Blog About It Asshole – sanfranciscostreetfighter

Penultimate Post

Closin’ out the old blog folks. SFSF’s two regular readers might have noticed that I’ve been changing the theme on a daily basis. I’ve been tinkering with it, (stumbling across horrific typos in the process) and looking into upgrades- looking into the future of SFSF.

Conforming the old posts to a new living format would be quite a chore. Eventually it occurred to me that perhaps it’s time to put Esephesef away. It just makes sense. So that’s what I’m going to do. The name is quite silly.

It’ll always be here though, for public dissemination. All of my short stories and whatnot. All my sentence fragments. I ain’t gonna try to publish them or turn them into a book or anything. It’s better that way. It’ll be easy for teachers to access when they show the old blog to their classes. Am I right or am I right or am I right?

Totally Biased Boston Area Restaurant Reviews

Papagayo (downtown Boston) This restaurant would last about four minutes in regions of the country that specialize in this sort of thing. The first red flag emerges when you overhear a manager mispronounce jalepeno. If you’re on West st, downtown, head next door to the less pretentious Fajitas and Ritas. If Fajitas is closed, walk to Park st, make a right and order a couple of taquitos from 7-11.

Soundbites (Ball Square, Somerville) Brunch food that gets the job done. The rumors about the owner’s temper are true; he did brawl with the Ball Square Cafe owner in the middle of Broadway, directly in front of the two adjacent, competing restaurants, and he will throw you out for looking at him wrong. Despite its flaws, Soundbites is a better, more honest restaurant than Papagayo. The crew charges through busy weekend brunches in a way that evokes awe from patrons, if also hostility.

Charlie’s Kitchen (Harvard Square) This is where you go when you first move to Boston and you think you’ve found a cool place. Tall PBRs. Tall Gansetts. One enormous fryer and a huge tub of batter in the kitchen. It’s dirty, old and loud. Low-level staff endure pure hell on Earth when tending to insane summer-night crowds in the “Beer Garden.” Urinals and toilets are often catastrophically avoided. Health Code Violations abound.

Tremont 647 (Guess where) Molly Dwyer, Tremont’s Chef de cuisine -or whatever you wanna call her- is a pro. Multiple patrons have proclaimed “This is the best blank I’ve ever had” whether it be soft-shelled crab or the braised pork ragu. Eat her food before she leaves Tremont, then eat her food when she owns her own restaurant. She’s like 25 years old.

Dave’s Fresh Pasta (Davis Square) Go there for the “penny candy” box and grab some Swedish Fish.

Bear In A China Closet

I have to give it a real effort when I work at my job now. I’ve had a lot of jobs. But Like I said, I have to really FOCUS.

In recent years, I began recalling lines my father repeated to me. DISCIPLINE AARON. I never really remember the context, I just see the words. DISCIPLINE popped into my head when I played tennis with my old roommate. He’d get so frustrated that he wanted to quit. We’d only been playing for about ten minutes, just warming me up when he told me I better stop screwing around. He would just rather go home. DISCIPLINE. An old friend of mine from the ravioli place said he thought I lacked discipline. But he said it like Mr. Miagi coaching The Karate Kid- “Aaron, you-a wrak DISCIPRINE!”

Get-that-through-your-thick-skull, my Dad said, with gravity. He said it slow. I hear it now. He made such an effort to make it clear. He said it in a way that suggested he knew it might not get absorbed very easily. Get that through your thick skull.

A couple years back I played bottle hockey with the fellas. We played after work, on the big metal tables at the ravioli place. I had a hard time learning the game. It annoyed the guys a little that I couldn’t understand the simple rules, rules about spinning quarters and stuff. I told my friend Dan that I didn’t have space in my brain for stupid rules. I thought that 100% of my brain time should be spent doing whatever it wanted to do. Really it was just laziness and it made me kind of stupid.

Oh yeah, so I have to give it a real effort at my restaurant. I value the job, and I’m grateful to have it. So that means I have to learn about wines and listen and pay attention and all that shit. It’s a struggle. I get really stressed out. A person yelped about me and said I was RETARDED, capitals. I’m not retarded actually. It’s a little frustrating, that shit. Because I’m not retarded.

I was in the class for smart kids in Kindergarten. The EARLY birds. I was the man. I remember in third grade I had my reading level assessed and I was told I had a FIFTH grade reading level. I read novels like Touchdown For Tommy. This one kid had a NINTH grade level, but you know, fuck ’em- I ran around and shit. I got a perfect score on my jr. college placement test when I was 18. I was told I could “take any English class Bellevue Community College offered.” …So that’s somethin. It’s the little things. The best little thing was probably my old girlfriend’s college papers. She was a great student. She went to Cal Poly San Luis Obispo where she majored in accounting. Anyway after a few B papers, she asked her (required) writing teacher what she needed to do to get an A. After he read a paper that had been over-hauled by me, he noted on her paper- “This is what you need to do to get an A.” When you don’t have the big things, it’s gotta be the little things.

Absent minded, I say. I try to argue that ADD doesn’t exist but I know I have the worst case of it. Everyone swears they have the worst case. Exposure to Ritalin came at age 24. I was living in Seattle, working at a coffee shop. I decided I should see a shrink one night while taking the trash out behind Tully’s Coffee. He diagnosed me with ADD on the first visit. In a later visit I asked him if it was what I said that gave it away, or how I said it. He told me it was “both.” Anyway, he prescribed me a bottle of Ritalin that I used infrequently over the next couple of years. Probably 30 or so 5-milligram pills that I took in 5 and 10-milligram doses. Ritalin definitely played a role in my jr. college triumphs over math. Prior to Ritalin I failed math three times. Performance Enhanced. And my English classes became awesome. I understood everything. I absorbed everything. I liked class. The craziest part was feeling normal. I felt that class on Ritalin was just like a normal person not on Ritalin. I felt normal for understanding everything. Dan once told me I need Ritalin. He pointed to me and said “You know what you need? You need Ritalin.”

