothing songs of the streetwise Dr. Seuss. However, this momentary mountaintop moment of Michigan musicianship was brought to a screeching halt about ten seconds into the first song as myself, my mother and anyone within a ten mile radius realized that, for whatever reason, the CD we got was not edited. My mother did the logical thing and began yelling at me, echoing some of the disallowed dialogue I had just heard in her displeasure. For whoever happens to be reading this, I'm sure words that you would associate with me currently are silly and sarcastic, but I would like to add a third "s", that word being sincere and say I PROMISE you I ordered the edited version and for my mother to get angry at me in this instance is kind of like being stuck in a traffic jam 20,000 cars deep and beeping at the person in front of you. I was just as upset as she was, because I knew that for me, restitution for this rap CD meant another week of chores and another trip to the post office.
Media censorship can be a hot button issue, especially in countries with freedom of speech and freedom of the press saying that a government can not interfere with ones opinion whether it be spoken or in a printed source. Historically, the Espionage Act of 1917 prevented negative articles about the government from being printed during wartime, but today, if I choose to say something like red apples are the best and that the sinful, sour apple that brought about the downfall of all mankind in the Garden of Eden was most definitely green, you may disagree with me, but I can still say it. The reason why media censorship is so hotly debated is largely because the words or acts that people find offensive are largely based on our own personal experience. While we can all agree that the fact that Kanye West continues to steal oxygen molecules out of the air from conscientious, contributing members of society is utterly appalling, if I were to turn around and say that the 2002 Detroit Red Wings were the greatest hockey team to set foot on the ice, odds are someone, somewhere would have something to say to me about that. They'd be wrong, but they'd defend themselves nonetheless. As I have shown in the example above, even the United States has been subjected to censorship from time to time. Someone with an opinion deciding what can and can not be put on the printed page. I love to write and I have for a long time. If Justin Bieber has taught us anything, it is that the more people you reach, the more people are inclined to dislike you. Beliebe it or not, I myself was once told that a written work of mine was offensive, injurious and ultimately outlawed and I'd like to share that story with you.
It was January of 2001 and my second grade class had just begun our science unit learning about Antarctica. I don't know whether my teacher wanted to welcome in New England wintertime or if she was just tired of hearing all of us wimpy, whiny brats complain about what was comparably a pinch of precipitation and she just hit a point where she goes "YOU WANNA KNOW WHO HAS IT REALLY BAD??!! PENGUINS!" but that was the way it went.We learned about the penguins consumption of krill and the subsequent repulsive regurgitation and re-consumption of that same krill by the penguin babies. We also learned that during their trips to and through the Antarctic ocean, penguins had to be leery of any lurking leopard seals looking to make a meal out of any of these particular flightless fatties. We learned that male penguins would court a female by presenting her with a pebble, which presumably is where Jennifer Lopez got her inspiration for the line "don't be fooled by the rocks that I got."
As we closed out the unit in April (at which point we were hoping to say goodbye to the snow as well) the class was assigned a paper in which we had to use facts and vocabulary that we had learned over the past few months. For my assignment, I decided to write a story about my friends Cameron, Zach, Gabe and myself as penguins. I incorporated information about the penguins diet, community life and the dangers that penguins face. In general, I did everything that was asked of me and then some because my story involved a fast-paced penguin chase scene where we are being pursued by a leopard seal. Sadly, Cameron did not make it back to icy land at the chilling conclusion of my tale.
If you're asking yourself, how much is a penguin life worth? The answer to that question is a letter grade and a half because the teacher gave me a B on my paper as if she were questioning the legality of what I did more than the literary decision and I had gone down there myself with a sniper rifle and a scope to take him out. My teacher told me that I had to change the ending because Cameron was upset that he got killed off, but all four foot nothing of me stood by my work and I said "Well, maybe if Cameron was a better swimmer he would have made it!" Along with the letter grade, my teacher had written a comment saying "Did Cameron have to die? :(" Yes, yes he did. I portrayed the perils of penguin life and refuse to conform to this or "Happy Feet" happily ever after shown by the media. Listen folks, in Top Gun we lost Goose and every now and then we are going to lose a penguin.
