The 40ft POST: Game On!

Well . . . Well . . . Well

Welcome to the second installment of Wait . . . Dad's NFL Blog, The 40ft. POST.

Got a lot of great feedback from last week. Thank you Dad, Thank you Jeff, Thank you Steve. And we also picked up quite a few extra reads, if not actual fans, so we got that going for us . . . which is nice.

Also . . . 

Who's got two quotation marks and had Allen Hurns locked and loaded on sheer guess work in his ForFuns Fantasy league?

"This Guy."

I am the 1%.

Anyway,

IN BIG NEWS:

Can't read a single headline without stumbling over Ray Rice's lifetime (hopefully) ban from the NFL. All I've got to say about that situation is if some network offers him a reality TV show, I will officially cancel Comcast and write this blog from my local coffee shop.

Questions answered: Yes, the Seahawks are frighteningly good still (cough, cough, 2013 Ravens), The Falcons were not significantly cursed by "Hard Knocks" (cough, cough 2013 Miami), Mark Ingram was finally able to take his Heisman Trophy out of his mother's linen closet, and for the rest of the season Norv Turner is going to be on the sidelines looking at both hands mumbling "Peterson-Patterson? Peterson-Patterson? Uma-Oprah? Peterson-Patterson?"

We might also add that the Giants are still getting used to their new offense. Which we knew back in June. But there's comfort there. Unless you're a Victor Cruz fan. And by Victor Cruz fan I mean . . . Dad.

Questions left unanswered: Maybe the New England offense is gonna be dangerous with Gronk back in cleats? Maybe Knowshon Moreno isn't just a one-hit-with-Peyton-Manning-as-QB-wonder? Maybe they should get the ball out to Jamaal Charles more than 11 times per game?

Actually, that last one's a gimme.

The answer is yes.

Yes, oh god, yes.

But in the imortal words of some one who says immortal things, there's a lot of football left to play.

WHAT TO WATCH:

This coming week is gonna be all about confirming what we already know, Seattle scary, Phillie Fast.

Crossing our fingers for another valiant effort: Hoyer, McCown, Carr.

Seeing what we didn't see last week: Niners, Patriots, Cowboys.

And hating everyone on the Giants except Rashad Jennings (who is still really just a Raider)

Now last week we talked about the NFL as the "Do what the winning teams did last year" league, where I came to the crazy conclusion that we would see a lot more fast paced, ground and pound offenses trying to capture a little lightening from the Seatle, Eagle, Niner, Chief bottle.

What I missed was the throw wobbly short spirals with uncanny accuracy to Julius Thomas.

My bad.

I also missed the shifty dudes with two roles. Harvin, Sproles, Golden Tate, Patterson and to a lesser extent Woodhead and to a lesser lesser lesser extent Mcluster.

Confuse the defense with RB's in the WR position, WR's in the RB position, Michael Vick on the field.

That last one didn't work so well.

But "E" for effort.

Yet, I think I posted correctly in that Chip Kelley's 2013 offense opened the doors for experimentation in 2014 that Denver's use of Tebow 2011 did not do for 2012. I don't even think RGIII got a bootleg.

But high percentage plays, 4, 5, 6, yards down the field seemed to be the thing we all watched, unless you are Matthew Stafford looking for Calvin Johnson and just kind of lobbing the ball in that general direction, so I also think I was right in Kelley's offense having an impact.

Impact everywhere except on Kelley's actual 2014 offense for the first 30 minutes against the Jags. I couldn't watch the game cause I haven't bought the big package, but watching the stat tracker, it went something like this:

FOLES incomplete pass to MACLIN

FOLES incomplete pass to MACLIN

FOLES incomplete pass to MACLIN

PUNT

I'm looking at my iPad going, what? A slow one-sided aerial attack? Did I miss something?

By the end of the half the Jags were up 17-0, and all I could think of - as a McCoy owner in my ForReals team - was this:

"That's it. I'm done with football."

But good ole Chip must have walked into the locker room and said something like "Well, now that we've freaked everyone out, shall we play a game?"

And then went on to score 34 points and leave the Jags TD-less.

I really want him as my Uncle.

and speaking of crying "Uncle"

INJURIES AND BAD DECISIONS:

First of all, I never want to see that Tyler Eifort replay again. Second of all, remember last week when I said I was slightly regretting taking Foster over Doug Martin? NO RAGRATS. Lacy is down, Tate's down, Gehart's down, both Chicago receivers went down (but they might be more like weeble wobbles), the Ram's QB went down (what was his name again?)

Still up? Practically all the guys I put on the "Pretty Much Guaranteed to Go Down List." Percy Harvin, Steven Jackson, Arian Foster, hell, even Michael Crabtree caught 3 for 25.

Oops.

Good thing I don't do this for a living.

I will however point out that I thought it would behoove the NFLPA to renegotiate for a more reasonable set of rules regarding marijuana and low and behold, the vote could come as early as tomorrow morning. Even Senator John McCain sent a letter to Goodall regarding a rethink.

I always knew McCain was a hippy.

Or has Josh Gordon in his Dynasty league.

Actually, McCain sent the letter regarding the usage of Human Growth Hormones and it's increased use among child athletes. And he sent it in February.

But still.

Way to be progressive Johnny boy.

and speaking of progress . . . 

NORCAL NOTES:

We really wanted to see what a Niner offense can do with a healthy receiver core and a QB whose dreams of a Manhattan Penthouse are predicated on a Super Bowl win.

But the "flawed" and "weakened" Niner defense didn't let that happen.

Yeah, okay . . . maybe Romo didn't have that great a game, but still . . . the defense played hard and angry and exploited every mistake they could get their hands on. That actually means something.

And the Raiders?

Well . . . what can I say?

They executed exactly the way I called it.

A little bit of Mojo, a little bit of Run DMC, a little throw left, a little throw right, a freshman QB who's head was sometimes still in the last play and a defense that was slow but knew where to be. It wasn't a win, but it wasn't a mess. I think they done excellent.

"A" for Almost.

and speaking of letter grades . . . 

WAIT . . . DAD? FANTASYLAND:

ForFuns Team: 1-0 (2nd place)

ForReals Team: 1-0 (5th place)

The four months leading to this first Sunday were tough. I had to learn a lot, not only about football itself, but also drafting strategies, past mistakes, and I had to learn a lot about who I was, and what my meaning might be in this life.

The third one's a joke.

My existence in the cosmic universe was confirmed years ago.

But I still couldn't find any luck with Running Backs.

Anyway, if you remember last weeks comlumn, this year was Homework over Hype. There would be no dedication to RBs (ala 2011), there would be no essential hording of QBs (ala 2012) there would be no breakout candidates (ala Spiller, Wilson, Miller, Austin, Eifort 2013) and I was absolutely not gonna chase the WR craze that every analyst pontificated upon (ala 2014).

