In Defence of the Vuvuzela

The People versus Vuvuzela

Part 1: Horny at the World Cup

Today’s Toronto Star website asks: Should vuvuzelas, the native horn that has become the defining feature of the World Cup, be banned from stadiums?

And with nearly 15,000 votes finds that 61% of voters say Yes, while 39% say No (to hell with 3rd party candidates "Maybe" and "Who gives a crap?").

Though the vuvuzela buzz on television during World Cup games is slightly noticeable, like all things annoying, we get used to it, and perhaps even grow to like it. The issue is being blown out of proportion (get it?), as what was a minor annoyance on television has become a race issue via the syllogistic reasoning of Internet forums:

Major Premise: Vuvuzelas are traditional African horns.

Minor Premise: North Americans don’t like hearing them on TV.

Conclusion: North Americans hate Africans.

That leap is more annoying than all the vuvuzelas in Durban.

I personally voted that, No, they should not be banned. As BBC sports commentator Farayi Mungazi said the sound of the horn was the "recognized sound of football in South Africa" and is "absolutely essential for an authentic South African footballing experience." Good enough for me.

We should all suck it up (although we wouldn’t get much of a sound from it if we did. Get it?)

One small step for vuvuzela. One giant leap, for plastic horns.

Part 2: Noises Off!

This got me thinking about noises. The ones we like, the ones we don’t, and the ones we think we like but really, shouldn’t. This list will be a work in progress. Someday it will be comprehensive. Perhaps this list will be my contribution to society.

Feel free to add to or disagree with this completely subjective list. Though if you disagree too loudly, you’re bound to end up on the Electric Sax list.

The Vuvuzela Category (Noises that aren’t so bad that “people” seem to hate): Afternoon lawn mowers, Billy Joel’s 1990s music, Michael Buble, Snapping gum.

The Bagpipe Category (Noises that are bad that “people” seem to romanticize): Cicadas, John Secada, Tap Dancing, Elton John’s songs from The Lion King

The Electric Sax Category (Noises that are horrible and under no circumstance should be allowed to exist): Wet hands on a balloon, Fran Drescher’s Voice in The Nanny, the sound quality of local car dealership commercials coming out of Buffalo, New York, a mouth chewing bread, teenagers talking on a bus

The Baby Laughing Category (Noises that really aren’t that great, but people love): Synth Pop, Carol Channing, Drum circles in parks, Proficient violin

Eeeeeeek!

On Notice: World Cup 2010

Put that Canadian pride aside and be ready to see the Portugal flags from space: the World Cup is coming! Time for Spartan to resurrect. Starting this weekend, Spartan will be one of a batrillion blogs capturing the sights, sounds and debauchery of futbol.

During my MFA, I heard a lot of crazy bullshit. Most of it was someone repeating back to me something I just said. One thing that stuck was the wisdom of Canadian playwright Guillermo Verdecchia who told me "Absence of culture is still culture." It's true except during grand International spectacles like the Olympics and the World Cup of Soccer when those with an absence feel a void. Unlike the Olympics, the World Cup never allows us to exercise the Canadian jingoism instinct. Many of us have to do some digging at these times.

Toronto is a city of world cup nations (there must be Hondurans here somewhere), and I am a boy who can lay claim to culture exotique every four years. Mama is Italian and Greek. Papa is German and English. All four countries are in the 2010 World Cup (and Canada never will be again, which is good - we need to suck at glamourous sports to keep the equilibrium). For the next month, Spartan will follow one boy looking for his cultural roots, commenting on hooligans, and acknowledging the cool parts, all the while, only marginally caring about soccer.

For the record, unless they lose to South Korea in the first game, Spartan supports:And, if like the Greek economy, they tank, I'll be throwing all my elbows into supporting:

Spartanly Yours,
db

Me and Mother Discuss American Idol

I watch American Idol. So what? Who cares? I don't really watch it for the music, but like any television show, there is some drama to watching a complete season. There are characters, heroes (Crystal Bowersox, Michael Lynch) and villains (Tim Urban, Ellen DeGeneres).

