The other day I saw “The Martian” for the first time. If you haven’t seen the movie, this will not include any spoilers, so read on (you can guess the entire plot of the movie one minute into it, anyway).
The premise of the film is that Matt Damon is left on Mars after a space storm knocks him out. All alone, he only has the resources that his crew had left behind to survive.
After the movie, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he had to listen to. Damon’s character complains about having to only listen to his commander’s playlist, which includes exclusively disco-type music. So this got me thinking….
If you were going to be stuck on Mars and you could only bring five albums, which ones would you bring?
If you feel inclined to comment something dumb about the science behind the hypothetical, you are disqualified.
Here are the rules:
No “greatest hits” albums. You can pick a soundtrack from a movie, but the music has to be originally made for the film, not a compilation of songs from different albums.
Last rule: This is a judgement-free zone. If you’re going to make fun of someone’s albums, you’re out! You hear me? You’re out!
Here’s some things I thought about during the process:
Here’s the five I came up with, and I don’t care who knows it!
Oh, another white kid who loves Eminem, what a surprise. Don’t care. This album is a classic. I can listen it from start to finish, and that’s the goal. And yes, I’m a huge Eminem fan. Having said that, his most recent album will be on my list for the five albums I’d make sure I didn’t have with me on Mars.
2. Blink-182: blink 182
This is the first album I thought of when I mentally left the realm of hip-hop. If you ask someone their favorite Blink song, chances are it’s from this album.
3. Explosions in the Sky: Friday Night Lights soundtrack
Explosions in the Sky, Bon Iver, and Kygo were the first music groups that made studying somewhat enjoyable for me. Actually, it kind of made it straight up enjoyable (save your jokes). Friday Night Lights, the movie, not the show, is one of my favorite movies ever. Explosions in the Sky has hundreds of good songs, but they’re too spread out album wise. The Friday Night Lights soundtrack is immensely peaceful, and does not have any lyrics. I personally think this is a must-have for a Mars stay—a strictly instrumental album. Hans Zimmer fans, go crazy.
4. Jon Bellion: The Definition
Jon Bellion is probably the most talented artist I listen to. If you’re a fan, you know it’s tough to choose just one album. He’s probably the only artist I know where I don’t dislike any song of his. This just happens to be my favorite, and it’s also a different type of music than any of the aforementioned albums.
5. Jesus Christ Superstar Soundtrack
Alright, now you understood why I made this a judgement-free zone. With my last pick, I knew I had to go guilty pleasure. I thought about going Dixie Chicks, considered some Disney movies, but ultimately landed back with the lord and savior. If you’re not familiar, this is a movie/play/musical from the 70s. It was just recreated by John Legend and co. this past Easter. My parents played it when I was younger (this will influence many of your picks, I assume) and I know every word to every song. It’s also very long. And hey, if I’m alone on Mars with no one watching me, you bet your ass I’m going to enjoy the hell out of some guilty pleasures. Also, this pick has nothing to do with spirituality, there’s just some awesome music on there. Judas may be a traitor, but boy could that guy sing!!
There are so many honorable mentions. If nothing else, this exercise is incredible for remembering how many good albums/songs/artists there are out there.
I considered putting on College Dropout and Graduation by Kanye. I even considered Lupe Fiasco. I considered country but I’m way too light of a fan to pick an album that I love enough. Plus, country music is for driving or drinking cheap beer with your friends in the summer, none of which I’d be partaking in on Mars. I wanted to put one of J. Cole’s albums on there. I strongly considered Outkast, and was very close to putting one of Rihanna’s albums on here. If you could just pick artists, Ri-Ri would definitely be on my list. She has SO many good songs. Way more than more Beyonce, by the way. Are you mad about that? Well guess what, it’s not even close! John Denver doesn’t have enough songs on one album. Chronic 2001… It’ll be tough to never hear the piano at the beginning of Still Dre or “Smoke weed everyday” at the end of Next Episode. Also, I have no Drake on there.
This is a subjective exercise; so don’t be afraid to throw some T-Swift on there! When I woke up with this hypothetical on my mind, everyone I consulted brought something to the table that I hadn’t thought of.