And both my teams did exactly what they were supposed to do.

Hit their projections.

And that's exactly what happened. Win, win.

But there of course, were some anomalies.

First, the ForReals Team, my entire defensive core wet the bed.

I was shocked, since that's never been a problem for me, but the guys who were supposed to lock it up, didn't; and there was this curious moment where I drafted Jadaveon Clowney, cause I figured offenses were just going to run in his direction to avoid JJ Watt, but I had second thoughts and switched him out for Quinton who was projected to do much better and hadn't spent the entire preseason hurt (I'm getting gun shy with breakouts; Spiller, Wilson, Miller, Austin, Eifort). Quinton goes down with a concussion in the first series and Clowney goes out a series later, so I lost an entire spot either way. Bad luck with a chance of meatballs.

The other anomaly - in my favor this time - was that in my ForFuns League, Sunday morning, I read that Cecil Shorts III was injured and I decided to put up Hurns instead of Pitta in my WR/TE spot.

Just for fun.

And yes, that was fun.

ESPN and CBS Sports have both sent me gift cards for IHOP.

One column in Rotowire called me a Jedi.

I'd like to add to the record that I didn't know she was my sister.

But it's not enough to parade around Dave&Busters with my hand held high, I wanted to know if my strategy worked.

And a curious thing happened.

The guy who beat my score in the ForFuns League did it with 2014 Hype.

His first three guys were Green, Marshall, and Thomas (WR,WR,TE)

Also, the one reason I jumped to second was the Nostradamus addition of Hurns in the midnight hour.

Maybe the analysts weren't crazy after all.

Cause check this out:

In the ForReals League, there were actually five guys that beat my score. Two of them, just a few points above so we won't count them because of how bad my defense died, but of the three remaining, the one who didn't win but still beat my score; Green and Marshall (WR, WR). And the guy who beat him?

Calvin Johnson and Julio Jones. (WR,WR)

And the boys who beat all of us?

Peyton, Murray, Thomas. (QB,RB,TE) Which considering their tenth spot, was almost identical with my strategy: Just grab the most dominant player at his position in the round.

and maybe lean toward a Niner if you're me, and a Cowboy . . . cause  . . . you know . . . Steve.

So in the ForReals League, we have two winning teams that went Homework, Two Winning Teams that went Hype, One winning team that went Classic (RB,RB,RB), and of course the one team that went AutoDraft (gotta have a control).

So we'll track it and see.

and speaking of seeing things . . . 

LAST WEEKS CRAZY/STUPID ANALYSIS:

There will be three QB's breaking the 5,000 mark this year (Holding)

Moreno will be a top ten RB (Touchdown)

My teams make the playoffs (Holding)

Eli gets pulled from the game (Flag, Offensive foul)

Michael Sams makes the roster (Holding)

CRAZY/STUPID PREDICTIONS FOR THIS WEEK:

Hoyer settles down and Hawkins becomes the next Allen Hurns

Arian Foster runs for over 200 yards and four touch downs against the Raiders

Victor Cruz has a good fantasy day and Dad spends the rest of the year in panicky deliberation.

Golden Tate out performs Megatron. (But only because Carolina is going to swtich to a 3-2-6 defense; three man rush, two man safety, six on Calvin)

Everyone who is holding onto Gordon right now will see their work/life/FF balance disintegrate as they spend nine/tenths of their waking moments checking Yahoo Sports for breaking news. 

That's it for this week.

HTT: How To Planned Obsolescence

Planned Obsolescence.

or . . . 

Design obsolescence.

Either works unless you have no idea what I'm talking about . . . in which case . . . grab a piece of paper and a #2 Ticonderoga.

The concept is rather simple.

A company wants to make things for you to buy.

So far so good?

When you buy that thing . . . you become a customer. A consumer if you will.

However, if what you're buying isn't readily consumed like a potato or a cup of coffee, lets say you're buying a couch or a transister radio, then once you've made that purchase, you've stopped being that company's customer.

Get it?

You might buy one car every ten to fifteen years.

Bananas don't last that long.

So a company that makes bananas wants to make sure that your banana needs are met, but also that you don't get too frustrated buy buying a bunch that go brown. You don't like to waste money, and you don't have the time to bake bread.

So they sell them in all sorts of different sized bunches. Directly tailored to your banana needs.

I hate bananas.

But I love cars.

Yet, the practicality of me purchasing three cars on my monday trips to the grocery store . . . is well . . . unlikely.

This was a problem since history began.

Make a product that will last forever, like a hammer or a Toyota Echo, and yes, maybe you will have a loyal customer, but you also have a loyal customer who never needs to buy anything from you again.

They solved the problem in the 1950's by creating a term call "Planned Obsolescence" or "Designed Obsolescence."

And since capitolists hadn't learned to sin with the kind of veracity that they do now, the term actually meant that a company would bring out a newer more glamorous product just about the time that your local mechanic told you that you're gonna need a new transmission.

Your mechanic might say something like "It's gonna cost about $500." (remember, this was the fifties)

And you might think "That sucks, but I guess so."

And then you might look across the street at the car dealership and see the 1958 model with all that shiny chrome and two extra cup holders in the back seat, and you're like "Gee, I could spend $500 for a new transmission, or $3500 on a new model with extra cup holders and I won't have to spend Saturday washing the old one."

Which worked pretty good.

Cause you people really love your cup holders.

But once Eve of Wall St. took a bite of that apple, and the back seats started running out of space for new cup holders, it became evident, sinnister, but possible, that maybe, it's just a thought, but maybe the company should consider, now stay with me, maybe the company should consider building a transmission that might not last ten years.

Maybe eight years.

Maybe five.

How about three?

How about three years or 100,000 miles?

And why just focus on the transmission?

Why not make everything to last about three years and 100,000 miles?

Hell, we could even sell the schlub an extra warranty. For an extra $500, we could promise to replace anything that goes wrong with the car in 3 years or 100,000 miles.

Planned Obsolescence: To create a sparkly, glamorous, new machine at right about the time you get sick of your beater.

Designed Obsolescence: Hyundai.

You may now put down your #2 Ticonderoga.

The reason I write this is because today, Apple will announce a new set of products. Probably the iPhone 6 with a bigger screen and nearfield technology. Probably an new iPad with a screen that doesn't absorb so much finger oil. And probably some sort of wearable that plugs directly into your soul for recharging.

Now I am a man who has drunk deeply from the Apple koolaid cup.

But I will most likely buy none of these things.

The main reason, of course, is I have no money for these things.

The other reason is because I plan for planned obsolescence in everything that I buy and today's "How To Tuesday" is about how to do . . . just that.

