Ted Wins (a Blog)

When I was in my mid-twenties I loved David Fincher’s Fight Club.  Like a lot of twenty-somethings, I thought it spoke to me and for me, to a certain extent.  I dug the whole “corporations and posessions are bad” vibe.  I dug the fighting and the male bonding stuff.  I really resonated with the whole “sticking it to the man” ethos, because at that time I was working for The Man as it were. 

In the interest of full disclosure, I now own a few pieces of Ikea furniture/housewares in my home, which (the home) is significantly nicer than the one Tyler Durden lives in for most of the film.  In fact, I just bought two cheap footstools from Ikea last week and they’re lovely.  That’s not to say I’ve gone all “Edward Norton character pre-meeting the Brad Pitt character,” but still.  Full disclosure. 

In another bit of disclosure, I spent a decent part of my twenties living, to a certain extent, like some of the characters in Fight Club.  I went through a boxing phase, and a pretty long playing-semipro-football phase, which I might still be in.  In short, I got my a** whupped a lot, but also whupped the occasionall a**.  It was fun.  The male bonding was real.  That part of the film still resonates.  I also lived in pretty crappy houses, because they were all I could afford (see: working for the man while also being addicted to semipro football).  Knowing full well that my crappy houses were still pretty nice (the house on Climax, not necessarily the one on Clemens), it’s still no fun to live in crappy, leaky, disgusting old houses. 

Anyway.  Here are some reactions to seeing the film again as a 32 year-old, which I realized pretty early on I probably shouldn’t have done (seeing it again).  I felt the way I felt when I recently went to an amusement park one too many times…it ceased being fun.  I realized I was over it, or maybe had outgrown it.  Anyway, the reactions:

1. Fincher is an amazing director.  Yeah, much of what he did in the film that looked unique and cool has been ripped off to such an extent that it no longer looks unique and cool, but it was still a really good-looking, creative movie.
2. The script was heavy-handed and preachy, almost to the point of being ridiculous.  This reaction pretty much speaks for itself but I’m ashamed at how much I didn’t notice this in my mid-twenties, when I was so busy thinking this movie was awesome. 
3. The movie was a little too “hardcore” and self-destructive for my ever-softening 32-year old constitution.  That is, I have less of a stomach for violence and overall disturbingness.  This film is full of both. 
4. My houses really weren’t that bad (see: above comments re houses).
5. This really is a movie for young, idealistic people, not not-so-young people who have lived a little and lost some idealism.  The idea of stealing human fat to make soap that I can then sell to big chain stores just doesn’t have the appeal that it once did.  And I’m not really sad to see this kind of idealism go (puts feet on Ikea footstool). 
6. I can’t get done watching this movie and thank God for it because of the violence, sensuality, and hopelessness that it contains. 
7. Fight Club is the kind of movie you say you like just to convey a certain image or vibe about yourself, and I’ve found that I’m now too old to even continue attempting to convey that vibe.  I am a little sad to see this go. 

If you still love this movie it’s okay (not that you need my permission to like or not like a given movie).  It’s still a great film, and will no doubt be a reference piece for years to come.  Just wondered if anyone has had a similar reaction to this film. 

Jamaican sprinter and newly minted World’s Fastest Human Usain Bolt looked really comfortable in front of 91,000 people last night in Beijing.  A little too comfortable, probably.  Bolt, as you know by now, destroyed the rest of the field and set a new world record in the process, running 9.6-someting in the 100 meter dash.  It was an incredible run, and one of the more impressive athletic things I’ve probably ever seen, in a life spent watching and chronicling impressive athletic things. 

The problem, for me, was context.  As a coach I’ve spent a week trying to teach my high school kids not only the fundamentals of football, but also how not to be jerks on the field.  I also spend a good bit of time on my six-year old son, trying to teach the same lessons, only to have them undermined by a prodigious Jamaican sprinter.  Now, bear in mind that I long ago stopped expecting professional athletes to be classy on television.  This happened around 1987 after Walter Payton retired.  But still. 

Bolt began his preening a good fifteen meters before the end of the race, and then continued it for twenty-some minutes afterward, including his  mother but not once stopping to put his arm around teammate, countryman, and classy guy Asafa Powell.

