Groomed

Not long after I got down on one knee and Nicole, whose neurons were clearly not firing correctly, said "yes," I came up with a theory. My theory was thus: The modern man is not afraid of being married, the modern man is afraid of getting married.

This theory was borne of my belief that most men these days are okay with commitment, but are not so enlightened as to be okay with the maelstrom that takes hold of your life while you're engaged. I am willing to site "ability and willingness to plan a wedding" as evidence that women are the superior gender...or perhaps the exact opposite. Because, honestly, I find the whole thing baffling.

While the old adage may be that the first year of marriage is the hardest, I find it really hard to believe that it can be any more difficult than the year before marriage, or however long your particular engagement might be. And that's not counting the incredibly shitty year Nicole and I have had.

I don't think either of us was really prepared for what a wedding would entail, not so much in detail but in formation. We'd long since come around to the idea that our marriage would be the joining of two families, yes, but we had no idea that the wedding itself would involve walking some kind of fine line of expectations. When you've been with someone for a while, you experience the traditions that the person's family has, and those generally fall under the holidays (one side of Nicole's family actually sings Christmas carols -- no, really). I don't think either of us ever considered that there would be traditions for marriages as well, and that these traditions go much further than whether you open your presents on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.

The problem, in our case, is that our families are on opposite ends of the spectrum. Weddings are not particularly important in my family for a number of reasons. It's a rather sordid tale dating back to WWII and involving two generations (okay, it's not really that sordid, but it's in the book I'm currently shopping around, so I need to make it sound juicy). Even my brother's wedding was a really informal affair, made all the more so by the raging storm that hit the outdoor reception moments after he and his wife said their "I do's."

Nicole's parents, however, had a full blown, over the top, Catholic wedding. We're talking really old church, large wedding parties, and lots of formalities. There's a certain standard for weddings in Nicole's family, and even half of what her parents had is still an awful lot. Nicole is the first child to get married, so the pressure is even greater to at least come close to what her parents had.

But I'm fine with all that, or at least with most of it. I want our wedding to be nice. I want there to be a certain level of elegance to it, a certain level of extravagance. Because I'm only doing this once, so I want to do it as well as I possibly can.

Like most men, however, I have one very specific problem: the ceremony.

I hate the very idea of the ceremony.

I know that sounds insane. What's a wedding without a ceremony? It's just a big party, really -- but I like big parties.

Here's my issue with the ceremony: What Nicole and I have is special and it's private. The ceremony is basically a very pubic display of our love for each other, it's a showcase for the two of us to tell everyone how we feel, to make it "official" in some capacity. And to that I say "bleh." Because what I have with Nicole is no one's damn business. I don't want to share. I don't think I should have to.

And yet that's what I'm going to do.

I suppose, in this case, I'm like most men. It's no wonder that men are more likely to pass out during the ceremony than women. I'm sorry, but when you have all those people watching you and they all expect you to express emotions that you very specifically save for when you're alone, it's a bit much. It's sensory overload. And it is, quite frankly, kind of cruel.

I am dreading the ceremony. I am thrilled beyond belief to be marrying Nicole. I can't wait for the reception and the honeymoon. I can't wait until we get back and we're husband and wife. I'm even looking forward to starting a family. But I absolutely, positively abhor the idea of the ceremony.

I don't think my opinion will ever change. But I suppose it's only appropriate; it would be unrealistic for me to get all these amazing things if I didn't have to do something to earn them.

I just need to remember: don't lock my knees.

Non-partisanship

At some point I expect President Obama to say "You can all go to hell." And he will be talking to both political parties.

Let's start with the more egregious of the two, the Republicans. It should be clear to everyone by now that their entire motivation at this point is to place themselves against the stimulus package and then to pray to their White Christian God that it fails to help the economy. The end result, of course, is that the Democrats will then be held responsible for the country's economic state (a dubious claim at the very least) and America will come running back to the GOP.

Here, right in front of us, we are watching a political party make decisions based not on what's best for the country -- for the people who voted for them -- but on what's best for them personally. Because how many of them are having trouble making ends meet?

While I understand many of the Republican complaints about the stimulus package, I am stunned (and I don't know why I should be at this point) at how myopic their view is. The stimulus package absolutely, positively cannot be about fixing our economy. It can't be. Because fixing our economy will guarantee that we find ourselves in this situation again. No, the stimulus bill has to be about overhauling our economy, changing the basic assumptions we make about how business is done in this country, and what business we're doing.

Republicans are conservative. By its very definition, this means "disposed to preserve existing conditions, institutions, etc., or to restore traditional ones, and to limit change." Guess what? We can't afford to limit change anymore.

Sadly, the Democrats aren't helping things.

Someone needs to point out to the Democratic "leadership" (yes, it's in quotes, because the Democrats have been so directionless and spineless for so long it's hard to believe they have leaders) that Obama won the electoral votes of many states despite the fact that he's a Democrat. People were willing to set aside their problems with the Democratic Congress and vote for Obama. They didn't vote for him because of (D) next to his name. Truthfully, that letter probably made them hesistate before voting for him.

By the same token, Democrats would do well to remember that they're only the party in power because the Republicans were the party in power. While my beliefs generally fall on the left side of the spectrum, even the most ardent lefty has to realize that politics runs in cycles and the Democrats just happen to be on the good side of it. For that matter, it required the worst president in history to get people to flip because the Democrats had nothing to offer them other than "we can't be any worse."

