THE WEEK BEHIND : Duplass, Sedaris, Norsemen.

Things that are uncountable:
The number of times a week Donald J. Trump lies, throws somebody under the bus, empty-brags, or embarasses the office of the Presidency.

The number of times a week our youngest son commits an act with great forethought and deliberation while simultaneously announcing what he's doing with a repeated series of "Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Uh-oh..."

Accidents happen.

Speaking of accidents: serendipity was a spelling word on our daughter's test today. So it seemed like we should watch the trailer for the 2001 Kate Beckinsale / John Cusack rom-com. So we did.

Cocaine green.
What does your child salivate over for a snack? Let me tell you about our two boys: separated by six and a half years, united in their hilarious addiction to frozen peas for a snack. Yeah. Frozen peas. The green crack snack.

Halloween happened.
A cowgirl. A teenager trying to act all cool. A panda. Or a cow. Hard to tell.

They made a sugar fortune and have enjoyed little of the bounty; fortunately we do not have a security system effective enough to keep me out of their hard-worked for treasures.

Ejvindr has spent the last two days organizing his candy into various buckets, backpacks, and bags. Over. And over and over and over. It has not been communicated to him that there's candy inside these brightly wrapped little objects. Also, learning what candy is has not been part of his education yet, so he is playing with something and has no idea what's actually inside. If he only knew. I have forbade the children, under penalty of throwing away all candy and frozen peas, that he is not to learn the identity of his toys (i.e. candy). Yet. Not yet. The floodgates will open someday. But not yet.

Also, my little sister the older made some pretty nifty costumes for her fam. Straight from How to Train Your Dragon. Pretty cool, pretty crafty.

Standard time.
The clock changes this weekend. Standard time, I think. Fall back?

Phone numbers have seven digits because - at least in the days when people needed to remember phone numbers - seven is the number of digits that most people can carry in their short- to mid-term memory. That's doable. Know what's hard?

Remembering one thing when there's a total of two options. Like : just take a left at the stop sign.

You start second-guessing yourself. I don't take a left, right? Right is right. Not left, right. 

All of a sudden a simple thing becomes extraordinarily complicated. Such is my life. Complicating simple tasks and simplifying complex ideas.

My mom, two books
Several months ago, my mom gave me two books within a couple weeks of each other.

One is called Like Brothers. It's by the Duplass brothers, who really are brothers and filmmakers. It is inspiring and wonderful and these brothers love each other so much, like I love mine.

The other is called Calypso. It's by David Sedaris, one of my favorite writers, and it is dark and hilarious and he writes about his husband and family and all the love and frustration he has in his interactions with them. Also, he talks about American phrases he loathes, such as : it is what it is.

She gave them to me because she thought I'd like them. She has a knack for that. Giving books that somehow are there when I need them. I needed these ones.

Things I hate
Walking across a kitchen floor in my bare feet and stepping in breakfast cereal that some idiot has spilled.

Things I hate more than that
Walking across a kitchen floor in my socks and stepping in sticky rice that some idiot has spilled.

Things that weren't horrible
A) I didn't tip my riding mower over when I made a poor decision to take it diagonally across a hill.

B) A cloud of particular interest flew by around 11am.

C) My dad called last night and said this:

Joey, find the show Norsemen on Netflix. Just watch fifteen minutes. I think you'll be glad. 

I did so, because he's my dad. And I could tell it would make him happy to know that I'd checked it out. So I did. I watched it, as did Becca, until she fell asleep.

I laughed so good. One of the funniest first-episodes of a show I'd seen. He was so right. I can't wait to watch it with him.

The phrase "Python-esque humor" in television is a little like saying "Beatle-esque sounding" in music. It's so diluted it means little anymore. The reality is, we should agree that pretty much all good pop music and rock and roll owes a debt to the Beatles, in the same manner that pretty much all droll and properly-offending television programmes owe a debt to Terry Gilliam, John Cleese, and the crew.

Norsemen, after one half hour episode, has the Python spirit. Its own tone, its own thing for sure, but a proper entrant in the well-done, played-straight classic telly shows.

