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comm4000 · 8 years ago

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The Range of 42

The 2013 film, 42 was inspired by the true story of Jackie Robinson’s courageous journey in Major League Baseball during the 1940s. Jackie Robinson’s character is played by Chadwick Boseman who portrays the African American athlete entering a professional sports league that has historically been all-white. The movie candidly captures Robinson’s career while playing for the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Montreal Royals under the management of Branch Rickey (Harrison Ford). This movie connects with multiple concepts that have been discussed and are relevant to the Communication and Sports class at the University of Colorado Denver. 42 touches on the unprecedented racism in sports, the notion that athletes embody the popular ideology of a what it means to be a “hero”, and that professional athletes are expected to solely serve as high-performing athletes to contribute to the economic prosperity of greater business ventures and maintain limited voices off the field.

An unprecedented level of racism and bigotry are key themes in 42. As the first person of color who is signed to Major League Baseball, Robinson experiences racism through racial slurs and hate speech at nearly every game and off the field as well. Robinson is repeatedly called a “N*****” by both disapproving fans and the player he shares the field with. In one scene, a screaming fan yells “go back to Compton!” which is heard throughout the entire stadium. In another scene, Robinson is told by a county police officer “No n***** don’t play with white boys. Get off the field or go to jail”. Furthermore, racism manifests when the decision to sign Robinson to the Brooklyn Dodgers is still pending. A petition called “The Brooklyn Dodgers Declaration of Independence” was passed around and signed by several teammates. The petition was an attempted boycott of the league and read “we, the undersigned Brooklyn Dodgers, will not play ball on the same field as Jackie Robinson”. The racist players were very adamant about keeping Robinson signed to Montreal and predominantly “keeping negroes out of the league”. Blatant racism in Major League Baseball during this era was undoubtedly absurd. However, we witness similar tendencies in contemporary times involving Jeremy Lin in the NBA. Robinson and Lin are comparative because just as we had seen with Robinson in MLB, both icons were undermined for their outstanding athletic achievements and worth because they were of origins that were different from the rest the roster. Both Robinson and Lin had been victimized with racial slurs. Just as Robinson was the called N***** on the field, according to Chito, Lin was recognized as the “Chink in Armor”.

Jackie Robinson is thoroughly portrayed in this film as the hero he is in real life. Robinson is attributed to being a hero and not just a baseball player which is frequently how athletes tend to be branded. When Robinson goes over to dinner at Mr. Brock’s house, he tells him that “I’m just a ballplayer”. However, Mr. Brock corrects Robinson and assures him that he is greater than that and replies “to all the little-colored boys playing in Florida today, to them, you’re a hero.” As the movie proceeds, Robinson persistently endures racism from white folks and as the hatred increasingly worsens, Robinson’s manager assures him that “you can win this game for us. Everybody needs you. You’re medicine, Jack” in a personal conversation. These dialogues confirm that Robinson emulates a mythic figure and ideal sports hero. According to Chapter 5: Sports and Mythology, a sports hero is defined as “someone who not only achieves greatness on the field but also serves as an admirable person off of it”.

At the beginning of the movie, Robinson is seen at a baseball field on the first day of spring training where he is bombarded by news reporters with provocative questions about his values and intentions in playing in MLB. A reporter asks “Jackie, Jackie, is this about politics?” which is referring to Robinson being the first and only African American to be playing in an all-white league. Jackie politely responds, “No it’s about getting paid”. The course element that ties with this scene is that the public expects athletes to stray away from the political sphere. According to lecture, an athlete’s ability to think critically and form, let alone express their opinion is perceived to be untasteful to the fans and the team’s management and administration. Of course, Robinson’s breakthrough in Major League Baseball sent a powerful message about racial equality, but we never see Robinson express his emotions about the history he is making.

Furthermore, the storyline supports the idea that sports are ultimately a business venture and reiterates the notion that winning is all that matters. Robinson was scouted and signed for his ability to play baseball before anything else. His managers and coaches advocated strongly to secure his spot in the league because he would win games. This notion supports NFL’s Vince Lombardi’s statement in More Than Just a game that, “every time you win, you’re reborn and when you lose, you die a little”. The emphasis on winning isn’t just conveyed through the movie, but in course readings as well. According to Jay (2004), when Branch Rickey signed Jackie Robinson to a Major League Baseball contract, the decision sprang partly from a realization that Major League Baseball’s color line was morally wrong, but it was also true that Rickey saw Robinson, and by extension other black players, as a cheap labor pool that would help his club achieve more victories on the field”.

In an important scene, Happy Chandler, the Commissioner of Baseball calls into question the team’s viability after losing the Brooklyn Dodger’s manager, Leo Durocher. Durocher had been generating controversy and bad publicity for the business due to factors within his personal life. This ultimately dismays a Catholic youth organization that is noted for spending generously on game seats. Chandler blatantly states “I can’t afford to ruffle their feathers” and “I have no choice but Leo Durocher is suspended from baseball for a year”. This supports the idea that teams will take any action they believe is necessary to ensure that their sales goals are not put in jeopardy. Furthermore, just as we’ve covered in class this semester, audiences will notice that all the managers, reporters and executives in 42 are Caucasian men. The lack of diversity is a statistic that closely aligns with the problem that manifests within the industry today. According to Chalabi (2004), roughly 90% of the managers and head coaches were white and the chart below is indicative of the rest of the breakdown of the league’s staff.

A potentially problematic aspect of this film regards the scene where Jackie Robinson loses his temper after enduring the built-up anger and animosity of racial slurs coming from a player on the opposite team. Robinson is seen exiting the field and violently breaks his bat, screams erratically and throws his hat on the ground. When Robinson is approached by his manager, he tells him, “next white son of a bitch that opens its mouth, I’ll smash their God damn teeth”. Although the events that led up to Robinson’s breakdown were legitimate, it is problematic to our culture because it is showing an athlete exhibit violence and rage. Robinson appears to be someone who has reached the point of no return and this is his method of coping.

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After watching the movie with a critical eye and looking for personal connections, it is evident that I cannot entirely relate to Jackie Robinson’s struggles as a black male athlete playing in a “white sport”. I took into consideration that the movie was set to take place during the 1940’s and 1950’s where the sociopolitical climate was much different. However, I still find the information to be unfathomable. I can certainly be empathetic to his challenges of living in this country as a minority and not being perceived as what Michael L. Butterworth (2004) would refer to as the “the chosen people”. I, myself do not meet the standards of the “dominant race” in society being that I am a Chinese woman who was raised in a large Jewish/Catholic family. Ultimately, I chose this movie because I’m passionate about baseball and my family and I are from Brooklyn, New York, which is the team Robinson played for prior to the Dodgers moving to Los Angeles in the 1950s. I found that finding a movie that accounts both a city and a sport that are incredibly profound to me and fulfills this assignment was more than optimal. Although this movie has flaws and some audiences may find it difficult to watch and/or to be biased, I believe it was inspiring, gratifying and educates effectively overall. Racism is still highly prevalent in contemporary society. However, it manifests differently today than it did 60 years ago. I’m confident that everyone should watch the full movie because it provides viewers with historical context and revelations about race in sports. Also, the content is heterogeneous to what we consume through most of our media outlets today. Lastly, people should also watch 42 for the fact that the director, Brian Helgeland, did incredibly well in executing a very difficult narrative through a Hollywood film.

Work Cited

1. Film: 42. Original Theatrical Date: April 12, 2013. Warner Bros. Pictures and Legendary Pictures.

2. Butterworth, M. L. (2007). Race in “The Race”: Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, and Heroic Constructions of Whiteness. Vol. 24, Iss. 3, (pages 228-244).

3. Chalabi, M. (2014). Three Leagues, 92 Teams And One Black Principal Owner. Five Thirty Eight. Retrieved from https://fivethirtyeight.com/datalab/diversity-in-the-nba-the-nfl-and-mlb/4.

4. Chito. (2012). Examining the Jeremy Lin Phenomenon Through a Critical Lens. CUNY Hunter College and Graduate Center. Flow Journal. Retrieved from http://www.flowjournal.org/2012/02/jeremy_lin_critical_lens/

5. Jay, K. (2004). More Than Just a Game: Sports in American Life since 1945. New York, NY. Columbia University Press. (pages 1-8)

#sportscomm #42 #jackierobinson #mlb #baseball #history #brooklyn

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junker-town · 7 years ago

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The best and worst of the 2018 Baseball Hall of Fame

Progress was made on the logjam of deserving Hall of Famers, but there could have been more.

It’s that time of the year when everybody has Hall of Fame opinions. This is not to be confused for the other time of year, next week, when you feel ashamed for having Hall of Fame opinions. The offseason does some weird things to a person’s brain.

But I have Hall of Fame opinions. They are strong Hall of Fame opinions. Edgar Martinez is not in the Hall of Fame. Chipper Jones, Vladimir Guerrero, Jim Thome, and Trevor Hoffman are. If you were conflicted about Johan Santana, well, too late, he’s gone. The greatest hitter and pitcher of the last 50 years, at least, are not in. They might never get in.

This is the story of the good, bad, and ugly of the Hall of Fame.

The good

The logjam is relaxing. With Hoffman and Guerrero getting in after previous attempts, and Jones and Thome going in on the first ballot, there are fewer deserving players left out. The logjam is still there, and it still smells like an order of french fries left in the car on a hot summer’s day, but it’s getting better.

Let’s tally up the players from next year’s ballot who are at least worth debating, if not inducting.

Edgar Martinez

Roger Clemens

Barry Bonds

Mike Mussina

Curt Schilling

Manny Ramirez

Larry Walker

Jeff Kent

Fred McGriff

Gary Sheffield

Billy Wagner

Sammy Sosa

Mariano Rivera

Roy Halladay

Todd Helton

Andruw Jones

Lance Berkman

Roy Oswalt

Andy Pettitte

Scott Rolen

Omar Vizquel

That’s a cool 21 players that I would at least discuss earnestly with anyone who was passionate about the subject. I would probably vote for 15 of them right now, but that’s subject to my whims and flights of fancy. That means a fake ballot of mine would leave just five players off, some of whom I’m not entirely convinced of.

That’s progress. Sad, sad progress.

And if we’re going to talk about deserving players, Jones, Thome, and Guerrero are unambiguously qualified in my mind. There’s no good section without noting that these three players were INCREDIBLY fun to watch play baseball. So was Hoffman, but ... we’ll get to him.

As long as we’re here, I’m very much into Alan Trammell getting into the Hall of Fame. My only regret is that Lou Whitaker doesn’t get to wear the back-half of a horsey costume as they make their way to the stage, and I’m not bothered by Jack Morris getting in, really.

I’m a pretty Big Hall fellow, which means that it’s hard to sniff too much at a class with four new elected members, six total. I’m unambiguously in favor of four of these new members, undecided on one, and not really concerned about the other.

Fine, great, grand. Let them all in, and let’s focus on the rest.

While we’re in the good section, it’s a good thing that Scott Rolen and Andruw Jones didn’t fall off the ballot. I have a sneaking suspicion that Rolen is going to languish in the Darrell Evans hole for the rest of eternity, while Jones will be in the Dale Murphy hole for his, but they deserved better than an unceremonious exit. If they want some hope, note that Bill Mazeroski didn’t fare much better in his early voting totals, either. While Mazeroski was the combination of Adam Kennedy and Joe Carter and probably shouldn’t be in, this is good news for Rolen and Jones.

Assuming they hit a World Series-winning home run.

Let me check, and ... aw, dang it.

The bad

I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t vote for Johan Santana, but I would like to direct you to a comparison between him and Sandy Koufax. If there is a better heir to the nickname of “The Left Arm of God,” I’d like to see it.

Santana is proof of concept of the song “Rock of Ages.” When Joe Elliott screams, “It’s better to burn out ... than fade awaaaaay,” do you believe him? Because, holy crap, did Santana burrrrrrn when he was at his best. For seven seasons, he was just about the best pitcher in baseball, if not the best.

He got as many votes as Jamie Moyer, quite possibly his perfect reciprocal player, and dropped off the ballot.

It’s hard to get that mad about a player who probably doesn’t deserve to go in — damn you, shoulder gremlins, damn you to h — but I wanted more time to consider him.

And here’s where we get to Trevor Hoffman. Don’t send that email yet, Padres fans! I’m still conflicted!

