The football gods have finally smiled upon the 2014 Super Bowl with a story that thankfully doesn't mention outspoken Seattle Seahawks cornerback Richard Sherman, something that is definitely nice to hear.
Since sending the media and the football viewing world into a firestorm with a braggadocious "rant" following the Seahawks' victory over San Francisco in the NFC Championship Jan. 19, Sherman has spewed precious little of a controversial, or even an interesting, nature.
But leave it to the media hounds, in this case hearing-dogs, to leave no story untreed, uncovering the fact that little-used Seattle fullback Derrick Coleman gave Super Bowl tickets to some inspired hearing-impaired fans.
Coleman, it seems, is the first offensive player in NFL history who is legally deaf.
But also leave it to these hardscrabble writers to miss a more interesting story involving deaf players and the history of the game of football. That the first instance of the the now-ubiquitous huddle formation came into use at all-deaf Galludet Univsrsity in 1892. Quarterback Paul D. Hubbard realized that his hand signals could be read by opposing deaf players, so had his players form a circle so that his signals could be sent and received without anyone seeing.
The formation was soon adopted by many American football teams, and is now commonly used in many sports, notably cricket, soccer and Canadian football.
This tidbit is the most informative piece of information heard in the two weeks leading up to the "Big Game."
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Friday, November 29, 2013
New Orleans? There's a reason they spell it NO.
After a recent visit, I've concluded that New Orleans has absolutely no purpose but to serve as the rectal sphincter of America, an ill-conceived city at best.
And what is its crowning achievement after more than 400 years? To almost, but not quite, be able to stop the stop the cesspool of the fetid, stinking Mississippi River Delta from mixing with the cesspool of the fetid, stinking Louisiana swampland.
Except when there's a really big hurricane, and we're all expected to feel sorry for NOLA's plight!
But no one is saying what we're all thinking: Um, shouldn't you have thought of that before you built the city below sea level?
But what about New Orleans' rich cultural history, one might ask?
Sure, this city that never should have been embraces a colorful mix.
Guess what? None of them are particularly appealing, either. Add Jazz, Haitian voodoo, Cajun rednecks and French poofery to Bourbon Street's nightly alco-hell, and the sewage runs thick with regurgitated praline (pronounced praw-een) cookies, crawdads and oysters from all the retching revelers.
And then there's the endless guided tour industry. Anything can be toured in NOLA it seems. Plantations, battlefields, swamps, cemeteries - and most notably the streets - are full of hundreds of tour guides showing thousands of tourists the sights.
Statistics show, in fact, that at this rate of growth, nearly half of all residents will be tour guides by the year 2025. Of course I am making that up, but what I am not making up is the nightly parade of ghost, vampire and murder tours that literally litter the streets of the French Quarter.
So many have died so horribly in the Big Easy over the years, it's not at all uncommon for huge groups of tourists to pass within a few feet of each other all while gawking at the exact same sites where the deadly deeds were done. So many, in fact, that guides yell at one another if an unwritten "50-foot rule" is violated.
I'm surprised there's no "Ghosts of tour guides past" tours yet!
And just in case you're not turned off of New Orleans yet, when the citizenry isn't being drowned or poisoned or stabbed, just for kicks, it's stinking hot and horribly humid. Oh! And there's cockroaches!
I'll admit all the above-ground cemeteries are kind of interesting, but aren't enough of a reason to invest any serious time.
So what draws you to visit New Orleans or even Southern Lousiana? Its rich history as one of America's former hotbeds of slavery? The homeless and the stench?
I'm not sure, but I don't think I'll be going back any time soon.
I say go online, buy a package of beignet mix from Cafe du Monde's, maybe watch a Saints' game, and be done with NOLA once and for all, y'all.
And what is its crowning achievement after more than 400 years? To almost, but not quite, be able to stop the stop the cesspool of the fetid, stinking Mississippi River Delta from mixing with the cesspool of the fetid, stinking Louisiana swampland.
Except when there's a really big hurricane, and we're all expected to feel sorry for NOLA's plight!
But no one is saying what we're all thinking: Um, shouldn't you have thought of that before you built the city below sea level?
But what about New Orleans' rich cultural history, one might ask?
Sure, this city that never should have been embraces a colorful mix.