Hopefully I’ll do more of these in the near future—movies, stand ups, etc.
Comment your five below when you’re ready, or share the post and add your albums. Remember— No best hits, no soundtracks not made originally for something, and NO judging!
When I asked my 54-year-old white father this question he immediately responded, “Born to Run, Bruce Springsteen… and I’ll have to think about the rest.” Perfect.
Thanks for playing! Have fun on Mars.
Is being a committed sports fan fun and normal? Or is it just a sign of deeper psychological issues?
I tipped toed into my kitchen last night and slowly shut the door behind me. I didn’t want to disrupt any of my roommates sleep schedules. After all, it was 1 AM here in Ireland. But it was also halftime of the Chicago Bulls Game 1 match up against the Boston Celtics. I wasn’t ready to go to sleep. So I fired up whatever the thing is that I fire up to get some hot water, and I mixed it with some instant coffee. Drinking this generic instant coffee that I bought in January is the equivalent of willingly swiping my tongue through hot mud and swallowing. Nevertheless, I persisted, and eventually my heartbeat reached a level high enough to #seered. The Bulls and I were ready to pull off a Game 1 road victory.
Before I continue, let me take you back to before the game, or around 11 PM here in Ireland. I was keeping myself busy, and thus not tired, by attempting to trick my computer into thinking that I was in Chicago instead of Dublin. My attempts proved futile, so I went for plan B- another illegal route. I searched for streams of the game on the Internet for about thirty minutes. Finally, I landed on one that would lead me to some sort of online prostitution web page if I basically clicked anything besides the volume. Nevertheless, I persisted.
Heading into the playoffs, the Bulls were considered by many to be the worst team out of the 16 who qualified. There is no chance* that the Bulls will win the NBA Finals. In fact, making the playoffs at all arguably hurt their chances at being a top tier team in the coming years. They’ll subsequently have a worse draft pick, it’ll give the complacent front office some false sense of gratification, and they’ll be in the same place next year. I am not dumb*, and I know basketball. I knew heading into the playoffs rooting for the Bulls was pointless. But, nevertheless, I persisted.
What is it called when you willingly do something that you know will be harmful to your well being? I know this rollercoaster ride will all end in anticlimactic heartbreak, but I still bought my ticket, sat down, and put my seat belt on. For you non-sports fans, I'll attempt at a real world comparison.
It’s sort of like when you’re dating someone for a while at the age of 24 or so and someone asks you if you’re going to marry that person. Then you scoff at them, “Oh, no way.” Then they follow up with, “Well, why are you dating them then?” Although an appropriate and reasonable question, that's when you tell that person to shut up. We didn't ask for anyone to point out the stupidity of our life choices, alright? Yes. Yes, this is exactly what cheering for the Bulls in the playoffs this year is like. You’re not going to get married (win the finals) and you know that that means you’re going to have a sad break up (Bulls losing) but you keep on with it anyway!
I sat in my room by myself watching the Bulls and if someone was interested enough in my life to stick a video camera in there I would be checked into a hospital today against my will. The film would have showed 2 and a half hours of fist pumping, whispered shrieks and screams, and me literally saying “yeahhhhhh” aloud after a Bulls basket or defensive stop as if I was on the visiting bench.
My stream was a few minutes behind, so for the last thirty minutes of the game I put my phone on silent behind me. I isolated myself from the outside world from then until there were zero seconds left. The Bulls won, and any doubt or reasonable thought I had coming into the playoffs about the Bulls chances left out the cracked window in my room. The logical thinking fort in my brain was invaded and conquered. Beyonce said it best, “Remember those walls I built, well baby they’re tumbling down, and they didn’t even put up a fight, they didn’t even make a sound.” They really didn’t put up much of a fight. She was talking about love, but I am talking about something much more serious. Throughout the game, I could feel the irrational thinking soldiers in my brain surging towards, and eventually through, the logical thinking fort. But the moment that I knew the walls had fallen for sure and the fort had been conquered was when my little brother called me and I said mid conversation, “I would follow Robin Lopez into war.”
If you would have told me a year ago I would have ever said such a thing about the man above (who averages 8 points and 5 rebounds for his career) I would have told you, well, I probably would have just asked, “What the hell did the Bulls do now?”