Step One: Need.

Always start with asking yourself the question "What need does it fill?"

And the answer does not have to be sensible. Don't listen to people, like myself, who lean toward pragmatism. If a new blouse makes you feel pretty, I don't care how many identical blouses you have in your closet. Buy the damn blouse. Feel pretty.

I do, however, spend almost all of my consumer curiosity deliberating over this question. Recently I bought brand new piece of equipment that I didn't actually need, but I hoped . . . just hoped . . . that it would revolutionize my live sound. It did and I'm happy. Did I need it? No. Does it make me feel pretty? Yes it does.

In the case of the iStuff about to be launched today, there is absolutely nothing they could come up with that I actually need.

Yet.

Step Two: Longevity

Every Mac that I've owned has lasted forever. The only reason I've ever upgraded is because the next one did things that the other one simply couldn't. Some may claim that that is a form of Design Obsolescence, but I'm not buying that argument. My current Mac is six years old and still runs like a champ. The PC it replaced was crap six months after I bought it.

But getting back to the blouse analogy, if you need that blouse for one night and one night only, buy it. The shelf life of fashion is only around six hours. About the same as a banana.

And if you find yourself in the place where you're purchasing a lot of bridesmade dresses, then you don't need to rethink your spending habits, you need to rethink your friends.

There's also a second part to this one, and that's durability.

I take care of my things, so they have a tendency to last longer. But you take the case of my step-son who likes to drop his phone in toilets, wash them with his clothes, drop them, kick them, and leave them laying about in common dorm areas, then he's always gonna have to consider nerf products that have a leash.

and in his case . . . 

Step Three: The Cost/Value Equation.

Things cost. They just do. That's how all this works. So once you've considered both need and durability, it's time to give some serious thought to how much something costs in comparison to how much value you get out of it.

Don't forget that JOY is VALUE.

We'd get more joy out of a family trip to DisneyWorld than we would just puttering around the house this weekend. But . . . a trip to DisneyLand would cost about $3,000 less.

DisneyLand it is.

No honey, we're not going to DisneyLand, that was just an example.

Or like if my wife wants a new blouse for our date-night, I don't mind nursing a single glass of wine throughout dinner to balance the expense, but if she wants one for a special occasion where other people are involved, I don't even consider the price, I just insist that she not tell me.

I don't know why she always wants to tell me.

And there is the producer/marketing department concept of Feature Overload to raise the perceived value.

Like cup holders.

Or a refrigerator with wifi capability.

Or wider screens (on phones, not TVs, when it comes to TV's go big or go home. Phones on the other hand have gotten, well, out of hand. If it doesn't fit in my jean's pocket then it is no longer a phone it's a computer.)

Step Four: Don't be Cheap.

You will undo steps one thru three if you try to scrape the aftermarket barrel. I once tried to save lots of cash on a simple blu-ray player cause we didn't need a single damn extra option, but we like movie extras, and Blu-ray Discs now come with all the extras.

Bad mistake.

It's been nothing but trouble.

But I'm not in the market for a new one, cause this one works okay enough . . . mostly.

And finally . . . 

Step Five: Enjoy your things.

I know that sounds weird. The politcally correct want us all to move to a post consumerism ideal, where we only fill our lives with the bare necessities, but I love books and music and food and movies. I like having the right tool for the job and musical instruments that are as much decoration as they are playable. You might walk into my house and think I'm a bit garrish with my product lined shelves and garage full of . . . well . . . things . . . I guess.

But I like my stuff.

You should like your stuff too.

And even though I won't be queueing up at the Apple Store in two months to buy a watch that gives me real time data on my body mass index, but I'm sure there are those of you out there who will.

So enjoy it.

At least until iOS 15 comes out.

Then you're screwed.

What color is your thumb?

"Go green." they said.

"Build a garden." they said.

"Grow your own vegetables." they said.

So I did.

Or at least I thought I did.

We went to the best local plant place. We got the best dirt, the best organic additives, we took time with our how we planned the growth of each separate plant bed. We got the hardiest strains and planted them at the exact weekend that the experts suggested.

It shoulda been vegetable heaven over here.

But it wasn't.

Boy wasn't it.

Our beds weren't deep enough, the dirt beneath them more rock than anything elseAnd they all were just sort of unwilling to grow.

And then or course was the heat.

THE HEAT.

I'm not sure what it is about our backyard, but it's easily ten degrees hotter than our asphalt driveway.

They say summer plants need a full day of direct sun.

But they didn't account for how close to the sun our backyard is.

They say not to over water.

Cause there's . . like . . .you know . . . a drought.

But if I didn't shed gallons a day upon them, they wilted as if being touched by a fairy tale step-mother.

So now, after six months, I am planning on pulling the whole thing out and getting ready for the winter stuff.

But it makes me sad.

After six months of watering, tending, weeding, planning, planting, un-planting, and replanting, I've grown just enough for a single salad, one really awesome pesto dish, and some peppers.

That's it.

My garden this year may have produced about $6.98 worth of groceries.

I did get one very excellent tomato.

I sliced it super thin and ate it with a little olive oil and sea salt on top of a nice garden salad.

Not my garden salad, Trader Joes' garden salad.

But I must admit, it was excellent.

Totally worth it.

I hope we get some rain this year.

Like rain rain rain rain rain.

For days . . . possibly weeks.

I would like to take at least one more stab at seeing how green I can get my thumb. And . . . if it turns out that I just can't grow things . . . well at least I can uncheck one of those things I can do for a living when I grow up.

If I can kill plants at will, then maybe I should try my hand at becoming a fairy tale step mother, or an orthodontist.

Maybe my particular gift is the ability to render things infertile on contact.

Wish I'd known that in college.

Good to know for when the Zombies come too.

Best not let me till the field. Unless you could learn to live a full year off of a very excellent thinly sliced tomato.

Cause if you can . . . look me up.

Five Horse-Pills of the Apocalypse

"Now I know what you're gonna look like when you're an old man." she said as I hobbled up to the kitchen counter and began divvying out my vitamin regime.

"Huh?"

"All slow and puffy and unshaven and taking all you're morning medication."

"You forgot grouchy."

"No I didn't."

"Hrumph."

And I kind of felt bad for her. Cause who wants to spend sixty years with an old man? I mean, ten, twenty, thirty, if you didn't retire too soon, never smoked and had parents that lived to see their great-great grandchildren? Sure, why not?

But sixty?

I mean she did get almost all of my twenties, and the best half of my thirties, but now I'm a grouchy old man hobbling up to the kitchen counter at 7:30am, slow and puffy faced and unshaven and swallowing a handfull of horse pills.

I'm not taking medications yet, thank jesus, but I am knocking back quite an interesting array multi-shaped tablets all in the name of a better me.

