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Dono
Written by Dono
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Donovan Henderson is editor of NEXTnc.
11. Fury of the fickle fan
Wednesday, 27 September 2006

The out-of-control fan at a sporting event is cliché by now. But there's usually a contributing factor: alcohol, a son or daughter is playing, it's a major sports team competing for a major championship...

But at a co-ed rec softball game?

Unfortunately, and unbelievably, it happens.

I play in a league in Greeley in the novice division — that's the lowest league there is. It's where the church teams and the others go who want to just play for fun. My team has a few girls on it that haven't play much, or all, before coming out this year.

So it's not incredibly competitive.


But the other night we played a team who had at least one fan who insisted in on talking smack to us. So much so I was unable to resist the urge to tell the fan where he could stick it. At the time, I wondered to myself if engaging the dope was a wise move. After a day's reflection, I don't regret it.


Being vocal in support of your team is perfectly appropriate; but riding someone from the other team during a novice co-ed softball game? It's ridiculous.


It's also a head-scratcher; is this another indictment on our society? It certainly symbolizes the "ugly American" that so much of the rest of the world sees when they look at us. (This doesn't take into account all the rioting European and South American soccer fans, but that hypocrisy is a conversation for another day.)


To behave like that is indeed arrogant, shallow and demonstrates a certain level of ignorance. All things we're accused of.

It's that type of attitude that led me to stop writing about high school sports many moons ago. I've witnessed some parents of high school athletes — normally civil and reasonable — morph into something akin the queen monster in the Alein movies. Vicious and bleeding acid.

Wanting to win is one thing; being an idiot is another.

And I suppose that answers my inquiry about civility and sports — it's not that we're guilty as a society for indulging bad behavior, it's just that for every group of people that gathers, there's bound to be a few idiots among them.

And I suppose we're all guilty of being "that guy" from time to time.
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12. Now this is irony
Thursday, 22 June 2006

The other day I was driving in Greeley and saw a Che Guevara bumper sticker on the back of a BMW. I'm not sure how the communist revolutionary would take to his likeness being stuck on a glaring symbol of Western capitalism.

Frankly, I doubt the owner of the vehicle has any notion of who Guevara was, unless she's so tremendously clever that she is making some statement about the duplicity of America's wealth and the poverty much of Latin America (including Cuba) still lives in. But I doubt it. Guevara's likeness, with his beard and beret, is a popular image in subculture today; it's so cool, I'd even say it's making its way into the mainstream, however you want to define that. I saw a mom at the Taste of Fort Collins carrying a backpack with Che's picture on it.

People who embrace both Che's image and the comfortable hearth of America's freedom and opportunity would have a difficult time, I think, reconciling that inherent contradiction. Unless of course they think the same as he did. Che despised the United States and everything is stands for. Here's how he ended his letter to the Tricontinental, first published in 1967.

"Our every action is a battle cry against imperialism, and a battle hymn for the people's unity against the great enemy of mankind: the United States of America. Wherever death may surprise us, let it be welcome, provided that this, our battle cry, may have reached some receptive ear and another hand may be extended to wield our weapons and other men be ready to intone the funeral dirge with the staccato singing of the machine-guns and new battle cries of war and victory."

No offense. Really?
Have you ever noticed that when someone starts a sentence, "No offense, but..." he actually does intend to offend you, he just thinks his ass is covered?

"No offense, but your breath is foul, you walk like a duck, laugh like a hyena and you need a hair cut. But like I said, no offense." See how that tiny prefix changes everything?
 
Certainly you're not offended now, because he told you he meant no offense. It'd be more refreshing if he just said, "Ya know, prepare yourself, because I'm going to insult you now."

