oh canada
Even as an adult, Canada continued to play a special part in my life, most notably our many trips to The Beer Store. Yes, The Beer Store. An entire store filled with beer. It basically works like this: you walk in and tell a very nice person what you want. That very nice person punches some keys into a machine. You give that very nice person some of your money. And then your beer magically appears on a conveyor belt. What’s not to love about that?
a bills fan’s guide to the 2016 election
Okay so I guess BillsSealthis is a second political post, but in fairness the first one was more about political people—less commonly known as assholiosis. I know that sounds like an affliction, and it’s probably offensive to real afflictions, but it feels somehow more inclusive to me. So let’s run with it.
men’s league hockey and politics
Hey friends. It seems the more I get into this politics game, the more I find comparisons to hockey. Especially men’s league hockey. It’s really weird how our sport—the sport we all love and respect—would draw close comparisons to something people generally hate and don’t trust. But if you look at it through the newly enlightened and somewhat twisted mind of someone like me, the connection is there. Let me ‘splain. No. There is too much. Let me… sum up.
is it bad politics, or are all politics bad?
I don’t really want to write about politics. It kind of makes me angry.
This subject seems to suck the sense out of what otherwise would be intelligent people. At the very least, I think politics short-circuits the part of our brains that stops our mouths from saying stupid shit. Or our fingers from typing similar nonsense. Need proof? Just click your Facebook app and you’ll see a flood of it.
newton’s third law
let my love open the door, as long as it isn’t for a woman
Here’s your first warning. Like most of my writing, my blogs are likely to be laced with references to my younger days. I’m 46 years old. Today, as a matter of fact. So you can decide which era “my younger days” refers to. I’ll try to remember to include links to references you kids might find obscure, but just play along and have fun with it, okay?
retired
I was five years old and didn’t own a pair of skates, but that didn’t stop me from bundling up in my snowsuit, big boots, stocking cap and gloves to join the game each morning with my cousins. We’d pull the nets—a homemade “product” my uncles made from narrow piping and chicken wire—onto our rink and just like when we played in the driveway, I’d tape on some foam rubber or strap on the plastic Mylec pads and pull my white mask (made famous by Jason in the Friday the 13th movies) right over my hat.
a boy named fred
People talked. There were stories. Some good. Some bad. But stories nonetheless. Who was this Fred? Did he even exist?
boy inside the man
As a boy, Tim had the world at his fingertips. I especially remember those days in Lockport Little League. Tim and I alternated at shortstop and pitcher. When I was on the mound, I wished with every crack of the bat for a grounder to short. To say Tim was like a vacuum there doesn’t cut it—even the best vacuums leave some dirt behind, and I can’t remember a ball not ending up in Tim’s glove.
life on the ridge
Now that I’m an adult, I realize how different my childhood really was—at least for the 1970s. Back then, I thought everyone lived next door to their aunts & uncles and that life was all about baseball in the backyard in the summers, and freezing the ball field for pick-up hockey in the winters. It’s funny how the past doesn’t really change, but your perspectives on the past are shaped by present-day events.