The question remains: Is being this committed of a sports fan fun and normal, or is just an avenue to find out you’re messed up before the therapist tells you? I don’t know, but I’d love to hear from you. If any of the fifteen of you reading this want to send in your most irrational or miserable sports fan stories, please either leave them in the comments or submit them under the “Contact” tab. It doesn’t have to be you, either. One of the saddest things I’ve ever witnessed was when my Dad, after being a cubs fan for 50 years, had the first adult temper tantrum I’d ever witnessed after the Cubs were on their way to losing to the Dodgers in the NLDS in 2008. He proclaimed he was “no longer a Cubs fan.” Well, I watched game 1 of 162 with him on our couch the next year. I want to compile all of these stories into one big blog, I think it has the potential to be pretty entertaining, so don’t be shy.
More importantly, grab your gun and put your boots on, because we’re back in for the long haul.
*There's always a chance, right?
*I am pretty dumb actually
The cold hard truth will never be hard to come by on this website. I'll be the first to tell you that not a lot of people read it. I see the numbers. My readers right now are primarily my Facebook friends. The most readers I have attracted on a post thus far is around 1,000. The least I have gotten is about 300. So when Mr. Frank Jones of Asbury, New Jersey reached out to me on Twitter (@donlan_andrew) to express his displeasure with one of my blogs after reading it, I was a bit shocked. I am not sure where he came across my blog, but he did, and we had a fun conversation over one of my least read blogs- Darrelle Revis: A Further Look Into His Demise. This is the blog where I presented my theory on Darrelle Revis' downfall, and how it had more to do with him being an unknown environmentalist than actually becoming a worse football player. Frank didn't like that theory. Regardless, I was happy to engage with a new reader. Here's what ensued:
And then, just like that, it was all over. I like to think that after this twitter talk with Frank, he retreated to his room, stared blankly at his wall, and bought into my theory. Then, the next day, he went in to work and told of his co-workers about it, who then turned him into his boss. Whether this happened or not, your boy is going global!
Stephen Curry recently dipped his toes in the toxic cesspool that is American Politics and was met with think pieces and public radio segments across the nation. When asked about Under Armour CEO Kevin Plank's comments calling Donald Trump’s business friendly policies an “asset” to the country, Steph said he agreed if you took out the “et.” Get it? He called him an ass. Anyway, the story gained some serious traction on both sporting news outlets and regular news outlets. Plank’s comments even sparked a hashtag #boycottunderarmour. So the question is, will this hurt or help Steph Curry’s brand?
In my modest opinion, which is always right, I think this was a colossal mistake for Steph Curry to call the president a swear word. For most NBA players, it wouldn’t be, but for what Steph is trying to sell, it may end poorly. While doing my thorough research to form an opinion on this issue, I google searched "Steph Curry shoes." This is what I was met with below.
Now Steph, buddy, let me let you in on a little secret here. Trump reached the presidency through the will of tens of millions of voters. He won the white vote, the old people vote, and the male vote. When you come out with a pair of shoes like the ones pictured above you’ve got to be taking every cautionary measure to not offend older white dudes. The amount of picks that are being set with that exact designed shoe in early Saturday morning basketball games in health clubs across the nation is too daunting to count. The amount of ellipticals being torn up by those bad boys right now can’t be calculated. The amount of leaves being blown by gentlemen sporting these shoes per year cannot be underestimated.
And the problem is, those people pay attention to politics. And like I said, the majority of those people voted for the guy that you just insulted. And they may not take kindly to that. Every single man who has ever talked about politics too loud in a gym locker room wears those shoes. And guess what? I think they’ll have something to say about your input on President Trump tomorrow morning while they dress themselves at an alarmingly slow pace after their workouts.
I’m telling you, Steph. This doesn’t bode well for you. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you! Plus, these people identify with you. You’re the closest thing to a six foot white guy that can shoot well that these guys will ever see on the NBA superstar platform for the rest of their lifetimes. I hope you’ll take my advice. I don’t think my Dad cares about you calling Trump an ass but he is an older white guy and, for instance, he used to buy white new balances that looked just like yours in bulk and leave them in the closet. He’d wear one pair until they wore out and then go into the closet and grab another pair-- truly unbelievably stereotypical stuff.