Guess what? None of them are particularly appealing, either. Add Jazz, Haitian voodoo, Cajun rednecks and French poofery to Bourbon Street's nightly alco-hell, and the sewage runs thick with regurgitated praline (pronounced praw-een) cookies, crawdads and oysters from all the retching revelers.
And then there's the endless guided tour industry. Anything can be toured in NOLA it seems. Plantations, battlefields, swamps, cemeteries - and most notably the streets - are full of hundreds of tour guides showing thousands of tourists the sights.
Statistics show, in fact, that at this rate of growth, nearly half of all residents will be tour guides by the year 2025. Of course I am making that up, but what I am not making up is the nightly parade of ghost, vampire and murder tours that literally litter the streets of the French Quarter.
So many have died so horribly in the Big Easy over the years, it's not at all uncommon for huge groups of tourists to pass within a few feet of each other all while gawking at the exact same sites where the deadly deeds were done. So many, in fact, that guides yell at one another if an unwritten "50-foot rule" is violated.
I'm surprised there's no "Ghosts of tour guides past" tours yet!
And just in case you're not turned off of New Orleans yet, when the citizenry isn't being drowned or poisoned or stabbed, just for kicks, it's stinking hot and horribly humid. Oh! And there's cockroaches!
I'll admit all the above-ground cemeteries are kind of interesting, but aren't enough of a reason to invest any serious time.
So what draws you to visit New Orleans or even Southern Lousiana? Its rich history as one of America's former hotbeds of slavery? The homeless and the stench?
I'm not sure, but I don't think I'll be going back any time soon.
I say go online, buy a package of beignet mix from Cafe du Monde's, maybe watch a Saints' game, and be done with NOLA once and for all, y'all.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Thursday, December 27, 2012
The needs of the many
The March 11 earthquake and its aftermath in Japan induces thoughts about the fragility of the human race, or more accurately, the fragility of ourselves.
After a terrifying tsunami ripped away at the coast line of northeast Japan, the death toll continued to mount as rescue workers sift through the rubble Nature’s devastation has left behind.
Already reeling, a threat of our own creation — nuclear disaster — followed close behind the deadly wave at the Fukushima Daiichi power plant near the tsunami’s landfall, as if to remind us of our arrogance.
Believing the water in ponds that cool spent fuel rods may be all but gone, U.S. officials have recommended American citizens evacuate the area within a 50-mile radius. While we often hear about nuclear meltdown of a plant’s uranium core, experts say the spent nuclear fuel is far more unpredictable and dangerous.
In the world of modern conveniences, nuclear energy bears the same burden as air travel. Despite statistics showing they are immeasurably safer than the alternatives, their failures are the stuff of nightmares, ripping further asunder the delicate control we seek to maintain.
In the face of these catastrophes, members of the human race reach for meaning.
We have found it in a nameless group of nuclear reactor workers — dubbed the Fukushima 50 — who are quickly achieving hero status for their efforts to contain possible radiation leaks, despite the threat to their health, even their very lives.
The brave men of Fukushima have continued to show up for work, even volunteering to face the still widely unknown dangers inside the plant in the name of duty. At the very least, they may suffer extreme sickness from high doses of radiation, which can be treated with drugs. But they will surely perish in the event of a large-scale fiasco.
We’ve found it before, in the heroes of United Airlines flight 93, who chose to die fighting rather than allowing hijackers to crash their plane into its intended Washington, D.C., target on Sept. 11, 2001.
Passengers and crew members, who learned about successful attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon via cell phone, mounted a desperate assault against the heavily armed hijackers in an attempt to regain control. The plane crashed in a field in Stonycreek Township, Pa., killing all on board, including the four hijackers. A permanent memorial is scheduled to open this Sept. 11.
Or living heroes like Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger, the pilot who coolly guided US Airways Flight 1549 into a safe crash landing in the Hudson River in 2009, after the jet hit a large flock of birds, disabling both engines. All passengers aboard survived.
The list goes on: Soldiers, firefighters and police officers. If I’m leaving anyone out, I’m sorry, and thank you. Sure, all know the inherent risks of their jobs, and are trained to face them head on. Still, it takes a special kind of person to stand up to what may end up being a sacrificial effort.
In their strength lies the only possible remedy to our frailty.
While we may debate the future and appropriateness of nuclear power, and tremble at the thought of whether we are prepared for natural disaster at home, there is little question about what makes a hero.
Maybe the real meaning lies in our own opportunity to be heroes as well. Even if we’re not as courageous, maybe we can be as noble.