Why?

I mean, didn't we all just read the news not too long ago that there really isn't any provable value in taking all that stuff? Didn't we just learn that there is no such thing as a multi-vitamin when you start to calculate for absorbtion rates and individual biology, chemistry, genetics?

In order to honestly capture your own biological improvement, you have to subject yourself to all kinds of tests. Blood work, BMI, a five page questionairre when you got up, and ten page one before bed. There would have to be a control, so anyone who isn't a twin loses by default. And of course . . . placebo.

Such a great word.

Placebo.

It really needs to be Katy Perry's new album title.

Placebo.

Anyway,

Even though we don't know what Vitamins and Minerals do, I mean, we don't NOT know. It takes a lot of money to study that kind of stuff, and for the people with that kind of money, well . . . they're kind of banking on the fact that the consumer can't tell the difference between symptom reduction and actual healing.

Healthy people don't spend $4.50 for two tablets of Aleve at a gas station.

Or maybe they do. What do I know?

I'll tell you what I know.

After five weeks of dosing myself with a handful of question marks four times a day, I have learned quite a lot. Here's what I can tell you about Vitamins that are officially proven fact as far as I can say that:

Fact Number One: Vitamins make you pee all kinds of pretty colors.

Mostly in the neon family. Vibrant yellows, greens, and sometimes - traffic cone orange. I have yet to see anything in the blue category, and if I ever see anything in the red or purplish hues, you most likely won't hear from me until I get back from the hospital. I will take a picture before calling 911, for . . . you know . . . science.

Fact Number Too: Vitamins make you poo all kinds of different shapes and textures.

For the last fifteen years, since I've had a regular job, and eaten regular meals, I've been . . . well . . . regular. Get up, go to work, and halfway through my second cup of coffee, it's off to the throne room with a crossword puzzle and a ball point pen. I was rewarded for my efforts with something about the width of a roll of quarters and about as long as a standard remote control.

Of course I look.

You look.

We all look.

But now . . . now it could be anything. Anytime, anywhere, with degrees of variation ranging from a rottweiler's chew toy to a 7-Eleven Slurpee melting in the August heat.

And what they might miss in volume they make up for with multiple trips. I am now coming close to using as much toilet paper as my wife does.

That's terrifying.

Fact Number Three: Vitamins make you smell.

Especially the garlic ones. My wife doesn't cuddle anymore and has been changing the linens every three days. I don't mind the garlic, but I do hope that Trader Joes will start selling Basil and Tomato extracts so I can at least fool her into thinking I'm a lasagna.

Fact Number Four: Vitamins cost a lot.

Like . . . a lot a lot. And the weird thing is . . . they cost differently at different places. The Vitamine Shoppe (pronounced Vit-Uh-Mean-Shaw-Pay) is the only place that carries the policosinol, but the green-tea and garlic is cheaper at Target, while a few others are cheapest at Trader Joes.

There are deals to be had online as well, but I'm a fraidy cat when it comes to purchasing consumables through the mail. I don't have much life insurance so I want my wife to have brick and morter establishment to sue in the case of my untimely death.

And because they all have their proprietary bottles, they come in different amounts and different potencies. I may find one for five bucks, but I'll have to take seventeen of them to equal one from the $15 bottle.

Why do fifth grade math teachers have to be so right about the later-life usefullness of algebra?

Fact Number Five: Sometimes . . . sometimes . . . they might work.

Let us be totally clear on this. Until restorative and preventative medicines become cash-cows, there will be no conversation with your doctor where he/she won't prescribe something that was invented in the lab to cure fastidiousness in rats but was found to reduce certain types of choloesterol and includes a laundry list of very scary side-effects.

If Halliburtun doesn't see a dime, then there is a good chance we're gonna continue living in a world where we know more about Viagra than we do about Vitamin C.

And yes, there are like, one or two studies that show some vitamins taken to excess can be harmful too, but your body is pretty amazing at grabbing what it needs and flushing the rest away. You're like an ultra-radical super expensive HEPA filter.

So think of taking vitamins not so much as a cure, but like, tipping your waitress an extra five percent. You don't know what she's gonna do with the money . . . but it's there if she needs it.

And you gotta assume that because she's a waitress . . . she needs it.

I started taking a B Complex in the mornings with my eggs and spinach and you wouldn't believe it but my mood changed from constant road rage to cooly happy to be alive.

The two days I didn't, I was back to throwing kitchen utensils at songbirds in my backyard.

That's not an endorsement.

Just an observation.

And I can't say with any degree of certainty what it would do to you.

I don't know you.

In fact the only thing I DO know about you is that you look at your poo.

And that you should contact a doctor immediately if you do it for more than four hours.

The Season Begins

Welcome to the first installment of The 40ft Post!

For you highly selective, attractive and intelligent regular Wait . . . Dad? readers, (A demographic suspiciously made up of females 25-60) this will probably be your least favorite day of the week.

Sorry 'bout that.

For the other six of you, sometimes seven, this is going to be about beer, nachos, and a game where multi-millionaires parade around in lycra outfits and fight over an oblong toy that used to be made of pigskin.

We shall call this game football.

This will be a pretty long post, since we have an entire offseason to cover, and I've never written a sports blog before. The format we'll start with is Headline News from the previous week, What to Watch for the coming week, Injury and Bad Decision Reports (ACL to THC), NorCal Notes with the Raiders and 49ers, A Trip Through FantasyLand (Both of My Leagues), and CrazyStupid Predictions.

As per usual I invite heavy critisicm and trashtalk as long as it's civil and there are no babies being put in corners.

So without further ado:

{Cue Rascall Flatts inspired Theme Song}

HEADLINE NEWS:

The season kicks off (Yay!) Thursday Night @ 5:30pm PST with Green Bay taking on Seattle and the Twelfth Man. I will be halfway through my son's soccer practice so will most likely miss Percy Harvin's first kick-off return for a touchdown, but I will be back in time to see Jordy Nelson and Richard Sherman decide that they can, in fact, just get along, and the later halftime special where they share some of Lynch's Skittles, and hug it out.

Speaking of hugging it out, the two NFL rules regarding receiver contact after the first five yards, and the no pulling of the jersey is going to castrate a lot of defenses this year, but the NFL is dedicated to faster play and higher scores, which is the exact reason Americans don't watch soccer.

On TV.

Parents, like myself, still have to spend opening kick-off in the swealtering heat at a municipal park watching their children kick each other in the shins. Thank goodness the NFL has a play by play ap for the iPhone.

Anyway, speaking of higher scores and faster play . . . 

