Jim Moorman's Blog, page 2
February 11, 2013
December 7, 2012
The Insanity of Love
It’s been called the most powerful force in the universe. It transcends race, religion, age, social status, and even time and space itself. It lives at the heart of popular culture, and has even driven some to clinical madness. Science can explain it but will never be able to harness its power or find a cure. We’re hard-wired to love. It’s at the very core of our being. It gives us a reason to live and offers peace in death. Love is chemical, irrational, and wonderfully magical. Why, then, after so many moons, are we still writing and singing and fussing over what should have jumped the shark a few hundred years ago?
Science says it’s because of a brain chemical cocktail comprised of dopamine, oxytocin and vasopressin. And, yes, a similar cocktail is present in both the addict and the insane. Need proof?
This story is about a girl. While at the funeral of her own mother, she met a guy whom she did not know. She thought this guy was amazing, so much, that she fell in love with him there and then. He disappeared and a few days later, the girl killed her own sister. What was her motivation?
I’ve seen answers range from, “the guy was the sister’s boyfriend” to “she caught the guy and the sister having sex at the mom’s funeral.” The answer we’re looking for is: she killed her sister so there would be another funeral and she could see him again. Messed up, right? This particular question circulated in email back around 2001. It was purportedly designed to see if people think like a sociopath. It’s completely untrue and has since been debunked, but the idea is a powerful one. What a great illustration of the love/insanity chemical cocktail at work and how love can (in this case) drive someone to murder her sister to satisfy her desire.
Tales of love’s power proliferate throughout most, if not all, ancient cultures, the Greeks are probably most notable. One of my favorite tragic love stories in Greek mythology is that of Orpheus and Eurydice.
Orpheus, the son of the muse Calliope was a grand musician. His wife, Eurydice, was the object of his undying affection but she was also desired by Aristaeus, the rustic god of shepherds.
Aristaeus pursued Eurydice until she stepped on a poisonous snake. Bitten, she was forced into the underworld. Orpheus, heartbroken, was determined to retrieve his beloved Eurydice. He journeyed to the underworld and used his music mastery to charm Charon, the ferryman of the dead. He then lulled Cerberus, the three-headed watchdog to sleep.
Hades, the god of the underworld, refused to release Eurydice, but Orpheus's music so touched Persephone, Hades’ wife, that she pleaded Orpheus's case until Hades relented. Hades set forth one condition: that Orpheus not look back on their way out.
As they ascended from the underworld, Orpheus was worried that Eurydice wasn’t behind him, and he insecurely (and fatefully) glanced back to ensure she was there. Because he broke his promise, he watched her disappear and he lost her forever. Unable to live without her, Orpheus spent the rest of his days wandering in aimless sorrow.
Tragic? You bet. Were the girl at the funeral and our hero, Orpheus, flooded with dopamine, oxytocin, and vasopressin? Of course they were just as we all are in the throes of romantic love. Does knowing what happens in our brains make it any easier to control? The answer is no. It rules us, drives us, inspires us, and can lift not only us but those around us. We exude energy. The positive energy that accompanies healthy love is palpable, but like Jekyll and Hyde, the negative energy that so often accompanies heartache and unrequited love can be as equally draining and destructive. A great example of the positive is the story of Britain’s King Edward VIII.
He sparked a constitutional crisis when he fell madly in love with an American, Wallis Simpson. The fact that she was American wasn’t the issue. The problem was that she was an American and a two-time divorcee yet King Edward still wanted to marry her.
The heads of government, church, and social elite outwardly opposed the union. Edward ultimately abdicated the throne so he could marry Simpson. In a broadcast to the nation in December 1936, after spending just 325 days as monarch, he said, “I have found it impossible to carry the heavy burden of responsibility and to discharge my duties as king as I would wish to do without the help and support of the woman I love.”
The couple married in May 1937 and became known as the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. They remained together until Edward’s death in 1972; Simpson died in 1986. Can you imagine being so in love that you would literally give up being King?
On the insanity flip-side, we have the story of Lisa Nowak.
You’ll probably remember Lisa Nowak as the former American naval flight officer and NASA astronaut. She was a robotics specialist and flew on Space Shuttle Discovery. In case you don’t think that’s a big deal, it is. This is an extremely intelligent woman who ascended (professionally) to heights most of us regular folks will never realize. Then she fell in love with fellow astronaut William Oefelein and the dopamine, oxytocin and vasopressin took over – for the worse in her case.