Anyway Steph, I hope you take my advice. The proof is in the pudding, your brand needs these people to survive. Don’t lose them all for one semi clever joke.
I won’t bury the lede. I hate Lebron James. What has inspired this blog is just a recent episode in an all too successful TV show that has been on in front of me for the majority of my life. I cannot stand him. The thesaurus isn’t expansive enough for me to write this without being at least a tad repetitive. I loathe him. I don’t want to make outlandish statements (I'm aware I'm about to make a few outlandish and probably offensive ones), but I hate him basically as much as anyone I know of. Yes, this includes the likes of Osama Bin Laden and Benito Mussolini. I dislike him as much as I dislike Nazis, terrorists, and the KKK. I am not self unaware. I know this is insane, but at least I am admitting it. This isn’t to say that I hate Nazis any less than the next guy. It’s just a way for you to gauge how passionate my hatred is for Lebron.
I know a lot of people hate Lebron James, and I know a lot of people started to hate him when he made the announcement that he was "taking his talents to South Beach." I am not here to talk about that, because I genuinely believe I have enough within me to write an alternative “The Series of Unfortunate Events” book series, all centered around my life’s equivalent of Count Olaf. I have the proof to show that I had at least a healthy base of Lebron James hate from the time I was nine or ten years old. For Christmas, I gifted my older brother this magnificent piece of artwork below. In my generation, there was no Photoshop to make someone look dumb. It was all arts and crafts, baby. Despite my lack of artistic ability, I persevered and gave my brother what I think is a concerning foreshadow of what my life was to become, but also a pretty damn good gift.
Now that I have given myself some ethos by showing how deep in history the roots of my hate are buried, I hope to unveil at least part of my argument. Like I said, there is too much to cover in just one blog, so I won’t touch everything, but I promise this will not be the last time he appears on my website. I also want to preface the remainder of this piece by saying that it may at times get incoherent and disorganized. It’s hard to write eloquent sentences and paragraphs about the person you despise the most in this world.
I'll try to cover just the last week in Lebron. One thing basic Lebron haters turn to when they criticize him is his flopping, and rightfully so. His flop against the Warriors reignited that flame.
The way he always purposely winces is hilarious. He once claimed he didn’t know how to flop, yet continually does it. There are literally ten minute YouTube videos dedicated to clips of him doing exactly that. The sports anchors or announcers always point this out with the same dumb joke, “Lebron James deserves an Oscar for that one.” I despise when they say that. Again, partially because I am mentally unstable when it comes to this subject, but more because it insinuates he is a good flopper. He’s terrible! It’s embarrassing. It’s as if he thinks we can’t see it in slow motion 45 times immediately after. Also, I don’t mean “basic Lebron haters” in a derogatory way, it’s just people who hate him in a more sane way than I do. The point is, for a veteran like me, I know that it’s not the flop from Lebron that is going to get my blood boiling. I am pretty much desensitized to the on court antics by now. It’s whatever out of touch, cringe worthy thing he is going to say after the fact. Of course, when asked about the incident, he delivered---
I mean, the guy is laugh out loud funny. The guy who flopped in front of hundreds of thousands of people on national television because Draymond Green ran into him is now claiming he’s a tough guy. Which he is not. This part of the argument is not up for debate. Elsewhere, I have been presented with reasonable rebuttals to my fury, but here I will not accept a differing opinion. There are no reasonable ones. And what makes him think he can dub himself a football player, because he gets sideline passes to Ohio State games and performs choreographed dances midgame to make himself the center of attention? Or is it because he played flag football against Kevin Durant? Maybe it’s because he played high school football? I did too, Lebron. Next time a dude bumps me at the bar I can’t wait to tell him I’m a football player.
