THOUGHTS ON COMPETITION.

Sometimes, it's not the winning that's important, it's the simple act of competing well and enjoying the process, and making sure you come in ahead of everyone else.

BATTLE FOR SUPREMACY.

Sometimes you gotta talk thing things out. Or arm wrestle for supremacy. Whatever it takes to resolve conflict semi-amicably. I really have no advice to give, but I will tell you that your life will be infinitely better if you can commit to listening to at least 15 minutes each of the #Pixies and #Rachmaninov every week. ____ #long2017post #evel0 #mdl09 #44music #conflictresolution #childrening

A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on May 2, 2017 at 8:57pm PDT

GUESS WHO'S IN LAST PLACE?

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Guess who's in last place? ____ #memorygame #longx5x3 #lastplace #evel0

A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Mar 28, 2017 at 9:28pm PDT

___

I am just not okay with the idea of children in this country growing up without access to public libraries, Sesame Street, or BMG Music Club.

Let's make sure, at bare minimum, that two out of three keep going strong.

LONGx5 (BLAST OF LOVE) "TO THE DEATH!"

...sending a blast of love, across borders and walls, to all the wild world. 😘 ____ #longx5 #selfportrait #pnw

A post shared by Joseph Long (@josephivanlong) on Feb 14, 2017 at 11:22pm PST

___


My wife is the only card player I know who regularly uses the phrase "...shall we play to the death?"

SUPER BOWL 2017

ONGOING COVERAGE BELOW. YOU'RE WELCOME.

3.37pm
I keep waiting for a coin toss where it ends up on its edge. Game over. #change

3.40pm
I am adamantly opposed to the idea of a commercial-free Super Bowl. #whyiwatch

3.48pm
Anyone else watching the Super Bowl primarily because their wife reminded them to?

4.09pm
Oh, how I'd love to see the President line up for just one play. #patriot?

4.21pm
I definitely think Anthony Hopkins could outrun Christopher Walken.

4.32pm
I have been an Atlanta Falconers fan forever, so it feels so good to be winning finally!!!!!! #dominiquewilkins #4evrfan

14-0, sorry #Giselle

4.35pm
If I could trade my children for 2nd half Super Bowl tickets, I probably wouldn't.

5.23pm
Goo Goo Dolls or Lady Gaga?

5.47pm
Might go for New England now. #truefan #thisiswhoiam

6.42pm
I'm not going for the Patriots, I just want a close high-scoring game. Hopefully 85-79.

6.49pm
What if football was exactly the same as it is now, except players also carried samurai swords? I think the game would have a different feel, honestly.

6.49pm
"When you have the right gloves, the ball pretty much catches itself."

- Jeremy Long

6.58pm
How does Joe Montana feel about this game? As the one person whose legacy may or may not be shifted historically by what Tom Brady does or does not do in the remaining three minutes?

7.07pm
Truth.

7.17pm
Both teams could walk off the field hand in hand now and make a statement to the world. #couldhappen #cowinners

INSTEAD OF YOGA.

Nothing like some low-key Olympics-watching to relax at the end of a stressful day. Thank goodness we let our daughter take a break from gymnastics practice to snap this candid.
____

#iheartalyraismansparents

KATIE LEDECKY.

It's so hard to believe in just over nine decades, our daughter will be one hundred. They grow up so fast. Speaking of which, I had this sudden moment of clarity this morning, watching Michael Phelps talk about his 19th gold medal. I remembered that I have none. No medal. Zip (I am being serious here - I have never won any Olympic event*).

As I near the end of my fourth decade of existence, I have to ask myself: will I ever break his Olympic medal count record? (Again, I currently have zero) And the tough answer is: there is at least a fifty-percent chance I will never break his record. Reality is tough, which is why I strongly suggest not being too friendly with it.

*technically, I have not been to the [hashtag] Olympics as a competitor**

**technically, I have not been to the #Olympics at all, any capacity


___


LESS HOME, PLEASE.

Homeless people are so lucky.
she said dreamily.
One of my goals someday is to be homeless.

And why,
I asked.
is that?

So,
she said confidently.
I can live under a bridge. That is one of my goals.

Well,
I said.
That is something you'll need to work hard to achieve.

