Sympathy For The Devil

Son Of Sam – Elliott Smith

Firstly, let me begin by saying that I have apparently been spelling Elliott Smith‘s name wrong since forever. I didn’t know there were two “t”s. If you search the archives, you’ll see that I’ve made the appropriate changes. Again, my gravest apologies.

Secondly, I was actually going to make this a really long post about the whole Chris Benoit situation. For anyone who doesn’t know, Benoit is this professional wrestler who was recently involved in a horrific murder-suicide case. As some of you may have heard, I’ve been a big pro wrestling fan all my life. Yes, I know it’s fake and know I do not care. I would go off into my usual treatise about how it’s an art form that has more in common with figure skating than actual combat, but this is neither the time nor the place.

Chris Benoit was one of the greatest wrestlers who ever lived and I was a fan of his. The best wrestlers make a match look realistic while at the same time protecting themselves and their opponent. A guy like Benoit could drop you right on your neck and you wouldn’t even feel it. Well, not that much anyway. He was a true artist inside the ring and someone who lived for telling a story through physical combat, fake as it was. When you consider that he was considered one of the greatest ever despite not being blessed with the height and look normally associated with a professional wrestler (think Hulk Hogan), his accomplishments are all the more extraordinary.

Well, it turns out that this idol of mine was a psychopath, a steroid freak and a coward. You can imagine how disturbing this is for me. I don’t want to condemn the man, even though I should. My own biases are clouding my judgment. I mean, imagine if Paris Hilton was involved in a murder-suicide? I wouldn’t give two shits about it, but just because the involved personality is someone who I respected I find myself making excuses for him. I’m almost relieved that all these steroid allegations are coming to light because it allows people to jump to a quick conclusion without contemplating all the terrible angles of this story (like I am). “Oh, he just had a bad chemical reaction that caused him to lash out.” That’s what a lot of people are saying. But it’s too easy. Clearly, there was something dark, something unholy in this man’s heart and I pray to God that He will forgive him and that he and his family can find some peace.

I know, that was a lot considering I didn’t intend for this post to become about him but once I start thinking about it…*sigh* I’ll never understand, but I want to badly. I’ll stop now.

Thirdly, I’ve started playing soccer on Tuesday nights. We were horrible in our first game. We showed a lack of coordination, preparation and conditioning. I felt so bad because I suffered muscle spasms early in the second half and I was cursing myself for being in such bad shape. Worse, there’s this girl on the team named Aprile (not a typo) who I think is kind of cute and she saw me go down like a little bitch. To further kill any possible game I had left, my mom interrupted the team’s post-match chill out session by calling Derek to find out when I was coming home. That one hurt.

Fourthly, the Benoit thing and some Annia stuff (that I may or may not post about) has left me in kind of a funk, which explains my lack of posts (not that anybody really noticed). I think William has been on a decent roll. I’m just dropping in to pick up the slack.

Fifthly, Max sent me this hilarious link for the Movie Basketball Players Mock Draft. If you don’t like basketball or crappy sports movies, this probably isn’t for you.

Sixthly…Weezer news! Didn’t we all love Pig? Well, there are no guarantees that it’s going to be on the new album but…who cares, there’s going to be a new album! Ah, I can breathe again.

Sev…okay, enough. Here’s a funny article that David Cross wrote for Pitchfork Media. If you don’t like irony or you take Pitchfork too seriously, this probably isn’t for you.

Lastly, I’ve been hearing good things about Transformers, so I might be forced to give it a look. I mean, I can be stubborn and I can be an asshole, but I hate to be a stubborn asshole. Besides, even if I end up not liking it I should be making that judgment firsthand, shouldn’t I? This little Soundwave documentary whet my appetite too.

I am going to be your new boss. Ha ha ha. It’s my greatest dream come true. Welcome to the Hotel Hell. Check-in time is now. Check out-time is never.
Does my room have cable?
No. And the sheets are made of fire.
Can I change rooms?
Sorry. We’re all booked up. Hell convention in town!
Can I have a late check-out?
I’ll have to talk to the manager.
You’re not…the manager? Even in your own fantasy?
I’m the owner. Co-owner. With Satan!
Okay, just so I understand it, in your wildest fantasy you are in Hell and you are co-running a bed and breakfast with the Devil.
Yeah, but I haven’t told you my salary yet.
Go.
Eighty-THOUSAND dollars a year.