WHAT TO WATCH: 2014 SEASON

My father is fond of mentioning that the NFL is a copy-cat league. If it works one year, then everyone is gonna try to do that the next. Nothing is a better example of that than last year's Chip Kelly offense. Out of college and into the driver's seat of the Philidelphia Eagles, he took a last place team in 2012 and pushed it to a first place team with a 'No Huddle Meets Methamphetamine' approach in about the same time it takes me to remember to get the oil changed in my Toyota Echo. He also lost his premier quarterback in game seven and didn't even pause to pass go and collect $200, he just hands the keys to the back-up and watches the dude break all kinds of records.

Now, the Steelers, the Dolphins, the Niners, the Cowboys, the Saints, hell, even the Giants are talking all kinds of speeded up play.

The Patriots are quiet though.

Go figure.

What this means is - and why I think it's the thing to watch - is that we're going to find out if Kelly's approach is either revolutionary, or now that defenses have had an entire year to look at it in slow motion, just a gimmick.

The thing is, if it is revolutionary, it's also a running scheme. 

Every analyst everywhere right now can't get enough words down on paper proclaiming how the NFL has become a passing league, though none of them seem to want to point out the 2013 versions of Seahawks, Niners, Eagles, Chiefs, and a Rogers-free Packers Team.

There's a good chance that the ground and pound offense starts making a serious comeback this year, even if the statistics don't show it, and the analysts disregard my uneducated guesswork.

Didn't we all watch last year's Super Bowl?

That cold February afternoon where the disciplined, feet on the ground team, obliterated the most powerful aerial offense ever seen?

Yeah, that one.

The Super Bowl that allowed Eli back onto his father's iPhone contact list.

The Super Bowl that's going to be playing on-loop in every locker room in every stadium that Denver plays in for the next five years.

I'm not saying not to draft Peyton on your fantasy team (I totally would have grabbed him if my brother hadn't handed me McCoy), but I am saying that Kelly may have brought balance to the force even if he is a little short to be a storm-trooper.

And speaking of coming up short . . . 

INJURIES AND BAD DECISIONS.

I do hope this year the Player's Union renegotiates the NFL restrictions on marijuana use. It's kind of silly to rob the world of Josh Gordon and Justin Blackmon and next year's entire Steeler's RB core especially while Johnny Football is still allowed in Vegas. Performance Enhancing Steroid use is cheating, DUI's are down right stupid, and I'm not even gonna get started on Ray Rice, Michael Vick, or a college aged Ray Lewis, but a penchant for lava lamps and reggae music isn't going to undermine anyone's current feelings toward player professionalism.

In injury notes, well . . . so far . . . Sam Bradford is down for the year, along with David Wilson, and a bunch of Niners. Wes Welker is gonna need a bigger helmut (and some common sense when someone hands him a pill at the racetrack) and "Pick-Six" Shaub is gonna be busy on the sidelines rubbing ben-gay into his elbow while Derek Carr faces the Jets in Week One.

Everyone else, if you believe everything you read, is 110% and ready to play all sixteen games.

Every Tight End looks as good as Gronk. Except Gronk. Who will be watched carefully by every Patriots fan and Tom Brady fantasy drafter. Other high alert injury candidates include Percy Harvin, Arian Foster, Steven Jackson, Jeremy Maclin, and just about every football player ever.

Except Frank Gore.

He's not made of people stuff.

and speaking of Gore . . . 

NORCAL NOTES:

The Niners are gonna be so much awesome this year. Don't let Harbaugh lull the other 31 teams into a preseason sense of peace. Sure the defense might be a little down, but the offense is gonna open up like the eyes of a fourteen year old boy who realizes what he's looking at during a Geogia O'Keefe exhibit. Pupils dialated, manhood confirmed.

It shoulda been my boys last year handing Peyton his hat.

But . . . you know . . . them's the breaks.

I just thinks they'll play good this year. Good and angry. 

On the other side of the bay . . .

Can the Raiders really be that bad this year? I mean, of course they can, but they did this crazy thing and spent a lot of money for seasoned verterans instead of off the shelf lottery tickets. Matt Shaub, James Jones, Maurice Jones-Drew. It's crazy, because why would you spend money on guys struggling at the end of their careers to rebuild a franchise? But . . . what if?

What if outplaying Shaub was just the ticket to get Carr fired up to take on a pro-defense?

What if MoJo and Run DMC stay healthy and create a one-two punch that keeps defenses honest enough to give Carr space to get the ball to a sure handed Jones?

They don't even really have to win, they just have to get close, and play with some heart.

That's a lot of "What If's" but gimme an underdog any day of the week.

I'll don my Michael Bush Raider's Jersey proudly wherever I go.

Until they move to LA.

Then I'm gonna have to start rooting for the Browns.

I'm really liking this Hoyer guy.

and speaking of Hoyer . . . 

WELCOME TO FANTASYLAND

In 2013 I had Hoyer on my bench (Cause throwing to Josh Gordon was gonna score me some points) and started him over Michael Vick. Hoyer went down that game. Vick went down a game later, and my other backup QB, Sam Bradford, went down fifteen minutes after Vick. I picked up Foles just in time for him to have that disastrous game in which he scored me only 4 points and then dropped him like a brick only for him to follow up the next week with 60 points.

Welcome to my 2013 Fantasy Season.

(The next few paragraphs are more about me and my experience than actual football stuff, so feel free to skip it and scroll to the CrazyStupid Predictions)

In the three seasons I've played this fake little game, I've come in last, second to last, and dead last.

If experience is a leading indicator of performance, then it's very safe to say that I am not very good at it. But I try real hard (I really do own a Raider Jersey). And I read a lot. A lot a lot. And I remember most of the stuff I read so as long as I'm reading the right stuff, I should know what I'm doing.

In 2011, I didn't know, well, really anything. I just drafted off of magazine list and crossed my fingers. Hence, I got Adrian Peterson, but a QB core of Eli Manning and Josh Freeman. I did not fair thee well, however, I learned how to scour the waiver wire and how to play the match ups and my IDP has always been pretty top notch. Oh . . . and I got all kinds of addicted.

In 2012, I had all the angles. The preseason buzz that year was all about quarter-backs. If you didn't have Rodgers/Brees/Manning/Brady, you were sunk. I nabbed Rodgers first round and filled up slots evenly and precisely. I got an A+ that year for drafting (Top of the league), and my first three picks, Rodgers, Demarco Murray, Steven Jackson, were all dropping in the first round of some of the analyst drafts, so I felt good.

What happened then? Well, Murray goes down, Jackson goes down, Gates never found the end-zone, Harvin got hurt, and my entire team consisted of Rodgers throwing to Jordy Nelson. Then Nelson goes down. I did, however, beat my brother head to head when Gates stopped playing the invisible man. I still have the screen shot of that victory.