I AM NOT A FAILURE?

"Daddy!"
My daughter shrieked.
"Uncle Josh is building a playground in his backyard, and all you're building us is a treehouse!!"

Yes.
I said thoughtfully.
Thank you for bringing that to my attention.
____

REGARDING SEQUELS.

The Godfather II and Aliens rightfully deserve to be heralded as sequels that bested the originals, but let's not also forget The Apple Dumpling Gang Rides Again, which certainly raises the bar set by its predecessor.

SONG OF ROLAND (T-MINUS-ZERO).

Okay buddy,
I said.
Almost bedtime. Would you rather:
A) read some of the robot books you got at the library,
or B) play memory game?

No hesitation.
- Memory game. 

Are you sure?
I asked.
It's one or the other. 

- I wanna play memory game,
(Emphatic)
It's the best, and I'm really good at it.

Okay pal,
I said.
Just so we're clear: it's bedtime as soon as we're done playing one quick game, okay?

- Okay,
he said firmly.

FORTY MINUTES AND TWO GAMES LATER.
Good game!
I said.
I am a bit disgruntled at the result, but it was a jolly fine match.

- Yeah,
he said.
I'm really good at memory game.

Well...guess what happens now?
I asked.

Huge smile, and he runs over to pick something up, fails terribly to hide it behind his back, then returns to stand in front of me:
- Okay, close your eyes, Daddy.

Uhh, what's going on? It's bedtime. Remember? We're not reading books now.

- But I got something for you! Close your eyes!

I close them.

- You can open them now!

I open them.

- See what I got you?! I got you some robot books at the library. I got them for you. I thought you would like them.

Thank you...it's actually - 

Interrupts.
- I thought you would like them, Daddy. They're for you to read. Here, I'll show them to you.

And plops himself in my lap, well after bedtime, again, AGAIN, as I sit there pondering yet another ignominious defeat by the masterful countermove of a tactical genius. But then I saw a really cool picture in the first book about the future of robotics and forgot what I was disgruntled about, so I'm fairly certain I won in the end.

FIVE REALIZATIONS: DEUS EX MACHINA EDITION, PLUS A DISCUSSION OF CURSIVE.

Boy eating ice cream before father swoops in to assist.

1a.
This has gone on long enough. Someday, I will remember to bring my own (sharp) knives to Spaghetti Factory.

2.
Which reminds me: I have a suspicion that Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events just might be the best series of books ever written, and believe me, I have read at least a billion books in my life so far. 

I am fighting, strongly, the urge to cheat on my children and read on ahead. Book 8, The Vile Village, is one of the best yet - what other pseudo-children's series can you think of where the protagonists engage in ongoing dialogue about the meaning of deus ex machina?

(Which is: a classic storytelling device in which a seemingly impossible situation is abruptly solved by the sudden appearance of a contrived plot device. Oh, our heroine is about to fall off a cliff. Oh no! But fortunately...that helicopter randomly flying by is able to rescue her. Catastrophe averted. Or: oh no! The hero's sword just broke and the evil ninjas are about to defeat him...but look! Someone left a flamethrower laying around, so looks like he's gonna make it agree all. Deus ex machina: "god in the machine." No matter how horrible the situation, you can always pull the puppet strings and write your way out of it.)

Brilliant, absolutely top-notch storytelling that is frequently so maddeningly hilarious that I start laughing and getting angry I didn't write it first. So, so good. For children, for adults, for everyone who appreciates adventure, witty humor, and sad endings.

2, ii.
Inexplicably, I love - LOVE - "The Ballad of Michael Valentino" by the Killers, off 2011's Sawdust.

3a.
I will love you no matter how old I am, even when I'm a hundred and three.
I told my son.

Well Daddy,
he said.
When you're a hundred and three then you might not look like my Daddy anymore.

Well,
I said.
When I'm a hundred and three, then you might be bald, and that would be funny.

Oh.
He said. 
How does Hulk go to the bathroom? His bottom is too big to fit on the toilet.

Truthfully,
I replied (an unnecessary preface),
That is probably the best question I've been asked all week.
And honestly, I do not know, but I want to know.

Oh.
He said.
Me too.