Apparently, William didn’t feel the same and, worse, was involved with an Air Force Captain named Colleen Shipman. At some point, the insanity took over and had Lisa driving from Houston to Orlando to confront Colleen.
Per Wikipedia, “Nowak drove from Houston to Orlando, Florida, on February 4–5, 2007. She packed latex gloves, a black wig, a BB pistol and ammunition, pepper spray, a hooded tan trench coat, a 2-pound drilling hammer, black gloves, rubber tubing, plastic garbage bags, approximately $585 (USD) in cash, her computer, an 8-inch (20 cm) Gerber folding knife and several other items before driving the 900 miles (1,400 km) to Florida. Early police reports indicated she wore diapers during the trip, but she later denied wearing them. On February 5, 2007, Nowak went to the Orlando International Airport, waited for about an hour in the baggage claim, and then proceeded to the airport parking lot, where she located and confronted Shipman, who had just arrived from Houston by plane.”
She pled out and was discharged from the navy in 2010. Her entire career was gone. She’d lost control. The love turned to insanity and all logic and rationality left what, up to that point, had been a very keen mind.
Personally, I’m no exception. Logically, I know what’s happening when I see the beautiful girl at the end of the bar with the bright smile and come-hither eyes. Dopamine, my pleasure neurotransmitter, is flooding my neural pathways. I’m literally, in that moment, blinded by infatuation. I have no control. The chemical release overpowers any logic or rationale. I doubt I’d ever drive 900 miles in diapers with a bb gun to jealously confront a dude who was involved with the woman I love, but you never know. Under the influence of the love chemicals, the lines between love and insanity too often become blurred.
Yes, there are different kinds of love and, based on our upbringing and environment, we all experience the chemical release with different people at different times and in varying amounts. Some people guard themselves against love in an act of self-preservation. Fear of the pain of heartbreak counteracts the joy that accompanies new love. The reality is that the odds favor heartbreak. Chemicals fade and when they do, you’re left with the person as they are. The question then becomes, do you like what you see and do they?
Does it matter? Does any of it really matter at all? I say absolutely it matters. Loving is living. Yeah, it can and will make us crazy sometimes but it will also let the best parts of us shine. These magical chemicals in our brains are so powerful that we will actually put our own safety, health, well-being aside for the one we love. We’ll climb mountains, sing out of tune, spend thousands of dollars on outward declarations, and risk it all for the chance to feel the greatest high a human being can feel.
Science gives us the answers. Love at its core exists for the continuation of our species. It’s a burst of chemicals. It’s not magic. My question then becomes, if it’s not magic, why can’t we control it? What’s more is that I find myself insanely hoping we never will. It’s the best and worst part of our human experience and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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December 4, 2012
Blurb4
Great read, man. Makes long rides in the Mystery Machine bearable.
-Shaggy
I did not like the drugs, violence, and curse words. Didn’t I raise you better?
-MaryAnn, Jim’s Mom
August 6, 2012
Don’t Ask Alice (Poem/Guest Post)
Meet Karen, a light-hearted Californian who's just trying to brand the world with her unique voice. Adept in all forms of sweetness, she's quick to offer her readers a laugh and will just as quickly have your head spinning with humorous, yet thoughtful works like the one below. Follow her on her site, Twitter, or Facebook using the links provide at the end of theis post. Thanks to Karen for adorning the pages of my site and contributing this unique look down the rabbit hole.
Spoiler Alert! This is the 11th limerick in an unserious series. To start at Limerick #1, click: Check-Mates, and follow the links!
Freshly back,
from Looking Glass,
were Tweedles’ Dum & Dee.
And worst of all—
came with them—faux tall—
Alice, high as trees.
And mad as hell!
(about dried sea)
Since she owned its beachfront.
Leasing shacks—
for huge greenbacks,
a resource rendered defunct.
And though I
wanted more details—
I felt it would be mental
To go ask Alice—
(full of malice)
more about her rentals.
Some Fairies, also,
* reappeared *
freshly waxed and dried.
Balded—scalded—
—Zombies that—
withstood the melt of Hive.
Bluebeard was
among the horde
of reinvigor’ed Lore Folk
He seemed in shock
from sudden dock,
or maybe from his wax soak.