But when contemplating his case (and Billy Wagner’s) last year, I came up with this:

neither of them pitched more major league innings than Madison Bumgarner did before he turned 26. Neither of them accrued more wins above replacement than Vernon Wells, Edgardo Alfonzo, or Von Hayes.

I’m willing to carve out a special slot for a contrived position that baseball people have told us is important, and I’m trying to be open minded. But here’s what I did: I took the closers for the Padres since Hoffman left, and I compared them to the career averages for Hoffman.

Trevor Hoffman, averages with the Padres 60 IP, 37 saves, 2.67 ERA, 1.7 WAR

Composite of the closers who replaced him, 2009-2017 49.8 IP, 29 saves, 2.15 ERA, 1.4 WAR

The longevity and consistency is important. And I understand that Hoffman played in a goofier era with more performance-enhancing drugs. And I love that he did it with different changeups, rewriting the code of baseball to suit his needs. He’s a part of baseball’s story that I want to tell.

But when a Hall of Famer leaves his team, shouldn’t his team think, “HOLY CRAP, WHAT DO WE DO WITHOUT THIS HALL OF FAMER?” Think of the Reds without Barry Larkin. Think of the Mariners without Edgar Martinez. Those teams were considerably worse without their Hall of Famers.

The Padres kept doin’ their thing.

This isn’t to say that I’m an eternal no on Hoffman, just that I would have wanted him to twist for another few years. I’m not sure if we have a proper handle on how to evaluate closers in a historical context. I’m not sure if we ever will.

I’m pretty sure Santana was a brighter baseball meteor than Hoffman, though, and I just wish we had more time to debate that.

Mostly, though, this is in the bad section not because of a distaste for Hoffman, but because I think the bar for inductions for closers has been set. Stay healthy. Rack up saves. That seems lazy, and while it’s not Hoffman’s fault, I’m pretty sure it’s going to trickle down to future votes.

The ugly

Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens aren’t in. They both took performance-enhancing drugs in an era when the entire world was slobbering over Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire, but they’re being evaluated in an era when everyone gets to ignore the context and draw binary good/evil conclusions.

Both of them were Hall of Famers, and then they saw what happened to people who took PEDs. They got money to license their image for crap like this:

Does that mean it was right for everybody to take PEDs? No! Does that mean PEDs weren’t an ethical disaster that snowballed into something horrible? No! Players who were willing to risk physical harm to improve benefited because other players weren’t willing to risk physical harm to improve. That’s a big deal.

At the same time, this isn’t binary. This isn’t good and evil. This is something that requires context, loads of it, and I’m pretty sure that when it’s all hashed out, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens were two of the best baseball players the world has ever seen, with as much or as little context as you want to add. Their decision to use came in a very, very, very different time, when reporters were nationally chastised for talking about androstenedione and Bud Selig was unequivocally thrilled that an armada of big, beefy baseball boys was helping people forget about the strike owners caused.

Doesn’t make it right. But it certainly doesn’t make it evil, either.

And while we’re in the ugly section, let’s talk about the pass Chipper Jones got for PEDs. I wrote an entire column about it. It included this photo comparison:

If I wanted to be a disingenuous putz, I could pretend that comparison meant something (as if the bodies of a high schooler and a grown-ass professional athlete wouldn’t be markedly different), and I could point out that Jones sure had a noticeable dip in production when he turned 32 and then suddenly got much better (as if that kind of variance doesn’t happen in baseball all the freaking time). It would be roughly as persuasive as the allegations Jose Canseco made against Pudge Rodriguez, the back acne seen on the back of Mike Piazza by a dingus with a typewriter, or the stray whispers that people worried about with Jeff Bagwell.

What’s ugly isn’t that Chipper Jones is in, considering any evidence against him would be nothing but dumb speculation. What’s ugly is that there’s this weird, unspoken, automatic pass for certain players and not others. Jeff Kent is never suspected. Why? Fred McGriff is always presented as the kind of player who is certifiably clean. Why?

It’s all incredibly arbitrary and dumb. The only answer is to save those suspicions for the players who clearly had something going on, like Bonds, Clemens, and Rafael Palmeiro, and leave everybody else the hell alone, just like the world did with Chipper Jones.

In other words, the pass that Jones and McGriff get isn’t the ugly thing. That’s a good thing. That’s a great thing. They deserve nothing less. It’s the pass that their peers don’t get that’s ugly.

Also, I’m still pissed off that Lou Whitaker and Kevin Brown fell off the first ballot years ago, and I’m going to stop writing because I could go on for another few thousand words. Thank you.

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conservativefreepress · 4 years ago

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New Post has been published on Conservative Free Press

New Post has been published on http://www.conservativefreepress.com/politics/wow-did-you-know-that-even-sleep-is-affected-by-systemic-racism/

Wow, Did You Know That Even Sleep is Affected By Systemic Racism?

We’ve learned over the last month or so that many of our most cherished national symbols and systems are hopelessly affected by racism. A short (but far from comprehensive) list would include: Aunt Jemima pancake syrup, the “Cops” TV show, the Washington Redskins, the phrase “low-hanging fruit,” the very concept of police, the movie “Gone With the Wind,” the Texas Rangers, Mount Rushmore, the Mississippi state flag, President Donald Trump, the coronavirus, face masks, and Uncle Ben’s rice.

Oh, and we’re pretty sure we read somewhere that the little “white guy” who tells you to go at a crosswalk is also an example of unintentional racism. No, we’re not kidding.

And yet, as hard as it is to believe, we haven’t yet reached the bottom of this silliness. Indeed, our nation’s systemic racism doesn’t even end when you go to sleep. Because, see, according to Teen Vogue, our racist country doesn’t even let black people get the rest they need.

The online-only magazine ran a feature story about Fannie Sosa and Navild Acosta, the creators of something called Black Power Naps (BPN), which is a product designed as “a sculptural installation, vibrational device and curatorial initiative that reclaims laziness and idleness as power.”

Mmkay.

The creators told Teen Vogue that they developed the product because they were tired. “But it wasn’t just any old fatigue,” the magazine noted. “They were specifically experiencing a generational fatigue familiar to Black people and people of color.”

“We inherited this exhaustion,” claimed Sosa.

The creators of BPN are looking for “a recognition of the hundreds of years of sleep deprivation that Black people and people of color have experienced as a result of systemic racism, a way to push back against the false stereotype that Black people are lazy, and an investigation of the inequitable distribution of rest.”

You’ll note that they are not scientists starting with a hypothesis which they are currently setting out to prove. No, that would be too close to STEM work, which we also learned this month has been hopelessly infected with racism. The name of the game these days is “lived experience,” and anecdotal evidence is all the evidence you need. If a black person says something is true, you can bet your bottom dollar that it’s true. Indeed, we’ll gleefully upend our entire society on demand.

You might say something along the lines of, But wait, how do black people know they are more tired than white people? Or you might say, How exactly would sleep deprivation be passed from generation to generation? Rest assured, these questions are merely a signal of your privilege.

“We’re dealing with an inheritance of sleep deprivation. Sleep deprivation was a deliberate tactic of slave owners to basically make the mind feeble,” Acosta told Teen Vogue. “That same tactic has only evolved.”

Are you listening, racist White America? Stop intentionally depriving black people of sleep in the hopes of keeping them mentally feeble!

Maybe the problem is that we’re getting too much sleep. That might explain why this deeply stupid nightmare won’t seem to end.

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mikemortgage · 6 years ago

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Virgin Voyages to Have New Palm Grove Home Terminal at PortMiami in 2021

MIAMI — Virgin Group Founder Sir Richard Branson and Virgin Voyages President and CEO Tom McAlpin were joined today by Miami-Dade County Mayor Carlos A. Gimenez, Chairwoman of the Miami-Dade County Economic Development and Tourism Committee Rebeca Sosa and other local government officials to announce plans to build a new cruise terminal for Virgin Voyages. With this new terminal and a long-term commitment to PortMiami, Virgin Voyages also announced that its first ship, the Scarlet Lady, will continue to sail to the Caribbean from Miami throughout 2021. The company’s second ship will sail from Miami during the fall/winter cruise season of 2021/22.

@VirginVoyages just announced plans for their gorgeous new terminal in PortMiami. Check it out.

Sir Richard Branson also proudly announced that bookings for Virgin Voyages’ inaugural season will open for sale on February 14 for the general public and February 5 for those currently holding pre-sale deposits.

The new Virgin Voyages Terminal will be located on the northwest side of the port. Pending the Board of County Commission’s approval of the MOU for construction of a new cruise facility; along with the subsequent berthing agreement, this project will start next year and is slated for completion by November 2021, the beginning of the year’s cruise season. This new terminal will have a significant positive economic impact on the entire region and solidifies a vital homeport for Virgin Voyages as the company continues to grow.

“Miami is an incredible city and one of my favorite places to work and play,” said Branson. “From our headquarters for Virgin Hotels, Virgin Voyages and now Virgin Trains USA, South Florida has quickly become another home for Virgin brands in the leisure travel sector.”

“South Florida is our home, and with our fleet now growing to four ships, we’re humbled and thankful to soon have a gorgeous new terminal overlooking the Miami skyline, an incredible view that will set the stage for the alluring journey that we will take our sailors on,” said McAlpin.

The new 100,000 square foot terminal will be a palm grove inspired design concept developed by the Miami-based designers from Arquitectonica. This new concept encompasses a design that builds on Virgin Voyages’ design ethos of the Modern Romance of Sailing, a thoroughly new take on the formal grandeur and opulence of the ocean liner heyday that heroes ocean views with a thoughtful root in history and tradition.

The palm grove design is inspired by Miami Beach’s iconic palm trees and the island’s historical origins as an area intended for harvesting coconuts. The terminal’s rooftop is designed to resemble a palm tree grove with rooftop pockets that allow natural light to flow into the building by day, and uplighting by night that will light up the company’s iconic Virgin Voyages red logo and allow the facility to shine bright, mirroring the city’s skyline. The two-story storm-proof glass facility will be replete with lush landscaping giving the terminal a plaza-like feel with designated areas for drop-offs of VIP’s, ride-sharing and provisioning, designed to provide a seamless shore to ship experience.

“It’s gratifying to see Virgin Voyages expand its presence in Miami-Dade County,” said Miami-Dade County Mayor Carlos A. Gimenez. “By constructing a new cruise terminal at PortMiami, Virgin Voyages is signaling its confidence in our thriving community, which is not only the Cruise Capital of the World but also the Gateway to the Americas.”

As a part of Virgin Voyages’ sustainability efforts, the new Virgin Voyages PortMiami Terminal is targeting a LEED Gold Certification from the U.S. Green Building Council.

Virgin Voyages is committed to creating an epic sea change for all by playing a significant part in securing a healthy future for the ocean and having a positive impact on the communities and ports it visits. Working hand-in-hand with Ocean Unite and Sir Richard Branson, Virgin Voyages is sponsoring Sir Richard Branson and Fabien Cousteau’s Aquatica submarine dive to Belize’s Blue Hole, part of a UNESCO World Heritage site, on December 2. Virgin Voyages intends to support ocean research and conservation projects like the Blue Hole Expedition in an effort to raise awareness and gain insight into the issues facing the ocean today. The company aims for these efforts to help guide them in making better business decisions for its oceans and port communities.

Future sailors and travel partners are invited to check out Virgin Voyages by visiting www.virginvoyages.com or following @virginvoyages on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter or LinkedIn.

ABOUT VIRGIN VOYAGES

Virgin Voyages is a global lifestyle brand committed to creating the world’s most irresistible holiday. With operations in the US, UK and Europe, Virgin Voyages currently has four ships on order with master shipbuilder Fincantieri.

With its inaugural season scheduled for 2020, Virgin Voyages’ first ship the Scarlet Lady was designed to reflect a yacht’s sleek luxury. Featuring spaces designed by some of the top names in contemporary interiors, the Scarlet Lady will be Adult-by-Design, a sanctuary at sea for the 18+ traveler. A dose of ‘Vitamin Sea’ will be naturally intertwined across the entire ship, with well-being activated through a mix of high-energy moments coupled with relaxation and rejuvenation. The Scarlet Lady will also feature alluring entertainment and 20+ world-class intimate eateries onboard. Putting a twist on luxury, which the company refers to as Rebellious Luxe, Virgin Voyages will offer incredible value for its sailors with all restaurants, group fitness classes, soft drinks, and many more Virgin surprises included within the voyage fare. The Scarlet Lady will sail from Miami to the Caribbean in 2020, hosting more than 2,770 sailors and 1,160 amazing crew from around the world. Keep watch on virginvoyages.com for more updates.