4. 
We spent too much time discussing the Winter Olympics last month, as evidenced by the UNO game we played this week. First off, I am disgruntled because it was supposed to be a quick match; an obligatory game before launching into the cinematic delight of Scorcese's Hugo. Rather, this match reminded me of why I refuse to play Monopoly: this UNO game lasted hours.* At the end, there was a medal count, which I attempted to disrupt. My wife took the Gold, my son accidentally got Silver, and my daughter and I duked it out for Bronze. I refuse to disclose the final results, but let's just say if there were podiums, I would have been standing on the floor.

Total failure was averted by the killer playlist I soundtracked the match with, which I began before we begun:

Lana Del Rey
Eleanor Friedberger
Ennio Morricone
the Killers
Alt-j

I don't mind losing, I just don't like other people winning.

*seemed like hours

Happy weekend, all 

THE GLEANER (HOMAGE TO Agnès Varda).

CURSIVE.

Post by Joseph Long.

Chopped Caesar

He came lunging at me. 

"I will defeat you! ROARRR! I'm Jabba and I will chop your head off with my light saber!"

"Two things,"
I notified my son calmly before easily disarming him. "First off, Jabba does not carry a light saber. Second, what you're holding is not a light saber. It's a pair of salad tongs."

It is not impossible, but highly unlikely that anyone's head could be chopped off with salad tongs. Also, we do not allow heads to be chopped off in our household. It is a good rule, I think.

One Honest Genghis Babe

Will a human ever long jump over 30 feet?

Will a human ever run 100 meters in under nine seconds?

Will a human ever score more than 100 points in an NBA game?

Maybe. Maybe not. Records are made to be broken. But every once in a while, there is a record that is unbeatable. Logistically impossible to ever top. I will give you an example:

We were playing Twenty Questions while driving. I was very good at this game. Probably the best in the world. In this particular game, I was the one who had the secret answer, and everyone else had exactly 20 questions to figure out who I had in mind. There is a strategy; a process for methodically asking questions that will narrow down possibilities and eventually lead to the correct answer. 

In most games, it's considered "nice" to let children go first, but that just seems like it's giving them an unfair advantage, so we try to avoid doing so, because then a child might defeat us, which would be horrid. Becca bullied her way to the front of the question-asking, and you're probably wondering what her first question was.

I will tell you in a moment, but first, let me return to that notion of STRATEGY. You are SUPPOSED to ask Yes/No questions that narrow the possibilities down. Questions such as "is it a mammal?" Or "is it a woman?" Et cetera.

Would you like to know what Becca's first - her FIRST - guess was? I will tell you:

"Is it Abraham Lincoln?"

That was it. That is what she opened with. Blasted through protocol and strategy and logic and made the incredibly dumb, ridiculous, infantile move of jumping right to a SPECIFIC guess without having any information. Such a stupid move.

It was Abraham Lincoln.

She was right. 

Unbelievable. One question. ONE QUESTION. It is impossible to win the game in fewer moves than that. Logistically impossible. 

In the presence of greatness. She is like the Genghis Khan of Twenty Questions.

How did she know? She knew. SHE KNEW. 

I am married to a Fringe agent. She is amazing.

And maddening.

I am no longer the best Twenty Questioner in the family.

But now I am married to the greatest Twenty Questions Player of All Time. And I am going to brag about it a lot. 

Unbelievable. Unbeatable.

One question. One.

For the Good

There are rules in life. For example: there are rules to playing UNO, which my daughter has gotten really into lately, and is apparently more age-appropriate for five-year olds than blackjack. However, I don't like her rules, because the outcome has been...wrong lately. So I wrote up five amendments to the game. So we can all have more fun playing. For the good of the game. For the good of us all.

1. It's just a game. When I win, we will record it for history, and it will be a wonderful dinner table topic. In the unlikely chance that I ever lose again, we will treat it as an aberration and never speak of it. We'll all be happier that way.

2. There will be no cheating, but I might change the rules as we're playing if it helps liven up a dull game. It's for the best.

3. If you have a good card, then you may use it aggressively against the next player, if I am not the next player. Someday it will make sense.

4. I am your father. If I need to see all the cards you are holding, then you need to trust that I know best. For the good of the game.