Engage Your Brain, my Dad would say.

I don’t know man- My last college professor, when addressing our intimidation of the novel Ulysses, he told us that all those lines that we thought we were skimming over, we were really taking in, even if we thought absolutely nothing was going in.

All these justifications, excuses- “We’re not meant to be idle, we’re meant to run around, and fight for survival” Or “Well, intelligent people take longer to process, because they’re processing more blah blah blah-” all that bullshit I tell myself- I’m still an idiot. I leave the toilet seat down. Or up. I leave my zipper down. I forget stuff. I lose stuff. I don’t listen. So like when my mom would be upset and say “I told you, and you weren’t listening!”

My old step-dad had a nick-name for me, it was DESTRUCTO OBLIVION. Spacial Awareness is something I was told is very important. Also, I’m a Bull In A China Closet. One time I called myself a bear in a china closet but I was corrected. I’m in-fact a BULL In A China Closet. My older brothers called me Air-head. I was okay with it. When I worked at the coffee shop in Seattle, I heard the girls talking about Aaronisms. I perked up- “Oh, like things I say that are clever?” I was told, no, that an Aaronism was like when I forgot to dump out the mop bucket.

Engage Your Brain when I need to remember seat numbers at the restaurant.

The Slavery Flag

It’s February 2014, and Georgia has a new license plate available that displays the Confederate Flag. It’s not really new, it’s just updated. Aside from an article I read on jalopnik.com, I haven’t researched why this is allowed. This is because I’m lazy, but I can also claim that it’s to maintain a moderate level of awareness as I contemplate non-racist reasons for displaying the Confederate Flag. I want to be a typical American, just contemplating why this might be allowed 150 years after our country’s bloody Civil War, half a century after Martin Luther King Jr died for equality and after Trayvon Martin was killed because he had a bag of skittles. I am a moderately informed American who has a preconceived opinion on the matter.

Okay, so here’s where I contemplate non-racist reasons to display a Confederate Flag, whether it be a full-on flag or a little one on your license plate:

1) You long for the “Old South.” You hate the hustle & bustle of the city you live in. The honking horns, the traffic, the sirens. Your 9-5 job. You want to trash your phone and computer and just eat some southern food and fish along a hot, lazy river with a crude pole that is simply a stick with a piece of yarn attached to it. You want a piece of straw in your mouth. The X that is displayed in the back of your truck doesn’t mean that you’re a racist, it just means you long for simpler, quieter times. The South. You want the drawl and the hospitality.

2) Political issues other than SLAVERY.

3) You like the design. You like the abundance of red, and you like that X, with all the stars in it. You like it for no other reason than you think it looks cooler that the ol’ Stars and Stripes.

4) You know that the Confederate States were wrong, but you believe we should constantly be reminded of our ugly past so that we don’t repeat it. You love that the South has moved past slavery and you are proud of that fact. It’s like the 9/11 never forget t-shirts and stuff.

The above reasons aren’t very convincing because of SLAVERY. This country shipped over humans from Africa and sold them as if they were dogs, or worse yet- machines, or appliances. I can hardly contemplate Benjamin Franklin or George Washington’s greatness without feeling a ping in my heart that reminds me that despite the founding fathers’ greatness, they all had slaves. It’s ugly.

I’ve heard the why-we-went-to-war-other-than-slavery explanations before. History majors like to explain these sorts of details. I’m sure there were plenty of issues other than slavery, it’s just hard to get past the whole SLAVERY thing, so I forget these issues. If you display the Confederate Flag for political reasons beyond slavery, why do you cling to a political ideal from 150 years ago? Haven’t we advanced beyond that in terms of policy? What Confederate ideal, outside of slavery could we possibly implement that would make modern America a better place?

When I think of the Confederate flag, I think SLAVERY. I think of how the South Was for SLAVERY and the North was opposed. This is after hearing arguments about how there were many reasons the nation was divided- it wasn’t simply black and white. There were political complexities that go beyond the buying and selling of humans. I know that the North was still racist. I’ve heard from a history major that the reason the North could abandon slavery was that it had industrialized. It simply didn’t need that huge, free, work force. I recently read that Lincoln once said he didn’t think blacks would ever be equal to whites. I’ve heard all these things and I assume that SFSF readers have more or less heard the same.

I moved from San Diego, California to San Antonio, Texas when I was nearing the end of 7th grade. I was startled by the racism in Texas. My first friend was a kicker named Jeremy. Kicker was short for Shit Kicker. Shit Kickers got the name from the cowboy boots they wore. They kicked shit in the fields. From my perspective as a San Diegan, Kickers dressed like toned-down cowboys. Kickers wore boots to school, and Wranglers. I’d seen Wranglers before. They had the tag on the belt line like all the other mainstream jeans. Kickers wore a kind of Wranglers I’d never seen before, with the leather tag on the butt pocket. Wranglers were worn TIGHT. Everyone else wore baggy jeans. Clara Driscoll Middle School was represented by many cultures and socioeconomic backgrounds. There were Preppies, Kickers and Jocks. And there were Hispanics, Whites and Blacks.