Contacts

Christina Baez [email protected]

from Financial Post https://ift.tt/2FLjPsZ via IFTTT Blogger Mortgage Tumblr Mortgage Evernote Mortgage Wordpress Mortgage href="https://www.diigo.com/user/gelsi11">Diigo Mortgage

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thesecondsealwrites · 6 years ago

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Think And Grow Rich

Have you heard of the incredibly famous Think and Grow Rich book? Maybe you have heard of the author, Napoleon Hill?

Think and Grow Rich became a bestseller, and by 2015, more than 100 million copies had been sold worldwide. So it is no wonder that the Think and Grow Rich movie has been made and is attracting so much interest.

The Think and Grow Rich book, and many of Napoleon Hill’s works were inspired by the New Thought philosophy. The New Thought philosophy features many beliefs concerning the Law of Attraction, and Napoleon introduced this idea in his book.

Over 80 years after the Think and Grow Rich book was published, it was ranked the sixth best-selling paperback business book (and as one of our own top 5 rated Law of Attraction books). Once the book was written and ready to be published in 1937, the book was heavily promoted as a leading self-improvement and personal development book.

Think And Grow Rich Book by Napoleon Hill

As mentioned, the Think and Grow Rich book became incredibly popular over the last 80 years. It is one of Napoleon Hill’s best selling books and many people still read and use it today – including many successful people and celebrities.

So, you may be wondering: who is Napoleon Hill? Napoleon was born in 1883, in Southwest Virginia. Napoleon started writing from the age of 13, where he first wrote for his father's newspaper. Napoleon graduated high school at 17 and accepted a job working for a powerful lawyer called Rufus Ayers. Napoleon also attended law school before having to withdraw due to lack of money.

After many failed business ventures and several personal magazines, Napoleon eventually published his first book: The Law of Success which established him as a serious writer with potential. And though some of Napoleon’s other works proved not to be as successful as the Law of Success, this soon changed when he wrote the now-famous Think and Grow Rich book.

What is the Think and Grow Rich Book About?

The Think and Grow Rich book is about how your state of mind can help you to grow rich, not just with money but rich in happiness, healthy relationships, business success and much more. Basically rich in life! The book includes Napoleon Hill’s 13 principles for success, which you can read more about further on in this article.

The book was inspired by more than forty millionaires that Napoleon researched and interviewed, including Thomas Edison, Henry Ford, and Alexander Graham Bell. Napoleon wanted to use the Think and Grow Rich book to share the knowledge he gained from these men on how they came to be successful, with the world.

Napoleon has said that the idea for the Think and Grow Rich book came from his meeting with Andrew Carnegie, who was one of the wealthiest men in the world at the time. Andrew challenged Napoleon to dedicate his life to researching successful people and sharing what he found with the world.

The History Behind The Think and Grow Rich Book

As mentioned, the original Think and Grow Rich book was published in 1937, after Napoleon Hill spent over 20 years researching the secrets to success. The Think and Grow Rich book was also published during the Great Depression.

The book become an instant hit when it was published, especially because of the time it was released. People wanted to become rich, so this book was perfect for a lot of aspiring leaders and entrepreneurs.

After inspiring so many and gaining momentum through success stories, the popularity of Think and Grow Rich continued throughout the years – and even now, it’s just as successful. There are many celebrities who have claimed that this book has helped them to change their lives and achieve their aspiring levels of success.

Lana Del Rey has said that Think and Grow Rich is a book that she recommends for everyone to read. Oprah Winfrey has also said that Think and Grow Rich is her favorite book and that it is a contributing factor to her success.

Many more modern-day celebrities who recommend the Think and Grow Rich book include Kendrick Lamar, Bruce Lee and Anthony Joshua.

More than 100 million copies of the Think and Grow Rich book have now been sold, especially due to its publicized contribution to a lot of big named thought leaders, entrepreneurs and self made millionaire successes in life. As of today, the book still remains one of the bestselling business books of all time.

Think and Grow Rich Movie

After such resounding and long-lasting success the Think and Grow Rich Movie is much anticipated by many ‘in the know' people and there is no surprise that the incredible Think and Grow Rich book was made into a movie. Not only does the movie bring the inspirational stories from Napoleon’s Hills book – but it also provides us with the stories of today’s successful and inspiring thought leaders, entrepreneurs and more.

This Think and Grow Rich Movie has been said to focus on all of the many success stories through people's achievements from all different backgrounds – showing that anyone can achieve success if they try. The film is being called a ‘Docudrama’ as it involves real-life stories, as well as the stories from Napoleon's book, which are re-created in the film for you to watch.

The company ‘Think Rich films’, produced Think And Grow Rich: The Legacy movie and said that as filmmakers, their goal was to deliver a powerful message to the world. This is what they hope to do with the Think And Grow Rich: The Legacy Movie.

Based on the teachings in the original book, the film speaks about how Napoleon came to writing the book. As well as talking about Napoleon Hill in the film, it also includes interviews and stories from the most successful people of the present, and how the book has helped them to achieve this success.

The Think and Grow Rich Movie not only pays tribute to one of the best-selling business and self-help books of all time, but it also shows how people can “achieve extraordinary success and rise above their circumstances”.

Watch the movie now and discover how the 13 principles of success are a timeless and evergreen concept. Click here now.

Think and Grow Rich Movie Cast and Interviews

There are many inspiring and powerful men and women in the Think And Grow Rich movie. There are the actors who will be playing parts in the re-enactments of the older success stories, and there are many interviews of the powerful people who have achieved success thanks to the Think and Grow Rich book.

Bob Proctor is a best selling author and is considered an expert on the human mind. He is interviewed in the movie and explains how much the Think and Grow Rich book helped change his life. Bob Proctor first read Think and Grow Rich when he was 26. He says that he has been studying the book every day for the last 55 years.

Another successful thought leader who gives an interview in the movie is Sandy Gallagher. Sandy has said that the Think and Grow Rich book is in her top 5 must-read books. Sandy Gallagher works with Bob Proctor and is the CEO and President of Bob’s organization.

Grant Cardone is another successful entrepreneur who gives an interview. Grant included the Think and Grow Rich book in his top list of recommended books. He has adopted the ‘no negativity rule’ into his home and office after reading Think and Grow Rich.

Lewis Howes is a New York Times bestselling author and successful entrepreneur who has said that the Think and Grow Rich book completely changed his life. He is also interviewed in the movie, where he speaks about how important it is to reach for your goals and dreams – and try to achieve what you were born to do.

Sharon Letcher is a philanthropist, international speaker, and best-selling author. She began working with the Napoleon Hill Foundation back in 2008. She has released her own book, authorized by the foundation, called: Think and Grow Rich For Women. This book takes on Napoleon's ideas and adds a woman’s perspective.

There are many more successful speakers, thought leaders, authors, and philanthropists that give interviews in the Think and Grow Rich: The Legacy movie, including Tim Storey, Warren Moon, Lionel Sosa, John Lee Dumas, Barbara Corcoran, Jim Stovall, John Shin and more.

Think And Grow Rich Summary

The Think and Grow Rich book and movie are about helping others learn how to achieve success and live their dreams. Napoleon says that no matter how you are feeling, you should focus on the positives, not the negatives, and use a positive mindset set to achieve success.

Some of the statements in the book include “thoughts are things” and “anything the human mind can believe, the human mind can achieve.”

The message of the film is that anyone can achieve success, no matter who they are or what their background is etc, if they just change their mindset. Napoleon Hill shares the success stories and secrets of the many successful and powerful men he interviewed over 20 years. These men shared with Napoleon how they have achieved success and how others can too.

In the book, Napoleon shares his 13 principles of success. These principles are the ‘formula of success’ that Napoleon produced, after researching the successful millionaires for over 20 years.

These are the 13 principles of success:

Desire

Faith

Auto-suggestion

Specialized knowledge

Imagination

Organized planning

Decision

Persistence

Mastermind

Mystery of sex transmutation

The subconscious mind

The brain

The sixth sense

Some of the stories of these successful men are shown in the Think and Grow Rich movie, along with new stories from the successful people of today.

In the movie, interviews with thought leaders and entrepreneurs such as Bob Proctor, Rob Dyrdek, and Barbara Corcoran, show the amazing connection they all have to this incredible and life-changing book.

Think and Grow Rich Quotes

“The starting point of all achievement is DESIRE. Keep this constantly in mind. Weak desire brings weak results, just as a small fire makes a small amount of heat.” ― Napoleon Hill

“Every adversity, every failure, every heartbreak, carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit.” ― Napoleon Hill

“There are no limitations to the mind except those that we acknowledge.” ― Napoleon Hill

“You are the master of your destiny. You can influence, direct and control your own environment. You can make your life what you want it to be.” ― Napoleon Hill

“The way of success is the way of continuous pursuit of knowledge.” ― Napoleon Hill

Watch the movie now and discover how this material is as relevant now as it was in 1937. Click here now.

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usatrendingsports · 7 years ago

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Ought to enjoying days’ ‘Fame’ play a think about Corridor of Fame circumstances like Sammy Sosa?

As we run by way of the Corridor of Fame circumstances every day main up the massive reveal later this month, I am now tasked with discussing former Cubs celebrity Sammy Sosa (who additionally had stints with the White Sox, Orioles and the Rangers, twice).

We’ll undergo the naked bones of his case a bit later in case anybody desires to peruse these, however I am saving all that noise as a result of by now I believe just about everybody has made up his or her thoughts about Sosa relating to the Corridor. He is not going to get in, absent some exceptional, unexpected circumstance. By 5 activates the poll, the very best Sosa has garnered is 12.5 % and it has been as low at 6.6 %. Final season, he rose, however solely to eight.6 %. He is prone to hold between 5-15 % earlier than falling off the poll.

For numerous followers and media members, Sosa within the Corridor of Fame is a nonstarter as a result of his alleged connections to PEDs. Most people has lengthy judged Sosa, particularly, as a result of he as soon as acquired caught utilizing a corked bat in a sport and appeared to neglect tips on how to converse English in entrance of Congress when questioned about PEDs regardless of having given interviews in English fairly capably for years.

We needn’t litigate something there. The overwhelming majority of people that care in regards to the Corridor of Fame consider Sosa “juiced” not directly, form or type. That ship has sailed. For many who consider no considered one of this ilk belongs within the Corridor of Fame, there is not a lot cause to additional focus on.

As such, what follows is for the individuals who both do not care about PEDs or solely care about PEDs relating to the gamers who have been suspended below the MLB testing system, as soon as it was in place.

(For the file and for many who have not already seen, I fall into the latter camp).

What in regards to the Fame element?

First off, it is known as the “Corridor of Fame,” not the Corridor of Elite, Nicely-Rounded Gamers. The voting guidelines say:

Voting shall be primarily based upon the participant’s file, enjoying capacity, integrity, sportsmanship, character, and contributions to the staff(s) on which the participant performed.

Let’s focus in on the “contributions to the staff,” half. If a participant is wildly beloved and well-liked for a reasonably first rate stretch of time, in concept, he helps the staff promote tickets, he positively sells merchandise for the staff and on a staff just like the Cubs again then — and each staff now — makes a huge impact on native TV scores.

That is a fairly large contribution to the staff. I am not suggesting that Tim Tebow must be a Corridor of Famer if the Mets deliver him up for 5 years and merchandise and TV scores blow up. I am saying we will use this “Fame” element as bonus factors to an present Corridor of Fame case, resembling we may with distinctive profession postseason numbers.

So, sure, I am gonna let “Fame” play into the equation relating to particular circumstances.

Wasn’t Sosa a particular case? For many who bear in mind watching baseball from 1998-2003, what number of guys in baseball have been positively a much bigger deal than the rock star that was Sammy Sosa? Perhaps 5, if that. He was a celeb and it wasn’t simply on the planet of baseball. Non-baseball sports activities followers knew of Sosa. Non-sports followers within the Midwest could not escape him. He was a monster.