5. If you see my cards, or if I think there is a chance that you might have seen my cards, then I have the right to swap them out for different cards. For the good of the game. For the good of us all.

So we played again, and I don't remember who won, but I remember thinking that really, it's just a game and it doesn't matter who wins. It's just a game. A game of chance.

A stupid game.

Workout of Champions

Just ran 0.1* miles, burned an estimated 1400 calories**, and started training my daughter to box. In the same morning. I am amazing. 





*rounded up, and it was more walking than that fast leg-moving thing. **my rough estimate #worldsmostfittestmancomingup #nowforthatcoffee

Thank You for the Good Food I Want to Go to Bedtime Now, Joseph Arthur

Becca made a delicious potato soup for supper. Johannes valiantly fought his way through it, but the weariness of a long day at play stretched across his face and finally he looked up. Pathetic, food-splattered, mumbling with all the grace of a tired two-year old:

Thank you for the good food...can I be excused and I want to go to bedtime. Can I go to bedtime now?

Becca helped him into pajamas, brushed teeth, and tucked him into Magdelana's bed, where he waited with book in hand. I finished up supper with Mags.

Becca came out: He is waiting for you to come in and read The Three Musketeers with him.

Okay, I said. I'll be there in a couple.

(we have been reading a delightful interpretation of the Dumas classic. Although it is a vividly-illustrated version for children, the language is far above his head...yet he follows along avidly through each swirling intrigue, peppering me with questions and trying to hang onto as many of the character names as possible).

Obviously, the few minutes I took to get there was a few minutes too long. This is how he nodded off: waiting for me, his dad, to show up and read him to sleep.

And I was too late.

I write this and share this to help hold myself accountable for the future. Sometimes you just gotta drop things and do 'em now.

Sorry, son. We'll continue with D'Artagnan and friends tomorrow night...

****

Below is a heartfelt cover of Joseph Arthur's classic "In the Sun" by high school students Lanessa & Zachary (yes, full disclosure: she is my little sister :) Simple, beautiful, powerful. A rendition that would surely make Mr. Arthur and billions of angels across the universe smile with goosebumps. Listen for the harmony on the chorus.

Thank you both.




****

We have been playing memory game with Magdelana for the past couple years. Our favourite, by far, is the version based on the wonderful illustrations of Charley Harper. 

Sometimes, you let kids win something to help keep them interested. Build self-confidence, whatever. And sometimes you just get plain beat. And that so mortifying when you're the adult and you consistently get whupped by 1) your wife and 2) your five-year old daughter. Seriously. No joke, she is incredible. I am not bragging about her on some big public social network where everyone can see  how proud I am; I am merely stating a fact here on a little tiny blog that a little corner of the world will see. She is good.

And she walloped us tonight.

Tell no one.

Good night, and good fortune.

Cletus and Xerxes : I Tell My Children a Story About a Rabbit and a Turtle, and You Have Not Heard This Before

Once upon a time, there was a rabbit named Cletus and a turtle named Xerxes. 

Magdelana: Daddy, I've heard this story before!

Me: No you haven't.

So anyway, Cletus was energetic. He was enthusiastic about life. Excited, like Whoo-hoo about everything! He was young, for a rabbit.

Xerxes was a turtle. He took things easy. Didn't get too worked up about most things. Slow and low, that was his tempo.

There was a block party. A block party is where the neighbors get together and eat a bunch of sherbet and hot dogs and listen to Bloc Party. A conversation came up about running, and the question came up about who was the fastest runner around.

Xerxes spoke up. Uhh, you know, I think you'd be surprised at my wheels. This old boy got some wheels.

Everybody started laughing. Xerxes! You're like, one of the slowest ones here! You're not fast at all!

Xerxes the Turtle was hurt. I know y'all don't believe me, but I actually used to be quite speedy. Some players are fast in the sprints, and some are fast in the distance. Me, I'm a miracle marathon man.

This sounded wise. Cletus the Rabbit spoke up. 

All respect, old man, but I'd betchyou a bagga carrots and a box 'o french fries you couldn't beat me. 

Xerxes chortled: Well, if you think you're such a hotshot, then let's do it. I'll race you. 

Cletus: No offense, old boy, but I'm a fast cat, and you're not exactly known for your wheels, you know?

