Frustration
is a common theme when it comes to my satire, but especially when it
comes to my personal blogs. Of course I am on who believes that frustration
is necessary for good writing.
At least in
terms of nonfiction, but that is not entirely true. Some of the best
works are done in response to the poor ones. "Airplane" was
to "Airport," as "Scream" was to slasher flicks.
And then we
get "fill in the blank Movie." Not to speak ill of the dead
(especially since he rarely appeared in the latest stain on the big
white screen), but hopefully Leslie Nielsen's death will slow those
productions down as a memorial/moratorium to him. One would hate to
need to put a hit out on Kevin Sorbo or Diedrich Bader.
As a narcissist, it is a bit frustrating to be stuck on movies. Then again, some of
those who are reading this blog maybe frustrated that my self-centered
nature is where I am taking it to. For those who have not pushed the
back button or the X in the top right corner, let me finally begin with
frustration is what sums up 2010.
I don't think
it is wise to follow the suggestions of Tyler Durden, and the "Big
Lebowski" showed that nihilism only leads to missing nonessential
body parts. Which makes me wonder why ears are prized by psychotic war vets
and Mike Tyson?
I would at least
take the fingers. A necklace of those tells people not to screw with
me. Mess with me, and you will never throw that poor slider again. If
I was Lou Piniella, that is how I would have handled the Carlos Zambrano
issue. Some would say that maybe a mistake, but it tells me Lou was
getting soft. Big Z turned the season around, but will that carry over
to this year? Take away Z's middle finger, he would have one less way
of offending us with his frustrations, but more importantly, we could
take his contract off the books. I am sure that crossing the boss would
be a breach of the reckless behavior clause.
The Chicago
Cubs, the definition of frustration. No wonder that it seems to be a
constant in my life. Frustration is what leads me in wanting to believe
in nothing or to join a Fight Club.
Could you imagine
Ron Santo is the basement of Lou's pummeling Len Kasper into Oblivion,
beating him to death with his prosthetic leg? Hopefully, he is spending
the afterlife decimating those sport writers that did not vote him into
Cooperstown in their lifetimes, but I suppose it cannot be heaven for
him till he gets his hands around the throats of the veterans committee.
Religion, another
frustration, another reason to focus on philosophy. Philosophies like
those provided by the characters of Chuck Palahniuk novels. Give me
some credit. I do eventually get back to the point. Adapt this method
of storytelling if you ever have to go into therapy, and enjoy watching
the psychotherapist go nuts.
The approach
does not work in group sessions. With so many people, they are quicker
to demand you get to the point. Just stay quiet and have a good cry
after the session. Just like "Fight Club."
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