Now, I’m all for good old once-every-four-years Olympic exuberance, but something about this whole affair just seemed a little overwrought.  Some perspective would be nice.  After all, today’s World’s Fastest Human is tomorrow’s Former World’s Fastest Human.  Tomorrow’s tweaked achilles tendon.  Tomorrow’s pulled hamstring (see American Sprinter Tyson Gay, also a class act). 

Bolt’s performance left me sighing and rolling my eyes, and partly because there was no sense of feel-good Olympic achievement to his story.  He started running the hundred less than a year ago.  He’s just a really gifted guy.  Nothing wrong with that, of course, it’s just that he didn’t really Overcome Anything, which is what we want out of our Olympic heroes. (author’s note:  I do realize that as a world class athlete, Bolt, like others, has overcome a great deal to get to where he is.)

Last night’s real Olympic inspiration came from the women’s marathon where a 38-year old Romanian woman made a courageous break halfway through and held off the rest of the field to win her first Olympic marathon, and where a runner from Great Britain finished the race, limping to the finish line on a stress-fractured femur.  In an event (marathoning) that, from a television perspective, should be like watching paint dry, the drama was riveting. 

The best part about the 100 meter circus came afterward, in a rare moment of sports understatement, from bronze medalist and American sprinter Walter Dix who, when asked about Usain Bolt, said simply:  “The guy can run.”  Exactly. 

Yeah, I couldn’t think of anything more clever than “The Olympics” to title this post, which is my first in a string of what will be very intermittent posting (cue: crickets chirping) for the next few weeks due to the start of HS football (I’m coaching).  And I’m writing this in the time it takes my wife to run into town and get a pizza, so forgive any errors and omissions. 

Why do we enjoy the Olympics? (note: I enjoy them)  There’s something comforting about turning on the television at any given hour, knowing that I will see:

1. Cool buildings.  This is the first Olympics that I’ve really noticed the extreme coolness of most of the venues.  Nice job Beijing. 
2. Bob Costas. It’s like Football Night in America, if you took away Jerome Bettis and replaced him with Tom Brokaw.
3. Tom Brokaw (see:  item 2).
4. Sports that you’ve never cared about, and in two weeks will immediately resume not caring about again.  But boy, that Michael Phelps is something.  I think he has gills.  (Aside:  I was watching platform diving with my son tonight - he’s six - and he remarked that watching the Chinese women dive was like “dropping a pencil in the water.”)
5. (Aside:  Did you know that the good ole USofA has a female 33m platform diver from Elwood, IN, which is right up the road from where I grew up in Hartford City, IN?  Elwood was in our conference.)
6. The fact that many of our athletes and coaches have foreign-sounding names.  It probably makes me a jerk to notice that, and also mention it in my blog, but it’s still kind of interesting. 
7. Bela Karolyi (sic).  That guy is awesome. 

Well, the pizza is here, so I’m out.  Not that you’re necessarily reading anyway. 

I get lots of questions from evangelical types, usually along the lines of “What’s your beef with the emergent church?” or “Why do you have to be so mean?” But lately, the question on everyone’s lips, it seems, is “What do you think about Brett Favre?”

What do I think about Brett Favre?  Great looking guy, in a rugged, stubbly sort of way.  Probably a Great American in that John Wayne-ian, inspirational sort of way.  Though he played in the league’s smallest media market, we live in a globalized world where there really is no small media market, so Favre parlayed that aw-shucks small-townness into a very marketable persona:  The Regular Guy. 

So what happens when the Regular Guy unretires, turns into Terrell Owens and starts making impractical demands on his team, and on management?  Demands like, “I want my old job back, even though you hired someone to replace me.” 

The Packers, of course, didn’t welcome him back with open arms.  They did what teams do when they’re sick of a particular athlete, and have moved on.  They traded a Great American.  And for what it’s worth, I think the Packers did entirely the right thing.  Though the state of Wisconsin is bawling its collective eyes out over Brett Favre, the Packers move on with two promising young quarterbacks (Rodgers and Brohm) instead of treading water for another year of uncertainty with an aging legend.  You’ll recall that Joe Namath suckily finished his career in L.A., and Johnny Unitas finished up his in San Diego.  There is precedent for this. 

Meanwhile, the Jets, and the Favres, make out like bandits.  The Jets get what they haven’t had in years - a good quarterback - and Deanna Favre will be on the cover of The New York Post for doing exciting, newsworthy things like walking out of her apartment in the morning. 