Xerxes, snorting: Bring it, ya hare-brained carrotbrain!

Cletus: Well, you say you were good at distance, and I'm a sprinter, so uhh, how about we split the difference? Medium distance race?

Oh yeah, boy. You just bring it. 'Ole Grandpeppy X is gonna game you, boy. 

So they set up the big race. Bookies were having a field day. Pretty much everyone knew that Cletus was going to win, but there's always that hope that the underdog is gonna come through, so Xerxes had a few backers. 

The day came. Cletus was talking it up a little, but however much he was bragging paled in comparison to how much Xerxes was talking it up:

Time to show the youngsters how this is done, them calory-counting FancyPhone hippetyhopping pillpoppas. Grandpappy X is gonna show how we do it old school, with none a that fancy biometriclonic training junk. Time to learn some R-E-S-P-E-C-T, time for the Hare-Head to learn some RESPECT!

Got ready to race. 3 - 2 - 1, bang! They're off. 

Cletus was much faster off the starting blocks, so he lickety-split started running out front. Way out in front of Xerxes. So far out in front that he thought I'll take myself a little nap. 

Laid down, pulled his FancyPhone out and set the timer for 20 minutes. Took a little snooze. Zonked out. Timer went off. Could still see Xerxes a little ways off. Pulled a carrot and pizza out of his backpack. Ate for some quick energy, but it just made him tired. Xerxes was still back there a ways. So Cletus decided to settle in for another quick nap. Xerxes was doing surprisingly well for an old guy, but still plenty of ground to make up. Slow and steady. 

Cletus figured he'd just rest up again for a few. Not a bad guy, he thought. The old man just has a bit of arrogance. So he laid down. But he forgot to set the timer on his FancyPhone. So he kept snoozing and snoozing. All of a sudden, he woke up. Aaaahh! Where's Xerxes? Looks up. Guess what?

Xerxes is in front of him now. 

Cletus jumps up, starts racing as fast as he can. He can see the finish line, and Xerxes is still ahead. They're both hauling along for all they're worth. Cletus is like Oh man, this is gonna be close! And Xerxes is up front chugga-chugga-chugga huff-puff-chugga-hugga and his little turtle backside just going up and down. They're both running and racing and hopping and finally...

one of them crosses the finish line first.

Who do you think crossed the finish line first?

Magdelana: Xerxes.

Johannes: The turtle.

Nope! 

Cletus the Rabbit crossed the finish line first. Even though everyone was rooting for the underdog, and they wanted Xerxes to win, that's just not the way it goes. In fairy tales, the turtle would have won, but in real life, a rabbit will always beat a turtle because a rabbit is a lot faster. Even if a turtle gets a big head start, then a rabbit is still going to beat a turtle ninety-nine times out of a hundred in a timed competition under ten miles.

Even though you want to think that 'slow and steady' is going to win the race, that's not the way it goes. Sometimes, it's about who has the most enthusiasm at the beginning, and that's gonna keep 'em going. Even though everyone was going for old Xerxes because he was the underdog, he just didn't have the physical ability or willpower. Also, Cletus made the wise decision to take a power nap. The power of those should never be underestimated.

Everybody was expecting Cletus to win, and he did win. People like to be surprised, but sometimes there aren't surprises. Sometimes what you think is going to happen is exactly what happens. So I guess the point is that it's important to try things when you're older, but also realise that no matter how much you want Michael Jordan the Turtle to beat LeBron James the Rabbit, it's just not going to happen.

But also, it does happen once in a while, and that's a nice surprise, and makes good cinema.

Also, Cletus and Xerxes became wonderful friends, and eventually both became very out-of-shape and sat on the front porch eating creamsicles and complaining about the next batch of young 'uns, and I suppose that's one way that people can bond, is complaining about whatever generation is the youngest.

The End.

Uno, Dos, Tres

I will defeat you,
I guaranteed,

glaring at Jonny and Jamey, and
at my bride and daughter.

The match began. Coalitions formed and dissolved.
Cheaters (me) tried and failed.
Bluster, banter, gutsy maneuvers and strategic shenanigans.

In the end, gleeful high-fives from a
fast-dealing cherubim.
Red-Six faceup card.

Adults zero, Daughter one.