Jeremy was only my friend for a month or so because he was racist. He told racist jokes at lunch. He repeated the slogan “You wear your X, I’ll wear mine.” Your X was a reference to Malcom X. By mine, Jeremy meant the Confederate Flag. In addition to repeating his Your X/Mine refrain, Jeremy spent his free time doodling Xs and telling racist jokes. Jeremy was my friend for, like I said, a month or so. 7th grade ended, and Jeremy was gone. In 8th grade I got to know more people and made friends with some non-racists.

If you display the Confederate flag and claim to not be a racist, why would you submit yourself to being mistaken as a racist? When your truck passes a car on the highway, and the child in the car asks his mom what that flag represents, what do you imagine is said? The flag is reduced to a simple symbol. It is only an image and no words. It passes by. There is no benefit of explanation from the bearer. The mother can explain to the child that there’s a chance that the bearer of the flag is not racist, but she can’t be certain. Why open yourself up to that ambiguity in a subject so sensitive? The flag is a loaded statement, and loaded statements are frustrating and annoying. If the bearer claims to endorse human equality, why would they open themselves up to dispute on the matter? The bearer of the flag is at best a lazy idiot and at worst a racist who longs for the days of slavery. Who wants to bear the Confederate Flag?

Displaying the Confederate Flag is equal to that under-breath utterance that one is afraid to make louder and more direct. People who make such utterances are weak. One utters when one is afraid to state boldly and clearly. People who long for the Confederate South are the moral bottom 1% in this country. They are weak, racist cowards who are afraid to look a black man in the eyes and tell him he belongs on a plantation under someone else’s ownership.

SFSF Film Review: The Wolf of Wall Street

The Wolf Of Wall Street was pretty good, but not amazing. For a Scorsese film, I was a slightly disappointed.

I wasn’t surprised though because I’m used to Scorsese’s rise-and-fall formula. Even in his best movies, the falls tend to drag on. I haven’t seen Raging Bull, which is blaspheme, but I have seen Goodfellas, which was a magical experience when I first watched it. A typical film enthusiast has his or her own canon of movies that have at most been life-changing or at least genre-transcendent.

Goodfellas is one of those films for me. I saw it during my early-20’s enlightenment, a period in which I heartily consumed Quentin Tarantino and Wes Anderson films. I would give Goodfellas a 9 out of 10, one point away from perfection because of its long, unneccessary ending. Despite that, Ray Liotta, Joe Pesci, Robert Deniro, and brilliant scenes solidify ‘Fellas’ place high atop American Cinema. The steadicam shot of Liotta walking into a restaurant through the back is amazing. And Then He Kissed Me by The Crystals is the soundtrack while Liotta, bursting with cool, escorts his wife past a dozen admirers. That long shot has been imitated and worshipped by aspiring directors for over 20 years. There’s also a scene where Liotta’s Henry Hill and Pesci’s character are met at dawn by Henry’s mother-in-law after a night of partying. At the doorway of her daughter’s home she screams, “WHATS AMATTA WITH YOU HENRY????” while hitting him with a rolled-up newspaper. Liotta just looks at her silently for a second before bursting into laughter and turning around to head back to the car with Pesci, who mockingly repeats, “WHATS AMATTA WITH YOU??? WHAT’S AMATTA WITH YOU HENRY???”

Scorsese is a brilliant director of scenes and actors. When you watch Goodfellas for the first time, you might get a tiny bit antsy as hour three approaches, but it’s okay, because you know that you’ve witnessed something truly great. It’s like being exhausted at the end of a hike or something, a good kind of tired.

Scorsese admitted that the beloved film The Departed was his only movie with a plot, which is interesting because he didn’t write it. The Departed was a remake of a Hong Kong film from a few years prior. So he subtly admits to his weakness, which I think is a lack narrative cohesion. He’s not bad at all, but when you compare him to the best, other story tellers weave tighter, more coherent plots.

The Wolf of Wall Street is very entertaining. Leo DiCaprio never disappoints. He’s really invested in the character of Jordan Belfort and he’s perfectly cast. Only an extraordinarily talented, self-assured actor at the top of his game can play a role like this convincingly, and Leo does. Jonah hill is funny as Leo’s right-hand-man. There is a lot of nudity in the film, male and female. Lots of drugs and fancy cars. Also, midget exploitation. The film does a service by showing Wall Street absurdity to the masses. In one scene, Leo’s character begins to explain to the camera what it is that he’s doing -whom he’s taking advantage of and how- only to stop himself short and assume we don’t want to hear it, presumably because a film can only do so much.

There were a couple of edits in Wolf that didn’t seem professional to me. I noticed a shot or two where voice-over dubbing was a bit obvious. Nothing too glaring, but when everyone on the set is supposed to be the best at what they do, it’s kind of odd. Goodfellas has scenes of greatness, while Wolf’s scenes are merely good- and to me, when you couple that with Scorsese’s trademark 3-hour length and predictable story arc, it creeps a little closer to mediocrity. Near the end of Wolf, I wasn’t experiencing that feel-good exhaustion that I referenced earlier.

Somewhere between the middle and end of Wolf, there’s a scene where Leo & company are at sea during a massive storm. Aboard his beautiful, beached yacht in Italy, Belfort learns that there’s a problem with the gobs of money he’s stashed in Switzerland and he has only 24 hours to solve it. Despite severe weather warnings, Leo stubbornly ships out in a desperate attempt to secure his Swiss-housed savings. Within a few hours conditions get pretty nasty. There is screaming and wailing and gnashing of teeth. Scorsese wanted excess, and the viewer gets it. Had Wolf been directed by someone else, Leo could have once again died at sea, ending the film there. Instead, it trudges on into a depressing and unnecessary descent, where the viewer is left feeling like he’s been beaten up. Maybe that was intended.

