Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 428

Possibly illogical and misplaced anger about non-disabled actors

Is it wrong for me to be annoyed, angered, even outraged at the idea of a non-wheelchair bound actor performing in a wheelchair bound role?

I think it might be, but I’m annoyed just the same.

Elysha and I are watching an HBO comedy called Hello Ladies, and there’s a wheelchair-bound character in the show being portrayed by a non-disabled actor.

I can’t help but think:

Why not find an actor who’s in a wheelchair to perform that role?

Apparently the same situation exists in the television show Glee. The actor playing the wheelchair-bound student in that show is actually a professional dancer.

Should I be angry about this?

I don’t think so. But I am.

I don’t think my anger is logical. I don’t think it’s justified in any way. An actor should be able to perform any role. They are, after all, actors. Their job is to pretend to be something they are not.

Still, it annoys me.

This level of maturity is unacceptable.

Author Salman Rushdie tweeted the following on Sunday:

I’m signing off Twitter for a while. Book to finish, etc. See you when it’s done in a year or so. It has been fun, even when it hasn’t. Bye.

Talk about a humble brag.

Take an extended vacation from Twitter if you must, but don’t make the rest of us feel pathetic for not having the discipline and mental fortitude to do the same. 

We should constantly be looking to reinvent the wheel

“Why reinvent the wheel?”

Whenever I hear this question (which is a lot), my response is always the same:

“My wheel will be better.”

“Why reinvent the wheel?” asks us to to accept work that has been already done as ideal. It implies that the products of the past are highly effective for our current needs. It insists that time spent on something already completed is a waste of time.

I rarely find any of this to be the case.

As if to drive home this point, researchers at MIT have literally reinvented the wheel, and it’s a hell of a lot better than anything that’s come before it.

It’s amazing.

Why reinvent the wheel?

Because we should always believe that we can do better.

Microsoft can even ruin the bra.

When it comes to my computer, I’m not an Apple guy.

I don’t like to engage in long, heartfelt conversations about my laptop, which seems necessary if I were to purchase a Mac.

I lack the required smugness.

And despite all attempts, I have yet to achieve an orgasm over a reduction in buttons and the sleek design of brushed, anodized aluminum.

Bu Microsoft’s smart bra, which alerts women to their stress levels, so that they might avoid “emotional overeating” might finally force me to purchase a Mac.

Sometimes a company is so stupid and so offensive that I am incapable of supporting them any longer.

Bill named the Bills.

Yesterday I wrote about the oddity of The Cleveland Browns name and their mascot (after my wife pointed it out to me).

Today I highlight one more odd National Football League name choice:

The Buffalo Bills.

Before I did some research, I was under the impression that the Bills were named after Wild West showman Buffalo Bill Cody. Though the Bills have occasionally used the image of Bill Cody in their team’s iconography, this is not the origin of the name, nor does the team promote any affiliation with Cody today.

The Bills were named after a previous Buffalo Bills team in the now-defunct All-American Football Conference. That Buffalo Bills team ultimately merged with the Cleveland Browns in 1950 (of course), leaving the name available for the current iteration of the team. 

That original AAFC Buffalo Bills team was named for a young male bison, which is commonly referred to as a “Billy.” The name was chosen via a contest run by the team that was won by a man named Bill Keenan.

Did you follow that?

The Buffalo Bills were named by a guy named Bill who suggested the name Bills.

Bill suggested Bills.

No one thought that this choice might have been slightly self serving?

My wife is right. A pantone chip would’ve been a better mascot for the Cleveland Browns.

The Patriots play the Cleveland Browns today.

I mentioned this to my wife last night. She said, “The Browns? I’ve never heard of them. What a stupid name.”

I was surprised that she’d never heard of the Browns. She’s not a huge football fan, but she tends to know as much as the casual fan. Then again, the Browns haven’t won a meaningful game in decades, so they aren’t mentioned very often in casual circles.

Addressing the team’s name, I said, “Actually, the team is named after their first head coach, Paul Brown. And their greatest player of all time happens to be Jim Brown.”

“So what’s their mascot?” she asked. “A pantone chip?”

I’d never thought about it before, but she’s right. It’s a fairly stupid name for a football team. And it’s actually the team’s second choice of name. They were originally named The Cleveland Panthers, but another team in another football league claimed the rights to the name first, forcing the owners to choose a new name.

And Elysha is right. They chose poorly.

Don’t get me wrong. I understand the greatness of their first head coach, Paul Brown, and the honor that the team’s name bestows upon him, but in the end, the team is named after a color. And an unpopular color, too. No one’s favorite color is brown. It’s the color that’s least often used in a box of crayons.

It’s the color of dirt.

Even worse, the Brown’s uniforms are more orange than brown.

As if to emphasize the stupidity of the name, it turns out that the Cleveland Brown’s on-again, off-again mascot is The Brownie Elf.

Brownies are elves from British folklore that are said to inhabit houses and aid in chores. They don’t like to be seen and will only work at night, traditionally in exchange for small gifts of food. Among food, they especially enjoy porridge and honey.

No wonder The Cleveland Browns have never made it to the Super Bowl. It turns out that a pantone chip might’ve been a better mascot after all.

There’s no such thing as bunny vomit

I’ve just learned that rabbits can’t vomit.

I haven’t vomited since a ride on the Music Express at Rocky Point Amusement Park in 1983.

Maybe I’m a rabbit.

Or maybe rabbits are me.

Whoa.

I miss the brontosaurus.

My four year-old daughter and I were reading Jane Yolen’s How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight for the first time. One each page of these books, Yolen hides the dinosaur’s name within the illustration so you can properly identify it, but on this particular page, I couldn’t find the name.

“Hold on, Clara,” I said. “I can’t find the name.”

“Well, it could be an apatosaurus,” she said. “Or a brachiosaurus. Or maybe a diplodocus. Or a supersaurus.”

I was impressed. Pictures of each of the dinosaurs she mentioned are below, and she was right. They all look about the same. It’s could’ve been any of them.

“Or maybe it’s a brontosaurus,” I added.

“Dad, there’s no such thing as a brontosaurus.”

Though there was such a thing as a brontosaurus when I was a kid, she was right about that, too.

The girl knows her dinosaurs.

It’s no surprise that one of her doll’s imaginary parents are a team of paleontologists.

   

The Moth: Black and White in Washington

The following is a story I told at a Moth StorySLAM at Housing Works in New York City earlier this year. 

The theme of the night was Summer.

I told a story about my pursuit of a girl while working in Washington DC and the unexpected and ugly turn that it ultimately took.  

I finished in first place. 

The gift of a sibling (and the stupidity of a father)

Our children are getting old enough to play together. Charlie has started walking, and Clara is incredibly tolerant of him. She doesn’t always love the way he intrudes on her fantasy world, but she will often shift that world to accommodate him.

Watching them play together is one of my favorite things.

Last week we took them to Imagination Station, a local children’s museum, and watched them paint side by side. I’m not sure why this moment warmed my heart so much, but it did. Maybe it’s the thought that in addition to their parents, they also have each other.

How wonderful it is to know that your children will always have each other.

Damn good thing I listened to my wife and had that second child. Can you imagine what a jerk I must’ve been to think that having an only child was a good idea?