:: Poor efforts ::

In the last month or so I've noticed a disturbing lack of new blog posts from my esteemed blogroll on the left - namely Christene, Kelsey, Meghan and Lanette.

Now, there are other blogs I link to as well – Jason Mulgrew, The FYC – that have been pretty delinquent lately too, but I don't know those people, so I feel bad calling them out. Besides, Mulgrew just wrote a fucking book, so if he wants to not blog for awhile, give the dude a break.

But as for the rest of you... well, I know you all personally and feel quite fit to point out your blogging inadequacies. And let me tell you, your lack of effort is shameful. 

Because it's a slow afternoon here at the always-prolific/constantly updated/fan favourite Classic Times, I took a few minutes to crunch some numbers, math being my specialty.

Not including this post, here are some startling numbers: 

Christene 

Last post: April 6; Classic Times posts since that date: 8 (7 plus 1 guest post)

Kelsey  

Last post: March 31; Classic Times posts since: 10

Meghan  

Last post: March 21 and then she closed up shop altogether; Classic Times posts since: 16

Lanette  

Last post: April 25 (But before that, no posts since April 9; Classic Times posts since April 9: 12

So there you have it. And I don't want to hear any whining about lack of internet or moving or quitting sob-stories or any of that crap. I didn't post for over a week because I was in Vegas, and then when I returned there was no Internet at the house for 4 days (technical difficulties) and I still managed to out-write the shit out of all of you.

Consider yourselves called out.

"If there was a letter higher than 'A' that would be me and Kristyl." - Christene, discussing who among her friends and acquaintances had earned A-List status.

"I used to think that maybe I had a learning disability, but it turns out I was just really lazy." - Kristyl

"I hate the term, "fake boobs." If I can feel 'em, they're real." - Dan

Ian, reminiscing about the last time Blue escaped from the yard...
"I just remember that I came out of the bathroom and said 'Where's the dog?' Then somebody said that Jeremy had taken him for a walk, and I said 'A walk?! But Jeremy's the drunkest one in the house! And Blue's leash is still here."

:: Repeat Performance ::

You may recall (because I brag about it often) that a year ago I won some North American-wide awards. Well, not to toot my own horn or anything, but, well, I won one of them again.

First place this time, instead of third actually, if we're keeping score (and we are).

Normally, I'd suggest this would be cause for a big, fat raise - or a barrage of better job offers from competing companies. However, my company is bracing for a recession (read: being cheap) and the major competition is currently in a "hiring freeze" so the best I can hope for is that this saves me from being laid off.

Whatever, I'll take it.

:: Tales from the Vault ::

Remember a few months back, when I wrote about my love of Sports Illustrated? And more specifically, I wrote about that long-lost SI article about the cross-country team tragedy, and how I'd searched high and low, near and far, but could not find a copy of it.

Well, SI has recently unveiled my absolute new favourite (non-pornographic) website: The SI Vault. And of course, the first thing I searched for was that damn article. Which I found right here.

Now, because it was so long since I'd read it, my memories of the story - which I'd written about in my original post - were a little bit off. It was a university running team, not a high school one. And there isn't one sole survivor, but, well...go read it. You'll see.

Sad/lame/nerdy as it is, finding this article has pretty much made my night (Aside from the amusing, early-evening encounter with some stupid woman who tried to sell my orthodics for my shoes while I was in the middle of a run. Seriously.)

But that's a story for another day.

For now, if you've got some time, go read that. I was 20 years old when that story was written, and it's Exhibit 1A of why do what I do, when - at the time - all I really wanted to do was quit school and come home.

"Grolsch? That beer sounds evil - like a beer Hitler would drink." - Me, after yet another one of Ian's "let's-try-a-new-beer" episodes.

A-Scrams: Would you ever propose to me?
Buchs: I don't get enough butt sex to propose to you.

"Woo! I just about fought two raccoons out there." - Chris' excitable-but-random comment, after coming in front the front of Jeremy's house.

"This totally just adds to my metrosexuality." - Jeremy, liking his new Snap-On Tools hat while at the same time wearing camo shorts and rocking one helluva mullet.

:: In defence of SI ::

I have a big manilla envelope somewhere in my house. In it are Sports Illustrated stories and columns I've read over the years and felt compelled to keep.

There's only a few in there, because my standards of what constitutes great are pretty high. I know many people who say they don't like SI because they don't care about things like college basketball, or tennis, or any of the things that dominate the American sports landscape. They want hockey, a little football maybe, and baseball playoffs and that's it.

Fair enough, I guess, although - without sounding too snotty - I like SI on a much different level. I honestly don't care what the subject matter is, I'll read almost anything because I appreciate writers, words, and all that stuff that, to be honest, most people either don't get or don't care about.

Whereas most people just want to read about Sidney Crosby or Peyton Manning, I can appreciate a phrase, an ending, or the way a sentence flows - likely because I'm a writer. I've read 8,000 word epics on scrabble tournaments, for Christ's sake. My boss likes to recommend movies or TV shows to me that he says most people don't appreciate or like. "You'll appreciate it as a writer," he always says, and he's usually right.

Same goes for SI, I guess.

I decided to start the envelope years ago, long before I went to school and studied journalism and writing. When I was a teenager, I read a backpage feature in the magazine - far from the cover, which was likely graced with a flavour-of-the-month college football star. I can't remember the details now, but the story was about a high school cross-country team something in the United States. All members but one were killed in a horrific bus accident, and the story focused largely on the one who survived. The story was about the guilt he felt for being the only survivor, and about how, long after the funerals and the lost season, he ran the same route he used to run with his team. Over and over, by himself.

I lost the issue, and have had no luck finding it online, mostly because I have zero details. I can't even remember what year it was. After I had no luck rediscovering it, that's when I decided I should start keeping some stuff.

The articles in my envelope aren't just good, aren't just mildy interesting. The only things that makes the cut are things that I wish I had written. Once in awhile, I'll re-read some stuff if I come across the envelope in a drawer someplace. Mostly I read it because it helps me when it comes time for me to write something.

Most people probably think it's pretty nerdy, but whatever. I'm cool with that. It's a popular opinion amongst writer-types that the best writers/journalists in the world are sports writers, for whatever reason, and it's a pretty solid argument.

By now, if you are still actually reading this, I'm sure you're wondering just what the hell I'm telling you all this for. The reason for this long-winded defence of the world's most popular magazine (Which, I suppose needs no defending, since it really is #1)?

I just added another thing to the envelope. It's long, but if you've got 2o minutes or half an hour to spare, go read it. If I ever wrote something this good, I'd quit writing on the spot, knowing full well that I'd never do any better.

And to think, if my dad had never wanted a free shoephone back in 1992, I likely would've never subscribed in the first place.