A Midsummer Night's Dream Within A Dream Within A Dream

This afternoon I saw "Inception" (not pictured).

Going into the movie, there were plenty of expectations.

I knew from Facebook that this was going to be a 'thinkpiece.'

Everyone who had seen it suggested that this film was so complicated.

Then, the day before I saw it, I received the following text from my brother "Saw Inception. It was great you would hate it."

It was followed up with the following text "You would compare it to the matrix because it has imagination and ideas."
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Allow me to clarify his point.

I make no misgivings about this.

I don't love "imagination" in films.

I'm in no way a science fiction fan.

I go to the movies for good writing, strong acting, and verisimilitude.

That's right, give me some explosions, nachos, and versimilitude... and I'm happier than a pig in ***t.

I want movies to explain the world around me or introduce me to people I wouldn't ordinarily meet.

I don't need to be transported to some magical world with fake named creatures and a hero's quest (I'm looking at you 'Lord of the Rings' series).
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But Inception wasn't some novel idea.

It was simply a manifestation of Freud's "The Interpretation Of Dreams" featuring the chick from "Juno."

I thought the film executed the premise well and did it in an entertaining way.
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First of all, you can't talk about dreams without talking about the father of psychiatry.

The film talked about "three levels of sleep."

Paging the ego, superego, and id.

You can only manipulate people's ideas by reaching that ultimate, deepest level.

In other words, you need to implant the instinct into their id.

So far, I'm not lost.

The id is also where your inner most, deepest instincts lie.

Now to Freud that often involved fornication and family, but the movie mercifully doesn't touch that (Freud did a lot of drugs).

In this case, the inner most workings of the id were represented by safes and locks.

And whenever you had a safe, someone would reveal their inner-most desires and-or secrets.

A simple enough conceit.
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The movie also incorporated much of the literature that I've read about manipulation.

Being a public policy major at an elitist school, we focused on that a lot.

The basic premise is, in order to truly get someone to do something you want them to do, they must be convinced that it is their idea.

The movie played that out.

And then just for the true geeks out there, the movie threw in a fight scene on the slopes that was reminiscent of the Hoth snow battle in "Empire Strikes Back."
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I really enjoyed "Inception," but I'm a little bummed that it was SOOO complex to people.

Any college freshman should be able to get this movie.

Or am i dreaming?

The Baitful Dead...

I recently attended a big event here in South Florida, the culmination of Lobster Mini-Season.

It's called Lobster Dinner (not pictured).

I know it wasn't the only big lobster party around town this weekend.

It's not often that I do blogs by request.

But, sitting at a long, lobster-decorated table, I was asked, 'Are you going to write a blog about this?'

I thought, sure, why the heck not? As Mad Dog used to tell me, I can sing for my supper.
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First of all, I wish I had thought of the title of this blog.

Combining the Grateful Dead and fishing would've been a masterstroke I gladly would've claimed.

Sadly, it's not original.

I read it off of a t-shirt at said dinner.
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So South Florida fisherman who have proper permits are allowed to go back into the water hunting for Lobster on August 6th.

So what's the big deal about Mini-Season?

Why the copious news coverage and interest?

From what I'm told, lobster-hunting is difficult.

But, during mini-season, the tasty victims are so plentiful that even an idiot can leave with their limit.

So, for skilled lobster-folk, it's not really a big deal.

But for newbies, this is their time to pounce.

For the skilled-folk, this is batting practice.
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I grew in a household that celebrated everything, big time.

I'm fairly certain this was driven more by my mother's love for Publix cupcakes than the actual holidays themselves.

Still, I was brought up to appreciate festive.

Lobster Dinner was that and then some.

From fake lobsters on the tables, a lobster dive flag on the front door, and my favorite touch, a lobster-themed necklace, this was wall-to-wall lobster.
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I think too often people celebrate the wrong parts of South Florida.

Even LeBron James during his announcement: "I want to take my talents to South Beach."

That perception of our town, that it's just about clubs, cheesy music, and cheesier people.

I think image that sort of misses the point of what it means to be in South Florida.

Lobster dinner didn't.

Jersey, Sure?

An intrepid Heat fan (not pictured) decided it'd be a good idea to wear a LeBron James jersey in Cleveland.

That's right.

He decided to flaunt the Heat's big acqusition and rub it right in the face of Cleveland fans.

How did you think it would end?

Fortunately, he was able to make it out of the stadium alive and well.
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I saw the video of him walking out of the stadium.

His girlfriend decided to start brawling with one of the Indians' faithful.

Marriage material?

What suprised me the most was that it was during the 6th inning.

How did this dude survive 5 innings?
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Look, it's fun to be the enemy at a sporting venue.

Go to any Jets-Dolphins game, and you realize, rivarly and taunting is part of the game.

But this really wasn't a fair fight.

It's just too soon.

Plus, factor in the town you're talking about.

The Indians are more than 15 games out of first place.

The Browns are coming off of a bad season and are putting their franchise in the shaky hands of Jake Delhomme.