Then 2013, we decide to do a live draft - and armed with my iPad - I decide to go digital. A few minutes spent plugging our league's scoring system into Roto-Wire and I'm gifted with the greatest Top 200 list there ever was.

'Cept a curious thing happened. The 2013 buzz was all about The Breakout Candidates. 

2011 had been RB's

2012 had been QB's

2013 The Breakout/Comback Candidates.

Doug Martin, Trent Richardson, CJ Spiller, David Wilson, Lamar Miller, the guy in Denver who was going to easily beat out Knowshon Moreno for the starting job (I think his name was Ball . . . that's right . . . Monte Ball . . . whatever happened to that dude?). Steven Jackson was going rip it up for the Falcons and Kendall Hunter was the man to pick up if you had to own a Niner. Sam Bradford was going to have this career year now that he had this monster rookie named Tavon Austin to throw to.

I read this stuff all summer and knew I couldn't lose.

My Team was made up of nothing but breakout candidates and lottery tickets. My sleepers rocked, DeSean Jackson, Anquan Bolden, Charles Clay, some guy named Josh Gordon, but the rest of the picks flopped.

I had two games where my kicker was the highest scoring player.

It was miserable. I was two games into the season and I didn't have a single trade chip. (I did eventually trade Gordon for D. Murray, handing my brother the championship, and removing some egg from my own face, but that was my twlefth round pick for his second round pick and it was a good trade.)

So the thing I learned is that, well, I've got a lot to learn. Rankings and Projections were all fine and dandy, but maybe you have to consider things like . . . oh . . . I don't know . . . the actual offensive lines . . . and the possible fact that analysts get paid to blow shit out of proportion . . . oh, and my favorite . . . coaches can lie.

(Gonna run Spiller until he throws up, huh? Or, you know, until Fred Jackson finishes tying his shoes).

So now it's the 2014 Season.

And Let's see what the Hype is all about this year.

Hmmm?

Have you been listening?

Cause everyone and their mothers are talking about Wide Receivers.

WR's are you're best bet.

You could go WR, WR, TE, and back fill your RB core so much later.

Also, don't bother taking a QB until before or after taking a kicker.

Cause there's like bijillions of them.

But because I've been burned by hype and bad luck three years in a row, I'm a little suspicious.

I had three Top fifteen WRs last year with my 5th, 8th, and 12th picks.

Now, I agree, that you can't argue with the healthy big guys connected to good QB's and bad defenses. I'd take Dez Bryant over Demarco Murray all day long. But would I take Marshall over Forte? Nope. Obviously Calvin over Reggie, but Wallace over Moreno? Perhaps.

And the industry analysts post their expert drafts as early as June, and no one seems to take a QB until like the 8th round, but truth be told, QB's start disappearing like Antonio Gates' 2012 red-zone opportunities in about the late 4th round early 5th.

I've mocked it at least fifty times. Once everyone has got two RB's and at least one WR, you start seeing Stafford, Ryan, Brady, Romo, Rivers, and Kaepernick drop like flies. By round 6 you start losing Cutler, Big Ben, Palmer, and Tannehil. Then there's that one guy who aways gets Dalton.

Some men just like roller coasters.

So I did my homework. Created drafting strategies. Added dimension. Where 2013 was all about ceiling, 2014 starts with proven record, good situation, high floor, reliable handcuff, and fun to watch.

Like, I think Romo's gonna have a statistically slightly better year than Kaepernick, but Colin's more fun to watch. (I've drafted him twice now)

So I started with a generic PPR based Top 200 list (I used the one from Jamie Eisenburgh of CBS, cause he's boring and humorless and severly pragmatic and gets kind of annoyed when people don't see his choices as the most obvious). Then I made my own adjustments (moving Peyton/Brees/Rodgers into the second round picks, the rest of the QBs in-line starting at the 48th spot so I can watch when they start to drop), and because my brother likes to start grabbing LB's in the sixth round, I started peppering groups of six between each tier of bench possibilities.

And in every round (except the first two), I put one dreamer. One guy I wanna watch just blow it up. 

I allowed myself just one of these on my starting team, and as many as were left after back-ups and handcuffs had been selected.

(For example . . . in round three of my For Reals league, I had the option of going Doug Martin or Arian Foster. Now Martin's younger and isn't playing behind a suspect OL and he's being hyped right now like he's the second coming since the rookie went down, but he didn't look all that great before being injured last season. But Foster, man, he's had almost an entire season to heal from back surgery and if he's healthy I don't care what line he's running behind, when you watch him play, you see him get the ball, approach the line of scrimmage, stop for a second, and then magically reappear on the other side of the defense. He is just fun to watch. And, he's got an excellent back-up. Big bet hedged.)

With all my strategies in hand, in late July, I joined a "For Fun" league, filled with strangers, and put my system to the test. Mock drafts help a bit, but half the group drops out by round seven and the autodraft starts grabbing kickers and defenses, so you always end up with the most amazing bench ever. When people draft for real they draft differently.

Everything worked exactly as I had wanted it to, except in the third round.

This was funny.

I hadn't reset my LB list to reflect the size of the IDP, so I was taking time to put them up on my queue while I wasn't drafting, and when it came around to my turn, the wifi kicked me off and grabbed an LB instead of Antonio Brown. Yeah, that sucked. I could've been all bitchy about it, but I'm not that dude.

I ended up with a very sensible team with my solitary dreamer pick as Percy Harvin.

I know Seattle doesn't throw, I know he's never played a full season and I know he's never topped 1,000 yards.

But he's fun to watch.

I also didn't realize that there were two flex positions and no dedicated TE spot. There's a WR/TE and a WR/RB/TE position. Which means that while I was grabbing dreamy RB's, I probably shoulda loaded up on stable WR's instead. And lastly, I discovered that people really like having a bench full of QB's. The guy I'm going up against in Week One, for instance, has Luck, Ryan, and Tannehil. So, I'm a gonna be scouring the waiver wire come Bye Week 9 for names like Fitzpatrick and Carr, or maybe I'll have some Carson Palmer trade bait by then. Who knows?

In my For Reals league a month later, I updated my lists, adjusted my strategies, and was all set to take Forte with my fourth pick (as had been discussed with the commissioner after a game of golf and over several bitter beers.)

But the beer must have got in our way, because thirty minutes till draft, I discovered I was slated with the 1st overall pick.

I mean, I really like Forte this year, but I'm totally not not gonna grab McCoy. Especially when I've got to wait another 22 picks. In the end, all came out exactly the way I planned. Each of my starters has a healthy back-up nestled on my bench, there are a few dreamy flyers, it's as solid and as pragmatic as I could possibly make it.

We're gonna call this year "No Hype, Just Homework"

It could work.