Once in a while you hear a decent performance, and it certainly resurrects the original versions of songs that some viewers would not have otherwise been exposed to (I am sure American Idol contestants botching Hallelujah has lead to discoveries of Jeff Buckley and Leonard Cohen).

Okay, so the point. This morning my mom sent me an email with her recap of last night's American Idol. And well, it turned into a brief back and forth. My mother and I rarely get to discuss things like artistic merit, music, fashion and competition: Spartan's fun zone. Here are some (mostly unedited) highlights.

And for those that argue American Idol is a dumbing down of society, a future blog that will attempt to justify it. For those that argue this entry dumbs down Spartan, a reminder of this.

*

Dave's Mom: Crystal - good job; liked it a bunch
Dave: Agreed. She's solid and doesn't need the show anymore.

DM: Right - I don't think she will win because the audience tends to choose less out there singers.
D: Maybe. I just think there are 4 rockers this year and it's rarely an all rock final. So something has to give. I don't really think it's going to hurt her career to be booted early. It might even help.

*

DM: Andrew - Karaoke a bit; a bit boring or unexciting
D: Brutal. Worst of the night and surely he'll go home. Song choice has destroyed him. He always picks something lame and light instead of going for gravitas (Can't Buy Me Love and Hound Dog?! Are you kidding me? Your dad was in a gang! Where's your depth and pain?)

DM: Agree 100% with your comments

D: Thank you. And to add: I mean, you have a neck tattoo! Where's your edge?!

*

DM: Tim - the Karaoke continues; give this boy a telethon to buy a personality (don't understand why the judges liked it. Perhaps he is wearing them down and they have to start saying something nice about him)
D: I didn't hate this. It was pretty good. Even pretty. I still don't like him and think he's soulless.

DM: Pretty indeed. I do agree that he is soulless.
D: He'll go into cruise control now and only do those songs. He reminds me a bit of Jason Castro now. Empty masquerading as deep and cute masquerading as important.

*

DM: Lee - I really like his voice and enjoyed this one possibly better
than Crystal. (Let's call it a tie for now.)
D: Lee was amazing. I like him better than David Cook, who I guess is the most obvious comparison.

DM: He reminds me a bit of Dave Matthews. By the way I LOVED David Cook.
D: Good comparison to Dave Matthews. Look at you! The song Dave Matthews played at the Grammy's was amazing and I can see Lee going that way. I didn't love David Cook. His originality was someone else's originality (doing a version of a song the exact same way as someone else's version is not creative e.g. when he did Billie Jean he was ripping off someone else's version of Billie Jean; sort of how it bugs me when people sing Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah...it's amazing, but it's not amazing to do HIS version...it's Leonard Cohen's song. Do YOUR version Tim Urban!)

*

DM: Aaron - Ouch! Started really poorly and went downhill from there. (He will get pre-pubescent votes and remain in the competition however.)
D: I think the pubescent votes got to Tim. Strong finish, great voice, but this guy is in trouble, though in 5 years, you and Dad will buy his album.

(Editor's Note: a brief conversation about Pamela Anderson ensued. Most of that has been redacted. But here's how it ended:)
D: I don't watch Dancing with the Stars. I don't think she's slutty per se. Besides, it seems to keep her rich. She's got maybe 5 more years of people thinking she doesn't look creepy.

*

DM: Siobhan - Not my favourite of hers until she got funky toward the end. I don't like her lower register because it sounds like she is trying to be some sex kitten.
D: She's sounding very 70s right now. Which might not be a bad thing. I actually think she's peaked and can't really do anything to surprise. I originally thought she'd be in the top 2, but not anymore. Her song choices haven't helped. If they do a Dusty Springfield week, she'll be fine. They won't.

DM: Too bad because I really like her voice, her look and her attitude. Again, the voters won't keep her around to the final 2.
D: Agreed. Though most people think she sings from her nose. I did like her defence last night.