**

Preseason Reactions, Volume 1:

• Bears DE Dan Bazuin, who (shameless plug) I profiled at length in my book Game Time: Inside College Football had three tackles.  Congrats Danny!  Get Game Time here:  http://www.amazon.com/Game-Time-Inside-College-Football/dp/1599211998/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1218200693&sr=1-3
• Kyle Orton had more completions than Rex Grossman, but Grossman had more TD’s (1).  (ps - the whole passing game still looked crappy)  Still, if it were up to me, I would choose Grossman.  (pps - I don’t think the Bears have a starting NFL WR on their roster)
• Former arena leaguer Bobby Sippio scored a TD for the Chiefs.  I love to see former arena guys lighting it up, as I played (shameless plug) arena ball for my second book, available here:  http://www.amazon.com/Paper-Tiger-Athletes-Underbelly-Football/dp/1599210436/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1218200824&sr=1-4
• It’s a week late but how about Michael Hart (former Michigan RB, current Indianapolis Colt) in the Hall of Fame Game?  
• Also a week late, but how about Art Monk’s Hall of Fame induction speech?  He used more scripture in one Hall of Fame induction speech than many American pastors use in the pulpit on Sunday morning. 

A brief excerpt from my forthcoming wrestling book, on perhaps the greatest one-night exhibition of literary and wrestling talent ever assembled.  Also, enjoy the photos:

An Aside on my Ring Walk Music, and How Sweet it Is For a wrestler, choosing ring-walk music is probably the most important thing in one’s repertoire, besides maybe “gear” (aka clothing).  As we all learned in high school music classes, music conveys emotion and stirs reactions in people, therefore, it’s important for a babyface to pick babyfaceish music[1], and for a heel to pick heely music.  For example, Vandermolen (heel) chose a song by Motorhead called Ace of Spades, and the Publishers Weekly heel stable will all walk to the ring to Ice, Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice – a double-entendre meant to play upon the fact that Ice plagiarized most of that song from a song by David Bowie.   But enough about their music.  I chose The Warrior by Patty Smyth and Scandal, which I would characterize as upbeat, guitar-and-drums chick rock in which Smyth sings about “shooting at the walls of heartache,” whatever that means.  The Warrior is the kind of song that worms its way into your subconscious, causing you to involuntarily hum or whistle it at random times.  It is also quintessentially 80’s and almost always makes the listener feel good, making it the perfect wrestling babyface song.  At the risk of patting myself on the back, I received compliments on it all night. 
 Go here to get your very own “Ted Wins.” t-shirt.  Because love won last year:  http://tedkluck.spreadshirt.com/us/US/Shop/Article/Index/article/Ted-Wins-T-Shirt-2828995

[1] See also, the section on Hulk Hogan and his I Am a Real American theme song, which sucked but was oddly catchy and played upon the idea that Americans are good and everyone else is bad, which is exactly the idea that all of wrestling played upon throughout most of the 80’s. 

There’s a great scene in the movie Jerry McGuire in which a star quarterback, Frank Cushman, explains that he has “Cush lash.”  Cush is sick of himself.  I have much the same feeling, having been on the blogosphere for a month or two.  I’ve been on the front lines of a burgeoning debate (dialogue? conversation?) beetween the emergent church and young Calvinists, largely because of a book I co-authored.  Frankly, though I think it’s important, I’m really tired of the whole thing.

Enter Gum, Geckos and God: A Family’s Adventure in Space, Time and Faith by my friend Jim Spiegel.  I took it with me to a public pool and read almost the whole thing in one sitting.  It came to me like a splash of cool water, but more on that later. 

In the mid 1990’s I didn’t really know Jim Spiegel, despite the fact that I went to Taylor University and he taught there.  I’d never had him for a class, but knew he was the cool, young-ish professor who played guitar and over whom philosophy-girl types swooned.  Several years later I learned he would soon be marrying one of my wife’s friends, and that we would soon have the occasion to hang out.  I felt completely un-qualified for the task, but we became great friends, sharing an affection for football, baseball, our wives (respectively) and James Dean movies.  Jim is, to quote Good Will Hunting, wicked smart, but perhaps his greatest strength is the fact that he doesn’t always have to be showing you how wicked smart he is. 