Circa 1998, there have been few stars as large as Sammy Sosa. Getty Photos

Many nowadays in making out their Corridor of Fame ballots or hypothetical ballots (for many who haven’t got votes) have Larry Walker not solely forward of Sosa, however comfortably. I am not choosing on Walker nor arguing towards his candidacy. I am simply grabbing a fellow proper fielder for instance the “Fame” case. Return in time to, say, 2003 and I think about it could’ve been fairly arduous to think about a hardcore web motion for Walker to make the Corridor of Fame over Sosa.

I’ve come to understand because the years have handed that Walker is a way more well-rounded candidate and general higher participant for a number of causes. I simply can’t get handed how issues appeared on the time. Context like this has mattered prior to now. Jim Rice acquired into the Corridor as a result of this “concern” issue (pitchers have been extra terrified of him on the time he performed than most different sluggers, so the story goes). Andre Dawson’s profession on-base share is fairly dangerous, nevertheless it wasn’t a spotlight when he performed and — as a middle-of-the-order hitter — he was purported to increase his strike zone to drive in runs as an alternative of taking walks, so the story goes.

All of that is to say that, for me, Sosa’s rock star standing for a six-year interval offers bonus factors in his subjective Corridor of Fame case. I am wonderful with those that disagree, as it is a subjective matter, however I actually really feel prefer it ought to depend in setting up his case.

Ah, proper, the case …

The case

Sosa’s acquired an incredible case — once more, we’re ignoring the PED connection, as a result of these automated “no” vote individuals must be passed by now, yelling into the web abyss about how silly everybody else is — by way of each his peak and his counting numbers.

His five-year peak was 1998-2002 and his common season in there was .306/.397/.649, 167 OPS+, 58 homers, 141 RBI, 124 runs. Ridiculous. Exterior that, he truly had two seasons with at the least 40 homers, three extra with at the least 35 and yet one more with at the least 30.

Sosa received the 1998 MVP, completed second in 2001 and within the high 10 5 different instances. He led the league in runs thrice, homers twice*, RBI twice and whole bases thrice.

*[One of my favorite oddities is that Sosa is the only player in baseball history to hit at least 60 home runs in a season three times, yet he didn’t lead the league any of those three times]

The profession counting numbers, as famous, are good as effectively. He’s ninth all-time with 609 dwelling runs and 29th with 1,667 RBI. He sits 39th in whole bases, 31st in extra-base hits and 77th in runs scored. He even threw in 234 profession stolen bases.

Figuring out all this, why is he not automated for the “I do not care about PEDs” individuals?

Thanks partially to protection, relatively-low stroll totals for many of his profession, excessive strikeout totals and the heightened offensive surroundings whereas he performed, numbers like WAR drag him down a bit.

By way of the JAWS system, Sosa ranks 18th all-time amongst proper fielders and a bit beneath the Corridor of Fame common. He is forward of some Corridor of Famers there, together with Dave Winfield, Enos Slaughter, Willie Keeler, Sam Rice and others. He is additionally behind non-Corridor members like Dwight Evans, Reggie Smith and, sure, Larry Walker.

JAWS provides a lift for peak, too, so if we went to profession WAR, Sosa drops to 23rd, behind gamers resembling Gary Sheffield and Bobby Abreu.

My stance on Sosa stays the identical because it has ever been since he got here onto the poll. I am solely going to maintain alleged “PED” guys off my poll in the event that they have been caught and suspended as soon as MLB put a system in place, so, for instance, I would be a no on Manny Ramirez on this poll. Sosa would not apply right here, as he was by no means suspended for PEDs. I perceive he falls barely beneath the common commonplace on JAWS and WAR, however the hole there I make up with the “Fame” argument laid out above. His peak and counting stats proven above appear like a Corridor of Famer, too.

He’d be in for me, however I actually perceive the robust arguments towards. I respect them and so they make sense. There’s at all times room for respectful disagreement.

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sosation · 3 years ago

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Volume is Power

The following is a transcript of my "Audio Liner Notes" for Volume is Power, the album I released earlier this year under the project titled Temporal Distortions.

The album can be purchased for free on my bandcamp here: https://temporaldistortions.bandcamp.com/

and it is available on all streaming services:

-https://open.spotify.com/album/3983Bepp9uxIv1pb9qaEwY?si=qWpTAozTS2ujMQ79R_FZZg&utm_source=copy-link

-https://music.apple.com/us/album/volume-is-power/1557283830?uo=4

and music videos are up on the Local Famous Records Youtube page: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QRIjOlGfx0M

Volume is Power

Transcript of Audio Liner Notes and Recommended Readings

Hi. My name is Anthony Sosa and you have just listened to Volume is Power. I hope you enjoyed it. I began actively writing for this record in December of 2019. Some of the musical ideas were written in previous bands going back as far as 2009 and others were written after I had started working on the record. As you know, 2020 was an insane year. So, as you can imagine, it affected the writing and conception of what we were working on. When I began writing lyrics it was the middle of the democratic primaries for President. I was a Bernie Sanders volunteer. I wanted to talk about issues in the US and around the world. But then COVID happened and George Floyd happened, and I had to talk about those things as well--If anything, to document this moment in time. Honestly, those events backed up what I already wanted to say with this record: Our system is broken.

Sonically, Volume is Power has a lot of specific influences that influenced specific songs. For each track I tried to lean into whatever influences were present at the time and treat each piece almost as a genre study, though the genres span a narrow spectrum along the “rock” continuum. Time -- was, and will continue to be, an important aspect of the project. Temporal Distortions are happening all around us all the time. This record is essentially a series of distortions, or songs, that span, temporally, from the mid 1990’s to the late 2000’s. There are also audio clips from the 1950’s and 60’s as well as from this historic summer of 2020. Songs from my past still inspire me in the present to create an album for the future which is now here. Now, this album will exist in the past for me but for you this is your present. Maybe, if I did my job right, and you are so inclined, it will inspire you to create something in your future.

I had intended to make this album available for free everywhere, but youtube and bandcamp are the only platforms where I can achieve that. You can always email [email protected] and we will send you a free digital copy.

In this Audio Liner Notes track I intend to give credit to all of the amazing artists who helped me create this record. I am honored and privileged to know and have the pleasure of working with so many amazing people and to all of you thank you for giving me your time and energy. Chief among these is Dale Brunson, my colleague and compatriot. I met Dale in 2009 when he was playing in Werewolf Therewolf and I was playing in Housefire and The Raven Charter. We’ve been friends ever since and in 2012 we started a Top 40 cover band called Sweetmeat who is still together as of this recording. Dale mixed and co-produced this record with me and without his patience, insight and guidance this record would have been impossible. I definitely threw him some curveballs throughout this process and he has handled all of it graciously.

I, now, am going to give a track by track breakdown of the record but I am not trying to spend too much time explaining or discussing lyrics. Those are for you to interpret how you will. I’m not great at insinuation, anyway, so I’m sure you get the point. I’d rather discuss the people on the tracks and the musical influences behind them. So:

Track 1 is titled Our Streets and begins with the voice of Rod “Teddy” Smith whom I met on the streets of Fort Worth during the protests this May-July. Rod and I, as well as Defense Attorney Michael Campbell, Christopher Rose and my wife, Amber, started a non-profit organization in the wake of these protests called The Justice Reform League with the goal of advocating for evidence based socio-economic and criminal justice policies at the municipal, state and federal levels and to empower impacted communities through civic education. I, personally, believe that there needs to be more effort put toward educating our community on how local politics actually works, how it impacts us, and how we can get involved and change things. So that is what we are trying to do. I also feel that music, or art in general, can be an educator and is one of the reasons I was inspired to write this record.

In regards to the opening clip with Rod, I actually have hours of footage from weeks of protests in May and June but this clip stuck out to me particularly because it evokes Fort Worth and the particular sentiment I was wanting to express with this record. The piano was played by me, recorded here at my house. At the end of the track are protest chants from one of the larger protest-days this past summer here in Fort Worth. My wife, Amber, and I marched for about 3 weeks before actually beginning to organize. On those later days of the protests I started carrying a battery powered PA speaker on my back in a doggie backpack with a mic and using that for chants and to further project those giving speeches. The album cover is a photo by local photographer Zach Burns capturing me doing just that. Zach being another awesome person I met this past summer. Before I move on, the real first voice (and last) you hear on the album, and multiple times throughout, is of Jordan Buckly of Every Time I Die- my favorite band. Early in the pandemic I paid Jordan $30 on Cameo to say “Temporal Distortions” and to “purchase” a shitty riff idea. I didn’t use the riff, it was god awful like he said, but I made some clips of him because it made me smile.

Track 2 is Daring Bravely.

This song was intended to be a The Raven Charter song and was introduced to the band near the very end of our time together. For those who don’t know, The Raven Charter is the most serious project I have ever been a part of. It was the most important thing in my life for many years. I am not going to use this time to give a history lesson on TRC, though that would be fun. Go check out our stuff if you’re into Prog Rock. So this thing kicked around on my hard drive since 2015, I recorded multiple demos with guitar, bass and drums, over the years and finally settled on a bridge. I didn’t actually write the lyrics until I began working on this album proper in Dec of 2019.

I had the awesome pleasure of doing this song with my boys Daniel Baskind and Erik Stolpe of TRC. Daniel wrote a beautiful solo for this track. It was exactly the energy the song needed and also sounds quintessential Daniel. As I stated at the beginning, I was leaning into the genre for each track and the genre on this track was “Ravencharter” and Daniel nailed it. And Erik, I truly feel, did an amazing job in making this song more than it was. The orchestration and production aspects of his writing for this track are spot on. He really got the vibe I was going for and took it even further. It was great to get to work with both of them again to recreate some of that magic we used to make. The audio clips are from Dr. Brené Brown and her TED Talk “The Power of Vulnerability” from Jan 3, 2011. Funny story about that. When my wife Amber and I first saw Brené’s TED Talks we really enjoyed the concepts she covered. We both came away from watching those remembering the phrase “Daring Bravely,” which is why I named the song that. I like those two words together and the concept they elicit. However, when researching for these Liner Notes I discovered that all along she was saying “Daring Greatly.” She even has a book with that title. So, we’ve been saying it wrong the whole time. Regardless, I prefer “Daring Bravely” because it requires bravery and courage to dare greatly and have confidence and believe in yourself. So be brave. Dare Bravely.

Track 3 is titled Division of Labor.

What radicalized me? Working in the service industry and learning history. This song is essentially an amalgamation of that. The line in the bridge is an Oscar Wilde quote. This was just a rando idea on the guitar that I recorded into my phone on new year's day 2019. Musically, the main guitar riff seemed to me Every Time I Die influenced but when I put drums and bass to it it ended up sounding more like At the Drive In or something, to me. My demo leaned into that a lot more than the finished product. This song definitely ended up in a different place than when I started working on it which is always fun and surprising. Workers rights are very important to me and I tried to put that into this song.

Track 4 is Pay for your own Exploitation.

This is another relatively recent idea recorded into my phone on the acoustic in October 2019. I remember when I did it because my friend and fellow musician/producer Randall C. Bradley from Delta Sound Studios came over and before we could even really greet each other I had to stop and say “hold on I have to record this idea before I forget.” It kinda had an Aerosmith vibe to me when I put it all together in the demo process for the record. Like 90’s Aerosmith. I dunno. I guess really the 90’s are smeared all over this album. Another temporal distortion. And then from the bridge on it goes all ETID. The “sex organs of the machine world” line at the beginning of the song is a Marshall McLuhan quote. The bridge vocals “Politics is war without bloodshed. War is politics with bloodshed,” I heard from Adolf Reed Jr. but I don’t know if he was quoting someone else.

I had the pleasure of working with Double Bear on this song - my Local Famous Records brethren. The gang vocals in the song are myself, Michael Garcia, Brandon Tyner, Garrett Bond, Matt Bardwell, Glenn Wallace, and Dale Brunson and we’re having a lot of fun, if you can’t tell. It makes me happy that we got to work together on this project and I imagine there will be more collabs down the road.

Track 5 is We Make the Past.

