Skip to main content

27 September 2007 - The One Where Max Channels his inner Bob Dole

The Phil Spector (no relation to Regina) trial reached a verdict today...and it looks like we've got a mistrial! But on the bright side, we've also got a hung jury. Hit it!


I've come a little bit set in my ways. After bungy jumping and all the assorted insanity you'd expect from someone with a death wish, life just seems a little bit dull.
So, I've decided to only speak in the third person from now on.
All of my heroes in life do it. Rickey Henderson. Bob Dole. God. Denny Crane. The Rock. Julius Caesar. Steve Holt. Barry Gibb. Duffman. Disco Stu. Homie the Clown. The Jimmy. And they've turned out okay. These are great men and being in their company would be a big step up for me. I picture myself standing on a balcony, standing before the Roman assembly, proclaiming "MAX WILL SAVE YOU FROM YOUR PLIGHT!" as I triumphantly exit as the huddled masses chant my name.

It will also further my existential crisis about whether or not I see myself through a purely objective lens. It's highly possible that we, as human beings, have a fundamentally flawed perspective of ourselves and when we turn our gaze inward, we do not see what the rest of the world does. There is a disconnect between the first and third person views of our lives. And through this experiment, I will hopefully merge the two and (as Leopold Bloom said) see ourselves as others do.

Or maybe Max just feels like being pretentious and figures that "Can you hand Max that jar of Nutella" is a great ice breaker.




P.S. After watching the premiere of House, I have one request: If I am ever in a situation where I'm in a coma or can't speak, the first thing that anyone should do is to teach me Morse Code so that I can communicate through blinking. Otherwise, it'll be tough for me to randomly guess the proper Morse for "Teach me Morse Code already you jackass."


-MGD
Max Davison is a junior at Claremont McKenna College, pursuing a dual major in Literature and Film Studies. He is the son of a son of a sailor and he recently went out on the sea for adventure. He expanded the view of the captain and crew like a man just released from endenture.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

8 October 2007 - These All-Blacks sit in the front of the bus

Well the Niners are now 2-3 after dropping a close game (that they never should have be in to begin with) to the Ravens. Normally I'd make some kind of petty excuse about how the team isn't even trying, or the fact that they're still 2-1 against the NFC West, or that in some other parallel world in the multiverse they're 5-0. But not today. Week 5 is different, since both Alex Smith and Vernon Davis are out with injuries. Vernon sprained his knee and Smith is down with a grade 3 shoulder separation. I'm not proud to admit this, but for the first time since Edgar Stiles choked on nerve gas, I cried. I cried like a big, dumb homo. And even though I can't watch the NFL or the World Series (since MLB.tv costs far too much for international clients), I had adopted the New Zealand All-Blacks as my surrogate sports team. And if you haven't seen the haka , click that link immediately 2007 is the year of the Rugby World Cup, and as opposed to the soccer world ...

I got friends in low places

Does anyone else remember Chris Gaines? I was discussing an old episode of SNL with Marco and Ben Jr. when I discovered that Mr. Gaines is a forgotten relic of pop culture gone wrong. Allow me to elucidate the situation... Gaines was born in 1967 in Australia to a pair of Olympic swimmers. He dropped out of high school to form a band called Crush, which released a popular song called "My Love Tells Me So", being inspired by, not surprisingly, the work of Garth Brooks. After a band member died in a plane crash, Gaines was dormant for several years before releasing a solo album, Straight Jacket, which remained in the Billboard Top 40 for 82 weeks and won four Grammys. Gaines then was involved in a serious car accident and required numerous plastic surgeries over the next two years, before releasing two more solo albums and being declared "the new Prince". Since that day, what has become of Mr. Gaines? Some say that he is now a world champion curler for the Swiss nati...

The man who will NEVER Die

Apologies to everyone who's been bitching about me not updating my blog. Maybe this is indicative of how militant people without blogs are....until they decide to start one and get understandably lazy. Let me put it this way: the grass is not as easy to mow on the other side of the fence. And that was too awful of a metaphor for me to use. Moving on.... Recently, the New York Mets offered a two year deal to this man: Julio Franco I know what you're thinking. "Max, I really don't care about baseball to begin with. Why should a two year contract even interest me? By the way, Max, you're incredibly good looking and your bench press is SOOOOO impressive." Why should this deal excite you? Mr. Julio Franco, who has played first base for the Atlanta Braves over the past 5 seasons, is currently 47 years old. Yes. 47. As in the number after 46. When he fulfills his contractual obligations, he will be a 49 year old professional baseball player. Let me put it to you thi...