Then, I just might not be offended. Pissed, probably. But offended, no.
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13. TTMS
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I have TTMS.
Talking To Myself Syndrome.
Developed during many years of bachelorhood, my syndrome is full-blown and becoming out of control.
We all have some version of ATTMS. Auto Talking To Myself Syndrome. You've done it, and at stop lights you've seen people do it. They're not all Bluetooth users; many are like me and have full-blown conversations with themselves.
Hey, a person has to get ready for work, or deconstruct the workday, at some point. And if there's no one at home, you might as well do it in the car.
Although I was aware I did this, I didn't realize it was becoming such an unconscious habit.
As a guy, I'm twice afflicted because it's natural for me to talk to the TV, as well. Especially during sporting events.
I became fully aware of my TTMS last week while watching an Avalanche playoff game at a sports bar. Sitting at the bar, enjoying wings and a refreshment, I did what came natural: Talk to the TV and critique how the hometeam was playing. Nothing out of the ordinary had a friend had been with me. Because no one was, it was instead just embarrassing when a guy two stools over turned and asked me what I had said, thinking I was talking to him.
As a believer that full disclosure is usually the best first option, I replied sheepishly that I hadn't been talking to him, but rather to the big-screen TV. He kinda grinned and gave me a knowing nod, understanding that when it comes to sports, particularly the playoffs, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do.
And I suppose he also might have some experience with TTMS.

Word has no rhythm

I can't spell the word rhythm. Never could. I have to look it up every time the need to write it arises. And, now, I apparently can't say the damn word, either.
If you check out this week's Xcast, a spoof of American Idol, you'll see at the end my unsuccessful attempts at saying rhythmmmm. Or rythmnnn.
I've stumbled across words before, sure. Stuttered and stammered, even. But on the second try I can usually get it. If a third try is required, then yes, I'll nail it.
Yeah, not this time.
The word took on a life of its own, and I just couldn't say it. I can now empathize with the actors you see on the blooper shows who just can't say a certain line of dialogue without screwing it up.


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14. Hair, hair
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It's a question challenging the intellects of today's most brilliant historians: What is the definition of an ’80s Hair Band?

Think about it; it's not that easy. The 1980s is a decade famous for its decadence and its one-hit wonders and, I'll admit, its cheesy "metal" music. I, however, loved it.

But there are hairs to split when it comes to what constituents a Hair Band and what doesn't. A band that went with the 80s trend of big hair is not necessarily a Hair Band.

Aerosmith, for example, had poofy hair in the ’80s but they are by no means a Hair Band. The quintessential Hair Band, I think, is Poison. Doesn't get any more Hair than that.

During a recent poker night with the fellas, this conversation came up, went on and on, and eventually we got stuck on this vexing problem: Is Van Halen a Hair Band?

The answer, of course, is no. But we had one member of the crew who insisted, and still does, that Van Halen is a Hair Band because they had big hair (which they did.)

How does that make sense?

See if you follow: Bands like Aerosmith and Van Halen, who established themselves as credible rockers in the 1970s, are therefore excluded from the "negative" brush that comes with being called a Hair Band. (Understanding that many a child of the 80s like myself don't consider Hair Bands a bad thing.)

However, there is an exception to that exception. One of the all-time greats, KISS, not a Hair Band in the 70s, most certainly was in the ’80s once members lost the makeup.

Exclusions don't end there.

There are bands that started in the ’80s that, even though they had "hair," will never, ever be Hair Bands. Metallica leaps to mind. Other metal bands that aren't "Hair," would include, but not be limited to, Iron Maiden, AC/DC, Judas Priest, Queen, and so forth.

Here are a dozen Hair Bands, in no particular order, that you can hear on 94.3 Max-FM, one of my favorite radio stations.

1. Poison

2. Bon Jovi

3. RATT

4. Def Leppard

5. Guns 'n Roses

6. Cinderella

7. Whitesnake

8. White Lion

9. Nelson

10. Winger

11. Great White

12. Motley Crüe

Have any others? Don't agree with my "rules"? Let me hear what you think. I wrote this at 2 in the morning, so faulty logic or glaring exclusions can be blamed on that, and too much exposure to the fantastic tunes of the 80s.
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15. Are you offended?
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Several people on the staff were concerned we'd be inundated with complaints about the story that appeared on Page 12 of the April 5th paper. It was a story about new-fangled digital sex toys, and included a photo of a vibrator in full color.

