Have you seen the video where the lesbian groundhog saves the muslim whale from the burning toy factory for left-handed orphans? Of course you did. You posted it on your Facebook feed, a little smile breaking across your tear-stained face, before clicking on 38 Things You Can Only Understand If You Were Born In October 1975. It's true, you thought, shaking your head. I did used to eat breakfast cereal with a cartoon character on the box. It's like they know me!
I don't want to get all bah humbug on everybody's party, but enough! As an elderly gentleman sitting on my e-porch, I'm old enough to remember when Facebook was for pictures of food, pets and babies. Maybe those were simpler times, but dammit we liked those times. They were our times. Not the times of websites whose entire business model is based on making you laugh or cry and then feel a little better about yourself.
I promise that I'm not being cynical. Tear porn click bait is. I believe we can be stirred by each other without thirty second life-is-a-box-of-chocolates clips manufactured to capture advertising revenue. This shit is James Frey distilled for the Vine age. It's manipulative, disingenuous and fake. We are better than that. I am lucky enough to have a ton of awesome friends who do really cool stuff, and I'm way more psyched to hear about them than about any combination of firemen, dancing, school kids, hugs, animals, etc.
In 2014, let's resolve to uplift and inspire each other with what we do, not with what we copy and paste. Happy new year everybody.
It's like running through the streets and shouting...
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Groins of Steel
You may have noticed I haven't been blogging much lately, and by lately I mean 2013. You've noticed, right? You've felt a nagging lack in your life where Salient Green used to be? Hello? Anyone? Bueller?
The reason for this is simple. Iam lazy live a life that, while interesting to me, doesn't seem like the sort of thing worth discussing with the internet. Lately I've felt like leaving the pithy bon mots to Twitter hoaxers and focusing on the more pressing matters of trying to get the damn waiter's attention for another round. I'm just not doing anything that I necessarily feel like sharing. That is, until yesterday afternoon. That shit needs to be shared.
Yesterday, I went to a roller derby. As a child of the seventies, I remember the tales of women on roller skates beating the crap out of each other for fame and fortune, but I always thought that, like Jesus, it was something made up to sound cool. But like Paul on the road to Damascus (just like it) yesterday, I was made a believer.
We took the subway to the end of the line, where the mountains that frame the horizon of Barcelona are strikingly close, snaked through a humble neighbourhood of low houses and bars to the local sports centre. There, we discovered two teams of women in spandex and roller-skates (not roller blades) engaged in the high speed, full contact sport that is roller derby.
The whole event had a very punk-rock vibe, from the pierced door girl and the tattooed announcers to the actual punk-rock music playing over the loud speakers. The Barcelona team, named Groins of Steel, (really!) were hosting the less imaginatively named Roller Derby Porto. (From Porto. Duh)
The athletes all have groan-worthy nicknames like Cam Pain and Lady Di-struction, but after watching them fearlessly smash into each other while flying on skates, I'll leave it to a braver soul than me to mock them.
The rules of the game are difficult to explain, but easy to pick up in person. After about ten minutes, I had a decent enough understanding to follow the starts and stops of the match and cheer at the appropriate moments. It got really competitive and violent, with moments where almost entire sides were sitting in the penalty box for throwing elbows and such, but the vibe was fun, with the crowd and the competitors enjoying themselves immensely, high fiving and grinning all the way through. And really, what's not to enjoy about standing with a beer in hand (unlike the football stadium where alcohol is banned) watching some wheeled athletic ladies in tight clothes throw each other to the ground. I think I've found my new sport. Suck it New York Jets!
The reason for this is simple. I
Yesterday, I went to a roller derby. As a child of the seventies, I remember the tales of women on roller skates beating the crap out of each other for fame and fortune, but I always thought that, like Jesus, it was something made up to sound cool. But like Paul on the road to Damascus (just like it) yesterday, I was made a believer.
 |
| Amen! |
We took the subway to the end of the line, where the mountains that frame the horizon of Barcelona are strikingly close, snaked through a humble neighbourhood of low houses and bars to the local sports centre. There, we discovered two teams of women in spandex and roller-skates (not roller blades) engaged in the high speed, full contact sport that is roller derby.
The whole event had a very punk-rock vibe, from the pierced door girl and the tattooed announcers to the actual punk-rock music playing over the loud speakers. The Barcelona team, named Groins of Steel, (really!) were hosting the less imaginatively named Roller Derby Porto. (From Porto. Duh)
 |
| Barcelona's mascot is a cockroach |
The athletes all have groan-worthy nicknames like Cam Pain and Lady Di-struction, but after watching them fearlessly smash into each other while flying on skates, I'll leave it to a braver soul than me to mock them.
 |
| eg: AnnieWhere |
The rules of the game are difficult to explain, but easy to pick up in person. After about ten minutes, I had a decent enough understanding to follow the starts and stops of the match and cheer at the appropriate moments. It got really competitive and violent, with moments where almost entire sides were sitting in the penalty box for throwing elbows and such, but the vibe was fun, with the crowd and the competitors enjoying themselves immensely, high fiving and grinning all the way through. And really, what's not to enjoy about standing with a beer in hand (unlike the football stadium where alcohol is banned) watching some wheeled athletic ladies in tight clothes throw each other to the ground. I think I've found my new sport. Suck it New York Jets!
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