I was surfing around on the telly, looking for something interesting when I stumbled upon a new Adult Swim cartoon called Korgoth of Barbaria. This particular scene I saw had me in a quivering puddle of goo as I cried and laughed and winced in pain from the cramps all at the same time. It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed so hard. The show has all the good stuff; gore, boobs, and humor.
Behold, the scene! I should add, it’s not for kids!
While surfing around, I saw a picture of a kickball, and it brought up a memory I had in elementary school I thought I’d share. It was the 4th or 5th grade, and during recess all the boys would gather around the biggest boy (usually a bully) and two kickball teams would form. Since there was only 1 kickball, the teams were usually quite large, probably around 40 kids per team. Since I was pretty small at the time, and not very popular, I was usually picked near to last each time. I would never get to kick the ball, because by the time it gets near to my turn to kick, the bell would ring.
One day, though, I miraculously got my turn after weeks of never getting my turn. The first pitch/roll to me, I missed miserably. Of course, all the kids laughed and I was super embarassed and mad at myself. That must’ve fueled me, because the next time I kicked the ball so hard, it went over the heads of every kid in the outfield (like 20 of them.) I ended up getting an inside-the-schoolyard homerun, and winning the game. The bell rang shortly after I scored.
The very next day, I was picked third. After that day, second, and each day after that, first. I became a schoolyard legend in kickball that year, and at some point I got to pick my own team. All the boys were so impressed that I could kick so far for such a small kid. I even impressed a girl so much, she lifted her skirt up for me, and I thought that was cool. Much later, in middle school I decided to try my hand at soccer, hoping to get some more hot chicks showing me the goods, but alas, no such luck. But yeah, I always have a fond memory for kickball, and if there was an adult league nearby, I’d definitely join up.
I spent a bunch of days in Jacksonville, spending time visiting family, going to the dentist, and just enjoying being back amongst civilization again. While up there, my dad bought me my first grill, and yes it is charcoal (I’m not a gas man) along with a bunch of accessories for grilling.
I’ve never grilled before, but I feel I’ll become a master with some practice and passion. It wasn’t until I got my first grill that I fully realized that getting one is a rite of passage for manhood.
While at the store, the cashier, a gruff man in the Garden section of the store, asked if it was my first grill. This is the conversation that resulted:
Me: Yep, my first grill. I’m pretty excited. Cashier Guy: That is great, I remember my first grill. Oh, be sure you stack the charcoal in a pyramid to start the coals burning, then spread it with a tong. If you’re smoking wood chips, soak them for an hour or more to make sure they don’t burn, and … Baggage Man looks up from bagging: This is his first grill? Chshier Guy: Yep! His first grill! Baggage Man to me: You’re going to love it, man! Don’t buy barbecue sauce, make your own. Start off with … Manager of store idles over: His first grill? Baggage Man and Cashier Guy together: Yep! Manager of store: I remember my first grill. It was a Weber, and it served me well for many years. (Turns to me.) Take good care of it and it will give you years of happiness. You got a cover for the grill? Yes? Good, keep it covered and … Another employee saunters over: That’s a great grill to get for your first time. Definitely cover it when you’re not using it.
All four men nod in unison and start going hardcore into grilling; tips, choices of meat, recipes, etc. Of course I joined in with the grunting Tim Allen-style and chest-pounding, but I was in a hurry and couldn’t stick around for too long. I guess my rite of passage into manhood is officially complete.
There’s a generation of American kids growing up today, learning a new generation of swear words, thanks to cable television censorship. I’m not debating the right-or-wrong issue of cable censorship, but the implications it may have for our future. I envision a future where words like “motherlover” and “forget you” will be as explosive as motherfucker and fuck you are today.
You see, when someone on a cable television station swears, you’ll find some badly dubbed-in words to mask the real swearing. Try watching a Die Hard movie next time it’s on a cable station.
The first time I heard Samuel L. Jackson say “motherlover” in a tinny voice compared to his normal voice, my gum flew out of my nose. I’ll repeat that, my gum flew out of my nose. There are certain things in life not meant to fly out of your nose, not even in a moment of derision, and gum is one of them. Or in another movie when a little kid said, “Hey man, forget you!” Oh man, that was a blast. Now cable television is fun to watch! See, there is a silver lining to censorship.