Cast The First Punch

Try as you might, you can't escape the images from last week's Pacers / Pistons game. Over and over, the cup flies down from the rafters, nailing Ron Artest as he lies on the scorer's table. Again and again, he jumps up in a blind fury, leaping into the stands to punch innocent and not-so-innocent fans alike. I watch that terrified little kid, crying in his mother's arms, probably the first-ever pro basketball game he's attended in his life, and wonder how it's come to this. How pro sports--and especially the NBA--got so messed up. How the idea of "respect" and "protecting your house" now means charging into the stands to attack the paying customers. How the NBA recovers from this is beyond me. Do they recover? If not, good riddance. Sometimes the machine is broken and you fix it. Sometimes the machine is broken and you throw it away and build a new one.
It was the same problem in hip-hop not so long ago. East Coast vs. West Coast and the level of "respect" that certain millionaire rappers didn't accord other millionaire rappers. It ended with two of the brightest stars in hip-hop being gunned down within months of each other, their mythology now an unstoppable market force as well as a cautionary tale.
It was mostly make-believe, of course, only some people (like Suge Knight) weren't pretending and other people died as a result. You would think the NBA stars would realize that, too. The game is just a game and the fans are just like any other people. Loyal in one moment and jackasses in the next. I wonder if Ron Artest was computing the math and realizing that the fan he was punching doesn't make as much in one year as he had just made in the last two and a half hours.
Then again, most of those fans aren't unemployed for the next year. And thanks to Artest and good lawyers, they may be getting quite a bit of money from the NBA pretty soon as well.
I doubt Artest cares. He's got a hip-hop CD to promote or some crap like that. You'd think the music industry would've learned from the non-successes of Shaquille O'Neal, Chris Webber (check the bargain bins), and Deion Sanders ("Must Be The Money" indeed). Then again, you think the music industry would've learned from Milli Vanilli. Yet each generation gets the Ashlee Simpson it deserves.
Those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it? How about "those who profit off history can repeat it and profit off it again and again." I believe it is possible to watch a given hour of VH1 and see Milli Vanilli (and New Kids, and Paula Abdul, and Vanilla Ice) held up for ridicule on an episode of "I Love The 80s / 90s / Insert Your Decade Here," followed immediately by the hyping of the latest AshleeJessicaBritney Simpson video, with no (intentional) irony attached. Followed by an episode of "Best Week Ever" that will mock the hand that fed it not moments earlier.
We can barely swallow our pop culture before we reguritate it, turn on it, spit it out and swallow the next item on the list. It won't be long before Britney's making a comeback. It won't be long before Artest is making his. Does anyone even remember Latrell Sprewell chocking his coach anymore? The coach is gone from the NBA now... Does it even matter?
Five years from now, I wonder if us Clemson alumni will remember 2004 as the year we didn't go to a bowl because our players behaved ridiculously and shamefully in the last five minutes of an already-decided game with arch rivals South Carolina (who also behaved ridiculously and shamefully). Or will the confusion of history lump everything together... amazing Miami win + jaw-dropping Duke loss + ugly South Carolina brawl = Forgettable season.
I hope not. I hope this is a lesson everyone learns and chooses NOT to repeat. In the long run, that will matter far more than a fairly meaningless bowl at the end of a fairly disappointing season.
We all make mistakes. It'd be nice to see some learning from said mistakes once in a while.

Return Of The Living Dead

Hey all,
I bet you thought I'd died, dropped off the planet, entered the witness protection program, or moved to Canada after the results of the last election. When, in fact, the truth is much simpler and stupider.
I got lazy.
Bored.
Burned out.
Stopped writing journal entries for a short time that became a long time that became a paralysis because I would have to write something to make up for the last seven months of not writing.
And here we are. I'm blogging and you're reading. No pressure, no subtext, no alterior motives. You probably found this through the Red Perspective webpage, even if Red Perspective as a band, or idea, or music-playing entity doesn't really exist much anymore. (Or, at the very least, it doesn't get out and play shows like it used to.)
I'll address that whole long topic in time. Probably. But not at this precise moment. Give me a few entries to just talk about nothing, the way Seinfeld used to do. Or at least throw out a few topics for discussion in the next few entries...
Death Cab For Cutie. Can't stop listening to 'em. Still. Postal Service falls under that umbrella as well. Also Snow Patrol and The Blue Nile and Jimmy Eat World, bless their power-pop little hearts.
Garden State. Eternal Sunshine. Clerks on DVD (again). Saw for you low-budget horror fans. Can't wait for Sideways to premiere in Charlotte. Glad Jackie's still around so I have someone to go to the Manor with.
Politics?... Nah. I voted Tuesday morning and didn't sleep well Tuesday night, but that's over and done with now. I pray for our President and so should you. 'Nuff said.
The Daily Show religiously. And Scrubs. God bless DVR (TiVo for you non-Time Warner subscribers.) Season premiere of The Simpsons is on in five minutes, so I'd best wrap this up. Be safe and good and remember that, if Clemson can beat Miami in the Orange Bowl, anything is possible.

Your newest blogger,
Rich