In that game where the incident occurred, the Cavs lost to the Warriors by 30. They have been playing awful in the new year. They are just 5-6 in 11 games, but still sit atop the Eastern conference standings. Granted, these slumps happen to all good teams. But this is when Lebron digs deep and shows us who he really is. He knows that he can’t beat the Warriors in a seven game series. So he starts sub- tweeting and throwing his teammates under the bus to the press, all to get the pot stirring on the “Lebron doesn’t have enough help” narrative. To give you another example, when he first came back to Cleveland, he said that the Cavs were not “championship ready”. He of course said that because he knew they were going to be very talented and good and would exceed those expectations he set for them. He does things like this every year.
Instead of privately talking to the front office (the front office that just bent it’s back over to get Kyle Korver, one of the best three point shooters of all time) and to his teammates, he has been all over the news saying his team is “top heavy” and that they won’t be able to win a championship with this roster. You know, the same roster, if not a tad better, than the one they had last year. As always, when the chips are down it’s them, them, them! When things are going well, it’s Me, Me, Me!
After the most recent loss to the lowly Pelicans without their star Anthony Davis, he said, “We need a playmaker, man.” Hmm. His all star point guard played pretty well.
Oh, and Kevin Love also had 26 points, 16 rebounds, and 6 assists.
Sigh. He wasn’t done there, though. If I had to pick a top 5 of Lebron James quotes to sum up why I hate him, this one may actually make it. He went on to say, “I’ll be 33 in the winter, and I ain’t got time to waste.”
Lebron’s birthday is December 30th. I know this because mine is the 29th and I hate that we’re even that close to each other in something that insignificant. So, when he says he turns 33 in the winter, what does that even mean? If his birthday was in March and he said I turn 33 in the spring, or even if he said I am 32, and I don’t have time to waste, it would make sense. But because he’s an imebecile, that’s how he phrased it. And that’s what he is- a nonsensical, disingenuous, immature imbecile.
I have a theory that the majority of Lebron’s teammates don’t like him all that much and that they think he’s a bit of a loser. He makes them better on the court though, and I won’t deny that, so they refrain from criticizing him. I think he may be the worst pregame speech giver of all time, too. Pay attention next time- no one is even remotely excited or interested in what he has to say.
I’ll cut myself off for now. But I promise, I’ll be back. The day Lebron James retires will be a sad day because nothing makes me feel more alive than hating this man. And I won’t ever be convinced otherwise. If you disagree with anything I said, we can fist fight. Or have a cordial debate after you comment below. It depends what mood I am in.
Also, please do not say to me “But you have to respect his game dude!” You won’t ever find me saying that Lebron isn’t an unbelievable basketball player. He’ll go down as one of the top 2 players of all time. I call things as I see them. You can be a loser whilst being good at sports.
I hate Lebron.
What just happened? I blacked out.
The United States’ unique history has led us all the way to this point- a miserable 2017. Protests, protests of protests, Facebook outrage, and people just not liking each other that much in general. I come bearing good news, though. The blame of this political climate should not fall on anyone’s shoulders. Anyone living, that is. It was the people before us that fucked this all up. Not us. If you’re really looking to get mad, go to a graveyard.
Everyone is frustrated about something in 2017. A lot of people have a pretty strong case for their anger too. Some people eh, not so much. But the worst thing by far is not having anything to be mad about. That sucks. You just feel like an asshole not even having the slightest thing to be angry at. This is where I was at- White (as shit), heterosexual, and male. The goddamn trifecta of privilege. What can I complain about? I’m not going to complain about other people complaining. That’s not as fun. I thought I was doomed, but recently I realized that I am not.
My head is fucking huge. I have long hair (later edit: I cut it), which helps, but when I’m an older man and have a bald head, my life is basically over. One of my best friends was forced to shave his head due to chemotherapy and all my friends shaved their heads to support him. I couldn’t because of my head. My fear was that I’d look like an alien. Otherworldly. Extra terrestrial. So basically my seven best friends shaved their heads and I didn’t. Boy, did I look like an asshole on social media. When I told my mom I was thinking about shaving my head she said, “Oh honey, no. Absolutely not.” It was one of those brutally blunt and honest things from my mom that I just knew I couldn’t go against.