Friday, April 7, 2017
Sports Rivalries That Will Never Happen
Hi, I'm Mark Woonton and here are 11 rivalries in sports that will never happen:
- Dallas Cowboys v. Cleveland Indians
- Anaheim Angels v. New Jersey Devils
- San Francisco 49ers v. Philadelphia 76ers
- Florida Marlins v. Brooklyn Nets
- Denver Outlaws v. New Orleans Saints
- Tampa Bay Lightning v. Phoenix Suns
- Los Angeles Kings v. New England Patriots
- Michigan Wolverines v. Colorado Avalanche (Marvel fans, you're welcome)
- Seattle Mariners v. Tampa Bay Buccaneers
- Navy Midshipmen v. Pittsburgh Pirates
- Houston Astros v. Toronto Raptors
Monday, April 3, 2017
Slam Dunks Contest (aka Top 10 Reasons to Throw Dunkin Donuts Out Your Window)
As a native New Englander, I am stereotyped to be passionate about at least two things, the New England Patriots and Dunkin Donuts. As much as the internet is being used today to allow its users to safely fortify themselves behind some facade, I am here to quietly confirm one of those stereotypes. I go to Dunkin Donuts on a regular basis, because if I don't, my lack of coherent language and proper posture lead those who have the misfortune of being around me that day to believe that I am patient zero of the zombie apocalypse. People have suggested that I could save some money by getting my iced coffee from McDonald's. While this is true, I could also save money by hunting for food and sleeping in a tent outside, we all have our own personal lines of what we consider frugal versus fanatical and eliminating the purchase of iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts happens to be mine. Back when I ran Cross Country in high school, there was one particular afternoon where the team was running down a side-road in a single-file, skinny, sad line of self-imposed, sports-related singleness and a particular passerby rolled down his or her window and threw a coffee at our little band of anorexic social outcasts which happened to hit me in the leg. Was I upset that I had been hit in pretty much the only part of the human body that mattered in my particular, collision free craft? Yes. However, I found myself to be more irritated by the fact that someone would waste an entire coffee on a prank from seven years ago which they have probably long since stopped thinking or talking about. Does me bringing up this story now make me the weaker person? Probably.
Today, I encountered another iced coffee incident which has brought on a second epiphany. I was coming up to a corner stoplight where there was usually a homeless man I would stare at, but today I decided to be polite, or just not make eye contact, and I looked in the other direction. Unfortunately, the event that caught my eye on this side was even more horrifying than homelessness. A gentleman in a honking big truck grabbed hold of what appeared to be an iced coffee and dump it onto the pavement before completing the hat trick of hazards to our hemisphere by tossing the cup out the window and driving off in his Badmobile.
Now, I have seen people in cars beside me flick cigarette butts out of their window. I watched police car camera footage of high speed chases where the eventual inmates are caught on video dumping pounds and pounds of cocaine out of their vehicle. As unfortunate as these two instances are, the feeling I got from them can not hold a candle to the red hot rage I felt from watching, what appeared to be 3/4 of a perfectly good iced coffee, go to waste. In fact, there are only 10 justifiable reasons that would hold up in court for someone to dump a Dunkin Donuts delicacy from an open car window and claim it as being done purely out of self defense, self-interest or survival.
1. If someone is paying homage to fallen Dunkin Donuts founder, William Rosenberg, in the most gangsta way possible
2. If Dunkin Donuts started putting prizes at the bottom of iced coffees and this persons' prize happened to be a lifetime supply of iced coffees
3. If someone accidentally ordered a perplexed pumpkin spice iced coffee that found its way into April, because Dunkins, I love you to death, but the only acceptable things to do to a pumpkin are turn it into a pie or scalp it, gouge its eyes out and set its brain on fire.
4. If the iced coffee has a convex meniscus it obviously means that the coffee, that persons entire vehicle and all of the Earth are being pulled into some solar system black hole and if that's the case, by all means, throw the coffee and drive like heck
5. If the person is experimenting as to whether or not pouring caffeinated drinks on to plants helps them grow faster
6. If they thought that they were at Dairy Queen where they turn the Blizzards upside down or it's free of charge
7. If people have begun a live action Mario Kart, but instead of throwing bananas and shells at each other, we are going to start throwing coffee and donuts
8. If two passengers in a car order the same exact iced coffee and one of them sees it as a casual, sipping drink while the second person downs it like Joey "Caffeine Crazy" Chestnut, but then the latter party insists that the drink remaining in the cup holder is theirs and they just won't budge, it is best to just throw the beverage out the window and say "There! Now no one gets it!" Among the life lessons to learn from the wise King Solomon, it is best to forfeit something completely than to leave with a relatively useless half of it.