This all comes through in Gum, Geckos and God which is filled with great doctrine and philosophy, but doesn’t read like a book that is filled with great doctrine and philosophy.  That is to say it’s charming and readable, largely because it is based on Jim’s conversations with his kids.  This book cuts through everything I’m sick of (namely debating emergent stuff…I know, it’s my own fault) and gets right to the heart of what’s beautiful about Christianity - including heaven, God’s grace, our families, and the death and resurrection of Christ. 

As part of the blog tour, I was tasked with coming up with one question to ask Jim.  Preferably something about film, ethics, philosophy, or parenting.  In light of our shared love for secular music and movies, I asked him what role these two items will play in his kids’ spiritual formation, and how he plans to be involved in that process.  Here’s his answer: 

Even at their young ages (Bailey–8 and Sam–5), my wife and I have used a lot of pop culture material to teach and reinforce the Christian worldview. This is clear from several scenes in Gum, Geckos and God, of course, such as where we process ideas from Star Wars. But I think that as our kids grow older, this integration of faith and culture will only become more intentional and pronounced. Naturally, we will need to continue to be very careful to discern what sorts of film and music are age appropriate for them. For example, we don’t think they are ready for the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but we do watch lots of classic films with them, from Swiss Family Robinson to Buster Keaton’s silent films (which they love). These films often contain good life lessons–as in the case of SFR–or are just visually impressive and show tremendous ingenuity–as with Keaton, who was one of the most clever film people ever (and a remarkable athlete). And lately I have introduced Bailey to the music of Queen. Their song “Bohemian Rhapsody” is chock full of food for thought, about everything from opera to capital punishment. Since Bailey loves their music, he is eager to learn about the band and the ideas in their songs. I expect that this sort of engagement with the popular arts will continue in our home, though the conversations will no doubt grow more substantive as the kids grow older. The abiding theme that emerges (because we are intentional about making sure it does) is that all truth is God’s truth AND all beauty is God’s beauty. Even if a filmmaker or band isn’t Christian or even theistic, they may have profound insights or produce genuinely beautiful works of art that should be appreciated by Christians. And we can praise God for it, because their artistic talents derive from God himself, who is the Cosmic Aritst. So engaging the popular arts with one’s kids, when it is done carefully and with discernment, can be a significant way to contribute to their spiritual formation.

The mind-picture of Jim and Bailey banging heads to Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” makes me smile.  I only hope they have a 1976 AMC Pacer with a Twizzlers dispenser/dome light in which to enjoy it.  So if you’re like me, and are sick of books like mine, do yourself a favor and grab Gum, Geckos, and God. 

http://www.zondervan.com/Cultures/en-US/Product/ProductDetail.htm?ProdID=com.zondervan.9780310283539&QueryStringSite=Zondervan

So I saw Batman, finally.  Here are my reactions, numbered, but in no particular order:

1.       Superheroes and superhero movies are for kids, and if you can’t take a kid to see a superhero movie, what’s the point?  The majority of my “superheroes are awesome” years took place between, probably, Kindergarten and sixth grade, and The Dark Knight would have been wildly inappropriate for anyone under 18.

2.       Why would The Dark Knight have been inappropro?  It was dark.  Real dark.  Rather than lighthearted, saving-the-world, damsel-in-distress fare, The Dark Knight got All Philosophical, delving into things like insanity (The Joker) and the essential thread of good inside all people (do I believe in this?).  All that to say, someone died about once every three minutes.  There was always somebody dying and by the end of it I found that it got me down a little bit.  Now, people will write big things about Hope after the ferry-boat scene at the end, but I’m not sure I’m buying it. 

3.       I saw The Dark Knight in Bellaire, Michigan at a two-screen movie theatre that was charming, with my wife, sister-in-law, and brother-in-law, all of whom are also charming.

4.       Gobstoppers.  Yum. 

5.       Heath Ledger:  Ledger was unbelievable.  All of the reviews lauding his performance are true.  He infused the joker with a sense of evil and troubledness as yet unseen on screen.  Still, there was a part of me that wished he was Caesar Romero (see: unordered, numbered point 2). 

6.       Maggie Gyllenhaal:  An upgrade over Katie Holmes?  Yes. 

7.       Comic relief?  None.  This, too, was a little problematic for me, as supports my theory of superheroes being enjoyable for kids.  Without comic relief, a movie like this becomes something more like Pulp Fiction with a guy in a batsuit (re: violence, at least).  And Heath Ledger dressed as a deranged female nurse who sticks a knife in someone’s mouth and blows up a hospital doesn’t count as comic relief. 