Other than one business that asked to have its NEXTnc rack removed because of the story, we haven't received a rash of calls. And that's just what I expected.

I suppose the story is titillating, but more than anything, it's out of the norm from what publications around here usually do. Exactly what we want. I think it's great asap, one of the wire services we subscribe to, did this story and that we had a venue to run it. Sex is a topic everyone cares about but few will talk about. Inappropriate for kids. Yeah. Controversial? Nah, I don't think so. If you don't like the story, call or e-mail and let us know why.

Unhip.

If it's true that if you say you're "hip," you're probably not, then doesn't that also hold true about any other assertion you make about yourself? I'm funny, I'm cool, I'm a great athlete, I'm informed? I think so.

With three editions now under our belt, it's no surprise we've taken some criticism, especially in the way we introduced ourselves to northern Colorado. Launching a new publication is no easy thing, and we've made a few mistakes along the way. I find value in many of the critiques tossed our way. How do you describe what you're about — being hip, edgy, put your own adjective here — without using those words and without sounding pretentious?

One way is to not do it at all. We opted to tell you a little about our intent, and we were knocked for using the word "hip," among other things. And that's OK.

Issue has also been taken by some with Rowdy, our sock puppet and defacto mascot. Rowdy's first manifestation was as a sperm in our initial Xcast about selling body parts for extra cash. Juvenile? Probably a little, but it was meant to be. But in 2006, Rowdy isn't vulgar and he certainly isn't shocking. He is something that we created on the fly, and it made us laugh. It probably made some of you laugh — others not.

Humor isn't a science. We'll miss sometimes, other times not. Our litmus test will be whether something makes us laugh. Vulgarity isn't a substitute for wit; neither, however, is self-importance a replacement for substance.

We won't take ourselves too seriously — enough journalists out there already do. And yet, we'll be able to discuss and write about issues that mean something to us, and do it with aplomb when necessary, and with sarcasm or silliness when called for as well. So, everyone out there, lighten up.

The delicious illogic of 24. If you're not a 24ophile, then I ask you, why not? Action. Explosions. Romance. Conflict out the yin-yang. International intrigue. Violence. Did I mention explosions? The show has everything, plus one of the most indestructible characters ever put on the small screen — Kiefer Sutherland's Jack Bauer. What's not to like?

But the greatest part about "24" has nothing to do with action or violence. It is this: Every week, the show's producers will offer up such ridiculous plot twists as to make you pull your hair out. Some shows have plot holes so big you could sneak the 101st Airborne Division through without getting noticed. And yet, despite such I-can't-friggin'-believe-they-used-that-plot-twist twists, the show keeps you coming back for more.

Just like this last episode: President Handbag (as so described on Dave Barry's 24 blog blogs.herald.com/dave_barrys_blog/24/index.html), is not such a putz after all, but the mastermind behind all the goings-on so far this season. That, alone, made up for, and explained, so many of the early season head-scratchers. I can't wait for next week.

Etiquette lost. Major League Baseball needs to take a cue from the National Hockey League. I know, it's strange that the dysfunctional hockey league should be in a place to give any other professional organization some advice, but it's true.

Fans should be prohibited from re-entering the seating area until there's a break in the action— either when an at-bat or the inning is over. I'm sick of sitting at Coors Field, like I did on Opening Day on Monday, and have no-clue baseball neophytes continually walk in front of me while the action is going on.

At hockey games, ushers stop you from re-entering the arena until a break. I've heard they've considered this at Coors Field — and maybe that just goes for the lower level — but it should be a stadium-wide policy. Because my sarcastic comments to the baseball novices in my way don't seem to be getting through.
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