This song is essentially a Bush song, or was when I wrote it. Very Pixies influenced. Dale’s production took this a lot further than I imagined in the best way possible. I also showed up to the studio thinking my lyrics were finished but realized I was missing a second verse. The demo version was just like a minute and a half and I extrapolated the rest and got it wrong. Once that started I essentially re-wrote all the lyrics on the spot. The lyrics are meant to be scattered and random, like Gavin Rossdales’, though they come from a book by the late Hatian anthropologist and historian Michel-Rolp Trouillot. Bush was one of my favorite bands growing up in the mid-late 90’s and early oughts. I’ve always liked their raw energy and lyrical strangeness. (The same could be said for my love of The Mars Volta.) So this was my homage to Gavin, Nigel, Dave and Robin and shitty guitar playing. Also, I pronounced “His-tor-icity” wrong. I said histori-ocity and I don’t know why I didn't notice it until really late in the process. Same with “commodozation” instead of “commoditization” Oh well. Making up words is fun too.

Track 6 is Serve-Us Industry. This song was fun. It originally was going to be a new Huffer song. I had the pleasure of being a part of Huffer from 2015-2018 with Chea Cueavas and Jeremy Nelson, and we were working on a new album in 2017. Between Chea and myself we had about 10-13 ideas kicking around. This was one of the ones I had thrown out there. To me it had a Foo Fighters vibe, which makes sense because Chea and I were also playing in The Foo, our Foo Fighters cover band, a lot around that time. I just thought it would be fun to sing about all the mistakes that happen while working in the service industry and having to deal with customers. These lyrics made me laugh and sometimes that’s all you can do.

Track 7 is an interlude titled Employer vs Employee. This is a clip of David Griscom from the Michael Brooks Show episode 145 - Police & the ANC & We Need a Liberation Theology ft. William Shoki & Ronan Burtenshaw recorded on June 23, 2020. I really enjoy David and even though at the time of recording he has been living in Brooklyn for several years he has never forgotten Texas. His insight on economic issues and worker’s rights is immensely important. The underlying music on this track is just myself playing bass and guitar. A bass riff I had laying around for almost a decade.

The Michael Brooks Show has greatly impacted and influenced my life since I became a Patron in Dec of 2019. I wanted to take what was I learning from Michael, David and Matt and their guests and put it into music. Since Michael’s passing in July 2020, David and Matt Lech have gone on to create their own show Left Reckoning. Check them out for leftist theory and international news and analysis regarding the global left. As Americans, we all need a lot more international and historical perspectives.

Track 8 is titled Class Struggle.

This song was influenced by Silverchair's 1997 and 1999 albums Freakshow and Neon Ballroom. At least that’s kinda what I was going for tonally. The quote being shouted by Karl Marx from his Communist Manifesto, with a slight edit. In hindsight I probably should have use “their” instead of “his or her,” but it was an effort to use more inclusive language. I feel like most people hearing this will know that that was Marx, but if you don’t now you do. This track was originally written and proposed to Huffer as an idea in July 2017 but didn’t make it further than that. Dale plays the double stops in the middle of the song.

I suppose I should take this moment to say that this album is my first lyrical endeavor. I have written personal things in the past but never anything for any of the various bands and projects that I have been a part of, save one short lived hip-hop project back in 2010 I did with Aaron Anderson which was never released. So any idea that I “proposed” to any previous band was just music not lyrics. When trying to decide what to write lyrics about it became clear to me that politics and history was what I felt I needed to talk about. As a History teacher, and someone who studied history at the graduate level, I understand that not everyone learns history by reading historical monographs--but rather through pop-culture. So this is my contribution to pop-culture and I hope some people do learn some things by listening to this. And perhaps, then inspired to do some of their own research.

Track 9 is the Stoop Romans interlude.

These are 2 clips from two different performances of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. The first is from the 1970 film and the second, I believe, is from the 1953 production. I got them from youtube and you ideally, got this for free, so hopefully no harm no foul. The piano is a repetition of the piano at the beginning of the album. And these clips, to me, summed up the sentiment of many in America in 2020.

That is another thing I want to take a moment to say. The creation of this record and the method of its release is a statement. I do not want to profit from this. That is not why I made it. I made it for the message and I want this message spread as much as possible and the best way to do that is to make it free. So it was a labor of love and I tried to reject the capitalistic game of “the hustle” that most musicians, and artists, are forced to play with their creations as much as possible. It is my gift to you and example that things can be done differently.

Track 10 is Imperialism get Fucking Bent.

Soooo I was reading a lot of Noam Chomsky at the time, what can I say. If you don’t know who that is look him up. He is an important intellectual whose perspectives on recent American history and economics are invaluable. This song was heavily influenced by ETID, though a lot more simple, and was written on the guitar in 2018.

Initially, when I began writing lyrics I wrote stuff about Magic the Gathering, of which I am an avid Commander player, at least before the pandemic. But the tone of the song didn’t match the lyrics so I scrapped them and started over. The clip in the middle of the song I got from the Congressional Dish Podcast hosted by Jen Briney, of who I am a Patron. She got it from the Senate Hearing: United States Strategy in Afghanistan, United States Senate Armed Services Committee, February 11, 2020. The two men speaking are Sen. Angus King (Maine) and Jack Keane: Chairman of the Institute for The Study of War who was appointed by John McCain when he was Chairman to the Congressional Committee on the National Defense Strategy.

If you want to know what congress is up to, which you should, then you should listen to that podcast, it is invaluable. The point of the clip is to demonstrate that these men acknowledge that we will be at war “indefinitely.” They said the quiet part out loud in an untelevised hearing of which at the end of they say essentially “let's not discuss this again publicly.” I’m not a journalist but this is me trying to do my part of getting this information out there. We, the American People, shouldn’t want “preventative war,” eternal war. IMO we should want no war unless all other options have been exhausted. Take those trillions of dollars of our money and give it back to us in the form of Medicare for All, a Green New Deal and free college. Then there will be plenty of money left over to rebuild our infrastructure and provide Universal Basic Income. I believe a healthy and educated populus is crucial to a democracy. We need that in America, desperately. And it would be a lot easier to pay for all of that if we weren’t in Somalia, Yemen, Libya, Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan. And that is just for drone strikes. The U.S. military currently operates in 40% of the world’s nations including most of Africa and Central Asia. Check out the Smithsonian Magazine website for info on this. And read Chomsky. Book Recommendations are at the end.

Track 11 is Ka’s Dance. This is a straight up Stephen King love song. He wrote all the words and it’s the 2nd, 5th, and 8th stanzas from Song of Susannah, the 6th book in the Dark Tower series. The clip is from the audiobook narrated by George Guidall (gwidell). This song was another one that was influenced by ETID. Energetically, it reminds me of Jefferson Colby--the band I was in with Matt and Danny Mabe from 2010-2013. Those two have absolutely influenced the way I play and view music, as well as their father Mark Mabe-who taught me how to play bass. Anyway, that is a story for another day, I hope to collaborate with them again in the future. The clip at the end is Captain Janeway and Chekote from Star Trek Voyager.

Track 12 is You Opened My Eyes. I had the honor and the privilege of working with 3 amazing artists on this song: Tornup, Chill, and Canyon Kafer. Christopher Hill, AKA Chill, and I have known each other for years via Dale Brunson and we briefly worked together on a collaborative musician lottery competition thing titled DIG back in 2017 that never happened. I have always wanted to record with him and had a lot of fun doing so. He is one of the best drummers I know and his pocket gave this song the life it needed. Torry Finley AKA Tornup and I met on the streets this past summer of 2020 during the protests and I heard him speak at the public speaking event we held at Trinity Park-- and he moved me. Eventually, we started talking music and I found out he is a fellow musician and bass player as well, I thought “I definitely want to collaborate with this dude.” Fortunately, this opportunity presented itself and, as I am sure you can tell, this song wouldn’t be what it is without him. He performed the first verse. Canyon performed the sick bass solo before the final chorus and I am truly humbled and grateful to have all of these guys on this album.

Track 13 is Fight the Hegemony. This is by far the heaviest track on the album and I essentially shout out some of my influences in the lyrics. Thrice, Glassjaw, and The Used, Dream Theater, Cohoeed and Cambria and other early-mid 2000’s bands still have a big influence on me. My friend and colleague Chris Musso performed the drums on this track. Chris and I played together in Silverlode in 2004 and in The Raven Charter from 2005-2008. We still play together in the aforementioned Sweetmeat, with Dale, and I am super happy to get another opportunity to collaborate together again. As I mentioned earlier, I volunteered and canvassed for Bernie Sanders during the Democratic Primaries in 2020 and the lyrics in this song were inspired by his movement. Now that I am writing these Liner Notes in early 2021 I want to take a moment to reiterate and clarify-- in the wake of the attempted insurrection on January 6th--this song is NOT aiming to inspire violence nor an overthrow of the system by using violence. It is crystal clear to me now how people can read into things and take what they will. These lyrics are about the Bernie Sanders movement. Period.

Track 14 is Simp for the System (Free Market Capitalism Love Song). This is another one of those songs that, musically, was originally written for Huffer, well the bass part anyway. Chea and Jeremy, both had written completely different stuff but I didn’t want to rip them off so I rewrote it and made it as emo as possible. Brand New, was the band I had in mind, circa Deja Entendu. The lyrics are a joke. I was laughing out loud when I wrote them. I had considered just making it instrumental because for the longest time I couldn’t think of any lyrics to go with it. I didn’t want to do “real” emo but I couldn't think of anything else. Then I was like “ well, often these emo songs were about a girl. What if the girl wasn’t a girl but a system that people simp for all the time?” Ta-da. It was actually Dale who suggested the “Hey girl…” rant in the bridge and I think he was onto something. I hope you thought it was as funny as I did.

Track 15 is Cold War Nostalgia. This song is the oldest one on the record and has gone through the most changes- creating nostalgia for me on multiple levels. I wrote the original version in 2009 for my band Housefire. That version was more upbeat and the main verse riff was a dotted 8th note delay melody...very 2009… and Housefire broke up before it was properly recorded. I really liked the song and re-worked it several times on my own over 7 or 8 years until Huffer began working on our new record. I rewrote the track again to be more “Huffer'' sounding by making the bass carry the melody in the verses rather than the guitar. I also slowed it down quite a bit and went for a more rough sound (thinking Refused-esque) rather than polished, uber-compressed late 2000’s scene music. Chea and Jeremy weren’t that into it, and honestly even with the changes it didn’t sound like Huffer so we dropped it. Then, I picked it up again when I started working on this record and tried to put some words to it, and it has now become this sprawling lengthy piece. The original version was a tad over the 3 minute mark and it is now close to 7.

Lyrics were difficult at first. But because the song, for me, was oozing with nostalgia it seemed like a good topic to start with. I had written a paper in my final semester of Grad school in 2018 for a transnational history class about the Cold War- my area of study for my history degree. That paper is my proudest academic achievement to date, titled “National Narratives in Post Cold War America and the Former U.S.S.R.'' and was about the stories we tell ourselves. The ones we tell ourselves at the interpersonal level and the ones our culture, society and leaders tell us at the macro level--and how the totalitarian can affect those stories. This looked at Nostalgia of the Cold War and how that nostalgia is different for the US and the former Soviet states. All the lyrics from this song are taken from that paper- particularly from certain quotes that I quoted throughout. The first verse, starting with “Nostalgia then…” is either Olga Shevchnko or Maya Nadkarni (both are cited) in 2013 from Kevin Platt’s article “Russian Empire of Post-Socialist Nostalgia and Soviet Retro at the New Wave Competition” published in the Russian Review issue 72 no 3. The second verses’ “Does human nature undergo a true change in the cauldron of totalitarian violence?” is from a book titled “Life and Fate” by Vassilli Grossman-- an epic novel about Stalin written in 1960 from someone who lived under him. The only reason it was published was because a friend of Grossman smuggled a copy out of the USSR into the west. One of the few published examples from that period of people questioning the totalitarian state from the inside.

I encourage anyone interested in the full paper to read it, it can be found on my Tumblr blog- Sosations Transmissions.

Now, you may notice that there is phenomenal guitar playing on this track. That is the work of my very good friend Glenn Wallace. Glenn is one of the best guitarists I know. He and I met back in 2004 via Daniel Baskind, Erik Stolpe and Chris Musso from Silverlode and The Raven Charter. The only time we have had the pleasure of playing, or sharing the stage together was in Housefire, so I was thrilled when he agreed to do this song. Glenn was our 3rd and final lead guitarist in the band before we broke up, (following Eddie Delgado and Dusty Brooks). There actually is a video on youtube of one show we played at The Boiler Room in Denton from mid-late 2009. Getting him on this track was something that I had been thinking about for a while but the opportunity finally arose when Glenn, Dale and myself, along with the Double Bear guys: Michael Garcia, Brandon Tyner, Garrett Bond and Matt Bardwell, as well as Erik Stolpe and the resourceful Tanner Hux, decided to start our own record label: Local Famous Records. Now that this relationship has solidified you can expect much more collaboration from all of us as well as more records like this one. Starting a record label with friends has been one of the most enriching experiences of my life and I highly recommend that you try it.