D) Becca made a really savory, chunky, spicy soup for Friday supper.
E. Magdelana has been baking up a storm. Pumpkin bread, pumpkin muffins, all sorts of delicacies.

Things I got worked up about this week and might have given long monologues on as a result

1. The Renaissance. Yeah, the one that started in northern Europe in the 1400s and was a big factor in the ensuing Age of Exploration, for better or worse. Probably worse for the 80-90% of indigenous populations that were wiped out as a result. 
2. How much more I like Hungarian composer Franz Liszt than Hungarian composer Bela Bartok.
3. Prime factorization. I got into a bit of a competition with Magdelana as I got engrossed in one of her lessons. Addicting. Quick: prime factorization of 27. A: 3x3x3 Ready for the next one? Try 428. 
4. Primogeniture. The concept of wealth and land being passed to the oldest son and its impact on Spain and other European countries as they ran out of land and needed to find more somewhere...hello, Americas! 
5. There's other stuff. I get worked up a lot these days. For example, I got worked up during the last two innings of one of the World Series games. That was the only baseball I watched all year, but true to form, Johannes, that precious angelic long-haired lad, wanted to know why I was so obsessed with baseball and why it was more important than tucking him in. 

"I guess you'd rather watch your baseball than lay by me,"

he said as he trudged off to bed.

What a masterful guilt trip. I typically loathe them, but you gotta give props where they're due.

Again: two innings of the World Series. I think the Sox beat the Dodgers. 

I worked this week, on my work days - and nights - in the dungeon.
Because that's where I work. It gets cold, and I saw a lot of rain through my dirty cracked window at the top of our mountain.

Listened to a bunch of Chvrches and a lot of Liszt this week.

We are alive, and there is love. We have love, we have loud music, and we have a lot of art supplies. And each other. So another week in the life ledger.

My little sister, the littlest.
She sent me a text this week in response to something I wrote, and her response included these two lines:

"...reading what you write feels like another way to breathe."

and

"I love how sparingly you use commas."

I love, I love it, I love her and I love that she observes and articulates what she observes. It matters.

It means so much to have someone acknowledge and respond to what you do when you do something that you care about.

MY MOM, A DAY, A DISHWASHER.

Today is my mom's birthday. She is 65. I have never known her to lie about her age or pretend to be anything other than the age she is, and that is inspiring.

I did not see her today. I saw her yesterday. And here is why.

Yesterday was Monday. The day before that was Sunday. Previous to Sunday, it was Saturday, or as we call it, Shabbat.

But it begins back in September of 2017, which is when the remainder of the year was full of promise. Children returned to formal education, the hope of autumn's death was sunny and crisp, and I had mapped out a handful of house projects to finish before winter came.

I was hopeful. Pragmatic and hopeful. A tenuous balance, but a doable one.

Then the floods came. Literally. Due to a sequence (or series) of sad (or unfortunate) happenstances (or events), a flood had literally come. Slowly. Slowly from a leaking aquarium tank. Slowly enough that it should have been caught, and for that, I take full responsibility in pointing the finger at my wife  for not picking up on it. Anyway, this slow flood took out two floors in two rooms - a bathroom and a bedroom. So plans and priorities started changing.

And then it felt like floods of the more metaphoric variety came, slowly and surely, and began erasing the hope that had been there. A slow descent into many things going...differently.

In this case, differently is a word I am using as an example of a euphemism.

Nobody died, we kept our health and friends and each other and made many fine memories and moments, but the hope of improving, one step at a time, parts of our lives that had seemed doable a short time before seemed to be disappearing into the mud.

And then more water after Christmas. A leaking dishwasher refusing to drain. To YouTube I went for tutorials and help from strangers. And from my father-in-law, who loaned me a couple T25 bits and a few hours of a Saturday night for some moral support and company as I laboriously walked through potential problems, removing one piece at a time, cleaning filters, hoses, and lines. Finally got it back together. Felt good. Ran a load. Looking good. Then headed down to work. Non-house work; work I actually get paid for and need to do. To bed at 7.30am. A new day dawns.

And a flooded dishwasher awaits. A flood that has wiped out a portion of the kitchen floor. Soaked, sopping, drenched. Yank the whole appliance out.

Discouragement. Total discouragement. Do I deserve to feel this? No. So many people who live in far worse circumstances and deal with far greater challenges and difficulties.

But this is also our reality; the reality of anyone and everyone who is trying to survive and care for their loved ones. The reality that there are those who have it better, and those who have it worse, and you can recognize and acknowledge and still be discouraged.

I was discouraged. Overwhelmed. One step forward, five steps back. Tired, physically and emotionally. Too discouraged to even complain or talk about it.

My parents came up Saturday night to hang out and watch Schitt's Creek with us. We didn't actually plan that, but it worked out that way, and was fun.

My parents pulled me aside, which I guess they can do occasionally, as they are still my parents, and informed me that:

A) we are getting you a dishwasher
and
B) we are sticking around to help you put it in.

I argued. Not fake argue, as in no, no, let me get my wallet out... but real argue. We'll be fine. I'll get the dishwasher going, it's not the top priority right now, etc.

They listened with bemused expressions and said:

We are getting you a dishwasher. 

I don't know what all they've done for other people. I don't know what all they've done for my siblings. I don't know all they've done for many others. I just know what they've done for me, and it's a lot.

It's one reason why I can never vote for, support, or respect the current President. I understand what it means to be gifted something. To be given something I don't deserve and didn't work for.

I understand what it means to benefit from being lucky. From being given something; something that many people don't have the expectation of receiving. A lot of preachers like to talk about the whole God and grace example, and that's great. That's the big example.

But this is my personal example. I have benefitted my whole life from things I don't deserve. I have tried to live with integrity and kindness, as many people do, but I have not done anything extraordinary to deserve special treatment or to be the recipient of the type of generosity I have experienced over the course of my life.

And here I was again, on the receiving end.

I said yes, and they won.

They headed out to pick one up - our children in tow - and returned hours later. My mom's birthday is today, so they had taken a couple days off work to enjoy...

...to enjoy a relaxing Monday helping install a dishwasher. My dad brought his magical bottomless toolbar of tools that fix anything, and what he didn't have he was able to dig up in our magical bottomless garage of stuff, and together he and I got it in.

As I lay with head cranked under the kitchen sink, catching a glimpse of the rest of our home from this painful vantage point, I thought back ten years to all the times my dad, or my mom, or often both, have helped us.

I thought of the mini-birthday holiday my mom sacrificed the lion's share of in order to help her son get a dishwasher in. I thought of the dollars they sunk into a dishwasher for us. Her birthday week.

Her insistence that this is how she wanted to spend her time.

My to-do list is still long. But sometimes, sometimes...getting that one thing that seems to be a catalyst for discouragement off that list is just what's needed for that little shot of inspiration/adrenaline/hope. Whatever it might be called. It made facing those other items a little more doable.

And what did I do to deserve it?

I am a child. A child of them.

I'll go straight on the nose for a rare minute: I can't help making the bigger parallel, as many of those pastor-people do, to the whole undeserving nature of grace and how it relates to God. How little we deserve, yet how much we can be given.

I'll also go straight political for a sec: when I look at my life and the onslaught of grace, of kindness, of generosity that I have been given, time and time again for no reason other than being born into and being surrounded by people who have exhibited those traits to me, then I think:

I will support leaders and politicians who aren't afraid to recognize and acknowledge those two ideas: grace and luck. The mandate to help each other out and not pretend like we've done so much on our own. What a slap in the face it would be for me to pretend like the successes I've had have come solely - or even primarily - because of my own work ethic and choices.

The great leaders and mentors recognize that we are here to help, to serve, and graciously, gracefully, build hope and build others up.

My parents have exhibited that so many times, and we have a working dishwasher again.

Birthdays. Thank you, mom, for the birthday present. Happy 65. The gifts you have given the world make it a better place every day.

And with our new dishwasher, a cleaner place too.

MINISTER OF SOMETHING.

