Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 439

I experienced genuine euphoria yesterday. Unabashed joy. Pure, unbridled happiness. When was the last time you felt that way?

The New England Patriots won an incredible game yesterday. It was one of the most amazing comeback victories that I have ever seen, but what will be lost to the casual observer was how the comeback began when the Patriots lost the ball on a controversial fourth down play with 2 minutes and 50 seconds remaining in the game.

But all accounts, the New Orleans Saints should have been able to win the game right there and then.

Instead of running out the clock or scoring a touchdown, the Saints settled for a field goal, putting them ahead by 4. Then the Patriots got the ball back, and Tom Brady promptly threw an interception on the first play with 2 minutes and 24 seconds remaining on the clock.

Without any timeouts to stop the clock, the game should’ve been over. Again.

But the Patriots defense held, and Brady got the ball back one more time with just over a minute on the clock. That’s three possessions in a span of just under three minutes.

Then, with 10 seconds left in the game, Brady threw the game winning touchdown pass to undrafted rookie wide receiver Kenbrell Thompkins.

The moments leading up to the touchdown were an emotional roller coaster for me. The ball is dropped on the fourth down play, and I shout at the receiver for his stupidity. I hang my head in disgust. All hope is lost.

Then the defense holds the Saints to a field goal, and hope dares to rise in my belly. My eyes widen. My fists clench.

Then Brady throws a terrible interception and all hope is lost again. I drop to my knees and shout an unintelligible mix of groans and wails. “That’s it,” I declare. “Game over.”

But despite my despair, I keep watching, and the defense holds again. A glimmer of hope returns. A tiny flicker. I want to believe.  

With less than a minute on the clock and no timeouts, the team drives down the field with precision. Receivers run routes and make catches. Brady puts the ball in their hands in stride.

Then comes the touchdown.

When Thompkins caught that ball in the corner of the end zone, I leapt to my feet in euphoria. I shouted. I screamed. I jumped up and down. I pumped my fists. I scooped my daughter from the couch and swung her through the air. We danced. We cheered. My phone began dinging with messages from equally euphoric friends who were watching the game. I was out of breath by the time I sat back down on the couch, and even this morning, more than twelve hours after the victory, my heart beats a little quicker and there is joy in my soul.

I can’t help but wonder:

If you aren’t a sports fan, and if you don’t live and die with the success and failures of a particular team, do you ever have the opportunity to experience the kind of blinding euphoria that I experienced yesterday?

Are there other moments in your life that cause you to scream and cry and leap in the air and joyously embrace strangers wearing the same colors as you?

If these moments exist for the non-sports fan, when do they happen, and do they happen nearly as much as they do for someone like me?

I don’t think so.

My wife, for example, celebrated the Patriots victory with me. She was happy for the team’s success. She was pleased with the result. But when the touchdown was scored, there was only one crazy person in the house. I was the only lunatic who couldn’t stop pumping his fists and jumping up and down and shouting.   

When does someone like my wife get to experience the level of genuine euphoria that I felt yesterday afternoon?

I’m not sure that they ever do.

I’m the first to acknowledge that my love for the New England Patriots is irrational. It is a geographically-based adoration for a group of a men who I don’t really know who play a sport that I don’t play myself. I cheer for these men as they attempt to win a game against a different group of men who I despise for no good reason.

It’s crazy.

But it also brings the diehard sports fan a level of joy that can be experienced in so few other ways.

I get that chance every Sunday during football season.

It’s crazy. It’s irrational. But I pity those who don’t get to experience it for themselves.

Standing still is progress

Somehow my daughter has gone from despising her picture being taken to adopting these new, self-selected photogenic poses.

I have no idea where she learned these poses, but if she’s willing to stand still for a photograph, I don’t care. It’s progress.

And they’re all pretty cute.

    

A second-rate solution to the tyranny of the thank you note

Look. A machine that will hand write a thank you note for you. The near-perfect solution to the tyranny of the thank you note.

It really isn’t a bad solution. I just have a couple that are better. But before I offer them, please let me be clear:

I write thank you notes all the time and have no problem with anyone who does. My beef is with the tyrannical expectation of the thank you note and the bate-biting, gossip-mongering, reputation-bashing that takes place if you fail to adhere to the custom.

Basically, if you are the kind of person who awaits a thank you note and proceeds with negativity when it fails to arrive, you are my target. You are the person for whom these solutions are required.