His face was shorn
of famous beard—
as in Rapunzel’s case.
The difference was,
he had peach fuzz,
of azure on his face.
On terra firm’,
His fight returned,
and brandishing machete,
he gave pursuit
—with Twins and Hook—
Tall Alice, quick but sweaty.
Clutching Teddy—
to my breast, with Cat,
I ran for shelter.
Aided by—
Pawns on the fly,
revealed in the welter.
Cheshire Cat—
kept pace with us,
in spirit and in smile.
Advising we—
turn left sharply,
and run another mile.
And so we did,
Cat, Ted and Pawns
–the Waxing Cheshire, too–
which working adverb,
seemed absurd—
in light of our to-do.
We changed our tack
—as fast as that—
and when we did my heart skipped.
We weren’t in Cally’s—
—Plastic Valley,
But on Sin City’s famed Strip.
Impromptu sail—
aboard the ship,
had veered us from our course.
Else it might be—
the sudden flight we—
took upon the Winged Horse.
Despite the Cheshire’s
broken drone—
that kept suggesting Harrah’s
We ducked inside,
a church to hide,
that charge ten bucks for marriage.
We hid behind,
some folding chairs—
lined neatly in a row.
Quaking—shaking—
—ear drums aching—
listening for our foes.
You needn’t battle!
—Came proclaim.
You still possess the choice.
And though I searched,
the whole darn church,
A Haze obscured the voice.
Click: ??? to read the 12th & Final limerick in this series.
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“Don’t Ask Alice” is the penultimate limerick by Karen Robiscoe in a sequence of 12 called the: Fairy Tale Hive Series.
Published poet & CNF author
Keep up with Karen at: CHARRON’S CHATTER–http://karenrobiscoe.com/
Find Karen on Facebook! http://www.facebook.com/SpiritedRemix.
Or follow on Twitter: @KarenRobiscoe
July 8, 2012
Favorite (and Least Favorite) Album Covers
For me, album (or CD) covers have always been as artistically relevant as anything I’d ever see in the Cleveland museum of Art or any gallery. Why? Because in their universe and medium, like a book, they need to covey a feeling and hopefully elicit an emotion or in some cases, a “wow” factor. Before the Internet and the ability to download a song at a time, we’d spend hours at record stores, mulling through isles and isles of albums and then CD’s.
I remember flipping through albums and staring at the covers wondering what the hell some of the artists were trying to say. I remember seeing the self-entitled Prince album, the one with the light blue background and a topless black man with wavy hair thinking, “who the fuck is this douche?” I was young, so maybe not those exact words, but something along those lines. I can tell you that the emotions that cover elicited were ones of creepiness.
Others were laughably awful or just downright bad. Until my dad told me years after I’d seen the cover, I would have never known that the group Orleans with the homo-erotic cover image was the band that sang, You’re still the one, which remains a favorite song in spite of the album cover.
If you would have told me the group adorning this gem were the purveyors of such hits as Waterloo, Take a Chance on Me, and S.O.S, I would have accused you of sniffing glue. Yet here they are, Swedish super group ABBA, adorning what I’d consider to be one of the worst album covers of all time. I mean look at them, right?
Then came the early 80’s metal. Def Leppard, Quiet Riot, The Scorpions, and one of my favorites, Twisted Sister. Truly, I loved Twisted Sister, bought the albums (then tapes) and wore them out. Dee Snyder was everything rebellious that I wanted to be. He had this ungodly frock of hair that, still today, amazes me. Yet, as much as I loved them, this album cover grossed me out. It’s some sort of huge animal bone with uncooked flesh on it. Is he really going to eat that? Am I supposed to go out and gnaw on moose bones now? Love the band but hate this cover.
Topping out my short list of least favorite album covers is one that many consider to be one of the best. Yep! Controversy here we come! Nirvana’s Nevermind is hailed by many to not only be one of the greatest albums of the 90’s and maybe all-time, but also have one of the best covers. I disagree. While it’s kinda cool at first glance, logic kicks in and reminds me that there was an underwater photographer in that pool and a willing parent above it tossing their baby in the water to float freely, his little peep exposed for the world to see within reach of a symbolic dollar bill. I can’t help but feel terrible about this cover. Yeah, I know, the babies in the womb/water thing, but still. This cover screams negligence to me.