The Wolf Of Wall Street is merely good- meaning it’s better than most of the junk that’s out there- but it isn’t near Scorsese’s best and it doesn’t deserve to win Best Picture. I give it 6 out of 10.

-If you want to read an entertaining book that chronicles the same era on Wall Street with insight beyond DiCaprio’s chopped monologues, I recommend Liar’s Poker by Michael Lewis.

Stat Brief for 2/11/14

Last week, when I wrote the latest Stat Brief, I thought to myself: Maybe it’d be nice to write a brief every Tuesday night from The Wine Cellar. Giving myself a weekly gig seemed proper. Working within the confines of a 5.5 hour shift where I’m interrupted by the occasional customer (The door ping pulls me off the computer in the back) is good for me. In between the lines you read I might be bullshitting a wine suggestion, but more often I default to telling the Harvard grad students and alums that I work only once a week and that I know nothing about wine-

“-a really nice Frenchman came in and told me these two wines are excellent. His wife loves them. Malbecs are all the rage apparently.” They’re often bewildered and annoyed by my ignorance and apathy.

A couple of hours ago I began by writing about Michael Schumacher- only to give up because none of my readers know who he is. Schumacher is a German-born former Formula 1 race car driver. Beginning in the mid 90’s, Schumacher was the best for almost a decade, winning 7 championships for Ferrari. He is a fan favorite and a living legend.

Sadly, on December 29th the 45-year-old crashed into a rock while skiing and he’s been in a coma ever since. About a dozen pings ago here at The Cellar, I stalled a bit, knowing that the 25 SFSF readers in existence don’t know Michael Schumacher. It’s been reported that his wife talks to him every day to wake him out of his coma. I almost gave up on the weekly entry thing. Despite that, SFSF trudges on, and hopes Michael makes a full recovery.

On a more positive note, SFSF’s own Sarah Cadorette has a poem up on Bostonglow.org. Read it here, like it, and like it on facebook. She’s going places.

Which brings us to everyone’s favorite thing about SFSF- the search engine terms. The nice thing about writing a brief once a week is that WordPress tallies the terms daily, weekly, and monthly. So I can click on the weekly option for immediate results of the terms over the past seven days.

So, only two people stumbled onto the blog via search engine since the last brief. The terms were: speed skate bulge and online dating in other countries. I love keeping with the Olympic theme for the second week in a row! Read the original Online Dating here.

Oh, yeah, this kid popped into the store and spoke with me, he must have been about four years old. I rang up his father while the child waited outside with his mom. Dad made for the exit while I began the next transaction. I heard some chatting at the door for a few seconds before the kid emerged from outside-

CHILD (interrupting transaction): Can I ask you a question sir?

ME: Go for it.

FATHER: I don’t think he’s gonna be able to help you out pal.

CHILD: Did you like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?

ME: Yeah, I did, a little. I liked Raphael.

Restaurant Reviews in Brief

Davis Square

IYO CAFE

IYO is just another coffee shop. The baristas don’t need to wear long-sleeved button-down shirts with khaki pants. The attire isn’t practical for the work. I will say, there is impressive space inside- it’s a good place to hide from your abductors. Seriously, walk to the backroom of IYO one day. There’s loads of room and a couple of enormous chalk boards. But I bet it’s always filled with people now. Also, they sell “Froyo.”

DIESEL

Diesel’s coffee is good enough and as “local” as coffee can be. But Diesel thrives on its unique space and high quality food (for a coffee shop.) The breakfast sandwiches are your best option in Somerville/Cambridge. (BLOCK 11, in Union square is owned by the same people, so their morning sandwiches are probably pretty good.)

What I would do:

Out with the pool tables and in with 3 or 4 big, vintage arcade games (Mortal Combat, Streetfighter, and a decent car racing game.) Arcade games would compliment Diesel’s existing photo booth, but perhaps they’d make the place a zoo.

SNAPPY RAMEN

I haven’t frequented what was previously SNAPPY SUSHI. There is a sign in the window that says “NO SUSHI.”

MIKES

With a beer license and an amazing location, MIKES is enabled to offer bottom-level pizza and pasta.

BLUE SHIRT CAFE

A gentle atmosphere accompanies the gentle faces at BLUE SHIRT. The Turkey Reuben is good and the coffee is good enough. Can you get work done at BLUE SHIRT? You bet.

Mr. CREPE

Is pretty good, but won’t blow your mind.

DAVE’S FRESH PASTA

Best sandwiches in Davis Square. Best catered sandwiches in Boston. One of the best assortments of local foods. Dave Himself is approachable and doesn’t hesitate to offer advice on your evening’s best pasta/sauce combination. Sam in the wine department is an encyclopedia. Staff is cool.

THE PAINTED BURRO

Played mediocre music waaaay too loud during my lone visit. They do the guacamole thing and think they serve good Mexican food when they don’t.

SALOON

I’ll have to admit, looks cool when you’re down there.

REDBONES

Is fine for barbecue and atmosphere. Is always an “option.”

FIVE HORSES

The name is a little too inside, if not just plain lame. I’ve had their chicken fingers. They were good.

WHAT DAVIS SQUARE COULD USE:

-Better Pizza, by far.

-One less FROYO place.

-Out with Tedeschi, in with a 7-11.

-A burger joint that is quicker, with smaller and cheaper burgers than Boston Burger Co. Not Tasty Burger.

Party In The Front, Pantry In The Back

There is a convenience/hookah/weed-pipe store on Prospect Street next to the famed Lost Sock.