9. If you notice someone in a car next to you starting to nod off at the wheel, by all means, throw some coffee at them. However, you need to absolutely be sure of yourself that you are reading this situation correctly, because any misunderstanding or missed catches can lead to ruined paint jobs and damage to leather interior
10. If someone is a die-hard fan of Starbucks, they are a snobby, stuck-up individual who obviously has a lot of cash and relational bridges they'd like to burn, so, as a form of evil entertainment, they just buy the Dunkin Donuts to throw it out of their window to deprive others of the joy they get from drinking it, they aren't looking for anything and they don't care what you or I think of their actions. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.
Today, I encountered another iced coffee incident which has brought on a second epiphany. I was coming up to a corner stoplight where there was usually a homeless man I would stare at, but today I decided to be polite, or just not make eye contact, and I looked in the other direction. Unfortunately, the event that caught my eye on this side was even more horrifying than homelessness. A gentleman in a honking big truck grabbed hold of what appeared to be an iced coffee and dump it onto the pavement before completing the hat trick of hazards to our hemisphere by tossing the cup out the window and driving off in his Badmobile.
Now, I have seen people in cars beside me flick cigarette butts out of their window. I watched police car camera footage of high speed chases where the eventual inmates are caught on video dumping pounds and pounds of cocaine out of their vehicle. As unfortunate as these two instances are, the feeling I got from them can not hold a candle to the red hot rage I felt from watching, what appeared to be 3/4 of a perfectly good iced coffee, go to waste. In fact, there are only 10 justifiable reasons that would hold up in court for someone to dump a Dunkin Donuts delicacy from an open car window and claim it as being done purely out of self defense, self-interest or survival.
1. If someone is paying homage to fallen Dunkin Donuts founder, William Rosenberg, in the most gangsta way possible
2. If Dunkin Donuts started putting prizes at the bottom of iced coffees and this persons' prize happened to be a lifetime supply of iced coffees
3. If someone accidentally ordered a perplexed pumpkin spice iced coffee that found its way into April, because Dunkins, I love you to death, but the only acceptable things to do to a pumpkin are turn it into a pie or scalp it, gouge its eyes out and set its brain on fire.
4. If the iced coffee has a convex meniscus it obviously means that the coffee, that persons entire vehicle and all of the Earth are being pulled into some solar system black hole and if that's the case, by all means, throw the coffee and drive like heck
5. If the person is experimenting as to whether or not pouring caffeinated drinks on to plants helps them grow faster
6. If they thought that they were at Dairy Queen where they turn the Blizzards upside down or it's free of charge
7. If people have begun a live action Mario Kart, but instead of throwing bananas and shells at each other, we are going to start throwing coffee and donuts
8. If two passengers in a car order the same exact iced coffee and one of them sees it as a casual, sipping drink while the second person downs it like Joey "Caffeine Crazy" Chestnut, but then the latter party insists that the drink remaining in the cup holder is theirs and they just won't budge, it is best to just throw the beverage out the window and say "There! Now no one gets it!" Among the life lessons to learn from the wise King Solomon, it is best to forfeit something completely than to leave with a relatively useless half of it.
9. If you notice someone in a car next to you starting to nod off at the wheel, by all means, throw some coffee at them. However, you need to absolutely be sure of yourself that you are reading this situation correctly, because any misunderstanding or missed catches can lead to ruined paint jobs and damage to leather interior
10. If someone is a die-hard fan of Starbucks, they are a snobby, stuck-up individual who obviously has a lot of cash and relational bridges they'd like to burn, so, as a form of evil entertainment, they just buy the Dunkin Donuts to throw it out of their window to deprive others of the joy they get from drinking it, they aren't looking for anything and they don't care what you or I think of their actions. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.
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