That made for this great picture above. Eight dedicated friends and family members and then the asshole hippy (me) in the front. I look at that picture and think, What a loser in the front, even though I know it’s me who I am looking at. Anyone reading this is probably thinking the same thing, but cut me some slack. The last time I shaved my head was in eighth grade. Here’s how that went.
Looks like a continent. Eighth wonder of the world. So easy to make fun of, too. But I can’t change it. I was born with this thing. The doctor thought I had hydrocephalus.
Hydrocephalus: a condition in which fluid accumulates in the brain, typically in young children, enlarging the head and sometimes causing brain damage.
Nope, just a huge head. My grandma admitted later to my mother that she was worried throughout my childhood because my head was always resting on my shoulder and I couldn’t support the weight of my head with just my neck. When I was younger, a babysitter of mine set me up on a morning segment with the sports guy at the WGN news network. It ended up being pretty successful and funny. I didn’t mess up too bad on air. The segment starts at about 25:30.
The guy’s name is Pat Tomasulo. Great, funny guy. I was impressed with him and I thought he was impressed with me. Then I saw a blog of his afterwards with him basically just chuckling to himself writing about how big my head was.
I get heat all of the time. What I am getting at is, TADA! I finally found it. I finally found my thing that I can complain about. I am literally insulted about my head every day. It’s just like skin color. I can’t change it, what am I supposed to do? It runs in my family. I’m tired of it. Calling all members of the big head club, let’s unite! In order to join the big head club, you need to match the following requirements:
Those “one size fits all” labels are the definition of LHP (Little head privilege.) If it says “one size fits all” on it, it better fucking fit. Because last time I checked I am a person too. You’re isolating me from the general population. You are deeming me not fit to be considered apart of “all.” The “one size fits all” hoax forced me to buy my own baseball helmet every year. I couldn’t use the regular team ones. If someone took my helmet when I was about to hit and they were still on base I was screwed. When you say “One size fits all” this is basically what you’re doing.
Exact same idea. And I am sick of it. You should be too. Stop LHP and stop alienating larger headed people. Make “One size fits all” fit. Let’s see if good ole DJT is as GREAT as he says he is.
Sign the petition: www.change.org/p/donald-trump-stop-little-head-privilege-make-one-size-fits-all-fit
P.S. If you weren’t shooting in the gym (see: Drake verse- Stay Schemin') with the others who have been making fun of my cranium for years, don’t you dare start now. Only then will your lack of creative humor as a human become completely transparent, and we don't want that.
Darrelle Revis, a former Tampa Bay Buccaneer, New England Patriot, and current New York Jet, is under fire. He’s under fire because, well, he’s not very good at football anymore. After signing a five year, 70 million dollar contract to return to the Jets, the team that originally drafted him, Revis’ play on the field has been uninspiring and unimpressive.
The cornerback’s play is only reminiscent of his former pro bowl, defensive player of the year self that dubbed him the name “Revis Island.” The nickname insinuated that wide receivers being guarded by Revis were on a metaphorical island, and one that wide receivers did not wish to visit.
Now I’ll attempt to answer the question that all fans start asking once their multi million dollar corner back fails to intercept a pass until the last game in a 16 game season. What the hell are we paying him for? Well, they have their gripe. But what I’m here to tell you is that Revis, formerly Revis Island, is a better activist than football player. See, his alleged demise is much more symbolic and important than you worthless football fans (s/o Meryl) could ever realize.
Here’s the deal: Darelle Revis, and I think this is pretty clear, is one of the most important environmental advocates in the 21st century. Let’s look at the facts ladies and gentlemen. A man who was once considered the best of the best at his craft is now being “embarrassed” week in and week out on the football field. Is he though? Or is it planned? Well it’s not just his decline in play that Jets fans are angry about. It’s also the effort. Did anyone consider that he’s not trying? The Cleveland Browns and a former quarterback playing wide receiver torching him may be the first sign.
Revis Island is no longer. But that’s not the only Island that no longer exists. Year after year, our planet gets hotter and hotter. As it gets hotter, the sea levels rise and force once flourishing islands to disappear. It’s one of the inconvenient truths facing our planet. Now I’m not here to lecture you on an “issue” that will allow Midwestern high school baseball players to feel their hands while at the plate in the coming years. I am, however, here to connect you to the truth, no matter what side you’re on.