 . . . and finally . . . speaking of possibilities:

CRAZY/STUPID PREDICTIONS FOR 2014:

With the new "No Contact" rule, we see three QB's pass for over 5,000yrds. Brees/Rodgers/Stafford.

Eli gets benched at some point and has to call his mom to come pick him up.

Moreno is a Top Ten RB only because Lamar Miller's luck is really that bad.

Both my fantasy teams make it to the play-offs, cause my luck can't really be that bad.

Michael Sams gets promoted from the Cowboy's practice team and Dallas becomes the 'New' San Francisco.

"The 40ft Post" gets picked up by several alternative news nets, and I give my family a heart attack by making a living as a sports writer.

(If you liked The 40ft Post, please comment and share. Thank-You)

How To Moving Day

If you had asked me thirty years ago what "Moving Day" was, I most likely would have told you about Mrs. Frisbee and the Rats of NIMH. It's the day the farmer plows the field and al the little furry creatures need to find somewhere else to be cute for a while.

Half a decade or so later, when my arms were strong enough to carry furniture, Moving Day was like an every six months kind of thing. We were always moving about, and since my dad had the only known truck in Northern California, we were always moving everyone else too.

Dad and I got so good at moving, we hardly had to speak as we trudged large ugly heavy furniture down cornered stairwells and up Uhaul ramps. Jobs that might have taken forever were usually done by lunch. Thank goodness that I learned how to be good at other things cause that would have been a terrible career.

Anyway, a decade or so after that, I was introduced to Davis, California (but it could have been just about any college town) and the chaotic cluster-mess that is the official 'Moving Day' of an entire student body.

The first weekend of September, 10,000 families in UHauls and pick-up trucks descend upon the sleepy little community to move doe-eyed freshman into dorms, sophomore's into apartments, juniors into frat houses, seniors into townhomes, senior plusses back into apartments, and the super lucky families that get to take their children home. When that happens to my step-son, I hope he doesn't mind sharing a bunk bed with a nine year old. And paying rent. And setting fire to all of those Ambercrombe/Fitch outfits that will never shed that particular smell.

You know that smell.

Anyway . . . having fundamentally mastered the skill of transferring a life from one room to the next, and watching in abject horror the undisciplined nonsense of lesser movers, I thought we should dedicate this week's "How To Tuesday" to some fundamental concepts - that if implemented correctly - can turn a tragedy into kind of a nice little family gathering.

Step One: Prepping/Packing/Purging.

This is the responsibilty of the individual(s) being moved. People who fail this first step should just go ahead and find new friends because they will never get a second chance. You're gonna need boxes, packing tape, and Sharpies. Boxes can be had for free at just about every retail establishment on the planet, no excuses. I prefer bookstores, cause their boxes are almost always a uniform shape, are big enough to fit lots of stuff and small enough to carry solo when filled with books. Big boxes should only be used for clothes and bedding.

You can be as anal-retentive as you want at this stage - I've been known to alphabetize my CD collections - and you can take as long as you want. My wife has been known to stop packing all together and spend hours on the floor looking through old photographs.

This is also the time when you absolutely need to throw out half of your stuff.

HALF.

Accumulation is a disease. But there are some simple rules to this. Clothes: If you haven't worn it in a year, gone. (This does not include weeding dresses or neck ties). Books: If you're not going to read it loan it, sell it on eBay, or if the cover doesn't look cool, gone. Any knickknack that is not currently displayed, gone. Any cookingware with scratches in the teflon, or that you used once when you were on an asian kick, gone. Scented candles, gone.

If you're not sure, gone.

Things that get a pass include: All tools, musical instruments, sporting goods (but not exercise equipment), and beauty supplies (cause that shits expensive.)

Trash . . . I can't bellieve I have to say this . . . gone.

The reason I have to say this is because while moving my step-son this week, I noticed four - count 'em - four nearly empty cereal boxes. Even if you combined the Fruit Loops, Lucky Charms, and two boxes of Poppin Fruity Peebles, you couldn't fill an average cereal bowl.

Actually though, in everything else he was pretty stable, so, you know, B+.

So, when the truck arrives at your door, there should be nothing in the place but boxes, dusted furniture, and the coupon for pizza that will be used on Step Five.

Step Two: Four is the Magic Number

That's You, a buddy, and two family members. Two can do alright. Three not much better than two. But with four people, you can empty any room in ten minutes or less. The first group, usually the two family members, who just wanna get her done, and while they're loading, the next two can grab the next big item. Once Group 1 has loaded, they can go get the next thing while Group 2 plays Cargo Tetris. This goes back and forth until truck capacity is filled or the space is empty. The even numbers keeps everyone honest. The third or fifth wheels have a tendency to stand about, check their phones, or - god forbid - try to give direction.

Step Three: The Little Things.

Once the furniture and boxes have been loaded then it is time to stuff all that empty space with the things that couldn't fit in boxes, got missed somehow, or will provide padding when the truck bounces over speed bumps. In a closed space (UHaul, SUV) you can just jam that crap wherever there is space. In an open system, you have to be judicious and careful to tape things down. No one wants to loose a pair of jeans to the gods of the highway.

Step Four: The Unloading.

You can try to plan for this. Go ahead. Be my guest. But the rule of thumb is that anything goes anywhere. That rule has to be modified a bit if your group is a bit too stupid to not know that the kitchen table goes in the dining room and not in the master bedroom, and it is of paramount importance that you keep all walkways clear of debris (a man carrying a leather couch walking backwards up a flight of stairs should not have to negotiate large trash bags filled with winter coats.)

If you are particular about where things go, then hire a moving company. They won't listen to you either, but you won't be uninvited to their fantasy football leagues for being a jackass.

If you followed Step One to the letter, and have friends with at least some college, then there is a pretty good chance (Like 60/40) that the box you labeled "Kitchen Stuff" will end up in the kitchen. But if it doesn't, look at it this way, as soon as everyone has gone home, you have a week's worth of Christmas all to yourself.

Anyway, so the little things that were stuffed in, come out first. Since there is no place to really put them yet, I like to create a neat little pile on the front lawn, otherwise, they are likely to end up in the way in a big way.

Next the big furniture, then the boxes, then the lawn pile. And you're done.

Well, you're not done, but everyone else is.

Step Five: Breaks and Food and Beverages.

Unless you've hired a moving company, then you have to be aware that their are some solid people who love you and are willing to ruin their whole day. You have to be repectful of that.

First, be organized when they arrive. (If you follow Steps 1-4, you will be). They're gonna wanna get to work right away, so be ready for that. Back up the truck and giddy up.

Next, there are three certified break times (This is very important if there are smokers among you). After the trucks are loaded, Arrival at the new destination, When the trucks are empty.