This one time Jeremy and I went out to breakfast. We ran into some other people. You know, if Jeremy ran for President against Tom Hanks, I'd probably vote for Tom, but I would strongly be in favor of Jeremy being Secretary of State. Or Minister of War.

DEAR DAD, AND ALSO POISON.

Dad.

I am not going to wish you happy birthday publicly this year.

If I do next year though, then I would probably say something about being grateful for your lack of horribleness and general sense of awesomeness, and I will try to remember to say something about knowing in my heart that you're funny, but who knows if you will be a year from now. Your sense of humor may be completely evaporated at that point. I hope not.

I will try to not forget to remember next year to tell you that. And we will listen to both The Beach Boys and Beastie Boys for old time's sake. But that's next year. For today, today is just another day.

Happy day. Glad you're my dad.

- Joseph Long

___

What are YOUR children's hobbies?

I have an idea for a venomous suit.
he said from the backseat.
Is it okay if I borrow some poison?

Well,
I said.
I'm intrigued.

It will be a very venomous and dangerous suit.
he said.
And I'll mix poisonous stuff, for example poison oak, with like...one centimeter of water.

It sounds dangerous.
I said.
Prohibitively dangerous.

Don't worry,
he said quickly.
I'll wear gloves when I'm mixing any of the toxic ingredients.

Well,
I said.
You make a good case for danger.

STILL FROM A LIFE AQUATIC, ON LAND.

In answer to your question, the answer is Yes. Yes, this is a still from Wes Anderson's next film. Happyish Easter. ____ #wesanderson #easter #jxil06 #grandparents

A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Apr 15, 2017 at 11:41pm PDT

LEE AND JIM, BUDDIES.

Without these two guys in my life, I would probably have turned out much more normal, which would be sad. Truly two of the greatest and most eccentric people in the known universe. My uncle and dad. To hear them banter and argue...they'll probably go to their final resting places someday never realizing there's a name for their relationship with each other: BFFs. When aliens eventually land here, please let these two be the first humans they meet. They'll love us. Or they won't. One of the two. Titans. ____ #dads #uncles #pnw #leica #oregoncoast #44people

A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Apr 15, 2017 at 11:35pm PDT

MARCHING IN MY HOMETOWN.

Honored to march in my little hometown with some of my faves, and in solidarity and support with many others across the country.

Never too young to stand, at least metaphorically. Some people are, quite literally, not able to stand yet. In that case, we can still help each other out.

Also, had a great conversation with the children afterwards about what it means when people driving by wave with their middle finger. One of the fellows next to me said it well:

"It means you just smile even bigger to the next person going past!"

WILL THE FILM : hey dad, can I borrow your wallet?

Hello father,

I noticed that you haven't donated to our film project yet, so if you want to send me your credit card info, I can quietly make a substantial as-yet-to-be-determined pledge in your name. Would you prefer it be a three digit or a four digit number? (To the left of decimal point, obviously).

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/flyviewaerial/will-the-film

Actually, I think I have an iPhone shot of your card info, so I can go ahead and take care of it. Unless you want to do it yourself, which is fine, as long as it's in the next hour. I'll proceed on my own with your pledge if you haven't by 10pm.

Also, I have Uncle James's bank account info as well and will do the same. It's for the best, and thank you both so deeply.

As always, your trust in me is hilarious and adorable.

Love,

Me.

___

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/flyviewaerial/will-the-film

BIRTHDAYS: My Dad.

Dad.

There are so many moments I could choose as a microcosmic explanation of what I think is so great about you, but my current favourite is this: you are the only person in history I know who is torn over which movie to watch on his birthday:

Deadpool or
The Notebook.

And the truth is,
I know that you would truly immerse yourself and thoroughly appreciate either.

My great regrat for today is that I am not there sitting next to you with a bottle of RB watching an impossibly romantic love story with you. Or, we could also do The Notebook.

You are awesomeish. Glad you're my dad. Enjoy the rest.

Sincerely,

Joseph Long (one of your sons)

FIVE THINGS THAT MAKE MY HEART ALIVE TODAY.

© joseph ivan long 2015

1. Discovering that longtime fave British art-punk band Clinic somehow had a great little 2010 album, Bubblegum, that slipped past my radar.