So there you have it, some of my lesser-embraced covers. Now, join me on a journey of my top fifteen favorites and what made them favorites. In the spirit of all great “best-of” lists, I’ll be ranking these from bottom to top, thereby leaving you in utter suspense wondering the whole time through what #1 could possibly be? I’ll remind you again, these are MY favorites. I’m not espousing to be a critic of any kind, artistically, musically, or otherwise. So here we go….
15. Linda Ronstadt – Blue Bayou LP
This is the first album cover I can ever remember loving. I remember it because it was the cover that offered me my first crush. I was a young, impressionable boy and when the lovely Linda Ronstadt looked at me (and only me) with those big beautiful brown eyes, she would unknowingly etch herself in the heart and mind of a young Jim Moorman for life. I dreamt of our wedding and the life we’d live out magically together. Then, sometime shortly after Linda, I discovered Olivia Newton John and then the beautiful Aussie, Sheena Easton. Linda, however, will always be my first crush and it is for that reason alone this album cover must hold a place in my top fifteen.
14. Jimmy Buffett – Songs You Know by Heart
I don’t normally like album covers with pictures of the musicians themselves adorning them. I prefer graphics, illustrations, and symbolic images that force us to use our imaginations and correlate the cover image to the music while we listen. This cover, however, is the exception to the rule. Jimmy is, on this cover, portraying a life and state of mind I have long embraced and longed for. Hammocks, tropics, and friendly parrots keep me company until I lazily stroll in to the cabana where a Polynesian princess waits to pour me a margarita and rub my aching shoulders after a long day of writing. Ahh, my happy place.
13. Iron Maiden – Number of the Beast
This album cover makes it on my list for the sole reason that is scares the fuck out of me. It did as a kid and it does today. It is to me musically what the Shining is cinematically – the stuff of nightmares. Congrats, Maiden, mission accomplished. You’ve emotionally scarred a kid enough that he’s carried that terror with him well into adulthood.
12. Elvis Presley – Viva Las Vegas LP
This is one my dad had when I was growing up and I loved the cover as much as I loved the man. To me, this cover embodies the dual personas of the King. It’s my mental link (visually) between the young Elvis and older Las Vegas Elvis. I also love the black and white scheme with a good blend of rock-n-roll and the glitz that symbolized what he would become.
11. The Eagles – Hotel California
It was a tough call between this and the One of These Nights Cover. In the end, though, this is the cover that resonates with me the most. It’s perfectly suited to the song, the sound, and the feel of the whole album. “On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair…” I can imagine cruising on a chopper at dusk with this album cover ahead of me. Darkness is about to settle in and when it does, the feel will be different, but for the moment, the dusk and cool wind through my hair is perfect.
10. Big Head Todd & the Monsters – Midnight Radio
Aside from being probably my favorite BHT album, the cover art speaks for itself. It’s cool, a little trippy, and makes me think of an M.C. Escher work. I also just like the concept of kicking back at midnight, staring up at a big moon, and just listening to the radio with the stress of the day long forgotten.
9. Grateful Dead – Steal your Face
This cover isn’t the best Grateful Dead cover as far as art, but the Steal your Face skull was born from this album and so many cool adaptations have been done over the years. The colors are simple and bold, but it still has the Grateful Dead feel to it and while I love the trippy 60’s and 70’s colorful art, this album cover still ranks high on my list as one of the grates.
8. Van Halen – 1984
When this album came out in 1984, the US was in the throws of Reaganomics and the war on drugs. Censorship was a big deal and our country’s moral fiber was still pretty uptight. I remember my mom not liking the fact that there was a baby angel smoking a cigarette on the cover. She still got it for me anyway, but made her feelings known. Like every red-blooded American kid, the fact that there was a smoking baby angel on the cover only made me want it more. Imagine my mom’s surprise and my glee when the Hot for Teacher video launched!
7. Steve Miller Band – Book of Dreams
It’s a Pegasus with rainbow wings. I shouldn't have to say anything else. It’s got that cool gradient on the front with the blue sky through a very ornate emblem looking thing and the Pegasus has the look of a mighty steed, one that even Ron Burgundy would be proud to ride. The lettering is awesome and it’s just a sweet cover. My only wish is that the artist would have hidden the bottom hoof of the horse like he did with the tail to make it look more like the Pegasus was flying out of the porthole.