No, Democrats, you need to stop spending every night patting yourselves on the back because you were able to convince three whole Republicans to cross party lines to vote for the stimulus bill, particularly since it's clear that those three Republicans are crossing because a) they're getting something and b) they like the President. Quit claiming that America chose you over the other guys because they really just chose the lesser of two evils. The only person who can claim such a thing is President Obama, and you people are ruining his good name.

How far gone are we? That's simple. The three Republicans that crossed over are being referred to by other members of Congress as the only moderate Republicans in the Senate. That's right, there are, evidently, only three moderate Republicans in the Senate. That's what the last eight years got us. That is, in part, how we got to where we are.

When Good Shows Go Bad

Just to put your mind at ease, the following blog contains no spoilers for any of the shows that I'll mention, so feel free to read on with confidence.

I just finished watching the fifth and final season of the Wire and it got me to thinking: why do good shows go bad? And, yes, that is an indictment on the last season of the Wire, although I should make it clear that while the last season is rather poor, it's not nearly bad enough knock the show out of my "Two Best Shows Ever" list (the other show on that list has seven episodes left).

It does seem that every television show I've ever been a big fan of has had at least one bad season. I think I've come up with two reasons why this happens: a) a lack of ideas and b) choosing bad ideas. Allow me to explain those further.

1) Lack of Ideas

Examples: The sixth season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the fourth season of Six Feet Under.

My lack of ideas theory stems from a few points, not the least of which is the stink of despair. On both Buffy and Six Feet Under, I got the distinct impression that the writers for those shows no longer knew what to do with the characters. It seemed apparent, to me, that they were so out of ideas that they went with the "throw everything against the wall and hope that something sticks" theory of storytelling. The problem is that, on the rare occasion they came up with something that did stick, the execution was awful, because by that point they were already knee deep in bad storytelling.

The last refuge for those lacking ideas is, of course, fan service, something both shows engaged in, but in different ways. There's no denying that season six of Buffy was just chock full of story lines that a certain segment of their fan base was clamoring for. Sadly, it was a segment whose desires ran counter to what the rest of the fan base wanted -- not just against what they wanted, but completely opposite to what they wanted, what they came to expect.

For Six Feet Under, it was a different type of fan service. In fact, it was probably more accurate to call it management service. One of the extras on the DVD set for the final season is an interview with Alan Ball. In that interview, he mentions how, after the first season, HBO requested that the creators "push the envelope" more. When I heard this, it was like a fog had lifted. Suddenly, the steady decline of a show I loved (I still consider the first season to be one of the single greatest seasons of television ever) made perfect sense. As the show progressed, the writers decided to take things as far as they could, as opposed to sticking to the rather grounded story of a repressed family with an unusual family business.

I don't think it's coincidence that both of the seasons I mention were the penultimate seasons for their respective shows.

2) Choosing Bad Ideas

Examples: Season five of The Wire, season two of Friday Night Lights.

The problem here is that both of these shows were (and are) bursting with story ideas. It's all the sadder, I suppose, that both shows decided to decide on such bad stories to follow.

Friday Night Lights has proven just how true this is by coming back for a third season and ignoring its second season entirely and, lo and behold, it's actually enjoyable again. The fact that it was actually able to return to a level of quality is a pretty good indication that the show wasn't out of ideas, and that the second season was just full of bad decisions. The fact that it's able to ignore everything that happened last year is a testament to just how god awful it was, and how thankful the writers (and the fans) should be that it didn't do any permanent damage.

The Wire is a bit more problematic. As bad as the main story points were, there were a couple of smaller stories going on that were just as good as the show always was. You can see the good ideas right there on the screen, yet sadly they were sharing time with the bad ideas, which actually made it all the more frustrating to watch. But even with the show over, it's pretty clear there were plenty of great stories left to be told. I'm willing to bet, had The Wire continued, it would have returned to its usual standard of quality.

It seems like even the best shows put out one bad season. I suppose I should be happy Firefly and Veronica Mars got canceled when they did.

Pet Peeve: Football Commentators

I've decided to start a (more than likely) long running series about my personal pet peeves. And, with the Super Bowl having been just a few days ago, I was reminded of one in particular.

This is how a normal sports commentator would sound:

"He's a great player on a good team. He knows how to catch the ball and he plays the game the right way."

This is how a football commentator would say the same thing:

"He's a great football player on a good football team. He knows how to catch the football and he plays the game of football the right way."

This has annoyed me for YEARS.

You're a football commentator. One of the few things we can safely assume is that you are going to, in fact, talk about football. Why do all football commentators feel the need to stick the name of the game into every sentence as many times as they can? So we won't forget? What other kind of ball would, say, Randy Moss be catching? What other kind of GAME would the Browns be playing??

(Okay, that last one isn't entirely valid, as the Browns often play tennis while the other team is playing football)

Here's what kills me: it's both self-aggrandizing and self-conscious. It's as if, by using "football" as an adjective, it suddenly makes whatever is being described really, really impressive. Yet why would it? It's not as if football is any better than any other sport out there, it's not as if the athletes are any more talented. On the flip side, it's almost as if football commentators need to inject that word into their every sentence as a way of establishing credibility, the "if I say it enough I must know what I'm talking about" philosophy.

It blows my mind and drives me nuts.

And, seriously, wants you start hearing it, you can never stop.