2. Seeing our daughter's joy at getting a package in the mail today from a summer friend, and hoping that perhaps these friendships will help keep the U.S. Postal Service alive so that my children and children's children won't have to go to a museum to find out what a postage stamp is.

3. Watching children play with marbles.

4a.
The Decemberists' Wrong Year,
Colin Stetson's The Sun Roars Into View,
Sleater-Kinney's Hey Darling

4b. Janelle Monáe.

5a, I. My parents. Who have been married a hundred years as of today. The exact number of years escape me. If you were to round to the nearest hundred, it would technically be zero, but since that doesn't work we'll stick with a century. Today, specifically, I am appreciative for two things they have passed along:

5a, II. a willingness to laugh at themselves and not spend lives consumed with what others might think of them.

5b. an ability to give attention. Attention that is focused and veers between quiet and loud; the kind that makes you feel special. And always loved.

5d. a love that is sincere, vibrant, positive, often hilarious, and built around not perfection, but constant improvement. A model well worth observing and learning from.

Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad.

PRINT IS NOT DEAD (OR, SOMETIMES A PICTURE IS WORTH AT LEAST TWENTY WORDS).

I had a great conversation today with a wonderful group of humans approximately half my age.
Technically, less than half my age.
Around 15, 16, 17.

I think I'm 38,
but I need to check with my wife for verification.

Anyway.
I joined a little discussion about Art and the subtleties between judgment and criticism. The good kind of criticism.

Some very articulate, heartfelt, vibrant, passionate, and enlightening discourse surrounding this topic. One of my favourite topics.

I believe I got to sneak in anecdotes about Andy Warhol, Jackson Pollock, and Marcel Duchamp. Which also made me happy.

And we talked about ENABLERS.
And I said something like: one of the saddest things is when someone really loves doing something, like painting, and
someone else comes along and does something, or says something, that makes that person STOP what they love.

That is sad.

(BTW: go rent Whiplash. Thought-provoking in the extreme)

I said: one of the great achievements we can all work on is to be Enablers (in the best interpretation). To learn what it means to provide criticism of the constructive variety that inspires, supports, and evolves that person into improving, while keeping their love and enthusiasm for that interest intact.

The following is relevant in a tiny way:
when I was a teenager, I wanted stripes in my hair.
Because it was a cool thing, I think.
I think?
To have stripes, or numbers, or some kind of design shaved into your head.
I thought it might make me a more effective athlete.

I told my dad of my desire.
And he suggested that it was not something that he was willing to do to his own hairs.
That he was happy with them the way they were.
But that if I wanted to save myself a trip to the local (mostly functionally-inebriated) barber, then he would do the clipping duties on me.

If you think the idea of shaving stripes into your head sounds dumb,
then you probably have a strong picture of what it looked like, because
it (unsurprising in retrospect) did actually look a bit...dumb.

I regret it not a bit.

I might even have played the Beastie Boys while he was cutting.
I don't know.
But maybe.

And I know, beyond a doubt's shadow,
that he was not trying to be cool.
He knew it was important to me.
And he didn't get it in the way, because it was not a
moral,
or a doctrinal,
or a big issue in any way,
whatsoever.

And he enabled it to happen,
and actually did a fairly good job,
if it's possible to describe having stripes shaved into your head as
"a good job."

Now he is a grandfather.
And I think this look encapsulates a lot of wonderful things about what it means to be a
grandparent,
a parent,
and the type of person who supports others in their enthusiasms.

I think he's retired from hairstyling now though.

NEPHEW.

Jonny Long? ©2015

IN WHICH WE ARRIVE HOME LATE, AND THAT'S THE KIND OF HELPFUL I AM.

So...
the truck salesman asked my dad.
...what kind of extra options are important to you?

I jumped in, just to help my Pop out and show off my helpfulness.
I think,
I said,
that it would be pretty cool to have a rearview mirror.

And I realised a short while later that the salesman did not, in fact, find me very helpful. So, disappointing. But honestly, rear view mirrors are so important, and you can hang cool things from them.