I've been walking past the store in recent weeks pretty regularly, because it's on the way to my girlfriend's house from Central Square. It looked very poised to be opened a couple of weeks ago, but as we've established that hasn't happened. My gut (and I know nothing about this stuff) tells me the city wants to keep weed pipe sales kept at discreet, humble locations, like that little corner store in Teele Square that has a cabinet-sized glass case that humbly displays meek little pipes. Again, my guess is the city of Cambridge is fighting this as they think it's a bit much. The whole "You give an inch, they take a mile" exploitative response to the decriminalization of marijauna. (or capitalization) — I’ve been walking past the store pretty regularly in recent weeks because it’s on the way to my girlfriend’s house from Central Square. I’ve been privileged to see its development. A couple of weeks ago, it looked very poised to be opened, but as we’ve established it hasn’t happened. My gut (and I know nothing about this stuff) tells me the city of Cambridge wants to keep weed-pipe sales at discreet, humble locations- like that little corner store in Teele Square that humbly sells little pipes out of a cabinet-sized case. Again, my guess is the city of Cambridge is fighting this as they think it’s a bit much. Perhaps they feel it’s an exploitive response to the decriminalization of marijuana. I really want your thoughts and insights on this so leave them on facebook if at all possible.

MISSION PHOTOS

This was taken toward the end of my mission. These photos were all taken with my 35 mm camera (A couple of photos were sent by friends, but they were also taken on film.) I apologize for the quality. This was an impulse post, and laziness prevented me from attempting to scan the photos. But my iphone 5 did alright. Roughly chronological order and roughly July 2001-October 2002

This is at the Seattle ariport. I'm about to head to the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah- for about 3 weeks of training. Uncle David is on your right and Uncle Tom is on your left. — This is at the Seattle airport. I’m about to head to the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah- for about 3 weeks of training. Uncle David is on your right and Uncle Tom is on your left.

That's my friend Deloy. We went to college together and he was in the MTC with me. Since he went to Russia and had to learn a new language, he was in the MTC for 2 months or so. — That’s my friend Deloy. We went to college together and he was in the MTC with me. Since he went to Russia and had to learn a new language, he was in the MTC for 2 months or so.

Elder Gunning, if I remember correctly. He studied with me in the MTC, but went to a different mission. Oklahoma, I think.

I got the “MIssionary Goggles” early, as I’m only taking that photo because that girl was relatively scantily clad. Everything is contextual.

My mission was called the Colorado Denver South Mission. It covered the Southwest part of the state and into Kansas. My trainer and I were based out of Ulysses, a town of about 5000 people. — My mission was called the Colorado Denver South Mission. It covered the Southwest part of the state and into Kansas. My trainer and I were based out of Ulysses, KS, a town of about 5000 people.

Interstate 70 disected the South Mission from the North Mission. I think this is to give missionaries a little taste of everything (city/country) Though I never served in Denver. This was a special trip where we were allowed to see a baseball game on our day off. We often didn't have to dress in — Interstate 70 dissected the South Mission from the North Mission. I think this is to give missionaries a little taste of everything (city/country) Though I never served in Denver. This was a special trip where we were allowed to see a baseball game on our day off. We often didn’t have to dress in “proselyting clothes” on our day off, but President made us dress to the game. To keep us in check, I think.

Elder Mississippi Smith. The Mississipi is because there was always more than one Smith in the mission at a time. He was from Hattiesburg, Mississippi. I remember because NFL great Brett Favre had a home there and he told us stories. — Elder Mississippi Smith. The Mississippi is because there was always more than one Smith in the mission at a time. He was from Hattiesburg, Mississippi. I remember because NFL great Brett Favre had a home there and Smith told us stories.

Girls. I wasn't the only one who did this, okay? — Girls. I wasn’t the only one who did this, okay?

Even awkward when I kiss a car. But it's an M5. This car was all the rage when it came out. — Even awkward when I kiss a car. But it’s an M5. This car was all the rage when it came out.

This was taken in my second area. I was transferred from Kansas to Colorado Springs. Usually about 12-14 missionaries in a zone. (My mission.)

This youngster lived in the neighboring apartment and he'd walk in and hang out. — This youngster lived in the neighboring apartment and he’d walk in and hang out.

We were lucky to live in an apartment it another companionship. (Other people to talk to at the end of the day.) Langston on your right, was my companion. He was a great young missionary, only out a few months longer than me. Martinson in the back and his companion Idaho Ray. — We were lucky to live in an apartment with another companionship. (Other people to talk to at the end of the day.) Langston on your right, was my companion. He was a great young missionary, only out a few months longer than me. Martinson in the back and his companion Idaho Ray.

I'd be lyin' if I told you ladies didn't hollar at me and Langston walking down the street. — Langston.

Every 6 weeks, the mission was shaken up with a Transfer. Elder Ka'onohi (Elder K) was transferred in as my companion. Elder Kieth and Tennessee Ray replaced Idaho Ray and Martinson. There is the child again. — Every 6 weeks, the mission was shaken up with a Transfer. Elder Ka’onohi (Elder K) was transferred in as my companion. Elder Kieth and Tennessee Ray replaced Idaho Ray and Martinson. There is the child again.