*

DM: Michael - I liked it but think the judges should have let him go last
week. Really nice, pure tones to his voice.
DM: This was amazing. Second or third best of the night and I completely agree with the judges keeping him (especially when Tim is still around). Totally deserves to be in still, and should be top 3.

D: I just think they may need the save for Crystal because the voters aren't smart enough to keep her.
DM: They could use it after the top 5 and she'll surely make it that far. I think voters are smart enough to keep someone like her around. I give the AI audience some credit. Very little though until they turf Katie or Tim.

*

D: Katie - Most upbeat, most personality but time for her to say goodbye in my humble opinion - I personally am tired of her.
DM: Dislike her completely. She's got a poor sense of who she can be as a singer. I've agreed with Simon's comments. She's not Mary J Blige. At most, she's Taylor Swift. She was great last week, but I think she should be bottom 3 with the other two young ones.

DM: Total agreement!
D: Cool.

*

DM: Casey - I like Casey but this was not his best for me. Too many other really good Elvis songs he could have chosen.
D: I agree with you. He's pretty awesome, and while I'm glad he chose something cool (Hound Dog and Blue Suede shoes are just lame choices from two this week), I think something like You'll Never Walk Alone or something more epic from Elvis would've been good (even Guitar Man, which is a great Elvis song made famous by Jerry Reed!)

DM: Needs a stylist to dress him as well. I know it is tough for the men to look good but Casey looks like he got dressed in the barn before going out to milk the cows. And yet he has that rocker vibe when he sings. Perhaps he could watch some Bon Jovi videos to see how Jon dresses and presents himself on the stage.
D: I disagree with you on every single point there. Are you suggesting Casey should wear leather pants? Casey wears fantastic shirts. I am inspired by how they keep his sleeves rolled up without rolling? I asked Erin, how do you think he does that. Erin thought safety pins. I think it might be a tailored button. Anyway, he isn't looking farmery, he looks blues musiciany (google Derek Trucks who I think he's ripping off a bit). Big ass difference. To say he should be MORE like Bon Jovi is like you telling me I should be more like an accountant. Sure it's respectable, might mean a steady income, but...hm, maybe I should be an accountant.

Home Opener!

...and of course, what better way to prepare for the 2010 Jays' (currently 5-1) season than a cross-blog pollination with Jake Mooney and his optimism project through the Torontoist.

Click here and read not just today's entry by yours truly, but the previous six days which have me feeling pretty damn good about...well...everything. Even Vernon Wells!

It's hard to excerpt something that's less than 300 words, but here's a taste of my treatise which Mooney summarizes as "the ineffable feeling of hope that accompanies the beginning of a new MLB season"

Opening day optimism is a shared secret. Shhhhh, stay sober in the face of perceived conclusion that the Blue Jays’ playoff hopes are obstructed by behemoths of history and finance; the AL East is the terrain of baseball’s best (Yankees, Red Sox, and Devil Rays). A failed optimist lingers on other’s success, on cruel divisional alignments; she transforms to pessimist instantly.

I'll be in the upper deck tonight and expect to see a decent game, a lot of completely hammered white people, and Alex Rios, being escorted by armed guards to and from the dugout each inning. Ah, sport.

Alice Cooper, Tiger Woods, a Big Hump

Although Alice Cooper isn't my favourite metal icon (I bet you're all interested as to who is), the combination of metal and sports is well, arousing.


There are a boat load of comments on this graphic on the Globe and Mail website, and Tiger Woods is probably going to win the Masters this weekend (not coincidentally and quite unnecessarily, Alice Cooper is touring Canada with Rob Zombie right now). Repugnant or reprehensible as one may find Tiger Woods, if he wins the Masters, it will be an amazing sports story .

I can't wait until Dave Mustaine makes his NHL Playoff picks.

Dave says: "Cup Finals...Coyotes and Capitals."

Eva Markvoort

I think we underestimate how athletic each of us are. How, even if we're not "in shape" we can climb a set of stairs, and although we may be winded, we can still breathe. I am guilty of taking for granted that I have yet to come face to face with a major health obstacle: that I sail freely around each room.