The Cavs, well, we all know about the Cavs.

And worst of all, they live in Cleveland.
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I have found the reaction to LeBron's decision to be a little exaggerated.

People have been a little too angry about it.

There's sour grapes all around.

People are trashing a guy's legacy when he's 25.

That'd be like writing a movie review after the opening credits.
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Still, there's one place where I do feel their pain.

It's Cleveland.

The fans have JUST been through a trauma.

Let them process it.

And most importantly, when the Heat actually do have to play at the Cavs, make sure there's extra security.

In 1697's "The Mourning Bride" William Congreve wrote "Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd, Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd."

He obviously had never been to Cleveland.

Wizarding World? More Like My Personal Nightmare

I had the opportunity to go on the new Harry Potter ride (not pictured).

Well, opportunity isn't really the right word.

I'd use hostage situation, but I wasn't taken by force.

Well, not physical force.

More like emotional espionage and bribery.

An out-of-town friend was DYING to go on this thing.

He promised me a fun day at Universal parks.

And, to top it off, we had free passes that allowed us to not only go into both parks, but to cut all lines.

So, I went.
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Now let me give you the following warning.

I don't like the Harry Potter series.

It's just not my thing.

I do respect it because I like anything that gets people excited about reading.

So, I would say I fell somewhere between hater and muggle on the scale.
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The park wasn't just hot.

It was the surface of the sun hot.

The poor folks who actually had to wait, were standing in line JUST TO GET INTO the area where the Potter ride was located.

That's right, a line to get into the line.

I couldn't imagine enduring that heat JUST to get into Harry's world.

To use the worst line that TV anchors say, if you're going to go, pack your patience.
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To Universal's credit, the place allegedly looked exactly like the books.

There were all these little shops which were references to both the movies and books.

I did drink a glass of butterbeer (I tried both the frozen and unfrozen).

It tasted like caramel and nerd.
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When we walked into the actual ride area, it was all Pottered out.

There was a hologram of an old dude talking about Hogwarts and our role on the ride.

Then there were three holograms of the goofy British kid who was in Equis, and two other characters.

They were talking about a game of whatever broom-ball sport Harry plays.

I was bored to tears.

My friend was nearly moved to tears.
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And then the ride started.

You know those moments where you know you're getting old?

It's nothing big.

It's just that you realize, my body isn't responding to this stimuli the way it used to.

I would describe getting on the Potter ride like that.
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They strap you into a chair.

In your ear you hear accented voice saying god knows what.

It was like being in "Clockwork Orange."

But rather than the ultra-sex and the ultra-violence, I was subjected to much worse.

You're flying through the air following Harrry.

They toss you about and do all the same tricks I had seen an hour earlier on the Spiderman ride.

My friend decried my lack of sophistication about rides.

He called it "a game changer."

I said, "Yes, If you are playing the, 'don't give me a migraine' game."
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America is built on bigger and better.

Unfortunately, in the roller coaster and ride business, that also applies.

The quest to come up with new and interesting ways to make people want to upchuck is unending.

This ride was like 'Body Wars' on speed.

It was so violent to the internal equilibrium.

Just shaking, non-stop.

I felt like I had shaken baby syndrome, even though I'm already 351 months old.
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Harry Potter really is a wizard.

He made my afternoon and feeling of well-being disappear.

No. You. Didn't.

The 2010 Miami Heat are the most celebrated team in the history of sports, that has yet to win a single game.

The hype machine has been in overdrive the last week.

It culminated with the following, a song by the rapper Flo Rida (not pictured) entitled "We Already Won (The Miami Heat Song).

Take a listen.


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First thing's first.

This song is WAY better than the horrendous T-Pain Miami Dolphins song.

As a child, I had multiple surgeries on my ears.

I would gladly exchange any of those for the aural insult that is T-Pain's auto-tuned abomination.

So at least this is catchy.
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Now to the title of this blog.

I was there at the AmericanAirlines Arena the night the Heat introduced LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, and Chris Bosh.

They were handing out placards with a photo of the Big Three that read "Yes. We. Did."

Of course, they were mirroring the language of President Obama's campaign slogan "Yes. We. Can."

Never, a good idea to mix politics and sports.

But you can just call this the audacity of hoop.
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That night felt a little dirty.

How can you throw such a big party, for a team that hasn't done anything yet?

Yes. We. Did.

What exactly did you do?

You signed three players.

Three awesome players.

Two sure-fire Hall of Famers.

But you haven't won anything yet.

Underneath all the noise and laughter, I kept thinking, God help this team if they don't win a title.

This is "Dewey Beats Truman" embarrassing.
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I don't blame the fans or the media for drowning in the pool of Heat adulation.

This SHOULD be an incredibly good basketball team.

The role players they've filled in, make for a roster this is built to win and win big.

But they haven't done it yet.
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The Heat marketing machine should push this team.

It sells season-tickets, gets you the cover of 'Sports Illustrated,' and creates a frenzy for your fans.