Elder Kieth, on the right at a transfer meeting. Those were days off as well. Kieth wasted no time getting ready for basketball, which was played in the gym at the church where the meeting was held. He always wanted to roll his sleeves up, which was a source of contension. Photos were always taken at transfer meetings as missionaries went in and out- often transfered hundreds of miles away, with the possibility of not seeing some of the guys until after the mission- if ever again. — Elder Kieth, on the right at a transfer meeting. Those were days off as well. Kieth wasted no time getting ready for basketball, which was played in the gym at the church where the meeting was held. He always wanted to roll his sleeves up, which was a source of tension. Photos were always taken at transfer meetings as missionaries went in and out- often transferred hundreds of miles away, with the possibility of not seeing some of the guys until after the mission.

Kieth VERY QUICKLY pit me into this position. — Kieth VERY QUICKLY put me into this position.

We found this suit when we cleaned out the apartment.

Elder K. Nice of him to take this photo after we parted.

Okay, check this out. Natasha, in the front there- well we baptized her- so now she and Elder K are engaged, more than 10 years later. No joke. Elder K asked her mom what hymns we should play at the baptism. Her mom suggested “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by the Rolling Stones.

Elder K was in love with this new bike he got at a transfer meeting and rode it around the church parking lot. — Elder K was in love with this new bike he got at a Transfer Meeting. Elder K was one of the best teachers in the mission. When I found out he was going to be my companion, I was told “You’ll get in some doors.”

Elder K and I hung out with this woman Rita a lot. She wasn't interested in the church though. — Elder K and I hung out with this woman Rita a lot. She wasn’t interested in the church though.

The old fellow is Bob and he's taking a photo of Elder Smallwood. He'd been baptized a year or so before I met him, and always hung out with missionaries. He was very serious about his portraits. We did laundry at his house and occasionally watched TV (Not supposed to watch TV.) — The old fellow is Bob and he’s taking a photo of Elder Smallwood. He’d been baptized a year or so before I met him, and always hung out with missionaries. He was very serious about his portraits. We did laundry at his house and occasionally watched TV (Not supposed to watch TV.)

I think this is the transfer meeting where I became a trainer. 6 months into my mission. I went from being jr. companion (The other guy in-charge) to trainer. It was a big deal that 5 people from my group (You're always compared and associated with the guys you came out with) So 5 people from my MTC group trained. It was a big deal and I was nervous. Elder Tikalsky from South Jordan, Utah is my new greenie. — I think this is the transfer meeting where I became a trainer. 6 months into my mission. I went from being jr. companion (Where the other guy is in-charge) to Trainer. It was a big deal that 5 people from my group-you’re always compared and associated with the guys you came out with-5 people from my MTC group trained. I was nervous. Elder Tikalsky from South Jordan, Utah is my new Greenie. And he is to my right. K and Langston are my old companions when this photo is taken.

Posterity photos are a popular thing at Transfers. K trained the tall guy, who trained the other two. (When I posted this I didn’t realize that the “Tall Guy” (in the middle of the three white guys) is barely taller than the other two.

Langston made the cake- he was really into it. It was important that it be made from scratch- no cake mix. I think it was Bob's 61st. Bob sadly passed away a couple of years ago. — Langston made the cake- he was really into it. It was important that it be made from scratch- no cake mix. I think it was Bob’s 61st.
Sadly, Bob passed away a couple of years ago.

Bob had fake teeth. We didn't know that and he freaked us out the day he took them out. Here is Elder Haukenema paying tribute. — Bob had fake teeth. We didn’t know that and he freaked us out the day he took them out. Here is Elder Haukenema paying tribute.

When my dad saw this photo he said that Haukie was a “big boy.”

Elder Caldwell. He was on his way out when I met him. One of those guys you listened to because he'd been around a while. — Elder Caldwell. He was on his way out when I met him. One of those guys you listened to because he’d been around a while.

Elder Lane Foulger out of Eugene, Oregon. I really liked this guy.

My companion Elder Duff, from Poland, Maine. He kept me up at night telling stories about Maine. He made me want to move there. I fell in love with Maine and he's the reason I always wanted to move there to write. Duff was a convert to the church- baptized about a year before his mission. He was an amazing person and a darn good missionary. Despite what his hairline tells you, you're looking at a 19 year old. — My companion Elder Duff, from Poland, Maine. He kept me up at night telling stories about growing up there. I fell in love with Maine and he’s the reason I always wanted to move there to write. Duff was a convert to the church- baptized about a year before his mission. He was a darn good missionary. Despite what his hairline tells you, you’re looking at a 19-year-old.

As with all things, it took me a while to figure out how to make a good pancake. (My problem was the better was always to thick. Once I learned that, I made some decent hotcakes.) — As with all things, it took me a while to figure out how to make a good pancake. (My problem was the batter was always too thick. Once I learned that, I made some decent hotcakes.)

Duff and I. We were taken to Zio's for pasta. we loved when members of the church took us to Zio's. — Duff and Me. We were taken to Zio’s for pasta. we loved when members of the church took us to Zio’s.

Duff is pointing out that “Door” is spray-painted to the side of the door.

This is my favorite picture. We rode around in the backs of trucks often. To and from Transfer meetings. Duff and Elder Goettman on the right. Goettz was quiet, but about as cool as it got. He played in a band back home. He was into the Black Crowes and stuff. — This is my favorite picture. We often rode around in the backs of trucks. To and from Transfer meetings. Duff and Elder Goettman on the right. Goettz was quiet, but about as cool as it got. He played in a band back home. He was into the Black Crowes and stuff.

Goettman is pointing out an attractive female in this photo.