6. Guns N Roses – Appetite for Destruction
Iconic, clean, cool, borrowing from the skulls of other metal bands but classing it up on a solid black backdrop. The album itself ranks in my top five and the cover probably could as well, but the skulls remind me too much of the Grateful Dead which is a hippie, folk,
rock band and obviously GNR is hard rock. It’s still an amazingly cool cover, though.
5. Bruce Springsteen – Born to Run
This is it. The Boss has arrived. He’s having fun. He’s the true working class hero and this cover epitomizes his brand of American rock-n-roll. While other members of the E-Street Band don’t adorn this cover, the big man, Clarence Clemmons, does. The black and white photo and Bruce’s obvious love of where they’re at in that moment in time has become an iconic rock image. The song, Born to Run, is my all-time favorite. Now, with the passing of Clarence, the cover has become even more iconic, at least to me. Clarence Clemons was to the sax what Neil Peart is to the drums – the best. Others will imitate but never duplicate.
4. Kiss – Their Greatest Hits
As a kid, I always loved Kiss and dressed up as the Cat a couple times for Halloween. This album cover is my favorite, although not at all artistically their best. I just think it's a cool, gritty representation of the band back then.
3. Michael Stanley Band – Stagepass
You may or may not have heard of them. MSB was big in the 80's especially in Cleveland. As a teenage boy in the 80's, long before the Internet, this cover was the next best thing to a Playboy magazine. It was sex and rock-n-roll all wrapped up in one slutty chick. Loved it.
2. Meatloaf – Bat Out of Hell
It really was (and still is) more a work of art than an album cover. Just the scene of a motorcycle screaming up out of the bowels of hell itself made it powerful. Then, to hear the song and have the imagery to accompany it made Bat out of Hell all that much better. The roar of the motorcycle in the song ties it to the album cover in a way that hadn’t been done before. The song and the lyrics almost forced you to see the cover image in your mind and play it out in your imagination. Simply awesome.
1. Dave Matthews Band – Remember Two Things
Yeah, remember these? The “you have to stare at them” pictures that were all the rage back in the early 90’s? Those of you who have seen Mallrats can appreciate this cover. “It’s not a schooner, it’s a sailboat!”
Say what you will, but I thought it back then and I think it now. This cover rocks because it did something no other cover did before. It literally forced you to stare at it for minutes on end. Then, once you saw the image, you were like, “that’s pretty cool! Now I know what two things Dave is telling me to remember and I will.” The cover itself is just a plain bunch of blue, green, and purple dots but it’s literally deeper than what it appears to be on the surface. I just think that metaphorically, creatively, and artistically, it’s so unique that it has to be #1, at least in my opinion.
July 6, 2012
Graphic Novel Contest Press Release
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Cleveland, OH JULY 2012 – Comic Art Fans is pleased to announce a collaboration with Jim Moorman, author of Jamaican Flowers. Jim will be offering a comic artist the opportunity to turn his novel, Jamaican Flowers, into a full-length graphic novel and give Comic Art Fans subscribers the power to select the winner.
The contest will begin on July 6, 2012 and run 90 days, ending at midnight on Halloween (October 31st.) Through banner advertising on sites like deviantart.com and through word of mouth, comic artists will be directed to a contest page on Comic Art Fans, http://www.comicartfans.com/jamaican-flowers-contest.asp where the competition rules will be published. Artists wishing to enter for a chance to win will be required to submit three sample pages of their choosing from an action sequence in the novel.
Submissions will reside on Comic Art Fans and CAF subscribers will be able to view the entries as they arrive. Guidelines' for submitting artwork can be found at http://www.comicartfans.com/jamaican-flowers-contest.asp. Beginning on October 15th, voting will be opened for CAF subscribers to vote for their favorite submission. The winner will be announced in a November CAF newsletter.
Jim said, “I’m thrilled to be able to offer an opportunity like this to an artist who’s been waiting for his (or her) big break. Artists aren’t always writers, so by offering the opportunity to create a graphic novel based on a story that’s already been written will open the door for a lot of artists to compete. I hope CAF receives a lot of great entries from which to choose.”
