Seattle Sportsnet turns two years old on Friday. I have this overwhelming fear that the domain name won’t auto-renew like it’s supposed to and the site will just be gone when I log on that morning. It’s not so far-fetched. I’m basically trusting a robot to keep my site alive. Either that or some intern at a computer who has to make the right clicks in order to tell the world not to delete me. I don’t feel good about that. Human error is our biggest hurdle. Human error amongst interns is even greater, from what I hear. I don’t know though, because I have yet to secure an intern. It’ll happen eventually.
A friend told me today that the content of this site has gone downhill recently and I agree. Most writers wouldn’t tell you that their product has been sucking without at least throwing in some self-deprecating punch line to get you to laugh with them a bit and realize they’re joking. Like how all writers joke about their tiny readership. All writers have that joke. Even if they’re the world’s biggest pimp daddy columnist, like Bill Simmons or something. They make it because they know it’s ridiculously untrue. If you think writers don’t get a huge kick out of people reading their unadulterated opinions, you’re wrong. Writers are egomaniacs. Hell, I’m an egomaniac. I can be up front about this even if others will not be. We all like being liked. Let’s just admit it and move on.
The bigger concern here is that the product of this site has gone downhill in the past few weeks. I apologize for this. I’ve been distracted by a number of things, including the maintenance of Karate Emergency, playing basketball as often as I can, socializing, and lastly, becoming ill. Not ill as in, “Yo man, I’m so ill!” No. Ill as in under the weather. I’ve spread myself thin, apparently. And as a result, my immune system has revolted against me. Call me weak if you must. I call myself weak. Usually in conjunction with the word “sauce,” however. You’re weak sauce, dude.
On a related note, I often speak in the second person when I’m trying to motivate (or demotivate) myself. Like if I screw something up that shouldn’t have been screwed up, I’ll say, “You f**king moron. You’re better than that,” shake my head, and move past my frustration. Cussing at yourself helps you address and deal with failure in a very effective manner. I’m quite sure of this. Plus, it prevents you from letting that failure hang over your head and get you down. I should know. I’m an expert in failure management. A consultant, in fact. Which, by the way, is the best ticket to a job ever. (Here comes some free advice for you college grads looking for work. And no, I’m not actually a failure management consultant. Sorry. I fabricated that part of the story for effect.)
If you are unemployed and seriously struggling to find a job, become a consultant. You don’t have to do anything besides print up some business cards and own a suit. You can consult in whatever field you want to consult in. If you enjoy shopping, you’re a shopping consultant. If you know computers, you become an IT consultant. If you worked part-time at Best Buy to pay tuition, you’re a retail sales consultant. Anyone can become a consultant. And real-life consultants know that they haven’t done jack to reach such a lofty status in life besides con a few people into thinking they knew their stuff about something trivial. They’re nodding as they read this. Kind of like motivational speakers.
Man, motivational speaking must be a great job. Look at a dude like Tony Robbins, for example. All he has to do is travel the country and get people to park their asses in hotel ballrooms for a few minutes so he can talk to them about life. Not anything special. Just life. Here’s how you live your life better, he’ll tell you. Well sh*t. Anyone can do that. It’s simple. You wanna live your life better, just stop f**king up. Don’t f**k up anymore and you won’t have any problems. You’ll feel better about your successes, too. Mainly because your successes won’t be tainted by the failures of your f**k-ups.
My goal in life is not to f**k up. A lot of people associate taking risks with f**king up. Hence, if you’re not willing to f**k up, you’re not willing to take risks and thus live life to its fullest. That’s a bunch of bull. I believe you can take risks and simultaneously not f**k up. The thing about f**king up is that it’s entirely how you spin it.
For example, let’s say you go to a bar and sing karaoke — which is a f**k-up in its own right, but we won’t go there. You get up on stage and you decide to sing ‘NSync’s Bye, Bye, Bye. Well, already a few people in the audience are gonna consider this a f**k-up because they hate ‘NSync, so you’re behind the eight-ball to begin with. That’s an unfortunate circumstance of the boy band genre. Was it really as bad as we all pretended it was in middle school? Eh…I’d say that’s very debatable and probably bordering on the “no” side of things, but hey, that’s just me. I’m digressing, I apologize. Even though this whole article is one big digression, but whatever.
Okay, so you’ve chosen to sing Bye, Bye, Bye. Now let’s pretend that you’re just a Godawful singer. You can’t hit a note to save your life. All those people in the audience who were on your side in spite of the song choice are probably now against you because you’ve destroyed the legacy of this song which they didn’t used to hate, but now do. Because you sang it. So now, sadly, 100-percent of the audience thinks you’re a f**k-up. Way to go.
But wait, it’s not over yet. Because as I said earlier, f**king up is only a product of the mind. You can spin f**k-ups and turn them into whatever you want. So here’s what happens. You get off stage and all your friends say to you, “Wow, dude. You really f**ked that up.” There are two things that can occur at this moment. You can panic and get defensive, thus acknowledging that you’ve f**ked up, or you can spin the f**k up like a f**kin’ badass f**k-up consultant. How do you do that? You don’t blink. You don’t react. You simply say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everyone else here liked it and I was trying to sing it that way. Maybe you didn’t get it, that’s fine.” Then you shrug and sit down.
At this point, you’ve thrown the haters a curveball. They’re deliberating in their own minds whether they just saw what they think they saw. They’re not quite sure. As they process your statement, it occurs to them that if you don’t think you f**ked up, and you’re not acting like you f**ked up, and you don’t seem to care that you may have f**ked up then, alas, you did not f**k up as they originally thought. “I’m sorry,” they’ll say to you, “I was under the impression that you had f**ked up, but clearly you did not.”
If you’re really good, you can take their guilt over their own f**k-up at accusing you of f**king up and turn it against them. You would simply want to say something along the lines of, “Not only did I not f**k that song up, I probably sang it better than ‘NSync ever did. I bet I could get any girl in this bar to go home with me tonight. And to go home with all of you guys, too. Let’s do this. Someone buy me a drink first, though. I’m thirsty from all that singing.”
At this point, they’re willing to believe anything you say. So they’ll buy you a drink and then anticipate getting laid thanks to your act of heroism. You’re a legend. And all you did is f**k up an ‘NSync song and trick people into thinking you didn’t f**k it up, when really you did. That makes you royally badass. Like a motivational speaker or something. Tony Robbins doesn’t have sh*t on you.
Did I mention I had a lot of cough syrup today? But all cough syrup nowadays is alcohol-free. That doesn’t make any sense. I thought the alcohol was supposed to help you get better. This is like diet cough syrup. I’m not sold on making over-the-counter drugs safer for kids. They aren’t even tall enough to reach the counter anyways, so how are they supposed to get that sh*t over it? Think about it.
I was probably going somewhere with this, but that died a long time ago. Long story short, just keep reading this site from time to time. Click through to the articles and leave some comments. It makes everyone feel better about coming here. Like walking into a party where everyone has their clothes on and you do too. You feel safe in that situation. But imagine if you walked into a party where everyone was naked but you weren’t. What would you do then? You really only have three options. You can take your clothes off and be like everyone else. You can be the weirdo who still has his clothes on. Or you can leave. I don’t like to freak people out with those types of scenarios when they land on this page, so let’s all decide to either keep our clothes on or take them off right now. We don’t want prospective readers to leave when they could stay and enjoy this party.
Well, that’s all for now. Welcome to the thoughts that cross my mind.