This morning, someone I knew, someone I wish I had the privilege of calling a friend, as she seems to have had nothing but a positive affect on people who did have that privilege, passed away after 25 years fighting cystic fibrosis. To me, she was a best friend of my best friends. I cannot claim to have known her, yet, like any star worth following, I felt as though I did.

From her friends in theatre, her friends from the online community, her friends as a result of her activism, and her friends living with cystic fibrosis, there have been and will be many eloquent things written about Eva Markvoort, all of them true, all of them reaching to express what her, her family and her close friends have experienced, screamed, cried and laughed at in these past couple of months since the acceptance that her battle was coming to an end. Without preface or apology, I'm compelled to reach. To acknowledge that good friends, acquaintances, strangers, and friends of friends are better off just to have heard of Eva.

Suit

—For Eva Markvoort

Put this poem in

a pretty book, if I can

put these words in a pretty place,

a next-stop-to-heart-sink kind of spot,

a here lies the meaning of life sort of joint.

And put my body in the perfect suit

if it goes, if it goes, if it’s something

fit for viewing. Dress it up and pin

these words to my lapel, just so,

and pretend my style

really had panache; make it

look like my arrangement meant the world,

or said anything at all, or everything

at once.

Sport Costumes!

kd Lang was great at the opening ceremony. Got a problem with that, hippy?

Some of you may know I'm working on a book of fashion writing with Sean Horlor in a sort of tag team affair of poetry. Added to the writing, we have some really beautiful sketches from Mara Gottler. Sean's much better at promoting this beast than I am, so watch the awkwardness with which I say that next week I will be reading some of these poems from my chapbook Gasmask Summer which is being launched and released by Toronto's Emergency Response Unit.

Launch and release seem to be very powerful and aggressive words for something that weighs less than a pound, but these verbs will be happening Monday, February 22 at 7:30PM at the Magpie in Toronto. (Note: the gold medal game will not be happening at this time or on this night).

Also releasing chapbooks this evening, Elisabeth de Mariaffi, Aaron Tucker, and the boyish and brash Jacob McArthur Mooney, who will soon be entering into a steel cage match of arty sport discussions on either my blog or his or both (or somewhere else - these negotiations take time).

In writing the poems for this book, I've been thinking about clothes pretty much non-stop for a year and a half. It's to the point where if we've seen each other in that time, I probably looked you up and down for ideas. But what I really want to discuss: last night's figure skating costumes. Not all of them; I'm sure there's a site for that. But this one:

Tatiana Volosozhar (she's graceful) and Stanislav Morozov (he hates the chaffing)

These two are certainly athletes. I am in no way making fun of figure skaters. Even when they fall, they are doing something that very few people could ever do, and with the exception of lugers, aerialists and VANOC organizers probably have the most Olympic balls of any of the participants (Jake, there's a possible discussion).

But even the commentators couldn't withhold their giggles at these beauties (and two of them WERE figure skaters!). Highlights were David Pelletier (gold medalist - pairs figure skating) saying that "this is sport not a carnival" and Rod Black (sports analyst, someone I got drunk with at a 2001 Winnipeg social: pictures forthcoming) claiming the skaters were "channeling their inner Avatar." I'll likely have something new written about these blue beauties for next week's Magpie launch.

I feel like Joan Rivers, excited to see what the Ukrainians will be wearing tonight.

Sidenote: I also met Joan Rivers, but didn't get drunk with her. She kept calling me Barry. I didn't correct her.

Who are you wearing, Barry?

Andre Dawson and other Funny Names

Andre Dawson (AKA The Hawk) doesn't want to enter the hall of fame as an Expo (a team he played ten years for, a team no longer in existence), but rather, a Chicago Cub (a team that will probably still be around in 100 years if baseball is). Though a lot of Expos "fans" are upset, it does make sense to want to enter the Hall of Fame with a city where there are still fans to clap you in. Compare it to finishing a marathon in 5 hours (when most participants are finishing and so there are loved ones at the finish line) to completing a marathon in 16 hours, where only the city's clean up crew is there, and really, they don't care. They've got more problems than your silly bourgeois fun-run.