About the Story
Sonny Flowers is pure, charming genius when it comes to biochemistry and genetics – specifically, marijuana and its potential to make the world a more joyful place, but he still has a lot to learn about fatherhood, guilt, women, happiness and himself, and very little time to learn it in. Sonny has already lost one daughter and will lose the other unless he can win her back – and do it before he literally loses his mind. With the Feds about to shut down his Stateside marijuana farm and laboratory, Sonny finds himself in Jamaica working for a self-proclaimed Rastafarian Deity whose wife has overdosed on the very hybrid plant Sonny and his daughter, Summer, are struggling to perfect as a cure for what has become a world epidemic: Bipolar Disorder. A crooked general, determined to make a splash in the world, has other ideas for the hybrid's properties. Faced with sharks (the salty kind), a plane crash, a tongueless henchman, the haunting memories of those he's loved and lost (and why it was probably his fault), not to mention his own blooming psychosis, Sonny finds help wherever the universe is willing to provide it: Dehlia Storm, a nineteen-year-old voodoo priestess, and her two-timing boyfriend, are for some reason willing to help Sonny save the two women he loves. Time running out, Sonny not only has to decide which characters in this crazy story he's living he can trust, but also what is real and what decidedly is not.
About Jim Moorman
Cleveland, OH native, Jim Moorman has shocked friends, family, and acquaintances by actually stringing together a few coherent sentences. Those sentences, paragraphs, and pages work to form Jamaican Flowers, Jim's debut novel. Jamaican Flowers is a testament to Jim's love of all things tropical and light-hearted. A former member of the U.S. Navy, he served as part of the Presidential Ceremonial Guard in Washington D.C. and spent two years abroad in South Korea. After returning to the states, he pursued a career in sales and marketing in the technology sector, writing and scribbling in the evenings and weekends. He holds no fancy degrees and remains obstinately determined to master the craft of writing novels, even in spite of suffering from ADHD. His sarcasm knows no bounds and he maintains that he writes to inspire and entertain his willing readers. In his spare time, Jim enjoys whistling, laughing, and just taking it easy. Look for his next release, Rumba Republic, to launch at the end of 2012 (if we're still here after December 21st).
About ComicArtFans.com
With more than a half million original piececs of comic art already posted by collectors, Comic Art Fans (CAF) is the largest comic art collecting website online today. Started in 2003, CAF has more than 80,000 registered users and is visited by a half million unique visitors each month.
July 2, 2012
No Fairy Tale for Cleveland… Yet
Jim here, “Sweet Jim,” has asked me to do a guest blog. I’m new to this whole blogging/writing thing and was thinking why on God’s green earth would I want to spend my precious, precious time writing and then he gets to post my words on his page? Newbie has no clue how the blog-diggity world works yet and let’s face it, fast is not the speed at which I write. Drive, yes. Write, NO. Not too proud to admit that. So Jim, um yeah, thanks for that very gracious offer. Sounds sooo appealing? He assured me that it would behoove me and I guess since he is a friend in real-life and not just on the Internet, I would believe him. (Whispering under my breath: Actually, I read up on guest blogs on my own. Jim was correct. It was unanimous and the blogosphere had spoken. No offense to Jim here, but a girl’s gotta check things out for herself, ya know?) So thank you Jim, for real, sans any and all sarcasm. I hope he likes this, but then again, if he doesn’t, he won’t post it, you won’t be reading it and he and I will no longer be friends, in real-life, in Cyberspace, or anywhere. Oh man, kicking the sarcasm is hard. That lasted all of one sentence. A twelve step program might be in order. Whew. Anyone else outta breath?
All-righty then, on to business. A guest blog topic? Previous posts about family, friends, pets, shoes, in comparison to a strip-club, marijuana, baseball? Oh boy, just a tad bit incongruous. This should be easy. Oops, that sarcasm again. Let’s see, Jim and I met through mutual friends several years ago at the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo’s “Twilight at the Zoo” event. Just as a little side note, he was sporting an “Afternoon Delight” t-shirt. My mind is a wasteland of stupid useless information, albeit sometimes amusing tidbits. Anywho, our zoo is one of the many positive things Cleveland has to offer and Cleveland is something he and I both have in common. Ding. Ding. Ding. We have a winner. Cleveland, ah Cleveland, we love you and know you are great but it is that unfortunate city beaten down and the butt of never-ending jokes. The mistake by the lake. The city with the combustible river. And, of course, the city constantly wallowing in its own sports misery. Hard to discuss Cleveland and not have it lead in some way to sports. The most recent kung-fu kick to our city’s kahunas? “Our” former self-proclaimed “King” winning it all for Miami. Doubled-over. Ouch.
