OK, I can’t possibly be expected to write something profound tonite, not after leaving my emotions on the couch after the incredible Brock Lesnar/Chris Benoit main event on WWE Smackdown. One of the top 5 matches I’ve seen all year. The match has a great rhythm, great psychology, Lesnar’s amazing facial expressions, and I’m sharing way too much right now, aren’t I? Damnit.
Well, I’ll leave you some linkage for the day…some of mine, some from others. If you’re super ambitious, check out my “Best Of” page and poke around…I’ve added November to the page, so relive the month that was. Or like, don’t. Just pretend like you did and I’ll be wrapped in warm fuzzies all day long. Life’s a powerful cocktail of optimism and utter denial sometimes. Like Steve Winwood, I’m gonna roll with it. Like Pat Benatar, I’m gonna run with the shadows of the night. Like 50 Cent, you can find me in da club. Like Phil Collins, I can feel it coming in the air tonight. Oh Lord.
Story #1: Back in the day, I was a video gamer. I rocked the 8-bit Nintendo hard-core. Loved me some Mega-Man. Couldn’t get enough of Contra. They great thing about Contra was that you’d put in that code to get 30 lives, and inevitably end up with say 33 lives. Which proves that people who have no fear of death take life by the horns and use it to its fullest. OK, that might be a stretch.
One of the greatest moments in “McGee Home Video History” comes to us from 1987. The scene? The kitchen. The occasion? Dad’s side of the family coming to visit. The situation? All the while, my then 8-year old brother had been feverishly trying to beat the original Super Mario Brothers. He poured his heart and soul trying to get to that final level (8-4) and save the Princess. So here’s the dialogue that you hear on the tape, all off-camera while my Dad is busy filming my baby cousin crap his diaper:
*Sounds of thumping up the stairs*
Casey: Ryan! Ryan!
Ryan: What?
Casey: 8-4!!!!!
Ryan: You did??? Nuh uh.
*Pause*
Casey: I almost made it to 8-4…
This kills me every time for some reason. Slays me. I double over with laughter. Perhaps it's hearing his soul crack in defeat when I bring him face to face with his own inadequacies. Maybe it's hearing the bitter disappointment derived from knowing at that tender age he'd never reach the "8-4 of Life".
The fact that we both sound like Minnie Mouse on helium doesn’t hurt.
Point is, I was pretty decent at these games, but I sure as hell never beat Super Mario Brothers 3 in 11 minutes. Son, that ain’t right.
Snapshot #2: I was flipping through the networks after Smackdown and caught a minute of “CSI”, which reminded me of this, and all the hate mail I got afterwards. Good times.
Snapshot #3: My mom has this amazing talent. I think most mothers have it. They must give it to you in the class where you learn how to be a mom. They have those, right? They must. (Remember comparing notes starting in like 2nd grade, compiling a master list of “Mom tips” in order to somehow subvert their omnipotence, thinking that the whole strength in numbers thing would work for you? Well, your morally corrupt study group never could quite crack the code.) Because moms know everything. Unless they’re strung out on crack.
Well, my momma wasn’t none strung out on crack. She often wondered if I was on drugs, though, since she had this amazing ability to catch a snippet of any type of pop culture I was enjoying and have it be the absolutely last snippet you’d want your Mom to see. Like, say, someone saying “motherf@cker” in “Red Dawn” or hearing “Maybe you’re just like my mother/She’s never satisfied…” in “When Doves Cry”. And then Mom would extrapolate and think that everything I listened to was just like “Straight Outta Compton” and every movie I watched was just like “Reservoir Dogs”, and her father would be turning over in his grave if he could see the way she was raising us, and then she’s take us to church.
The irony of course is that I’d never know when these parts were coming. My mother and I would experience them simultaneously for the first time. Otherwise, I would have turned off that scene in “Top Gun” where Tom Cruise and Kelly McGillis get their freak on to Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away”. (Yes, I know that scene wasn’t that bad, but I was like 11 when it came on cable. And yes, that dates me. Deal.) So I’d be thinking, “Hey, what’s the heck’s going on here?” and then I’d hear, “HEY, WHAT’ THE HECK’S GOING ON IN HERE?” The scene took the breath away from my mother, just not in the same way it did for Tom and Kelly. More of the “panting after running Mach 3 from the hallway to the TV to block my impressionable eyes” way.
Anyways, I thought about this when I read Kristin’s account of a Liz Phair song that should never, ever be played in a public venue. I’m surprised my Mom wasn’t there.
Snapshot #4: Holy crap. My head’s floating. This never ceases to weird me out.
Snapshot #5: One of the interesting things about keeping a blog is that, whether you intend to or not, you’re basically giving yourself and those who care to look a virtual (literally) archeology of your self. You can carbon date emotions quite accurately by just going to a particular date, sifting through layers of virtual dirt to accurately, more or less, depict a certain time and place.
That is, of course, if the entry itself s true. And for the 15,732nd time, I’m far from interested in factual truth here, I’m talking about emotional truth. And in that, as much as an admittedly biased source such as myself can say, I’m done a fairly good job of doing just that. And while it’s easy to wince looking back (as I did here) but sometimes, it’s fascinating, because you feel like you’re reading someone else’s words. I mean, you know you wrote them. But you don’t recognize that person. It’s a bad day when that unknown person is a lot happier than you are now, but quite a relief to see when you’ve moved up from Mopey McGee land. (That last example of course only works if your last name is “McGee”. And you read over your old blog entries. OK, let’s just appreciate the alliteration and move on, shall we?)
Anyways, I always liked this entry. I like the guy who wrote that, but I’m perfectly happy to not be him anymore. This guy, on the other hand, can take a long walk off a short pier. Good lord, he’s making want to grab the bottle of Stoli and start attacking my liver with great vengeance and furious anger. This guy’s a trip, tho. I’ll keep him around for special occasions.
Happy weekend everyone.
---Ryan ‘Maverick’ McGee
Posted by Ryan McGee at December 04, 2003 11:46 PM