Upon his 2003 induction, Gary Carter (#8, Caucasian, pictured below) asked to be let in as half Expo/half Met. This seems reasonable, but baseball is nothing if not unreasonable, and he was indeed inducted as a Montreal Expo. With class, Carter said a few words in French, and life, as it does, went on. But The Hawk seems to want to do no such thing. It took Dawson nine tries to be elected into the Hall of Fame, which is hardly evidence of a no-brainer decision, so he probably shouldn't complain (as Craig Gary Greenham likens it "It's like begging for a dinner invitation and then publicly whining about the dessert."). The puppy dog reaction to this story from "Expos' fans" (of which I was once one) is just another symptom of baseball nostalgia, of the good old days gone by. He never loved us. We know that now. Though this time, it's hit us where it hurts: right in our Canada.

Hey, Gary, did you hear the one about Phyllis Mangina? You didn't? Then check out the next section.

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Hi, I'm Dick Butkus, but you probably know me as the coach on every 1980-90s sitcom (except Coach)

Ah, names. This link below is both nostaligic (Ron Tugnutt and Dick Butkus) and informative (Phyllis!). From the file of things I should have been researching, comes one of the most well done photo-retrospectives I have ever seen. Props to the site Manofest (hey, they're on theme) for multiplying masculinity times infinity!

Take a look at:
The 30 Dirtiest Names In Sports History

Lakers versus Celtics: The Video Game

James Worthy taking it to Robert Parish as Dennis Johnson watches

I still haven't found a way to watch and enjoy NBA basketball, though there was one phase where I was an authority on the great 1980's rivalry of the Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics. Okay, so I didn't understand the cultural significance of the rivalry. Perhaps I still don't. The Celtics, led by two white guys (Larry Bird and Kevin McHale), played for Catholic pride in the birthstate of basketball against the Lakers, led by the cocaine flash of Magic Johnson and Lew Alcinder (AKA Kareem Abdul-Jabbar). There has been much written on the politics of this rivalry, Chuck Klostermann's essay '33' among the best (though whoever wrote the Lakers-Celtic Rivalry wikipedia article did a hell of a job too).

But little, if anything, has been written on the significance of the video game Lakers versus Celtics, a video game I spent hours playing on my Tandy 1000 in 1990. Born of necessity (my Nintendo was broken and I suspect my Mom had sabotaged disk two of Leisure Suit Larry III: Passionate Patti in Pursuit of the Pulsating Pectorals), Lakers versus Celtics was my first flirtation with the sedentary lifestyle I regularly now practice of sitting in front of a computer for hours.

Grade seven was not a stellar academic year for yours truly. I actually failed grade 7 art. This is, in part, due to the hours I spent on this video game when I probably should have been, I don't know, making a collage. But to me, Lakers versus Celtics was all the art I needed. Just look at all those colours as Magic lines up for a free-throw. Also note the awesome detail of Kareem Abdul Jabar's goggles (yellow number 33).

Looks like a brick

Computers were still a mystery. Good for little more than pretending I was going to write a novel or playing video games. In 1986, Ferris Bueller changed his attendance records from home; in 1990 Screech created a fully functioning Robot named Kevin. But the idea of a computer functioning externally was not on my radar. The solitary and private intimacy of playing Lakers versus Celtics was akin to reading a book (did I mention grade 7 was not a stellar academic year?).

This might not seem like much now, but this was the first video game I remember with real players. Actually, this still might not seem like much. But these were the days of Nintendo's Ice Hockey where the most identity a player had was to be Fat - Skinny - Medium (and from one of six countries, including, if the following picture is correct, Poland).

Go Poland!