With that said, I offer two alternate solutions to the thank you note machine:

Ignore the lunatic traditionalists who believe that in addition to a verbal thank you, a written one is required in order for you to avoid being labeled a loathsome, uncouth jerk. Accept the label and move on. If someone hands you a gift, and you open it and say “Thank you,” only a moron would expect you to follow up this exchange with written appreciation. Send a note if you’d like, but the expectation that you will send a thank you note when a verbal thank you has been made is insane.
Send the thank you note via email. Once again, it is likely that doing so will cause a certain segment of the public to label you as unrefined and rude, but I make it a habit of ignoring idiots. It’s the words that matter. Not the medium upon which they are conveyed. In fact, I am likely to express a deeper and more meaningful sentiment through email, since my word count is unlimited. Once again, only a moron would consider an electronic thank you note insufficient.

The thank you note machine is nice, but only if you find the need to conform to the expectations of morons.

I recommend avoiding this at all costs.

Rules on how to be a man, which should not include anything related to physical appearance or handcrafted firearms.

A list of more than 75 ways to be a man in today’s world recently gained some traction on social media last week (as lists are wont to do), and I found it to be simultaneously excellent and exceptionally disappointing.

There are some real gems on the list that I adore, but unfortunately, the list is also populated by rules enforcing image conformity and complete nonsense like these:

Buy expensive sunglasses. Superficial? Yes, but so are the women judging you. And it tells these women you appreciate nice things and are responsible enough not to lose them.
Your clothes do not match. They go together.
It’s better if old men cut your hair. Ask for Sammy at the Mandarin Oriental Barbershop in Hong Kong. He can share his experiences of the Japanese occupation, or just give you a copy of Playboy.
Own a handcrafted shotgun. It’s a beautiful thing.

Still, there are some items of brilliance on this list. Here are the ones I like the best:

You don’t have to like baseball, but you should understand the concept of what a pitcher’s ERA means. Approach life similarly.
Stop talking about where you went to college.
You will regret your tattoos.
When in doubt, always kiss the girl.
There’s always another level. Just be content knowing that you are still better off than most who have ever lived.
You may only request one song from the DJ.
Measure yourself only against your previous self.
Place-dropping is worse than-name dropping.
Revenge can be a good way of getting over anger.
No-one cares if you are offended, so stop it.
Read more. It allows you to borrow someone else’s brain, and will make you more interesting at a dinner party – provided that you don’t initiate conversation with, “So, who are you reading…”

A second-rate solution to the tyrrany of the thank you note

Look. A machine that will hand write a thank you note for you. The near-perfect solution to the tyranny of the thank you note.

It really isn’t a bad solution. I just have a couple that are better. But before I offer them, please let me be clear:

I write thank you notes all the time and have no problem with anyone who does. My beef is with the tyrannical expectation of the thank you note and the bate-biting, gossip-mongering, reputation-bashing that takes place if you fail to adhere to the custom.

Basically, if you are the kind of person who awaits a thank you note and proceeds with negativity when it fails to arrive, you are my target. You are the person for whom these solutions are required.

With that said, I offer two alternate solutions to the thank you note machine:

Ignore the lunatic traditionalists who believe that in addition to a verbal thank you, a written one is required in order for you to avoid being labeled a loathsome, uncouth jerk. Accept the label and move on. If someone hands you a gift, and you open it and say “Thank you,” only a moron would expect you to follow up this exchange with written appreciation. Send a note if you’d like, but the expectation that you will send a thank you note when a verbal thank you has been made is insane.
Send the thank you note via email. Once again, it is likely that doing so will cause a certain segment of the public to label you as unrefined and rude, but I make it a habit of ignoring idiots. It’s the words that matter. Not the medium upon which they are conveyed. In fact, I am likely to express a deeper and more meaningful sentiment through email, since my word count is unlimited. Once again, only a moron would consider an electronic thank you note insufficient.

The thank you note machine is nice, but only if you find the need to conform to the expectations of morons.

I recommend avoiding this at all costs.

A second-rate solution to the insanity of the thank you note

Look. A machine that will handwrite a thank you note for you. The near-perfect solution to the societal expectation of the thank you note.