Eric Heiden, a former speed skater and an Olympian, once said, “Sports and Politics do not mix.” Eric Heiden is a dumb person that I didn’t know until I looked up “sports and politics quotes” in the Google search engine. In Revis’ case, I think there is more mixing than we may have ever previously thought possible.
After winning a super bowl with the New England Patriots in 2014, many expected Revis to return to the team in order to pursue more rings. He instead decided to return to the Jets, and begin the downslope of his career in one of the most liberal areas in the United States. The Democrats, who generally find climate change to be more of a troubling issue than the Republicans, would be in abundance during his stay in New York. It was the perfect atmosphere to become a symbol for climate change awareness, a metaphorical island being lost under the Republicans lead. What? Did I say the Republicans lead? What do they have to do with this? Go pop another bag of that popcorn and I’ll tell ya.
The owner of the New York Jets, Woody Johnson, was the fool at the expense of Revis’ diabolical political plan. He's the one who dished out the 70 million dollar contract in order to progress his football team. Revis had other plans. He planned to progress the environmental rhetoric in our country. Johnson has donated large sums of money to the campaigns of John Mccain, Mitt Romney, and worked for Jeb Bush before endorsing Donald Trump this past fall. He gave this 70 million to Revis Island only to see it figuratively drown in water along with his money.
Revis is a revolutionary. He has brought a pressing issue to the national stage, a stage that draws tens of millions of viewers each week. Instead of some hippy hanging from a roof with a half ass sign about the pipeline, he's brought it to the field. He has used what some thought was a clever nickname in the past and changed it into deeper symbolism than even your high school English teacher could have picked up on. And during all of this, he has been actively taking money away from top Republican donors.
I’m not here to tell you to like or dislike Revis more now, but I am telling you to WAKE UP. This is what the media doesn't want you to see! This is the scoop on my blog before some big breaking news story or tell-all with Revis featured. Darrelle Revis can't be this bad at football all of a sudden. Get out ahead of the story, show Darrelle we're not simpletons!
The second city. Chi-Town. Windy City (This is NOT about the wind non- Chicagoans! Ugh.). The City By the Lake. My Kind of Town. The City that Derrick built.
There’s two types of people in this world: People who love Chicago and liars! I took my time over the last few days and came up with five very relatable things that only Chicagoans know and compiled them into a list to put online. So, without further ado…
The five reasons you know you’re from Chicago:
In my high school health class I watched a bunch of those videos that are supposed to scare you away from hard drugs like heroin, crystal meth, and crack cocaine. From my experience, I thought they were pretty effective. I went through high school and now most of college without doing drugs at all. Instead, I watched my favorite player, Derrick Rose, play (sometimes) for my favorite basketball team, the Chicago Bulls.
In that senior year health class I watched the crack-cocaine guy from Chicago talk about how the drug controls his life, and how you’re forever chasing that first high from that drug. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, I thought. If you know you’re not going to get back to that first high, then what the hell are you doing? Hahaha. Well, Mr. Crack smoker, you and I are a lot more alike than I had previously thought. That’s when I realized Derrick Rose was my personal crack cocaine addiction.
My Derrick Rose Love through the life of a troubled Drug Addict:
2008-09- The bulls, after years of being horrible, and then average, get some stud out of the draft named Derrick Rose. He even said that if his hometown team didn’t draft him that he didn’t really want to play in the NBA. Well, they did, by miraculously winning the lottery in order to get the number one pick. Despite the 1.7 percent chance that the Bulls had of picking that high, they were able to land the apple of their eye, Derrick Rose. Rose wins the Rookie of the year award.
This is when I first took some alcohol out of my parents’ liquor cabinet. Early stages, taking swigs out of some nasty alcohol that I’d never seen before. Tasted awful, but looked cool.
2010-11- After a few years of being average yet competitive with Vinny Del Negro, the Bulls front office decided to get in a fist fight with him (have they fought with anyone else since?) and brought in Tom Thibodeau. The bulls went 62-20 to gain home court advantage throughout the playoffs in the eastern conference and Derrick Rose, who averaged 25 points, nearly 8 assists, and 4 rebounds, won the league’s MVP. Things were going well. For my generation of Bulls' fans, this was our 95-96 Bulls, this was our everything.