Lakers versus Celtics is over 20 years old. For the hours I spent on this game in my soft-brain years, the actual sport of basketball never caught on with me. In fact, video games have never really been a part of my life either (I couldn't finish Super Mario Brothers until I was in my twenties). However, sitting in front of computers has been a giant part of my life. Though we all have our reasons for our computer habits (work, information, keeping in touch, porn), I can trace it all back to Robert Weatherby, Don Traeger and Michael Hosaka - the pushers of my pre-internet fixation with staring at bright colours and sports statistics, when there was probably something else "meaningful" I could be doing: a collage, protesting government, attending Conan O'Brien rallies, checking up on that whole environment thing, reading, writing...

Where does the time go?

Everything is Competitive

Pour a Colortini and watch the pictures as they fly through the air.

For the first time in my life, I posted something on a Facebook group of which I am a member. Like others, I am interested in the Conan O'Brien-Jay Leno thing (is it really a feud between them?). On Monday night, Jay Leno gave what I think he believed to be a heartfelt speech about "show business" but really, probably tried to keep the issues over the heads of the very viewers both he and Conan enjoy (let's face it, neither are Tom Snyder). A good blogger would post the youtube clip, but if you're going to read on, I assume you either saw it, or are just reading on to see what pop culture references I make.

Below is a transcript of the 9 minutes that followed after I typed the following (tongue so far in my cheek I was licking the bookshelf) into the I'm with Coco Facebook page:

Leno just appealed to my sense of 'it's show business' ... now I understand and will leave this group and join the Leno one. Wow, he really is a great guy that Jay Leno...

With all names but my own protected, and no corrections made, here's what ensued when the proverbial puck was dropped (and because I think I write plays, let's present it as such):

ACT ONE

DAVID BROCK
Leno just appealed to my sense of 'it's show business' ... now I understand and will leave this group and join the Leno one. Wow, he really is a great guy that Jay Leno...

JOSH
but sometimes it's about the people. CONAN'S CREW WILL LOSE THEIR JOBS.

ANITA
~sarcasm~

JUSTIN
Lame!

JOSH
see, conan said he'd rather leave the network than make this about business. he has a sense of integrity that leno just showed he doesn't have.

SONY
lol

TODD
Wedon't need you Dave.

TIMOTHY
If that speech moved you, I'm glad you weren't born in Nazi German, you sheep.

JOSH
and "my sense of 'it's show business'" is a sense devoid of heart and compassion, and if you truly don't CARE, then you can leave and we won't even miss you. it's because we CARE that we continue to fight.

BARRET
That's fine, leave! Moron!

END ACT ONE

Analysis: It only took me five minutes to be called a moron. Most of you didn't come to this conclusion for at least a few days after meeting me. At this point my heart started beating...every athlete knows this rush: adrenalin.

ACT TWO

DAVID BROCK
Timothy, what's this Nazi Germany you speak of? Sounds interesting...do they do a version of Jaywalking or Headlines?

CHRIS
if "show business" is code for "lack of principle" - you can have it.

JOSH
here's what amuses me about you: you say you'll move to the Leno page, and yet you're still here. this tells me your intention is provocation. i want you to respond to this argument: CONAN'S CREW WILL LOSE THEIR JOBS IF THIS GOES DOWN. They all moved to L.A., they moved their families, and they put all their hope in this new show, and THEY WILL ALL BE JOBLESS. Respond!!!

AMY
I'm thinking maybe David is just being sarcastic?

DAVID BROCK
People of the internet (to pay homage), you're silly. Special thanks to Amara. Glad to amuse you, Josh; your three exclamation marks have inspired me to stay. And to Amy as well.

PAUL
Those of you who don't understand that David is using sarcasm deserve to watch Leno.

JOSH
WHOOPS. I am REALLY REALLY sorry, man. I absolutely suck at reading sarcasm online. That one's totally on me. Didn't mean to overreact I just was a little too pissed off at Leno to think clearly.