December 12th. In which we arrive home late after a long day of working hard, playing hard, and driving lots. It's probably a great thing to have strict bedtimes for your kids, but it just seems like there's so much to miss out on if you don't make exceptions every once in a while. Or...on a regular basis. What can I say? We run hard. I still remember that great feeling as a kid of getting carried in from the car after an exhausting day. Closed out the night with a lovely interactive Nativity walkthrough of the Christmas story, and they dug it - our son observed that the spears didn't look very real, and our daughter noted that one of the guides sounded like "...that guy from Elf." Intended as a compliment. Very nice time with @meilanilong and @jonnylong15 - thank you for being such fabulous and fun people :) And nice job, Follow the Star people. ____ #longx4 #longholiday2014 #long2014 #selfportrait

A photo posted by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Dec 12, 2014 at 11:38pm PST

I AM BOOK.

First off, thanks to Sharika for the Echo Donut Lounge recommendation! Been there twice now; love the space and the people
Second, my mom came up with the great idea, while we were coffee-ing and donut-ing, to each choose a book on the shelf that best described us. We approached this task with thoughtfulness and careful deliberation.

LIFEGUARDING 101.

LEE LONG PICASSO.

"Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up."

- the famous observation by Mr. P. Picasso

Which is why it's important that children are surrounded by adults who have not forgotten the essence of childhood. (once-a-year mixed sports metaphor coming up): There's a time to be a fan, a time to be a cheerleader, a time to be a referee, and equally importantly, a time to be a player. Get in the ring and play hard. Show the little twerps how it's done. 

The Lifeguards (you'll be in good hands).

HOW I ENDED FATHER'S DAY WITH EACH CHILD.

The Boy.

- Daddy?

he asked, laying in bed.

- Do you want to play Twenty Questions?

- No.

I said.

- Absolutely not. It's bedtime.

He accepted this without complaint, because that's what really good dads do: they raise children to not complain.

- Okay,

he said.

- I got it. You can guess now.

Instinctively, I went with my gut.

- Is it a giraffe?

I asked.

- No.

he said.

It's a graham cracker.

- Wait a second,

I said.

- That was a good one. Now it's my turn. It's an animal but not a mammal.

____

The Girl.

- It's bedtime.

I said. 

- Lights out!

- Daddy?

she asked, in root beer-ish tone.

- Would you like to come read with me in my bunk bed? You can bring your own book, and I'll read mine.

- That's actually kind of a good idea.

I said, 

and climbed up with Allegiant. Remembered twenty minutes later that it was bedtime, so no no nope, not gonna pull over anything on me. 

- Lights out!

I growled.

When I say bedtime, it means NOW.

Almost got me.

Word.

TODAY IN A SENTENCE, pt. 1.

Well, I can see from a quick perusal of Facebook that I'm definitely not the best dad ever, as that spot seems to be occupied by a thousand people, but my family seemed to think I do a passable enough job to sing Happy Birthday* and bring me breakfast in bed and a Divergent book to enjoy peacefully, which I did so for thirty seconds until some of them joined me with their own food; meaning we will be sleeping in hash browns for the next week, which also reminds me that I am married to the coolest dame in the world: a label I have not seen thrown around this morning, and which basically means that it's wonderful to be with someone who cares more about great experiences than, oh, food getting smashed into our hundred-count Chinese sheets. Mazel tov, dudes, you've made it fun, and now Mates of State is cranked doing their best Tom Waits and we're gonna play a round of Charley Harper memory game, where I will annihilate the competition, or at least try not to end up in what has become my customary last place finish.
____

SEE BELOW. ...in honor of my dad, whose bravery and courage is so mighty that there is no technology, fashion trend, or generational meme he is afraid to tackle head on. Loudly in coffee shop to his grand kids: "Come here so I can take a selfie with you." Run at life without glancing to worry about what the person next to you is wearing, thinking, or doing. Just do it, be yourself, laugh really loud, and make sure the world doesn't mistake you for being anyone else but you. This is my dad. He is rather legend. Also, the gentleman in the corner getting a kick out of us is Jim. He is a pleasant fellow and is a fan of James Patterson and Clive Cussler. He is going to see Monument Men tonight with his wife, who is knitting next to him and also reads a lot.