Elder Hiestand, on the right, was a good friend of mine. That's a member of the church in the middle. I guess he'd about my age now. We looked up to him because he had a beautiful wife and was super cool. He drove us around in a convertable Ford Galaxy from the 60's. We were in that car one night when he took 4 of us to buy ice cream. He opened his wallet and said — Elder Hiestand, on the right, was a good friend of mine. That’s a member of the church in the middle. We looked up to him because he had a beautiful wife and was super cool. He drove us around in a convertible Ford Galaxy from the 60’s. We were in that car one night when he took 4 of us to buy ice cream. He opened his wallet and said “Get whatever you want Elders, I have eleven dollars.”

Hiestand was a darn good baseball player.

I think this is outside the Red Robin. A real fancy chain out West. — I think this is outside Red Robin, a real fancy chain out West.

Elder Fineangenofo (If I remember.) Also Elder F. Hiestand's Greenie. So he was doing the whole missionary thing while also learning English. Not easy. — Elder Fineangenofo. Elder F was Hiestand’s Greenie. So he was doing the whole missionary thing while also learning English. Not easy.

Okay, so this guy, his name is Doug, and it's a whole other blog post that involves a limo, a fancy hotel, and stripper cash (what he's holding.) But like I said- another blog post. Yeah, that's a bottle of wine, and yeah, he's wasted. — Okay, so this guy, his name is Doug. Doug is a whole other blog post that involves a limo, a fancy hotel, and stripper cash (That’s what he’s holding.) But like I said- another blog post. Yeah, that’s a bottle of wine, and yeah, he’s wasted.

That's Smallwood inside Doug's limo. Doug didn't come with us, so we got to mess with the radio and stuff, like IN THE MOVIES. — That’s Smallwood inside Doug’s limo. Doug didn’t come with us, so we got to mess with the radio and stuff.

Elders Moses is standing in Doug's hotel bathroom. Hotel Monaco, if I remember correctly- in Denver. — Elder Moses is standing in Doug’s hotel bathroom. Hotel Monaco, in Denver.

I think we'd been playing baseball in out proselyiting clothes. Foulger on the right and Romney on the left. — I think we’d been playing baseball in our proselyting clothes. Foulger on the right and Romney on the left. (Google says the word is proselytizing, but we said proselyting. One less syllable.)

Our job wasn't easy, so we kinda went crazy sometimes. — Our job wasn’t easy, so we kinda went crazy sometimes.

Debauchery is a popular photo genre amongst missionaries. This toilet setting is very cliche, but cliche for a reason. — This toilet setting is very cliché, but for a reason.

Again with the debauchery. — Again with the crude.

The TV isn't even on. The cigarette ain't lit. — The cigarette ain’t lit, and the TV isn’t even on.

This car was owned by one of the “lesbians” from the apartment upstairs. The sticker reads “When I was your age we had to walk 2 miles to get stoned and have sex.” This is a very typical missionary photo.

The caps are on those bottles, we didn't drink beer. We took the beer from these women. One of both of them were members. It was like a confiscation thing. The women later came back and got it- I think. I remember for sure them calling and telling us to giver their beer back. We may have poured it down the sink, I don't quite remember. — The caps are on those bottles, we didn’t drink beer. We took the beer from a couple of women. One or both of them were members. It was like a confiscation thing. The women later came back and got it- I think. I remember for sure that they called and told us to give their beer back. We may have poured it down the sink, I don’t quite remember.

I don't remember where we found this keg that Elder Hanson from Des Moines Iowa is holding. — Also, I don’t remember where we found this keg that Elder Hanson from Des Moines, Iowa, is holding.

The keg made a very mediocre night stand, as you could imagine. The mission wanted us to get rid of it, even though it was empty. — The keg made a very mediocre night stand, as you can imagine. The mission wanted us to get rid of it, even though it was empty. You can see that other missionaries autographed it.

The only time on my mission on entered a liquor store. We got five bucks for it. — The only time on my mission we entered a liquor store. We got five bucks for the keg.

This is another blog post as well, Elder Steed crashing into a rock pile after riding his bike down a set of stairs. The good Canadian cut up his hands pretty badly but didn't utter one swear word. — This is another blog post as well- Elder Steed crashing into a rock pile after riding his bike down a set of stairs. The Good Canadian cut up his hands pretty badly but didn’t utter one swear word.

We were the Fountain zone and we called ourselves the Cottontails. We were supposed to play this team made up of a family. The family, The Bartons, if I remember, had beaten a couple of other zones in softball games. They played a real smoke-and-mirrors/finesse style softball. When I was in Fountain with Hiestand, Foulger and company, I knew we had a zone that could beat the Bartons. So we made t-shirts. But the Bartons didn't even show. DIDN'T EVEN SHOW. Cuz we would have annihiliated them. — The Fountain zone- we called our softball team the Cottontails. We were supposed to play another team comprised of mostly a family. The Bartons, if I remember. They had beaten a couple of other, past zones in softball. The Bartons played a real smoke-and-mirrors/finesse style of softball. When I was in Fountain with Hiestand, Foulger and company, I knew we had a zone that could beat the Bartons. So we made t-shirts. But the Bartons didn’t even show up. DIDN’T EVEN SHOW. Cuz we would have annihilated them.

Typical day off. P-day, or Preparation day. That’s when we were supposed to do laundry and stuff.

Elder Steed. We called him Prince William.

The Olympic Training Center was in Colorado Springs. A visit there was a decent P-Day activity as we weren't allowed to do much else. — The Olympic Training Center was in Colorado Springs. A visit there was a decent P-Day activity as we weren’t allowed to do much else.

We weren't allowed to kiss girls, so Hiestand is settling here. — We weren’t allowed to kiss girls, so Hiestand is settling here.

I remeber that it rained this day and that Elder Smallwood attacked Elder Moses. The fight was broken up pretty quickly. — I remember that it rained this day and that Elder Smallwood attacked Elder Moses. The fight was broken up pretty quickly.