DAVID BROCK
It's okay, Josh, I didn't download that new sarcasm punctuation my internet provider is trying to sell me for 2 dollars. I figured an ellipses and an ignorance of Nazi Germany would be enough to tip my hand (well done to Timothy for proving the internet theory that every mild disagreement will find its way to the word Hitler or Nazi).

JOSH
lol. that one's DEFINITELY on me.

BLACKOUT

Analysis: Anyone who watched football this weekend recognizes what happened here. Sides formed - trash talking ensued and only females and Paul supported me. When all was said and done, two quarterbacks (me and JOSH) met in the middle of the field, and shook hands. For a few minutes there, we were rivals, but it was just a game...it's just a game.

Good game, Josh.

Inspired by my foray into online flaming, Jay v. Conan, and an actual category on Jeopardy tonight, the next few entries will be about great rivalries in sport, entertainment and literature. Excited aren't you? AREN'T YOU?

Postscript: I wasn't completely proud to be a Conan fan on this one given the company, but I accept it was all in good fun. That said, I now feel that sense of being part of a group where everyone is kind of insane and therefore, maybe I am too: this sense of awareness must be what people who go to Berkley or live in Portland feel like when they realize they are still Americans.

Jose Canseco should be in the Hall of Fame

I promise, I'll never tell a soul.

Oh, you pretty things, don't you know you're driving the mothers and fathers insane?

Take note 1987-1990 Oakland A's fans (of which I am sure there are many reading this): the Bash Brothers are bashing each other. In one corner, Jose Canseco: juiced, tanned, handsome, and the poster-boy for how to admit steroid abuse, get over it, and turn it into money. In the other, Mark McGwire: The Willie to Sammy Sosa's Lester, the brutal apology maker, the poster-boy for how not to admit steroid abuse (until Barry Bonds finally gets on with it—honestly Barry, you're drawing this thing out more than the Sam and Diane will they/won't they).

Willie and Lester. Get it?

Like a late New Years’ baby, Mark McGwire's recent admission to steroids has arrived, though Canseco’s claim that when they were teammates, he and McGwire would inject each other with steroids, is one McGwire still denies…for now.

McGwire’s teary confession does little for me. His apology sucks. His tears fall as though he’s jockeying for a spot in the Baseball Hall of Fame and even in the admission, he can’t cop to using them to hit homeruns; rather, they were used to recover from injuries. If you’re a professional athlete, claiming you took steroids solely for recovery is like saying you have sex solely for procreation.

(For the record, I have nothing against steroid use. Very little convinces me that they are worse for the organs than Jack Daniels, KFC, or Sandra Bullock movies. If someone paid for a cycle for me (p.s. my birthday is in a month), I would probably try them, just to see what the big deal is.)

As yet another baseball player admits to steroid use (that McGwire was outted years ago is, I suppose, academic) it confirms for me that Jose Canseco belongs in the Baseball Hall of Fame. If his steroid-stats aren’t enough to convince you (at least 1985-1994), then he should be nominated in the builder category. His admission and his telling of truths when that wasn’t in style have certainly done more to positively change baseball’s future than teary Mark McGwire ever will. Were I in a second year politics class, I might decide to write an essay entitled “Cuban/American Relations: why McGwire will Get into the Hall of Fame, and Canseco won’t”—but I don’t really believe his being Cuban has anything to do with anything (false activism be damned). Canseco was the first big league player of any note to admit he juiced and McGwire was thirty-fifth or something. We always remember our first. Sadly, this means that Canseco will seem like the first to do them.

I propose that the Baseball Hall of Fame adopt the same rules for entry as the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Parents who have to find a lesson in this should probably look to the way Jose Canseco has come clean regarding his drug use, rather than Mark McGwire, who, even in admitting he did steroids, still lies. That said, I’m not a parent, and if end up being one, my baby-mama would probably make little Quenton play soccer; in which case, Quenton, Daddy offers this advice: Don't do drugs that aren't glamourous, don't drink and drive, and please, son...don't watch the Miss Congeniality movies.

The Gateway Drug to Renee Zellweger: Talk to Your Kids