Why are you here?

Pardon me, but I’m curious. What brought you here? Since you made it past the headline, I’m curious. You wanna know what’s sad? People who respond to an article online without actually clicking through to actually read what I was saying.

Like, who placed a golden spoon on your lip and nominated you, quick take Joe? An article titled “Why Harrison Bader should be launched into space” will elicit about four comments ranging around “why would you do that?! He’s a Bronx angel,” and “Oh please, he’s a good outfielder. Ease up, button pusher.”

Neither of those assholes actually read the article and probably picked their nose while scrolling on by, happy that they made a real dent with the audience and writer by not even offering 30 seconds of your time. That’s all it takes to figure out if something is worth reading or not. Click on the link. The page loads, and you already get antsy-as if a writer thousands of miles away is responsible for your internet speed, or the fact that the company he works for needs to make money off the ads. After all, they can’t profit off his words, so let’s load the site up with 989 ads. That’s the game. They didn’t read the piece. Those commenters are the worst. (When you screenshot me, speak of me well.)

Writing is easy after all, right? All you have to do is spell every damn single word right and hope a keyboard gangster doesn’t decide to get picky with the locations of your commas. Dude just spent around 16 minutes staring into a Webster Dictionary like it was Narnia or something, and he’s a genius all of a sudden. Imagine some person who thinks they’re real smart had to take the time to question a sentence, therefore aborting the rest of the article. Once they continue, the scrutiny will be righteous. You’re done. Call their cell and redirect them to a puff piece about the top 5 shoes to wear around your home when it’s cold outside. (I still prefer a cat playing the piano.)

If you are wondering when the list is going to start, you really haven’t been paying attention. People sure do love those listicles. Movie trailer voice incoming: TOP TEN reasons to never pass up a bathroom over the age of 30. TOP TEN reasons to not actually stay in your damn lane. You get the drift. And for all the grammar experts keeping score, I CAPPED those words just for shits and grins. Big words get people’s attention. Need those clicks if the headlines aren’t holding up snuff.

Alright, #1: The people who try to tell you not to let something affect you so much. Oh, these know-it-all folks. Like they climbed inside your mind, inception style, and just peeked around, checking the tread on the nerve endings. I always like smiling when people tell me that, a digestion of their stupid idea that doesn’t make any sense. That person can’t actually control how something affects him, especially right after. Can you stop a bullet and negotiate? I didn’t think so. Get serious, put some pants on, and put the joint down for a second.

Everything that may affect me will ultimately affect me. Same for you. Same for the person next to you. Nobody can stop it. Some can merely hide it better. This shit goes back to middle school. My dad likes to think I was strong or noble, because I didn’t seem to mind the large amounts of people making fun of my stutter (it was pretty bad). He marveled how it didn’t really affect me. Oh, it affected me alright, I just kept it under wraps. I do that well. Hear something or feel something without warning, and quickly figure out a way to camouflage it. It’s a human element that can’t be deleted, like that app on your phone that hasn’t been used in three months, yet looks cool and blends with the background, so you keep it.

Every time someone made fun of my speaking problem, it stung. When a friend or family member chose to do it, the pain was worse-like being attacked from within. I couldn’t help it at the time. There was a lot on my mind and the export service sucked. So forget those people who give out that shitty advice. It’s nothing personal, just stop doing it.

Waiting on baseball is #2. Spring training is underway at last. The snow is finally melting outside, and the grass is ever greener down in Florida. The Cardinals are attempting to get back to the National League Pennant for the first time since 2014 (does 2019 even count?). That’s the goal. The division is nice and all, but after adding Nolan Arenado, it wouldn’t be enough. This isn’t some decent player. While the team still retains leaks and holes on the roster, Arenado reshapes everything, on defense and in the lineup. If you have any doubts about him post-Coors, just remember the last big contract and Ex-Rockie to come into Busch. Matt Holliday fared out pretty well.

The gas pump critics are #3. Some seem to believe that the reason for gas prices going up a half dollar falls on Joe Biden. Haha. There’s more to it than that. Gas prices are fueled by demand, and as the country is opening back up, people are traveling again and the roads are getting busy. Demand goes up, so the price follows. Simple as that. The man has been in office one month and is already getting blamed for gas prices. Fork out a couple quarters, people. It’ll be okay. One less cafe latte for you.