Track 16 is “Be ruthless with institutions, be kind to each other” - is the final track on the album and is a brief quote from the late Michael Brooks from his talk at Harvard University titled: “Michael Brooks MLK Jr. and Love and Power | Class Warfare | Harvard” from the Harvard College YDSA youtube page, recorded on Feb 1st. 2020. I had written a blog about Michael’s passing and how important he was to me personally and to the progressive movement in America today and in the world , and it can be read at the aforementioned Tumblr. I had set this clip aside to put on this record back in May or June of 2020 but after Michael’s passing in July it became clear to me that I would close the record with this sentiment. “Be ruthless with institutions, be kind to each other” is an affirmation I will carry with me for the rest of my life and I will proselytize this message wherever I go. Humans over entities. Always. “The struggle for justice is an ongoing and necessary pursuit that should prevail over all laws and institutions.” As far as the music for this track, it was just me pulling something out of my ass to go under the quote and I did it in one take, on an untuned shitty acoustic (for those familiar, the one from high school and college with the Albino squirrel sticker on it.) I recorded the guitar without any accompaniment into a handheld recording device and just got really lucky that it was an appropriate length. I was going for a Dashboard Confessional vibe and I think I got it.

So that is Volume is Power. Thank you to everyone who helped me create this thing and to those who supported me along the way. I am forever grateful.

Thank you to my wife, Amber, for without her this would not be possible. You are my superhero-bird-watcher, my anchor, my guiding light, my soulmate. Thank you for inspiring me to dare bravely.

Thank you to my parents for allowing me to follow my dreams and drop out of college to pursue a career in music. I know it didn’t make you happy at the time but you believed in me anyway. And thanks for not saying “I told you so” when I decided to go back to school 3 years later.

Thank you to my brother David for all the love and support over the years. For your artistic contribution on Daring Bravely. And for always having the courage to be you.

Thank you to Samantha, Lauren and Matt, for being so supportive all these years. I couldn’t ask for a better step-family.

Thank you to Dale for making this record happen, putting all the work into it that you did, and for putting up with my bullshit.

Thank you to every musician I have had the pleasure of playing with, on or off the stage.

Thank you to Aaron Anderson, Jason Dixon, Andrew Del Real and Anthony Davis for being the first band of dudes I got to do real shit with.

Thank you to the Silverlode/Solace Prime/ The Raven Charter guys: Daniel Baskind, Erik Stolpe, Brandon and Garrett Bond, Brian Christie, Chris Musso, Stephen Thacker, and Brandon Bailey. You guys are my brothers.

Thank you to the guys in Dreams Like Fire, who I only had a brief stint with in 2007 but learned so much from: Alan Mabe, Dathan Martin, Ryan Moody, and Kyle Istook.

Thank you to the Mabe Family for treating me like family and for--literally--teaching me how to rock: Mark Mabe, Matt Mabe, Danny Mabe, Chris Mabe and the beloved Terri Mabe.

Thank you to Chea and Jeremy from Huffer for bringing me into your lives and music. I am so glad we got to do what we did.

Thank you to Neal Todnem and Justin Jordan for being awesome roommates and apart of memories that I will always cherish and for our Tsegull Tsunami.

Thank you to Ben Napier for being a good friend, and at times mentor, and for asking me to be your Bogus “Green Day” cover band. I appreciate our time together.

Thank you to Ansley Dougherty, Nick Wittwer and Scott White for making our rage Against the Machine cover band a real thing, even if only for 2 practices. And to Scott for being my headbang partner at our The Foo and the Kombucha Mushroom people shows. And for trusting me to record some of your demos.

Thank you to Randall Bradley for being such a good friend. I value our talks and our jams and always look forward to hearing that you are in town from Argentina. Your perspective is unique and important.

Thank you to Cody Lee and the 27’s for involving me in your record and to Jaryth Webber for being a badass academic colleague, a badass musician, and for introducing me to Congressional Dish.

Thank you to Ben C Jones for the opportunity to work together on your music.

Thank you to Daniel Kunda for the opportunity to be apart of what you’re creating and for, at times, letting me be your sensei. Your future is bright.

Thank you to Chill, Torry Finley and Canyon Kafer for taking You Opened My Eyes above and beyond where I possibly ever could have. I hope we can do it more in the future.

Thank you to all my Local Famous brothers: Dale, Garrett, Michael, Brandon, Glenn, Matt, Erik and Tanner, for believing in this thing with me and making it a reality.

Thank you to Collin Porter for being a good friend and letting me bounce creative and political ideas off you. I truly value our conversations.

Thank you to Ryan Smith for always being a good friend and for our jammy jams.

Thank you to the bands that invited any of my bands on the road with them over the years--you guys helped make my dreams a reality: Matt and Mike LoCoco, and Danny Borja from Transit Method in Austin; Nick Barton, Trey Landis, and Justin Huggins from Sleepwalking Home in Tulsa, and Johnny Hawkins, Mark Vollelunga, and Daniel Oliver from San Antonio’s Nothingmore. The memories I have from those shows and trips are truly priceless and I am thankful to have those experiences to look back on.

Thank you to Dr. Johnny Stein, Dr. Joyce Goldberg, Dr. Christopher Morris, Dr. Patryk Babiracki, and Dr. Andrew Milson at the University of Texas at Arlington for greatly influencing my historical knowledge and thought that has influenced the making of this record.

Thank you to all co-founders of The Justice Reform League: Amber, Christopher Rose, Rod Smith, and Michael Campbell. And to Thomas Moore from no Sleep till Justice. I couldn’t ask for a better group of people to start a nonprofit with and I look forward to our future.

Thank you to Michael Brooks, Hank and John Green, Dr. Cornel West, Slavoj Žižek, Dr. Kevin Dunn, Dr. Richard Wolff, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Fred Hampton, Rita Starpattern and Edward Snowden for being my exemplars, always daring bravely and inspiring me to do the same.

And thank YOU for taking the time to listen to the songs, and this Audio Liner Notes track. If you are unfamiliar with any of the influences I have mentioned over the course of this I encourage you to go listen. And if those bands resonate with you, find out who influenced them- you’ll find more awesome music, more temporal distortions, if you will. I hope you find some inspiration to create your own work, whatever that may be, and to put it out into the world.

Dare Bravely. Salut.

Anthony Sosa

12-6-2020

(Updated 2-6-2021)

Recommended Readings

Global Punk by Kevin Dunn (2016)

The People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn (1980)

Permanent Record by Edward Snowden (2019)

Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History by Michel-Rolp Trouillot (2015)

Reason in History by Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1953)

The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels (1848)

Welcome to the Desert of the Real by Slavoj Žižek (2002)

Humankind by Rutger Bregman (2020)

Utopia for Realists by Rutger Bregman (2017)

The Hawk and the Dove by Nicholas Thompson (2009)

Dark Age Ahead by Jane Jacobs (2005)

Tribe by Sebastian Junger (2016)

Give them an Argument: Logic for the Left by Ben Burgis (2019)

Against the Web by Michael Brooks (2020)

Capitalist Realism: Is There No Alternative? by Mark Fisher (2009)

The Upside of Down: Catastrophe, Creativity, and the Renewal of Civilization by Thomas Homer-Dixon(2006)

The Counterrevolution: How Our Government Went to War Against Its Own Citizens by Bernard E. Harcourt (2018)

Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson (2014)

Team Human by Douglas Rushkoff (2019)

On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century: by Timothy Snyder (2017)3

Totalitarianism by Abbot Gleeson (1995)

Imperial Ambitions: Conversations on the Post 9/11 World by Noam Chomsky (2004)

Profit Over People by Noam Chomsky (1999)

How to Hide an Empire by Daniel Immerwahr (2019)

The Lucifer Principle by Howard Bloom (1995)

The Dark Tower Series by Stephen King (1977-2003)

0 notes

junker-town · 7 years ago

Text

The only correct ballot for the 2018 Baseball Hall of Fame

Jorge Posada made me realize that it’s time to vote for Scott Rolen, if that makes any sense.

Hello, and welcome to my annual description of what the Only Correct Hall of Fame Ballot looks like. If you have a different ballot, well, it can’t be correct. That wouldn’t be logical, considering that this is the only correct ballot. Please go back and try harder.

There is a complication, however, in that I have to admit that last year’s Only Correct Hall of Fame Ballot was, uh, wrong. I screwed up. I didn’t put Jorge Posada on my fake ballot, and he dropped off because he didn’t receive five percent of the vote. Because my ballot is a fake ballot, it wouldn’t have mattered if my ballot was adjusted, but it’s real to me, dammit. I was so disgusted that Posada fell off the first ballot — even if I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t be in the Hall of Fame before Ted Simmons and Gene Tenace — that I regretted the whole exercise.

While I’d toyed with the idea of a strategic fake ballot for years, I could never muster the courage. Vote for the best players, end of exercise. The shunning of Posada was an epiphany. He might not have deserved induction, but he definitely deserved more consideration. The ballot logjam is a mess, and the 10-vote minimum is a joke.

So here it is: an entirely strategic ballot. Here goes nothing.

1. Barry Bonds 2. Roger Clemens

They might not get in this time, but they’re polling at 66 percent of the public ballots, and even a faint whiff of momentum helps them. Both were among the best players of all-time before the performance-enhancing drug craze, and both of them were the absolute best players in an era were a significant percentage of their peers were also dirty.

Imagine telling the story of baseball and omitting Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens. I guess it just gives us all time to learn about other Hall of Famers, like, uh ... Elmer Flick?

3. Edgar Martinez

The best DH of his era, one of the top two ever. The old argument still applies. Baseball has a position called the “designated hitter.” It’s an important position that has a huge effect on a team’s overall success. Edgar Martinez was one of the best DHs ever. He deserves recognition.

If you’re not swayed by the statistics already, there’s no sense convincing you, but an 18-year veteran who finishes with a career line of .312/.418/.515 and an OPS+ of 147 deserves to be in the Hall of Fame even if he sat down on first base and threw his glove at every ground ball for the last 15 years of his career. That line is obscene, and it tells us that Martinez hit baseballs better than almost everyone who ever lived.

I would like the Hall of Fame to be filled with people who hit baseballs better than almost everyone who ever lived.

4. Mike Mussina

Like Martinez, he’s close on the public ballots. Like Bonds and Clemens, the appearance of momentum or inevitability can only help him. He’s a victim of his era, which hurt his ERA. Can’t have the ERA without the era, and we’ll use Baseball-Reference’s updated toy to show what his career stats would have looked like in a more recent run-scoring environment.

It’s not inner circle. But if the bar is Jack Morris and Catfish Hunter, it’s hard to express just how much better Mussina was. Look at that 10-year stretch of 200-plus innings and an ERA in the 2s and 3s. That’s wildly valuable and rare, and the knuckle-curve was one of the best pitches of a generation.

5. Curt Schilling

Still a nincompoop. Still someone who deserves to have “FW: FW: FW: RE: FW:” on his plaque to honor his unending search for the truth. Still one of the best pitchers I’ve ever watched, and close enough on the public ballots to support vehemently.

6. Trevor Hoffman

I’m not entirely sure if Hoffman should be in the Hall. The argument is less that he was better than almost everyone else that he played with, and more that he stayed healthy for an awfully long time. I’ve struggled with this decision here and here. The biggest argument against is to compare him to different Hall of Famers and their impact on their respective teams. When the Reds had Barry Larkin, they had a shortstop who was better than almost every other shortstop in the game for years and years. When the Padres had Trevor Hoffman, they had a closer who was roughly as effective as half the closers in any given year. A vote for Hoffman is a vote for consistency and longevity.

At the same time, this is a strategic ballot, and I’ve already made my piece with the idea that Hoffman would be a fine enough representative. His inclusion wouldn’t be an injustice. Far from it. So I want him off the ballot to ease the logjam. He’s close enough to where every vote could count. Get him off and work on some of the players at the bottom of the ballot next year.