PLAY THERAPY (FOREVER YOUNG).

SUPER BOWL XLVIII: Seahawks vs. Broncos.

MY FIRST FIVE SUPER BOWL REMEMBRANCES.
1. First one. 1985. 49ers vs. Dolphins. Or, Montana vs. Marino. Joe got my allegiance then and I never looked back, though I did later meet Miami coach Don Shula, who was a fine and articulate gentleman.

Final: S.F. 38-16

2. At a 1990 pizza parlor in Bend, Oregon, watching San Francisco thump Denver 55-10. Went to the bathroom, came back two minutes later, and Jerry Rice had scored yet again. Pyrotechnics. Poor mile high.

2b. 2004. Janet Jackson's malfunction. There was a game, but I remember almost nothing about it, except that it was a very good one.

3. The 1991 heartache of Buffalo kicker Scott Norwood's wide right 47-yard field goal attempt with eight seconds left to dash the Bills hopes against Jeff Hostetler's Giants as they lost the closest Super Bowl ever. 20-19. The first of Buffalo's four consecutive S.B. losses. Whitney Houson National Anthem; New Kids on the Block halftime show. 

4. The 2000 heartache of Tennessee Titan wide receiver Kevin Dyson lunging for the goal line and coming up a yard short with no time left in a play that would have tied the game. Final: Rams 23-16. Greatest S.B. ending ever.

5. The calm and resolute three-minute march of the 49ers as the clock ran down and Montana hit John Taylor with 34 seconds left to top the Bengals 20-16. Jerry Rice: 215 yards receiving.

5b. 2003's Buccaneers vs. Raiders, in which I attend a massively fun party with a bunch of fellow film geeks and aficionados for a Super Bowl Commercial party; during which we discuss Sergio Leone westerns during the game, and wait for the commercials to actually tune in. I do remember that Oakland's Rich Gannon threw five interceptions, which is not generally helpful to your team when you're the quarterback.

Happy Bowling, all!

ELEVEN MINUTES BEFORE GAMETIME.
Anybody up for some afternoon Scrabble in the park? Meet up in about ten minutes or so?


#sportsismylife

THIS IS LOVE.
"I can never truly accept you or love you for who you are until you have a commercial in the Super Bowl."


- my wife

MY DAD: FOOTBALL ANALYST.
"What he needs to do is go around. He should have run AROUND them. Look! He would have had a first down if he had gone AROUND."


I agree.

FAIL.
Funny Volkswagen ad with the wings...but where are the female engineers? Seriously?!


Biggest sports event of the year, running a national spot, bunch of dudes only in lab coats. Don't get it. Little deal? Uhh, what am I not getting?

Alternate Super Bowl halftime show.

THREE MINUTES LEFT IN THE FOURTH QUARTER; POINT SPREAD ABOUT A BILLION: THE CRYING GAME (SPOILER).
I am watching on a 30-second time delay, so please delay any posts about who won until an hour after it ends, just to be safe. I like to be surprised.

Final of the Nailbiting Match.
Seattle Seahawks 43, Denver (not very bucking) Broncos 8

YES, WE CAN VISIT YOU, BUT WE'LL ONLY BE ABLE TO STAY FOR A MONTH OR TWO.

Spent a delightful evening with friends. Our son had a long list of questions and observations. Ultra-condensed summary:

(begin quote-unquote):
Do they have a bathroom? I thought they didn't but they do. I didn't know they had toilet paper too! Hey, they have a door like us, did they take ours? Can we stay overnight? Can they share their toothbrushes with us? Can I have juice? Can I have an apple slice? Hey, I found money on the counter...can I keep it? Why do they have toys? Why do they have a bathtub? Hey, a LEGO boat, we don't have one of those! Are we going to watch a lot of movies here? 

____

If they were doing headstands,
the frowns would be epic.
Also, I would like to get my dad
a pair of matching overalls.
Because he would wear them.