We used to watch the girls play softball out of the window in our room.

And we'd tell Moses to calm down and not yell vulgar things loud enough for them to hear- we represent the frickin' church , after all. — And we’d tell Moses to calm down and not yell vulgar things loud enough for them to hear- we represent the frickin’ church, after all.

Moses. I don't know if this is the day our companionship began or ended. — Moses. I don’t know if this is the day our companionship began or ended.

Moses is burning a tie on his sixth month anniversary, as was customary. Ordinarily a mission is 2 years.

This is a photo of Pueblo, Colorado, my last area. Pueblo is an hour south of Colorado Springs, where I'd been about 10 months. The missionary on the far right is Elder Thurgood. We were together two transfers and had some serious fun. He was my 2nd greenie. Very smart kid. This is a posterity picture. Tikalsky is next to me with his first greenie. This made me a grandfather. — This photo was taken in Pueblo, Colorado- my last area. Pueblo is an hour south of Colorado Springs, where I’d just spent 10 months. The missionary on the far right is Elder Thurgood. We were together two transfers and had some serious fun. He was my 2nd greenie. This is a posterity picture. Tikalsky is next to me with his first Greenie. I became a Grandfather this Transfer.

We went to a game in P-day clothes and got busted. President was not happy. — We went to a game in P-day (plain, not proselyting) clothes and got busted. President was not happy.

Must have been the first game. — Must have been the first game, as I’m wearing proselyiting clothes or simply- *pros.*

My trainer, Elder Arizona Ray is in the hat. This is his posterity photo.

This is the famed “Girl Across The Hall.” Or Gath. In the hallway, as she was coming or going, Elder K told her she had beautiful eyes while talking to her about the church. She lived DIRECTLY across the hall.

We spent Christmas with a Mormon family, as is typical. You see Bob came along.

Taken in Denver. I like this picture despite the ink stains. — Taken in Denver. Sorry about the ink stains.

Elder Milius came out of the MTC with me, though I never got to spend much time with him. He's wearing Bob's cardigan. — Elder Milius came out of the MTC with me, though I never got to spend much time with him. He’s wearing Bob’s cardigan.

A photo sent from my friend Deloy in Russia.

Life-Long pal Tyson sends love from Africa. — Life-Long Pal Tyson sends love from Africa.

He's protesting having to wear Pros to the baseball game by wearing a bow-tie. Missionaries don't wear bow-ties. — He’s protesting having to wear Pros to the baseball game by wearing a bow-tie. Missionaries don’t wear bow-ties.

Sept 2015

There is a sneaker in front of the door to keep it from swinging all the way open. I don’t want it open. I only want it a few inches open, to say, I’m approachable, but I’m not really crazy about doing anything. Being bugged. But you don’t have to actually call or text of you need something. You can even poke your head in before knocking. But I’m watching a Justin Bieber video right now, and I’d prefer to be alone.

Michael Jordan Was Never Cut

I recently watched two videos featuring an endearing young child president. One was of him dispensing advice, the other was of Obama showing him around the white house.

Overall, they’re good 3-minute videos; though I was disappointed to hear the young fellow hypothesize about an alternate reality wherein Michael Jordan gives up after getting cut from his high school basketball team. This is a gross misconception. Michael Jordan was never cut from any team.

If anyone needs a refresher course on American high hchool sports, it pretty much goes like this:

Major sports teams have junior varsity and varsity squads. Sometimes schools are afforded freshman teams. Freshman team or no, it’s typical for 9th and 10th graders to be on JV, while the varsity team is comprised of 11th and 12th graders. Of course there are always exceptions and varyations on this theme.

Don’t be mistaken, when Jordan was a freshman, his superior talent and drive were already apparent. He interpreted “getting cut” as not making varsity as a 10th grader.

This decision was made by his coach who had to consider Jordan’s ego and his varsity team’s well-being at the time. Coach decided it would be good for Jordan to be “The Man” of the JV squad. On JV, Jordan would be alloted the full amount of playing time as a starter, as opposed to more of a back-up role on varsity. Jordan did in fact become The Man as JV games became more popular than varsity games as hoardes of people showed up to witness Jordan’s dazzling play.

Jordan followed the track of most other high school athletes and made varsity his junior year.

His self-professed cut-from-the-team bugs me for two reasons: The first is that I actually did not make the baseball team in high school. I didn’t make the JV team, meaning I didn’t get to play baseball for my school. In 9th grade I got that terrible sinking feeling young people do every day when they walk up to a sheet of paper with a list of names on it that doesn’t include their own. In 10th grade the sinking was worse because unlike the year before, I actually had a prayer as I was substantially bigger and I smacked the shit out of the ball during my batting session.

The second reason this bugs me thing is that the coach Jordan blames for “cutting” him suffers from a severe mental disability that began in his late twenties. I read about all this in a much longer Sports Illustrated article from a couple of years ago. The coach who cut him was an amazing coach before the dementia set in. He and his wife opened their house to players on the team. Jordan and the rest of them ate meals at the coach’s table.

It’s weird and sad, but getting cut pretty much means your career as is over, at age 14. I heard a high school basketball coach once proclaim that he teaches life to his girls through basketball. For those of us who don’t make teams, we have to extract all our extracurricular learning from the experience of trying out and failing. And to be honest, we do- it’s just not nearly as fun.

So now you know that Jordan made the team and was never close to getting cut. He was merely denied the privilege of being a sophomore on varsity, which means that you’re elite and you get to walk around campus like a bad-ass.