7. Gary Sheffield

Jim Rice got in because the writers tripped over themselves to retroactively give him the Most Feared Hitter Award for a decade. I wanted to pooh-pooh this selective revisionist history, except I understood. Sheffield and Jeff Bagwell were my Jim Rices. They were the players who seeminging got 17 at-bats in every game, who looked like coiled fury and punishment with every plate appearance.

Unlike Rice, though, Sheffield has numbers that clearly put him with the Hall of Fame’s best. If I’m making a ballot that’s filled with the 10-best candidates, I’m not sure if Sheffield gets in over Sosa, Walker, McGriff, or Manny Ramirez. But Sheffield is the one most in danger of falling off the ballot, so he gets my strategic vote. Hang in there, buddy.

8. Johan Santana 9. Scott Rolen 10. Andruw Jones

I’m probably a no on at least a couple of them, but I want them all on the ballot for another year. Santana compares more favorably to Sandy Koufax than you think, and I’d like another year to contemplate this. Rolen reminds me of Will Clark, with a lot of value and a lot of missed time, and I think there’s something to the idea that he received a single MVP vote in just four of his 17 seasons, finishing in the top-10 just once. The story of baseball can probably skip his chapter without losing a whole bunch. But I’d like another year to contemplate this.

That brings us to Jones, who was one of the greatest defenders in baseball history. When you use the words “greatest” and “baseball history,” the Hall of Fame klaxon should absolutely be going off in your head. And he happened to complement his defense with 10 years of hitting, too. While he fell into the same viper pit that got Dale Murphy and absolutely disappeared far too early, he still finished with more than 400 home runs. The equation goes something like ...

434 dingers

one of the best defensive players in baseball history

Hall of Famer, even if he hit .190

But Jones didn’t hit .190. He hit .268/.346/.506 from the ages of 20 through 29, while being the Ozzie Smith of center field. I’m pretty sure this isn’t just a strategic vote, and that I would vote for him on a list of my top-10 candidates, but Jones is extremely close to falling off the ballot. I’d like another year to contemplate his candidacy, maybe more so than anyone else on the ballot.

That gives us this ballot:

Barry Bonds

Roger Clemens

Edgar Martinez

Mike Mussina

Curt Schilling

Trevor Hoffman

Gary Sheffield

Johan Santana

Scott Rolen

Andruw Jones

You’ll notice that there are omissions. There’s no Chipper Jones, Jim Thome, and Vladimir Guerrero, who are all easy Hall of Famers for me. That’s because they’ll get in this year, and they don’t need the help of my fake ballot. Those resources have already been allocated, and I can apply mine somewhere else. If I had to do a non-strategic ballot, it would probably look like this:

Barry Bonds

Roger Clemens

Edgar Martinez

Chipper Jones

Jim Thome

Mike Mussina

Curt Schilling

Manny Ramirez

Sammy Sosa

Andruw Jones

Larry Walker and Gary Sheffield would take that last spot on a different day, depending on my mood. Maybe Jeff Kent.

But this is a fake ballot that needs some four-dimensional chess to it. Who’s going to fall off? Who’s close enough to get in? Who needs momentum? Who can help clear the logjam for next year? My fake ballot addresses all four of those concerns, and we can be back here next year with another correct ballot. Except next year’s might actually be filled with the 10 best players on the ballot.

What a wild concept. Down with the 10-player limit. Up with Andruw Jones. Thank you.

0 notes

khelinski · 7 years ago

Text

Sosa, by: Joshua Moffitt

Just found out a good friend I had during my college program days [2007-2008] passed away. The very first thought that came to my head - NO FUCKING WAY, NOT JOSHUA. :’(

Then as I searched through his Facebook, the inevitable reality came crashing down. So did the memories, flooding my mind with so many great moments I had with Joshua.

We got along right from the getgo. He was one of a few people I've encountered in life that had a love for Dream Theater. We also shared the same love for writing, Stephen King, reading, and rock music. He always made me laugh. He reminded me of an young Jack Black with his sarcastic charm.

We never drifted apart over the years. We would always converse on Facebook. He had supported my writing over the years (even wrote a nice review of 'Raise Your Glass' on Amazon). He had messaged me back in 2012 of writing a story of his own. Not sure if he had added to it since then - but saddens me I will never get to read the final draft.

In honor of the creative mind that left us too damn soon in life, here is the manuscript he had sent me...in his own words the gist of what he had written...

The basic concept for the antagonist(s) came to me when in a bizarre coincidence I happened to hear the songs "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" and Nirvana's cover of "The Man Who Sold the World" back to back. I realized that no one wants to RULE the world, what they really want is to OWN it. When you rule, you have responsibility for the ruled- it's a hassle. But if you merely own it, then every single event, no matter how minute works to your benefit, your profit. Fate would be a real thing but only for those who own the world. A sudden desire for a pizza at the north pole would create a chain of events THAT ALREADY HAPPENED BEFORE YOU KNEW YOU WANTED IT to make that come true. That's power. So, what if a group of people messed with that; breaking a few strands of the web in which the world is held by those who own it? What lengths would be necessary to correct that? And, for the protagonists, how do you break their hold on the world? Because it doesn't matter if the world would change for the better or the worse, NO ONE has the right to own the world, to create destinies to fulfill the petty desires of such a covetous cabal. Hence, monsters and things labelled "fictional". To try and fix an "impossible" thing, "impossible" measures need to be taken. Also, I haven't worked this out entirely, but the idea of time being the memory of the world. The fabric of history, the web of entangled events are all memories that can be recalled by remembering them in a more fundamental way than the human mind can. So, five children, each with their own aspects of creation, create this book of memories in which to do just that. Ciara's father is going to kill her mother when she's a child, during the time they're working on the book, age 11; he pushes her into traffic in a moment of rage. This is the second thing they do with the book, they use it to find and alter the moment in time that would keep most of the flow intact, but also prevent that from happening. Ciara's father is going to hit a deer and a tree following the ambulance from when he dislocated Ciara's arm when she was 8 (or 9?). Both memories would be true, but time would flow from that event onward instead of the way it was before. That's how they break the noticable strand in the World Owners' web.

Joshua Moffitt - good sir...shine on your crazy diamond, live long and prosper, may the odds ever be in your favor, long days & pleasant nights, may the force be with you, and Rock In Peace. \m/

***

Sosa, by: Joshua Moffitt

Sosa picked up the phone and held it for a minute, taking a deep breath and savoring the moment. She put her hand down towards the table on which the phone rested and passed her fingers along the cover of an old, worn but loved, black three-ringed binder. There was no title and no sign of bending or age, despite it being 17 years old.

“I was ten then” she said aloud to no one.

It was a notebook of so many memories and they had used it once for something good and, as Sarah would still call it if she remembered, impossible. Sosa smiled at the memory of Sarah, and pressed her hand on the notebook harder for a moment, then thought, She’s a MENSA member now and laughed aloud. It was a book of memories.

Holding it again, and closing her eyes, she got his phone number. It was in fifth grade that Joshua had started this notebook, before the five of them really came together. Materialistically, it belonged to him, but it was all of theirs.

Butterflies filled her stomach as she punched the in the number and waited. Four rings, five rings, then finally answered and a voice that sounded more aggressive than it needed to be said “Hello?” a woman’s voice.

“Hello, I’m looking for Joshua is he there?”

“I am his mother, whom may I say is calling?” Brusque but not unkind. Of all the scenarios that had played through her head, picking up his mother was not among them. He’s living with his parents, she thought I hope he’s alright.

“My name is Sosa, I knew your son from school and I need to talk to him, please”

“Just a moment.” muted calls for Joshua issued from the phone followed by “Who is it?”

“She says her name is Sosa, from school.”

“So… SOSA!” She heard the sound of him snatching the phone and then, as she knew she would, felt the flood of personality come through, connecting to her.

Joshua had not thought of Sosa, David, Sarah and Ciara in years and hadn’t seen them since they were eleven. Point of fact, he didn’t remember them, until this phone call. This phone call and this day, it was his turn with the notebook, the memories, to guard it and keep it safe.

“Sosa, I’m” Thrilled? Delighted? No adjective that came to mind satisfied so, as usual, he went with his instinct “Sosa, I love you.”

They both knew it was true. The five of them had loved each other. He could feel her through the phone, like she could feel him. Only Sosa thought he doesn’t know how much more of him comes through than any of the rest.

“It finally got around to me!” He grinned, remembering putting in the first sheet of paper, by himself at that time; what might be called the title page, if such books had them. “How was Ciara when you spoke to her?” They only spoke or remembered each other when the time came around to send it to the next: every four years. Only the one protecting the memories remembered.

“She was fine, she was a resident psychiatrist when she called and now…” She pressed her hand against the book, “and now she has her own practice.” Fitting, she thought, she could

“…always see to the core of someone.” He finished for her. “And the rest?”

“Sarah has a MENSA membership and is a professor of mathematics and physics at MIT, at the age of 27, she married one of her grad students two years ago and they have twin girls. Their father says he has triplets because of how much they resemble their mother.

“David is an assistant district attorney in LA,”

“And you’re an FBI field agent.” Joshua finished, feeling the fact through the phone. He had not known how much he missed this; this absolute simpatico, a warm breath of life into his heart.

“Yeah, all in all, the four of us have almost tv-show worthy careers.” She laughed, knowing it was true, but also to cover the concern in her heart for Joshua, whose mother had answered the phone. She knew that if she pressed the book, she could know, but wanted it to come from his lips.

“I graduated with a BA in theater, tried to get into some MFA programs and failed. I do community theater and that’s it.” A harsh laugh “so much for the great actor,” For a moment, she was terrified at what she heard and hugged the book close as if to shield her (or for her to shield it).

The decision came to her without thought or consideration, just like in the field when actions had to speak as loud as they could: when to fire, when to duck, when to negotiate and when to relax. He had been strong and fragile in the extreme, no middle area. He needed her. Maybe it also came up from the phone; it was how Joshua had affected them all, how his instinct (“His heart,” Ciara had corrected, four years ago) guided their and his actions and were always right if maybe not good, but also because she heard her decision come from Joshua.

“Come see me. I know it’s not how I said things should be done, but please do it.” He needed to see and hear from her, from all of them. But she had the book and it was his turn. It also feels right he thought and it was true: it was a rightness he had not felt about anything for so long. Finding the direction of the tide, finally and finding it going in. He hoped it led to their beach again, the place where they did something good, where they laid the plan for their memories and the book and where they said the goodbye he had told them was not forever. Their beach, their book.

“I am. It’s noon, I can be there by 6, if I hurry.” Washington DC to upstate South Carolina is a long way to drive and it would probably take longer, but she’d be damned if she’d do the speed limit.

“No, take the 5:45 flight from Washington to Greenville and drive up from there.” Fuck, that feeling of rightness was wonderful; a limb had finally awakened from sleep and was no longer tingling, but in use. “We need a place to be in solitude, or relative solitude. The local library here, one of the study rooms, I want to go straight there, which requires they be open.”

“That feels right?” Sosa asked and felt the confirmation come up the phone. She hated the thought of the wait, but would do it.

“It’s not that long of a wait.” Joshua said, partly to her, partly to himself.

The drive from Greenville, SC was an hour. An hour of turning on the radio, going through stations, turning it off and then repeating; of checking and rechecking the GPS on her phone and of chewing on her hair, her weakness. Ciara used to tease her about it and asked her one time if she could ever, just once be actually patient. She had laughed and said no. And was right.

She entered the library through automatic doors, almost running.

None of the five had seen each other as adults and over the phone they had all seen the other as the child they had known, but they knew each other straight off.

She was tall, six feet, wearing a black pantsuit (with pinstripes, of all things) a white shirt and gold crucifix. Her brown hair was cut just above the shoulders and provided the frame for a bright-eyed, full lipped face with a Mediterranean nose: stunning. A face that belied the body beneath it: in the suit, she looked trim, as if she did aerobics and light weight training. Underneath was the body of a boxer with a wiry strength, speed and grace. She was rarely beaten in sparring matches. She wore no makeup, only moisturizer; her only vanity was her skin: smooth and tan. Her full name was Susannah Sosa, but she was always Sosa to everyone, even to herself.

There he was, Joshua. Always strong, but never athletic. He could look her directly in the eye, so six feet. A football player’s shoulders and chest. Not fat, but not thin and not flabby. Avoirdupois, yes, but no fat weakling; not a runner, a lifter of heavy objects, not weights, but oil drums, crates and sacks. And his face. His hair was brown and curly, but smooth, cheeks wide and high with laughing eyes and a smile that always reached them. A face with no wrinkles and no blemishes: the face of an eighteen-year-old. She wondered how often he got carded.