The film critics who hate a movie before it even opens are #4. Come on. Just don’t. Look, I can hate Tobey Maguire’s face as much as an unseasoned piece of chicken, but I will watch his movie with enough objective thought to craft a review. That’s the job. Yeah, it stinks that the person who beat sixteen women is in the film, but the goal is thinking outside of personal issues and judging the film. If you think there is going to be a problem with reviewing a movie, just don’t review it. There are some people who thought I gave Frank Grillo a free pass in certain reviews. Fuck you, I didn’t! We had conducted many interviews and I considered him a friend at one point. Good critics can separate reality from fiction. I gave his big Oct. 2019 dirty cops flick, “Black and Blue,” a negative review. If I was so nice, why take a shit on one of his bigger budget releases? Because that’s the job. If the actor takes it as a shot at him, they don’t understand a film critic’s duty one fucking bit.

Cancer pisses me off. Can we make that #5 and #6? Don’t even answer. I lost a good friend to cancer once. Troy Siade. You wouldn’t find a more loyal yet honest friend, and he’s gone. The man couldn’t even experience his late 40’s. What’s up with that? We only knew each other for a few years, but we synced up like brothers from different mothers with common ground: Cardinals baseball. He loved Jim Edmonds, and I liked to laugh when I was sweating through multiple layers of clothes on a miserable August afternoon behind stainless steel. When he was up there, the manual scoreboard hummed like an athletic engine. Cancer took him back in 2004. 17 years got stolen from me and countless others. Troy affected every person he breathed on. Fuck you, cancer.

The profanity police are #7. For real, find another hill to die on. Some of the sharpest minds in history have cursed. Pick up a magazine with more words than pictures. Esquire Magazine and Rolling Stone Magazine have some of the entertainment business’s finest talent, and they all curse in print. The most annoying comment I get on here come from the anti-cursing internet watch police. Stand down. Let me inform the way I know how to inform. It’s not that hard to click on a piece and resist judgement and alternatives within ten seconds. I’d like to come to their job one time, and just start messing with shit. If there’s a desk, I’m moving all of that crap around. Flip the rug to find the cat piss stain. Drink all of his bourbon and leave a half-drunk bottle of Jager.

Some of us curse. Others don’t. A lot of people curse a lot, and I think it’s best that you climb over that anger wall and get the fuck over it. This is my site. My rules.

Parent judges are easily #8. Mind your own business. Here’s another couple, from afar, judging and reacting to our life. Don’t act innocent. You’re guilty. We. All. Are. But let’s start toning it down. Your kid throws a fit or things need to get loud, and the esteemed folks at Walmart feel the need to stare and ruminate on what exactly is causing the issue. The workers there were fine with human beings being trampled for a damn 40-inch flat screen, but a mild child disturbance awakes the mothers-to-be all over the building. My advice: Make your own kid, or pay more attention to your own for a change instead of going on Sportscenter for Overreactive Semi-Parent Takes all the time.

Okay, #9 isn’t a thing that’s pissing me off. It’s just a small announcement:

I haven’t watched a ton of hockey, and I haven’t written much during this shortened season. It has nothing to do with the number of games or the current situation with the pandemic. It’s just the natural flow of a career-or at least I’m sticking to that. I’ve never been paid to write about hockey, and there’s less joy in doing so than with baseball or the movies. I love the sport, but getting to know it again as a fan and only occasional columnist (you can still find bi-weekly takes at STL Jewish Light) has been a nice touch. With other needs and a new job settling into place, I put the hockey writing on hold a bit. Only when something really strikes me. If there’s a real itch. Otherwise, I let the experts like Jeremy Rutherford, Jeff Ponder, Laura “Ms. Hildy Mac” Astorian, and Dave Rapp. I’ll just follow the passion of super fans like Leah and Stephanie Michele. I want to know what is bothering my old friend, Mr. Blues Hat. Who did Art Lippo roast (outside of me)?

One of the thrilling and scary aspects of writing for the St. Louis Game Time paper was looking at an empty computer screen calling your bluff. Some days, I just had nothing to say, especially after filing a story in the game two days ago. That’s why I tip my eternal hat to the reporters out there, the real writing warriors who can’t afford to wait or step back for too long. I am an opinion guy, so they need to be real and formulate naturally without manipulation. In the past, I have manipulated a subject matter just to see if I could twist a few arms out there to read. If there’s a writer out there who hasn’t done it, give them a gold star for valor.

Long story kept not that short at all: I haven’t been away for any particular real reason. The Game Time paper is shut down currently, and the site has its own younger weapons firing at will. People like Gabriel Foley. He’s not always right on the mark, but he aims to say something unique each and every time. I will be reading him while adding my own takes via the Dose or JL. Maybe it will increase here as the playoffs near. Maybe I remain a backup goalie-type hockey writer.

And finally #10, I am tired of people who don’t love “Chef” as much as I do. Coming next week to Jewish Light, I will list off 20 reasons why it’s the best comfort film ever.

Until next time, thanks for letting me rant.