After the trucks are loaded, it's time to assess your crew. If they were fast and efficient and displayed at least a little respect for your grandmother's ashes, then take your final walk through and hustle on down the road. If, however, they were slow, whiny, and confused, that's on you bro. Either you have terrible friends, or you're a terrible leader. As you drive to the new abode, map out the speech you're gonna have to make to show your plan, display strength, and motivate the troups. (See Braveheart, Gladiator, and The Return of the King)

Once at the desitnation, give a walk through tour, let people pee, let the smokers smoke, and order pizza with the coupon you saved from earlier. If you have a wife, this is the best time to send her out for beer.

Ordering pizza: There should be one large for every two people. This ensures an adequate meal for all and most importantly provides you with dinner and possibly breakfast until you find that box of kitchen supplies. Don't get a concensus, just order one cheese and one combo. It's not like vegans have the tensile strength to actually lift things, so there's a good chance there isn't one on your crew.

Once smoking/peeing/and ordering have been done, unload (See step 4). By the time you have finished unloading, the pizza should have arrived, the beer should have arrived, and you should all be talking football and praying that your wife doesn't notice the scratch on the dresser.

But of course she's gonna notice.

Cause there is no god.

Step Six: Specific to college towns.

Earlier the better. College kids sleep late and are slow and unresponsive and have a lot of things going on in their cell phones. If you can get in and out before noon it's smooth sailing.

Keep your distance: Most people don't know how to drive big cars or heavy loads or at all really. Leave plenty of space for yourself, the person in front of you and the person behind you.

Don't block things: Apartment complexes are narrow. Be gracious and willing to walk the extra five feet if it means you're in a reasonable parking spot.

Leave the non essentials at home: I actually saw an entire fleet of mini-vans filled with children and grandparents, all standing around, while poor old dad and his fourteen year old son moved the older sister into an upstairs apartment, while she leaned up against the back of the car and played Candy-Crush on her Samsung Galaxy. The sad part is that the man and his boy could have gotten the whole thing done in about twenty minutes had it not been for the mother yelling out directions in Cantonese.

The grandmother stood in the same place for an hour holding nothing more than a bottle of windex and a roll of paper towels.

If they can't lift a box of books above their heads, then they will add an extra hour to everything. I know that sounds mean, I know that transition is exciting and that the whole family wants to come and see the new place,

but for gosh sakes, this ain't the time.

This is Moving Day.

 

Love's Labour Won

I used to not dig Labor Day too much.

All it was for me was a signal that school starts in two days.

Now it's just a perfect excuse to rake the flesh of a dead animal across hot coal and embibe gallons of fermented grain.

Mmmmm.

Labor Day has been heralded as a celebration for the hardworking men and women who keep the economy moving, and just a way to fit in a holiday between the 4th and Thanksgiving.

I agree and applaud both of those.

This is also the first Labor Day celebration where, technically speaking, I'm not exactly a member of that force.

Every Labor Day since I was sixteen (That's 22 years for you math-a-phobes), I've had a traditional job. I worked as an office clerk at a Jazz Record Label.

That was pretty cool.

Not exciting.

But cool.

Just after that I went to work for one of the first mobile phone companies, the now long forgotten CellularOne.

True story: I was once hanging out in the CEO's office and he was regailing me with the things he saw at a trade conference he had just returned from. He was very excited to describe to me a cellphone that was only one inch thick, and get this, could work as a Fax Machine.

A fax machine.

Look it up.

From there I got my first real sorta I guess job at a book store. I thought that since I loved books, I'd love working at a book store.

Yeah . . . first lesson in Love and Labor . . . and nere the twain shall meet.

"Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life."

But that does not include unboxing your love, finding room for it on some shelf and then trying to upsell book-marks.

There I learned to manage a business, and, honestly, also learned that I was not ready to manage a business.

From books, I went to theater. Assistant Marketing Director for $%%^& College Theater.

That gave me my first writing jobs, my first desktop publishing jobs, and lots and lots of faxing.

I was there for a long time.

After that, it was acting and writing and acting and odd little theater jobs. Lights, stage management, whatever paid a tank of gas and a pack of cigarettes.

I worked for my aunt, mailing bird toys, and parrot accesories.

That was fun. There I figured out a way to invert the free boxes from the post office and use them to ship UPS which was cheaper. I may have saved the company like a whole eight dollars at some point. I was indespensible.

And then I found coffee.

And love and labor finally met.

And sailed off into the sunset happily ever after.

Until that one day.

Until that one day when I realized I was outdated. The things I'd spent all my career trying to master became irrelevent, or automated, or cheaper for someone else to handle.

I worked hard and they paid me very well to do so.

But who wants to be a 36 year old dinosaur?

So now what am I?

I don't not do things. I do things all the time. But instead of Love of the Labor, it's all Labor of Love.

I'm pretty much a housewife. Which is awesome. If you ever get the chance, I highly recommend it.

I'm a writer, in that, that's what I do a lot of. Two months from now my Google Ad dollars will be high enough for me to purchase a pastrami sandwich. That's the life.

I'm a musician, in that, I play and perform music for money. That's pretty cool too, though, if like me, you've learned to specialize at outdoor events, you might wanna consider not living in a climate that pushes the mercury into the high nineties all summer long.

I honestly didn't realize how much sweat one body can store.

But here's the thing: I do stuff. I make sorta money. So you can see the argument that what I do is 'work'

Yet . . . is it labor in the classic sense?

I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say . . . well . . . no.

I still do work. And I still do work hard. But that catch is, is that nothing I do now is meaningless.

An executive of one of the companies I worked for once told a group of managers that they key to successful management was "To only do the things that only you can do."

Which is both genius and hypocritical nonsense since she spent most of her tenure creating more work for less profit.

Still kills me. :)

But it's funny cause that's precisely what I do now.

Now I only do the work that only I can do.

Which sounds great, and it is, but the truth is is that if I don't do it, it doesn't get done. This is the only job in my life where I am literally irreplacable.

But can it be done forever?

Who knows.

Maybe this time next year I'll be back in the classic labor market and typing this post from a desk I don't own on a dime that isn't mine.

Maybe nothing will have changed and I'll just be a little older and a little balder.

Maybe Zombies.

In a book written in the late 1500's there was a mention of a Shakepeare play called Love's Labor Won. Some scholars think it could be an alternate title to Much Ado About Nothing, some think it's Troilus and Cresida, but the majority consider it to be a sequel to the comedy Love's Labor Lost.

We'll probably never actually actually know, but I am both intrigued and mortified by the theory of a lost play. 

So much of modern english was created by the words of Shakespeare that it's depressing to think about what we might have lost.

I'm not saying my work aproaches anything like that. But it excites me to think that there is a life's worth of work just sitting there waiting for me to do it.

But not today.

Today I eat meat and drink beer.

Happy Labor Day