So yeah, I’m going there, I am going to write about sports. Oh, if you could only hear how hard I am laughing at myself right now. Now, it’s not going to be what you think. A sports statistician, I. Am. Not. And when I say sports, I mean basketball, and when I say basketball, what I really mean is one ring-wearing athlete in particular.
LeBron, to me, essentially was an “employee” during his tenure here. Yeah, yeah, I know he’s a superstar, a role model and it’s much more intricate than just being an “employee,” but work with me here. He did his “job” very well, excluding some pitiful performances in the post season and literally quitting the game and the team long before the final buzzer in Game 5 against Boston in 2010. He was free to leave for any reason whatsoever, as any employee of a company is free to do. It was the Cleveland Cavaliers not the Cleveland Mafia. He did not owe it to us to stay. Of course we hoped he would. Loyalties were discounted. Promises were broken. You never want to see a good “employee” go. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Our hopes were shattered. Shit happens.
But how he left? Deplorable. Standard professional protocol would have you announce your intention to resign in person to your boss. You let them know you appreciate all they and the company has done for you, but your decision is final, you’d prefer not to be made any counteroffers as you made your decision to leave very carefully. Always a difficult situation for both parties, but there’s certainly a right way to handle it. We then all move on. We celebrate your new opportunity and wish you well at a going away party with cake and drinks and merriment. Done. Clearly, it wouldn’t have been quite that simple for LeBron or for Cleveland, but did it really have to go down the way it did? I think not.
Decorum was tossed aside and we were strung along and spoon fed lies with an accompanying tasteless side-dish of a very public slap in the face. All this to a “company” and city that adored him. For that, Cleveland had every right to be upset.
So he wins in Miami and deserved to win. Can’t take that away from him. However, just because he won down there like he proclaimed he would does not mean that he couldn’t have done the same thing in Cleveland. That would have been some story. Hometown kid from humble beginnings wins the championship for his home team. The Cleveland curse is lifted. He’s the city’s hero. A bronzed statue is erected and people come from far and wide to gaze upon this “King” and take pictures with it. That there is good stuff, the stuff fairy tales are made of… But it wasn’t so…
I don’t live my life expecting fairy tales. I work hard for what I have. I’m certainly not sitting around waiting for a white picket fence to get dropped onto my front lawn. Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo. Heads up! Plop. Thank you Fairy Godmother. Or for my prince charming to come riding in on his noble steed. Yet, I have kissed more frogs in my lifetime than I could shake a stick at and I’d like to beat a few of them with said stick, but we’ll leave the amphibian abuse for another blog.
Nonetheless, I like a happy ending and this really could have been a fairy tale come to life, like “Beauty and the Beast.” Belle was the “Beauty” in the story, whose love for a “Beast” breaks an enchanted spell and transforms him back into a prince.
Let’s rename Beauty here, we shall call her LeBelle. Yeah that’s right, for the sake of my little analogy here I am going to compare a NBA star to a Disney princess. The Beast’s plight was not LeBelle’s fault but she held the power to soothe the savage beast and to break the curse once and for all. In this story, however, LeBelle had a secret dalliance for a couple of years with two other guys and eventually ran off with them. She lived happily ever after in a land they call South Beach. And for the Beast? Well, hell hath no fury like a Beast scorn. I don’t care for this ending. I much prefer the original and the version starring Prince Cleveland.
The Cavs are now rebuilding and committed to not give one “Beauty” the power to make or break the team again. It’s less of a “Beauty and the Beast” situation and more of a “Snow White and the Eight Dwarfs” (as seven isn’t enough). We will enjoy every minute of watching all the hard working “dwarfs” march along until we at long last hear “Hi Ho Hi Ho, it’s off to win the finals we go.” One season, one team, one day, the story for Cleveland will eventually end with “and they all lived happily ever after.” Cleveland deserves a fairy tale ending.
The End.
[image error] Sherrie’s blog, Sherrie,Sherrie, Quite Contrary…. offers a humorous look at life for single woman and mothers after 39.