8.       Liking it.  Still, I liked the movie a lot.  It was dark and violent, but still exceedingly well done, and the cinematography was beautiful.  I like the essential Bruce Wayne dilemma – man loves-woman-he-can’t-have-because-he’s-burdened-with-saving-Gotham (or the world, see: Superman).  This storyline really never gets old, and is, to me, the only storyline that really held my attention in TDK. 

**

An Open Letter To Devin Hester Regarding His Holdout,

Devin:  Get in camp.  You can live on only $445,000 a year - there are coupons, cost-saving measures, etc.  Email me and I’d be glad to share some of these ideas with you.  Also, with all due respect, you’re just a kick returner.  There have been other great kick returners, sure - guys like Via Sikahema, Dave Meggett, and Dante Hall come to mind - but none of these fine players are in the Hall of Fame, and neither are you, as yet, despite your 100 speed rating in Madden (impressive).  All that to say, go to camp. 

Best,

Ted Kluck, fan

This space will provide an ongoing commentary on some cultural items (author’s note:  This is a catch-all term for things I’m reading, watching, listening to, etc. and the word “culture” doesn’t necessarily mean that they have much, or any, real significance) that I’ve consumed, or am consuming at present, for what it’s worth (note:  probably not much). 

Infinite Jest a book by David Foster Wallace

I’ve always liked Wallace’s nonfiction and I’m currently on page 207 of his most famous work of fiction which, if you’ve read the book, you know is still pretty much the beginning.  I knew by about page 80 that this book was probably the most impressive thing I’ve ever read.  Not necessarily the best (I’ll reserve judgement) but certainly the most impressive.  Reading Wallace is not unlike watching Magnus Samuellson or some other World’s Strongest Man pull a bus, or throw boulders over a wall…you know they’re showing off, and you know it’s probably unnatural, but you really like it anyway.  If you love writing and the English launguage you’ll love this book.  Wallace does things with it (the language) that I’ve never seen done before, in ways that make me wish I had done them.  And the story is good too. 

“Newhart” (television show)

Channel surfing the other night, I ran across WGN (a Midwestern super-station out of Chicago) that has started running marathons of old Bob Newhart episodes.  My lone memories of this program are of my grandfather sitting in his recliner with a chocolate malt, finding humor in a show that I thought, as a child, was slow and ”talky.”  Now that I’m older, and my life is slow and talky, I really like this show.    And I’ve since discovered, through my dad, that this iteration of Newhart isn’t even the good one - by this I’m referring to the fact that I’ve been watching the ones where Newhart (Dick Louden) has the Inn in Vermont.  I recently caught the episode where Dick helps Kirk Devane, the pathological liar who owns the condemned Minuteman Cafe next door, clean and resurrect the cafe (spoiler alert) only to find that Kirk lied about the place being condemned in the first place.  It was good television…good enough, in fact, to make me want to track down all of the good Newharts and watch those too. 

Ironically, I watched the show on our little television in the basement, where I was seated in my grandfather’s old (and since re-apholstered) recliner.  All I needed was a malted. 

The Batman Movie  (or, rather, the fact that I haven’t seen it yet) 

Perhaps more entertaining than actually watching the latest Batman movie is reading the reviews online, especially from Christians, who I predict in the next week or two will begin “finding spiritual significance” in the film so as to sort of allow themselves to like it with a clean conscience (see also: U2, and books like The Gospel According to Tony Soprano) when they should probably just go ahead and like it anyway. 

One unfortunate manisfestation of the iPod generation (note: I don’t have an iPod) is the fact that used record stores are closing all over the place, and are soon to be a thing of the past.  This makes me sad.  I’ll miss the faint aroma of pot smoke in the air, and the bins full of someone else’s old, discarded music.  I love the tactile, hunting and gathering aspect of looking for used music.  Pulling the CD’s out of the bins, looking through the liner notes, the 30-something dork in the Sonic Youth t-shirt, hogging an entire section, etc.  For some reason it just seems way more boring to go online and buy the album. 