We can contribute to the betterment of our world, in any way that our personal budgets of time or money allow.
Can’t spare a few dollars or a few hours of valuable volunteer time to a deserving charity, food drive or service organization? Perhaps you can just do something to help out a friend, or maybe even a stranger.
It is somehow meaningful and ironic that Mr. Spock, the fictional hero from Star Trek, died of radiation poisoning incurred while saving his crewmates and captain from nuclear disaster near the end of the 1982 movie “Star Trek II, the Wrath of Khan.”
As he dies inside the irradiated chamber, the ever-logical Vulcan explains why he risked his life. “Logic dictates: The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.”
After a terrifying tsunami ripped away at the coast line of northeast Japan, the death toll continued to mount as rescue workers sift through the rubble Nature’s devastation has left behind.
Already reeling, a threat of our own creation — nuclear disaster — followed close behind the deadly wave at the Fukushima Daiichi power plant near the tsunami’s landfall, as if to remind us of our arrogance.
Believing the water in ponds that cool spent fuel rods may be all but gone, U.S. officials have recommended American citizens evacuate the area within a 50-mile radius. While we often hear about nuclear meltdown of a plant’s uranium core, experts say the spent nuclear fuel is far more unpredictable and dangerous.
In the world of modern conveniences, nuclear energy bears the same burden as air travel. Despite statistics showing they are immeasurably safer than the alternatives, their failures are the stuff of nightmares, ripping further asunder the delicate control we seek to maintain.
In the face of these catastrophes, members of the human race reach for meaning.
We have found it in a nameless group of nuclear reactor workers — dubbed the Fukushima 50 — who are quickly achieving hero status for their efforts to contain possible radiation leaks, despite the threat to their health, even their very lives.
The brave men of Fukushima have continued to show up for work, even volunteering to face the still widely unknown dangers inside the plant in the name of duty. At the very least, they may suffer extreme sickness from high doses of radiation, which can be treated with drugs. But they will surely perish in the event of a large-scale fiasco.
We’ve found it before, in the heroes of United Airlines flight 93, who chose to die fighting rather than allowing hijackers to crash their plane into its intended Washington, D.C., target on Sept. 11, 2001.
Passengers and crew members, who learned about successful attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon via cell phone, mounted a desperate assault against the heavily armed hijackers in an attempt to regain control. The plane crashed in a field in Stonycreek Township, Pa., killing all on board, including the four hijackers. A permanent memorial is scheduled to open this Sept. 11.
Or living heroes like Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger, the pilot who coolly guided US Airways Flight 1549 into a safe crash landing in the Hudson River in 2009, after the jet hit a large flock of birds, disabling both engines. All passengers aboard survived.
The list goes on: Soldiers, firefighters and police officers. If I’m leaving anyone out, I’m sorry, and thank you. Sure, all know the inherent risks of their jobs, and are trained to face them head on. Still, it takes a special kind of person to stand up to what may end up being a sacrificial effort.
In their strength lies the only possible remedy to our frailty.
While we may debate the future and appropriateness of nuclear power, and tremble at the thought of whether we are prepared for natural disaster at home, there is little question about what makes a hero.
Maybe the real meaning lies in our own opportunity to be heroes as well. Even if we’re not as courageous, maybe we can be as noble.
We can contribute to the betterment of our world, in any way that our personal budgets of time or money allow.
Can’t spare a few dollars or a few hours of valuable volunteer time to a deserving charity, food drive or service organization? Perhaps you can just do something to help out a friend, or maybe even a stranger.
It is somehow meaningful and ironic that Mr. Spock, the fictional hero from Star Trek, died of radiation poisoning incurred while saving his crewmates and captain from nuclear disaster near the end of the 1982 movie “Star Trek II, the Wrath of Khan.”
As he dies inside the irradiated chamber, the ever-logical Vulcan explains why he risked his life. “Logic dictates: The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.”
Friday, August 31, 2012
Benson DuBois
Have you ever resigned yourself to not being able to remember something, like the theme song to a favorite television show? Then for some reason you just start singing it out of the blue? While talking to your dog. And on the same day as the first blue moon. Today is the day for strange occurrences.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Why am I so smart?
I'm the type of guy who comes up with a great turn of phrase, then is shocked when someone else says it without ever hearing it from me. Why am I so ahead of my time?
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