I don't like sports at all. I find them to be incredibly boring and unnecessarily time-consuming. Like paperwork. Oh, and sports fans are generally (but not always) narcoleptic closet cases turned on by tranny Nazis dancing to Air Supply. Take football for instance--it takes them like 3 minutes to set up a play that lasts usually 15 seconds at most. Its like politics with more testosterone and tighter pants. Completely stupid. And I'm digressing already.
Last night the sport of hockey wrapped up its 2008-2009 season with the final game of The Stanley Cup series. If you're a sports fan who also happens to enjoy a good pot boiler you know that this year the series went to the full and maximum seven games. Whoever wins four games first wins. Simple enough.
From what I understand the final two teams who squared off against each other in this year's series was a rehash of last year's series--the Pittsburgh Penguins and the Detroit Red Wings. I'd like to make it abundantly clear that I couldn't give a rat's ass about either team, or hockey in general for that matter.
(I'm in Buffalo and I tried backing (more like paying attention to) The Sabres a few years ago, but the playoff round they made it too proved to be too stressful and suspenseful for me. If I want suspense I'll watch a Hitchcock movie, I won't watch a sporting event.)
But my neighbor is a Red Wings fan. His fandom reaches into the territories of the obnoxious and the annoying. He's got Red Wings window flags on both sides of his car. He owns numerous t-shirts, overpriced jerseys and the like. He goes to games (in Detriot), smuggles in and and throws a dead octopi on the ice whenever something... I don't know, exciting happens.
(Before I continue, what the fuck is up with the octopus? Seriously. We really can't pin it on the greed, avarice or incompetence of the automotive industry whose world capital happens to be Detroit. Is it in reference to the original title of The Beatles' Help! album (Eight Arms to Hold You) or the Veruca Salt album that eventually picked up the sloppy seconds title? The octopus isn't indigenous to Michigan, so what the hell is it? All I know is its pretty gay and I don't want to know anymore. I just don't.)
Speaking of the octopus, he's also got an octopus bubble machine and paints octopi and other gay Red Wings crap on the fact of his 3 1/2 year-old daughter who honestly couldn't care less. Oh, and he hangs a Red Wings banner off his balcony (behind one of the largest trees in the neighborhood) that looks like a tattered and faded bedsheet. It's got the team's name and lists all the years where they... I don't know, accomplished something supposedly noteworthy. And my neighbor added the years since on this banner with a since equally-faded Sharpie.
Don't get me wrong: my neighbor is a nice enough guy. It's his fandom I take exception with. His main interests in life are fishing, Godzilla, any sports team out of Detroit (except the baseball team I think) and The Cure. And before you ask, no, I'm not making this up.
I used to like The Cure. I actually had every album and listened to them with some frequency. Then I met my neighbor. I met him before the band released that Join the Dots B-sides and rarities box set. He was a tad on the rabid side and that should've been my first red flag. But at the time I was kind of excited about it too so the prospect of not having to hang onto that Standing on the Beach/Staring at the Sea cassette in itself was sort of exciting.
Cut to that summer. The Cure put out their self-titled release. The buildup to the was ultimately its demise. At least for me. I got updates from fansites at least 3 times a day.
They played All Cats Are Grey for an encoure at a Japanese show.
They're playing Leno this Friday night.
Korn's producer is recording the new album.
The opening track is supposed to have a very aggressive feel to it.
Robert Smith dropped a deuce that looks like Morrissey's junk.
ANYTHING that happened (or even supposedly happened) with The Cure I heard about. The album got seriously talked up to the point when it didn't deliver I took out this barrage of uselessly insignificant trivia and information on the band itself by writing them off forever. And can I really blame all this on my neighbor? Is it his fault The Cure hasn't put out an album I'd like to listen to more than once since 1992?
No, it isn't. But it is his fault that he's got to plop stupid crap on me about a band I marginally enjoyed at that point at best. And for that his precious Detroit Red Wings suffered...! Go Penguins, bitches!!! Eat a dick! Eat more than one dick! Eat a whole bunch...!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment