So, Do You Like ... Stuff?

I’ve been thinking about college a lot lately, and how it has influenced my life. For example, I can’t remember anything I was taught in college, and my current career choice has absolutely nothing to do with my former major. But on the bright side, I still have approximately $18,000 left to pay off in student loans, and I made great friends with people who I now speak to at least twice a year. My major in school was History, and I have used that knowledge to do things like watch reality television, and set up this web blog, which my friend Pete had to help me with because he’s good with computers, although he knows very little about history, because he’s too busy making money in the real world. Speaking of history, my wife likes to do this fun thing where she quizzes me about some completely random historical fact (for example: “I was watching the Discovery Channel the other day, and they mentioned something about this Aztec leader. What was his name again, Mr. History Major?”), and w...

There’s always been a stigma associated with steroids, but the public also seems to be largely in the dark regarding what, exactly, steroids are, and what they do. For example, we know that steroids are not as healthy as say, bananas. But are they REALLY that bad? If so many of our beloved professional athletes — and Jose Canseco — have been more than willing to use these performance-enhancing drugs, then what’s the big deal? Sure, steroids have completely warped the average sports fans’ preconceived notions of fairness and the innocence associated with athletic contests. But who cares about the average fan anyway? Certainly not me. I’m more interested in drugs. Could it be that trusted people within the community like our parents, teachers, and pharmacists have been lying to us all along about steroids? After all, in his new book, Jose Canseco argues that steroids are good, and I can’t remember the last time Jose Canseco was wrong. To learn more about steroids, I have contacted Victor...

Something seems to be plaguing the New York Knicks, and this time, it’s not Michael Jordan. It’s indifference. The state of the New York Knickerbockers is such that nobody even seems to care anymore, and I’m not just talking about the players. I’m talking about me. And you. And everybody else. And don’t forget about the players. Six years ago, Madison Square Garden was the place to be for a Knicks’ game. I can still remember the scene when Larry Johnson got fouled after hitting that three-pointer in the playoffs, and the place simply erupted. People cared about this team back then. This year, halfway into the regular season, the Garden is a dark and cavernous arena, where opposing teams come to feast on a once-proud franchise, as G.M. Isiah Thomas stares blankly into a wasteland of immovable contracts and missed jump shots. If Larry Johnson were still around, he’d be shaking his head in disgust. The Knicks are in a perpetual no-man’s land, and have been for some time now. When I...

In an attempt to lure the genre of "moronic guys who love sports" into the field of wild romanticism, WFAN in New York has been airing commercials encouraging guys to name a star after their significant other this Valentine's Day. And it seems to me that, hopefully, these guys REALLY like sports, cause that's all they're gonna have to fall to back on if their idea of a gift consists of a certificate claiming that some part of the galaxy is now named "Stephanie." For starters, I'm not exactly sure who the authority is in this matter. Who decided that it would be romantic to name stars after women? Was it that infamous group of playboys, the astronomers? Or was it the astronauts? Or maybe it was God, who seems to me to be the only feasible authority when it comes to labeling various parts of the universe. Whoever's idea this was, it is truly American. Only in this country could somebody begin the process of convincing guys that women would rather b...

I know that there are some big-time female football fans out there - the kind who would rather spend their Sunday afternoons watching NFL contests than, say...planning for a wedding. Or even going to a wedding. Or even getting married. The problem is that I don't know any of these women personally. I'm told that they exist, but I'm not exactly sure. For example, my wife does not know what a "first down" is, and she pretty much heads the list of "women I know." For most women, like my wife, the Super Bowl marks the completion of a seemingly endless list of Sundays spent "doing nothing except watching stupid football and listening to you go on and on about your stupid fantasy matchup and I couldn't care less if Edgerrin what's-his-face fumbled the ball inside the red area." Hypothetical situations like these seem to exist in households across the nation every Sunday during the fall and early winter months, and the Super Bowl is great fo...