But head coach Erik Spoelstra has the opposite job.

He needs to bring these guys back down to earth.

Here are the facts.

The Heat were embarrassed in the first round of the playoffs the last two years.

LeBron James has never won an NBA title.

Dwyane Wade has an injury history.

Chris Bosh has never played in a meaningful NBA game.

Does it mean these guys can't have a parade down Biscayne Boulevard eventually?

Absolutely not.

But I can't get down with this premature party.

Although, Flo Rida did put together a catchy little soundtrack for the insanity.

Shameless Plug...

I will be on the radio (not pictured) this weekend.

If you're up early on Sunday, I'll be co-hosting the "Sunday Morning Sports Page" on WQAM with Captain Curtis.

The show airs from 7 until 9 in the morning.

It's on 560 am if you're in South Florida or wqam.com if you're not.

If you call and mention the blog, that would make my day.

We now return to your regularly scheduled program

Loss Of The Boss...

I couldn't believe I was standing at the Deli counter at Publix crying.

But, it's true.

I was standing there waiting to get sandwiches for myself and my girlfriend, and I was shedding tears over George Steinbrenner (not pictured).

This was absurd to me.

George was the owner.

That's it.

He wrote the checks.

He never caught a flyball, drove in a run, or stole a base.

So why did I care so much?
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The short answer is that I'm a loser.

But that wouldn't make for a very interesting blog.

I didn't realize I had such an emotional pull towards Steinbrenner, until the day that he died (isn't that always the way).
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I kept saying to myself: I feel like the Yankees died today.

I called my father (I know it's a cliche to say that baseball is between fathers and sons--- but it's true--- it's the most consistent part of our relationship).

My dad basically said, That's life.

He's a neurosurgeon.

Death is sort of par for the course with that profession.

And I appreciated his point of view.
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I met George once when I was a kid.

It was at Spring Training.

He was surrounded.

He was wearing a white Yankees jacket.

I managed to find my way to approach him.

I was that kid.

I could ALWAYS get to the athlete and get the prized autograph (a skill that has served me well throughout my life).

He signed an autograph and was really nice about it.

But that wasn't it.

I once was able to get an autograph of the rapper Ice Cube at a Heat game (that was a good day) and yet I don't feel the same emotional pull towards him.
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After a day of thinking about it, I finally put my finger on why I was so upset.

My father grew up in the era of Mickey Mantle.

He still tells stories about taking the Subway to Bronx Science and seeing the Mick in the outfield.

Championships were expected.

I grew up watching Yankee games on WPIX.

As charming as Phil Rizzuto was, the Yankees sucked (he had more shoutouts than an award show, often at the expense of the broadcast, LOVED Scooter).

I felt the Yankees never gave Don Mattingly the team he deserved.

It always bothered me.
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It bothered Steinbrenner just as much.

That's why I loved him.

Steinbrenner demanded excellence.

He would do WHATEVER was necessary to make sure the Yankee franchise was returned to its glory days.

Yes, there are people who say, it was Steinbrenner's suspension from baseball that allowed the Yankee dynasty to bloom.

He was out of the game, and so he couldn't trade away the likes of Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter, Bernie Williams, and on and on.

I don't see it that way.
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For better or worse, George Steinbrenner was America.

Unbridled capitalism and excess.

For crying out loud, he was born on the 4th of July.

Steinbrenner fancied himself a modern-day Patton and deluded himself into thinking he had more to do with the outcome of the games, than he actually did.

But, as a Yankee fan, I always knew this: He would try.

George cared about putting the ultimate product on the field, every day.

That's all you can really ask from an owner.
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Many of my best memories in life revolve around the Yankees.

I kept the ticket stub from Game 1 of the 2000 World Series in my wallet until it evaporated.

I was at Duke.

I flew to New York.

My dad, brother and I had bleacher seats in right field for the first game of the Subway series.

The Yankees won on a hit by Jose Vizcaino. That building shook.

I remember flying to San Diego for the clinching game in the 1998 World Series.

I nearly crapped my pants when Jim Leyritz nearly hit the ball out for San Diego, but the ball fell short, and the Yanks completed the sweep.

I can't count the number of times my mother dressed a dog up in Yankees gear.

My mother would routinely pull me out of school to go to Spring Training games in Fort Lauderdale.

I never stayed home from school being sick, wasn't allowed, but Yankee games were sacred.

I've smoked countless victory cigars with my friend Will.

From March until November every year, I can count on the Yankees fielding a great to outstanding team.

I'm a jumpy dude.

The Yankees are one of a handful of things that can actually allow me to relax.
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All of that is because of Steinbrenner and the culture that he reinstilled.

The Yankees were lost for a while.

Steinbrenner put them back on course.

I can't give him enough credit for that.

So yeah, maybe it wasn't so bad that I cried.

I really hope he's honored in November with Championship 28.

I promise when I'm smoking my victory cigar, I'l think of the Boss and say the one thing every Yankee fan should: Thank you!