That said, having been inspired by Chuck Klosterman’s Fargo Rock City I’m re-acquiring a bunch of old rock albums that I’ve lost in various moves over the years (Indianapolis, Muncie, Lithuania, Clemens Street, Climax Street).  Here’s a partial list:

• Metallica (the black album)
• Motley Crue, Dr. Feelgood
• Guns n’ Roses, Appetite for Destruction
• Van Halen, 5150
• The Rocky IV soundtrack (you laugh, but try working out to this sometime…it really works)
• Stryper, To Hell With the Devil (you laugh, but…okay, you just laugh)

One of the last, great remaining used record stores is Flat, Black and Circular in East Lansing.  One major plus is its proximity to The Peanut Barrel, my favorite lunch place/watering hole.  I was early for a PB lunch appointment today and ventured upstairs to FBC, which was filled with the usual assortment of old guys, because young people don’t shop at used record stores anymore.  I found Metallica (black) in a bargain bin for $3.50 next to a bunch of Meatloaf and Mariah Carey castoffs. 

This is a great album, from start to finish.  There isn’t a weak song on it, although all of the music is almost laughably serious, with titles like “My Friend of Misery,” and “The Struggle Within.”  The liner notes are equally hilarious, featuring headshots of each member of Metallica sporting their most intimidating scowl.  You’ve gotta love these guys.  There was a time in the 80’s where they were about the only metal band that didn’t experiment with eye makeup and looking like chicks. 

My enduring memory of this album is high school football, junior year, when Kevin Whitesell, a senior, would bring his sweet boombox into the locker room and play “Enter Sandman” before the mighty Blackford Bruins charged out to face the likes of Tipton, Alexandria, and Jay County.  Thank you Metallica, and thank you Kevin Whitesell. 

I’ve now officially logged more minutes watching Summer League action on NBA.com than I logged during the entirety of the NBA playoffs.  NBA Summer League games may be the one and only truly “free” product available anywhere in the universe, as it comes without all of the junk that usually accompanies an NBA telecast, including, but not limited to: commercials, showboating, jumbotrons, hip-hop, and Charles Barkley.  It’s basketball for people who just like watching basketball. 

The games are streamed live on the website, or sometimes they’re archived…but honestly this doesn’t really matter, does it?  The games themselves also don’t ”matter” in the traditional sense, but then again, neither does most of the NBA regular season (see: the Los Angeles Clippers).    You could argue that they matter more because rookies are fighting for a roster spot and probably play harder than they may otherwise. 

There is one camera angle, and little to no play-by-play or color commentary.  The games happen in a gym, not an arena.  There are no banal halftime or postgame interviews in which tall athlete stands next to short reporter and says things like “we just really came together as a team” or “we did what we had to do” or “it is what it is.”  This is refreshing.  During timeouts there’s no music, no dancing girls, and no advertising.  You see what the camera sees, which is usually a kid mopping the floor, the scoreboard, or somebody shooting free throws.  There are no crowd shots of Spike Lee or Jack Nicholson or the chick from Desperate Housewives who’s married to the guy from the Spurs. 

And the rookie draft choices always look great in these games.  I’ve watched OJ Mayo look incredible twice,  saw Danilo Gallinari (sic) go for 14 points last night, and somebody named Donte Green light it up for 40, which I’m confident won’t happen during the regular season.   I know the basketball probably sucks by comparison to, say, playoff basketball, or even the NCAA tournament - both of which I found inexplicably boring this year.  And I know I’m probably a big dork for watching NBA Summer League games at all, but I just wanted to publicly thank the NBA for providing this free entertainment.  I’ll be sad to see the regular season start in two weeks. 

**

In other news the Chicago Bears signed former Detroit Lions running back Kevin Jones today.  I’m excited about this for a couple of reasons.  One, it’s always great to fleece a team from your conference, and two, I think Jones can really play.  Three (okay, more than a couple) he’s probably better than any RB on the Bears roster with the exception of Matt Forte, who looks promising but is still a rookie.  Four, he may have to play quarterback (see: Rex Grossman, Kyle Orton).  Finally, he has a mohawk and it’s cool when RB’s have mohawks (see: John Riggins circa the Jets). 

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And now a bit of blogosphere business, for anyone who’s actually reading.  Is anyone reading? (cue: crickets chirping) I was getting a lot of spam comments, so I had to unleash the registration feature…hope that doesn’t deter anyone from reading/posting.  Also, you may notice that I’m taking a bit of a self-imposed break from posting anything even remotely controversial regarding the church/emergent.  Yes, I’m enjoying this.  Look for more posts on fantasy football and pro wrestling in the coming weeks…though I’m sure I’ll get back to the other stuff soon enough.