My first hit of the crack cocaine. Since 2008, things had progressed but weren’t all that serious. Smoking weed, drinking liquor, hey maybe a few pills here and there. Then boom, that 10-11 season. Number one seed and the MVP award. That first hit felt so good. I dove head first into that horrible crack cocaine, and I think I know what night it was. The whole year I was getting ready to pick up that pipe, but it wasn’t until a special May night that I made the decision to never look back and became a victim of Derrick Rose.
What I wasn’t informed of was the horrible withdrawal and hangover you get in the immediate days following this sort of drug use.
That wasn’t fun.
After winning that first game they lost the next four. But to say that I didn’t take another hit after game 1 would be a lie, I mean come on.
Yeah, give me that pipe.
Side note- Best part of that video is actually Reggie Miller saying “How IS the Bulls gonna score?” Singular, plural, who cares? TNT announcers who were really good at basketball, but aren’t great at analyzing basketball, or talking in general, are my favorite.
Okay, I promise, last YouTube video from the glory days. Game 1 of the playoffs. Your reminder as well that Keith Bogans was the starting shooting guard on that team. Thibs is the best.
2011-12- About that time again. This was going to be our year. Last year, we were young. Second year under my man Thibs, Rose is back, the whole core is back. Bulls once again locked up the number one seed in a lock out year. Derrick battled with a few injuries, which weren’t a big deal and have never become a big deal, but still averaged a cool 22 points and 8 assists in the 39 games he started. We just needed him for the playoffs. And then, you know what happened. I’m not going to try to Tom Rinaldi you on this one and act like the kid he’s talking about that had a terminal illness in his College Gameday short ended up making it. Derrick Rose tore his goddamn ACL.
Up 12 with 1:20 left. You can watch that clip if you want, I can’t. I tried to light up that pipe a lot the rest of that series. Omer Asik not looking at the rim when he shot free throws didn’t help in game 6 to lose to the 8 seeded 76ers. The reality was that I had become hooked on Derrick Rose and now I needed a fix. Panic mode. And to make it worse…
This dork was like my mom coming in my room telling me that being hooked on a hard drug was bad. Yeah dude? Get out of my face.
2012-13- Derrick Rose misses the whole season while the Bulls play their butts off for Thibs and actually make the city proud. They, of course, found a way to beat Lebron in one game before being demolished. Whenever I think of that series I remember the refs being unfair in games 2-5 but I have absolutely no evidence of that and I think I was the only one that got that vibe so I’ll leave that here. Nate Robinson helped me out as a substitute drug a little bit that year. This was sort of like when your friend that’s addicted to chew gets coffee grind pouches and thinks they’re actually going to work.
Still not the worst days to come of my Derrick Rose addiction. I was just going to smoke every now and then, I’d get that high back. I still loved that good good Rose. Derrick Rose getting isolated from the “Top Point Guards” conversation was me being isolated from my family for my drug use.
My Uncle Terry loved telling me at this time that he was done, that’d he never be the same. That’s when I sort of stopped liking my Uncle Terry. Just looked down and saw that I’m at 1,000 words, or in other words, have lost the attention of anyone born after 1985, and I think I lost most people born before 1985 at the title. I’ll fast forward.
Where am I now?
After continuing to struggle with my Rose addiction, I have still, like the crack head from Chicago, not returned to my high. I have reached the point of no return in my relationship with Derrick Rose. I got close in the Conference Semifinals against the Cavs in 2015, but it didn’t happen. I’ve thought about quitting many of times. I thought I was done after the midseason injury last year. I thought it was all over for us. But then I realized, it will never be over for us, Derrick. We’re going to do this, together.
We should have just smoked a Beasley in that 2008 draft, that would’ve made things quicker. The comparison is also faulty, Derrick Rose is way worse than crack-cocaine. But who am I kidding, Derrick Rose isn’t who he once was. I’m just a miserable addict who will never feel that feeling again. I’m done.
Hold the fucking phone. Someone pass me the pipe.