It really isn’t a bad solution. I just have a couple that are better:

Ignore the lunatic traditionalists who believe that in addition to a verbal thank you, a written one is required in order for you to avoid being labeled a loathsome, uncouth jerk. Accept the label and move on. If someone hands you a gift, and you open it and say “Thank you,” only a moron would expect you to follow up this exchange with written appreciation. Send a note if you’d like, but the expectation that you will send a thank you note when a verbal thank you has been made is insane.
Send the thank you note via email. Once again, it is likely that doing so will cause a certain segment of the public to label you as unrefined and rude, but I make it a habit of ignoring idiots. It’s the words that matter. Not the medium upon which they are conveyed. In fact, I am likely to express a deeper and more meaningful sentiment through email, since my word count is unlimited. Once again, only a moron would consider an electronic thank you note insufficient.

The thank you note machine is nice, but only if you find the need to conform to the expectations of morons.

I recommend avoiding this at all costs.

A potato chip bag and a palace: Two sides of the same coin.

The fact that someone can actually do this astounds me.

The fact that someone can envision something like this in their mind and then create it with their hands seems impossible to me. I have heard similar sentiments about the writing process and the creation of novels and short stories, but I find the expertise, talent and vision of artists like this far more impressive.

It’s as if these people have a different set of hands and eyes than the rest of humanity.

If this doesn’t impress you, how about the postman who spent 34 years building a palace using the rocks that he found along his postal route?

People are amazing.

Soap bubble joy

The problem with adulthood is that the joy you once derived from something as simple as a soap bubble becomes harder and harder to find, and if you don’t commit yourself to constantly trying new things throughout your lifetime, that spirit of simple soap bubble joy may be lost forever.

That is what I tell my children when they get older. Try new things all the time. Leave your comfort zone constantly. Invite and embrace cognitive dissonance. Find the path of greatest resistance and embark upon it without pause. Place your ego in great peril for the sake of a newfound joy.

You may never find as much joy in soap bubbles as you did when you were a child, but there are other things that will life your heart and mind if you spend your life searching them out.

         

The Today Show has cornered the market on young, white, blond, female kidnapping victims. You should stop watching.

The Today Show did a segment yesterday entitled Hannah’s Story.

As soon as I heard the promo for the segment at the opening of the show, I knew that the kidnapping victim would be young, white and probably blond.

Not surprising, I was right.

My wife heard me shout at the television in protest, and she argued that this was a national news story worthy of coverage. Even though I had yet to hear about Hannah and her presumably tragic kidnapping through my usual news sources, I believed her.

I’m sure that the mainstream media outlets covered this story closely, and perhaps justifiably so. I’m sure that The Today Show garnered millions of viewers for the segment.  

But I also don’t care. I refused to listen to a single word of Hannah’s Story.

This may come as a surprise to you, especially if you get your news primarily through sources like The Today Show and network news in general, but people are kidnapped in America every day, and some of them are not young.

Some of them are not female.

Some of them are not white.

Some of them are not blond.

Even though you can probably name half a dozen young, white, probably blond girls who have been kidnapped and murdered over the last decade,  there are African-American, Latino and Asian girls kidnapped and murdered all the time. Boys, too. And older people. Unattractive people, even. It happens every day. And in even greater numbers than young, white, blond girls.

But can you name even one?

Can you name a single African-American kidnapping victim from any point in American history?

For every Chandra Levy, Laci Peterson, Natalee Holloway, Taylor Behl, Elizabeth Smart or Jaycee Dugard (names that even I know despite my purposeful refusal to pay attention to these stories), can you name even one non-white kidnapping victim?

Or one male kidnapping victim?

Or a kidnapping victim over the age of 30?

I don’t know how other mainstream news sources cover kidnappings, but The Today Show has been specializing in young, white, oftentimes blond kidnapping victims for years, and they suck.

It’s a disgrace. I refuse to watch. You should, too.

Products I can’t live without: 2013

Inspired by a list created Michael Arrington, I thought it would be fun to track my favorite products over time.

In 2010, I wrote my first list of products I can’t live without.

Three years later, the list has changed, though not as much as I would’ve thought. Google continues to be essential to my everyday living, as does my iPhone, upon which many of the products I can’t with without currently reside.

Audible.com plus Audible app
Carbonite
Evernote
Gmail
Google Docs
Google Calendar
Google Maps
Google Chrome
Hootsuite
Instacast
iPhone 4
Mint
Mophie Juice Pack
Twitter
WordPress
Ziplist