What are ya gonna do?

So I don't blog much, not that anyone even reads this page or gives a hoot, but I don't. I do care though, but what are ya gonna do? That's gonna be my answer to everything now. Some people hate that phrase, and answer it with "here's what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna...", but I like the toss off quality of it, and it fits Snot well. So, I sound like a bitter guy here? What are ya gonna do? No, this isn't how I think all the time, I'm just having fun with that side of me, but what are ya gonna do? I'm gonna de-friend you because you don't like the new Star Trek film and everyone liked the new Star Trek film... what are ya gonna do? True, you can't answer everything with that catch-phrase, but what if you could, or did? You didn't get the acting job. What are ya gonna do? You're too old for me. What are ya gonna do? I can't pay the IRS on time. What are ya gonna do? My contacts lens prescription is too weak now but getting new ones cost a bundle. What are ya gonna do? Your teeth are falling out. What are ya gonna do? You can't get it up? What are ya gonna do? Hey, that's my parking space! What are ya gonna do? You're not on the guest list. What are ya gonna do?

Anyway, you get the idea... Language, words, speech, the internet, the blogoshere-all are meant to provoke, inspire or educate people right? I'd love a reaction, but I'm just trying to provoke, inspire and educate myself, keep the wheels movin' that have been slowed by age, dejection and alcohol. The facts are (for me at least, and apparently many others out there) that times are bloody tough right now. I get lost in all that shuffle and scuffle and this here should be my journal. I get turned off in fact when someone chooses to log on but can't handle the truth or criticism or negativity (or what have you). Living in plastic bubbles has hurt America. I love Face Book, but if I spouted anything other then a charming lil' quip on there I'd be defriended up the ass in no time. Hell, I like a positive person as much as the next but this aint about positivity or negativity, it's about speaking your mind. The whole "whats' on your mind" thing on Face Book annoys me because you never read someone say "life blows. I can't pay rent or get work, fuck all" or anything like that. I don't know about you, but when I'm feeling that way, I leave my status update blank, or disguise how I'm feeling with a lil' sugarcoated cleverness... I'm not sure that's a good thing, y'know?

Ok, enough about that. How about a Liver Sports Report. No, I'm not gettin' into Basketball (cuz it's the 15th month of it and we're still not in the Finals), or Hockey (cuz the Winter was long enough, fuck ice), but baseball. There's too much to discuss on the matter though for now, I'm just gonna touch on one of my fave (and yours too) players of all time, David "Big Papi" Ortiz, who's become No Popi, the Big Easy Out what have you. Despite the fact that he's already earned enough cag to take care of the entire frickin' Dominican for the next hundred years, his downfall is sad to behold. Manny Ramirez on the other hand? Jerk off. A-Roid? Nuff said. The Rocket? Don't even go there. Papi though... the longer he can't catch up with an 89 m/p/h fastball the more it looks like he's done, or has done (steroids). We'll never know the full truth of the steroid era, esp. as long as athletes keep denyin' and lyin'. That's a shame, and they're just the sports equivalent to the corruption we've seen on Wall Street and in Government the past few years. I say, if you own (shit, houses, teams, whatever), own up. None of this is gonna make me like Big Papi any less, but when an apparent good guy fails, you'd hope that he at least would own up. That he hasn't actually leads me to believe he didn't shoot up, but I may very well be wrong about that. Jim Rice declined at age 34 though, and big dudes like Ortiz often have declined quicker (George Scott, Boog Powell, Greg Luzinsky, Cecil Fielder, Mo Vaughn). I hope he revives his career though because of who he is: the most likeable, most generous, most clutch motherfucker of this era. He has one day left before rejoining the Sox lineup after that career low day (0 for 7 stranding 12 runners) which landed him short-term on the bench to clear his big head. When I said R.I.P. Big Papi I meant enjoy your time off buddy, relax bro, but hopefully not sayonara you're kaput my PED usin' friend...

With that, I bid you all (which is myself, unless, surprise, someone else is reading this) a fond goodnight. Weird weekend I had, highs (encouragement from a friend I hadn't seen in ages, seeing McCoy Tyner and Ravi Coltrane perform brilliantly at Jazz at Lincoln Ctr. and some tasty Chimays) and lows (basically being reprimanded by (a) an old wealthy guy for not having a fall back plan, as well as accidentally by (b) a cute 21 yr old. chick for not owning a condo already, drinking too much o' those high alc. content brewskies and not getting into some dumbass SNL party), but what are ya gonna do? I'm actually heading into another dreaded Monday with a more positive outlook than recent weekend to week turnovers though for some reason, and cuz... well... what are ya gonna do?