He smiled and beckoned her to the right side of the library, where their two study rooms were. His had no windows but the one in the door. Closing the door and locking it, they hugged each other close. The jolt through them was quick and powerful, the book, in her satchel, vibrated then stilled when they stepped back as if seeing each other for the first time.

With the book spread before them on the table, they started reading and seeing.

Josh had taken his binder to lunch because he had an idea that wouldn’t quit. His lunch ignored in the classroom, he took out one sheet of loose-leaf paper, snapped the rings to and closed it. He was left handed and writing in the notebook, like everyone else, was awkward or painful.

With a pen, he prepared to write the first page. What would it say? His mind suggested many titles for his intention, but all of them cartoonish. He closed his eyes and told his brain to shut up. Opening his eyes, he let his hand write the first words that came: Our Promise.

Not knowing why it was “Our” and not “My” or what a promise might have to do with time travel, and knowing it was correct, he put it in as the first page. It’s always called a title page, but that’s not what he wants it to be. Titles only tell what’s inside a book, they aren’t part of them, so this is not a “title”.

He wanted Time. It was important to understand what Time actually was before anything could be done about it. HG Wells’ story addressed the fact that the machine worked, but not really how. Most importantly of all, though, it never dealt with why. Not “why are we traveling through time,” but “why does this time machine work”.

There is one method he knows, a universal method and so he begins writing down memories. Not stories or reminiscences but sentences, words and pictures, all connected with arrows, but not in a linear sequence. It’s his first try, he knows he hasn’t done it exactly right yet, but the method… something about the method works. It needs more work and something else, something to be added, but he doesn’t know what.

“Whatcha doin’?” a small voice sounds from across the table. He’d forgotten that he was in public and had lost track of time, trying to master it. Looking up, he sees the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen… since the last time he saw her, back in Mrs. Day’s fifth grade classroom. They’d never really spoken, he was shy and his only real friend, David was at the other end of the alphabet, and so the table, from him.

Looking into her eyes, the first thing he remembers is getting called for walking every time he was passed the basketball and today, falling on his butt trying to pass it. The crimson that flowed up his cheeks seemed to turn him from pale to sunburned in a second. If only were spring and he could show off at bat in the one sport at which he really excelled.

Knocking himself out of that reverie, he answered, “I don’t know, nothing, I guess, I just. I want Time.” He tries to make the capital self evident in the way he says the word.

“Time for what?” She asks and the fact that she’s actually interested makes his heart double its beat and his head float to the ceiling. Concentrate!

He wasn’t concentrating fast enough, but she looked down at the current (now third) page and then asked: “Why did you right ‘my dog, Corey’ and put a pointer to ‘a picture of a blue bird’ then a pointer to…” here she leaned over the table and, oh, her face was actually next to his, he hoped he wasn’t breathing too much, “…’the first time I saw the word Czechoslovakia in first grade and pronounced it cheese-toast-lovakia and the way my mom laughed’?”

Gulping, getting under control, he said, coherently “They’re memories. I remember things and that’s going backward. If I can connect the right things back in time I remember, maybe I can actually go there.”

The bell rang, it was time to go back, but Sosa was more than intrigued, this was something new and Josh, the shy klutz in the red sweatshirt had actually come out and said more than two words. He kept talking, saying that one thing leads to another, but maybe that thing led to could have made what led to it- talking quickly, obviously nervous and excited, babbling, but she kept up with it, enjoying the new idea and her, she hoped, new friend.

“It’s cool,” she said, when he finished, entering the classroom. He didn’t know if it was approval or an attempt to stop him from going on forever. He assumed the latter and was preparing to leave her alone and get to schoolwork and cover up his blushing (next was math and he was allowed to go on at any pace he wanted and was almost done with the fifth-grade text, he had already asked for the sixth grade one), when she said the last thing he had ever expected: “Can I help you with it after school?”

She saw the weirdest look go over his face. She had no idea what it meant, but he said, hoarsely “Yeah, uh, if you want to, I guess. I stay after, waiting for my mom, don’t you go home?”

“I live close enough to walk here, I’ll just call my mom and tell her I’ll be playing with Ciara until 5, ok?”

“Sure, I mean, if you want,”

“Ok, I’ll see you on the United States,”

Ciara, from childhood, never had a problem with monsters. Her parents never spoke of this to her, but they considered it such a blessing that they never had to wake up at midnight to comfort a child scared of what might be hiding on the other side of the closet door, under the bed, or stalking hungrily out the window.

Today, most of the monsters she saw were demons with complicated names possessing otherwise healthy people and were often easily exorcised with proper medication and therapy sessions, group or private. In these instances, battle might often be hard, but for the most part she would end up victorious. If not, she would send them to the psychiatric ward of the hospital where most would be treated gently under observation. Some must be condemned to Thorazine Hell, however with the hope that study of them would make up for the things had done.

Ciara had no trouble with monsters, not because she knew they weren’t real, but because she did. What was under the bed was hers and did what she told it. She was never afraid, there was never anything to fear.

So what she saw in the rear of her car after leaving her office, while making her afraid of its obvious hostility, did not make her fear for her sanity. She saw it through the rear windshield, it hadn’t noticed her yet; she parked her car at the far end of the office parking lot in part because parking near other people made her claustrophobic and because she could use it to force herself to walk so she could say (with an interior sardonic lift of her eyebrow) that she had exercised. She gently hid behind an SUV, peering around its rear to study her apparent enemy.

No, it had not seen her yet, though the idea of “eyes” in the traditional sense on such a thing would be laughable. It had no form, it had no color and was not strictly visible, but it was there. She put an image up on the fore of her mind and it took that shape: her father. She tried again: a lobster. Third time: herself at 4 in the pink tutu she loved. In all instances, it was looking away.

The edge of the parking lot bordered on a sidewalk, people were passing and none were seeing it. The first image in her mind had been pure reflex: what actually terrified her. The thing itself must be confident in its invisibility.

It knew her memories without knowing them, though. She had sensed these kinds of things before, but had never actually seen one so bold, so present anywhere. They pawed through memories, finding the worst to feed on any happiness that would then leech out of the day. They tended to be satisfied in a brief encounter and, while most of the color would leave a day, the vast majority of people were resilient enough to recover within a few hours. This, though, sitting so brazenly was frighteningly different in its aims.

What to do now? she thought. If she snuck up on it, she would still alert it by unlocking the doors. Act like she hadn’t seen it then turn on it? Has possibilities. Abandon the car and simply walk away? Never know what it’s doing there. Nonchalant then. She thought of keeping its form harmless, then rejected it, that might be just as much a trick as appearing as her actual childhood fear.

She felt in her purse for the reassuring weight of her pepper spray, brought it out with her keys in the cup of her palm and went forward.

She unlocked, opened the door and said as casually as possible: “Hi, dad!”

Her father looked startled, she had either surprised him out of a reverie or was surprised at the casual tone she used to address him, sitting, waiting in the back of a locked car.

“Hello, CiCi. Had any important cases today?”

“I haven’t seen anyone new in two weeks, but I am going to get some referrals after the weekend. By the way,” she turned in her seat to face it, started to speak and hit it in the face with the pepper spray.

Screaming and recoiling in pain because it had eyes, now it writhed on the back seat, painfully confused as to what could have gone wrong. Not seen until it desired; surprise and terrorize to get what it wanted.

Here’s something I should have considered: what the hell do I do now? Question it while it’s still incapacitated seemed the only answer.

“What do you want?” She commanded with a confidence that was mostly feigned. She’d had surprise on her side: no more.

It had quieted. She held the spray nozzle up to ward it off for as long as she could and repeated her question.

The face had taken on the expression her father so often wore: inscrutable, a depth of nothing that would resolve into the deepest love or almost grotesque violence. It was the latter (the former) that had terrorized her for the first nine (eleven) years of her life. Her right arm was still the weakest after he had completely dislocated her shoulder. He had come home from work, doing machine work for a local garage, to find her crying in the arms of her mother because Samantha, their sleek tabby, had died.

“Stop crying, Cici” he had said in a voice as unreadable as his face. She hadn’t been able to stop completely and that’s when her father had grabbed her arm and pulled her away from her mother. Mom simply let him, cowering into the corner of the couch while he whipped her into the wall by her wrist. She had impacted the doorframe into the kitchen and screamed as she felt her shoulder tear itself out.

Her father was all apologies, comfort and love almost immediately. She let herself be comforted as they loaded her into the ambulance, still crying and sometimes shrieking over the pain. Her father commanded her mother to stay home (she had come with him) while he drove to the hospital after the ambulance. His right front tire suffered a complete blowout and the car had hit a tree going 45 miles per hour (they had arrived at her bedside and, after the doctor had given her morphine admonished her about being more careful when she played) and was almost completely decapitated. The memory was true both ways. She couldn’t remember how.

Then it didn’t matter because it tried to move and she had to hit it again. Why is this kind of standoff is specifically Mexican? Thinks an irrational part of her brain that seemed determined to distract her. It then hit her that thoughts, memories, images… these were the weapons by which it operated.

She had it at bay because the form she had forced it to take could feel pain from the pepper spray, but she wasn’t entirely in control of its form or its power. She had it at bay, now she had to make it leave and she did not have much time. Humiliate it.

It had to see itself, that was the only way it would work. She thought of the rearview mirror behind her, but God only knew how difficult it would be to angle it correctly or to snap it off and oh my God does it know what I’m thinking? It leaped at her from the back seat.

The fury in her father’s eyes was one she knew all too well; a savage look that seemed to light the space behind his eyes with fire that would, on a good day, flare out like a match or, on a bad day, rage through the forest of his mind, and make her mother and her wear long sleeves and pants. For her, an arm sling. For her mother a casket (except he died before he could kill her, didn’t he?).

With one hand, he enclosed her left, holding the pepper spray, and forced it down, smothering her hand in pain with his merciless grip. The other wound its way into her hair, long and red, it flamed down her back, looping it around his hand to get a better hold. By these handles, he tried to force her into the back seat, but she planted her shoulder hard against the driver’s seat, enduring the pain to keep from falling firmly into his grasp.

The memory of her mother’s closed casket began to flood her mind and panic rose up from her spine to her eyes, her nose and her mouth: screaming, she fought his hands on her body and the fingers of its mind into her thoughts.

Pulling himself up into the front seat to finish, she used her right hand (the one without the pepper spray) and grabbed his throat at the base of his jaw, forcing his vision into the rearview mirror and, gaining control of her mind forced onto it the only image she could in that brief space. If this didn’t work, it would be the last second of her sane life and one of the few before her death.

The thing screamed in terror at what it saw in that mirror, its hands forced from Ciara to its chest. It screamed through thoughtful eyes and a smiling mouth as it held an infant to its naked breast; a Madonna nursing an infant Jesus. Her mind her own again, she concentrated on the warmth and love from that icon: the apotheosis of motherly love. Focusing on this, she re-braced herself against the driver’s door, brought her right foot up and sent it sailing down on the Madonna’s face, the ball of her foot in its business shoe connecting squarely with her eye. Bringing her foot back up, and begging God to forgive her the blasphemy, she aimed the low heel at the Child.

The Madonna’s eyes went wide with fear and rage and too late, it tried to force Ciara back with guilt at the image she had chosen and bruised. She knew she would weep later in a confessional, but the her heel crushed the side of the Infant’s head. The creature dissolved before her eyes, dissolving into nothing like a dream upon waking; the last remnant of an idea forgotten by the world and brought to no fruition.

Breathing hard, with the taste of copper in the back of her throat, Ciara pulled together the remainder of her shattered nerves and tried to think of what to do next. Her first thought was of her father, dead in a crash or a gas chamber, and vomited on the gear shift lever.

At that, her mind cleared enough to consider: it had known her car and her practice and it had dared to make an overt move. It had more than the usual hunger for human thought, easily appeased by groping through a person’s history and holding up the horrors, naked and bloody, before the mind’s eye. If that were the case, any random person would have functioned. It had wanted her, specifically. Sent? Someone searching for me?

If so, she couldn’t go home. If it knew her office and her car her apartment would assuredly be known as well. It would not do to risk its being watched.

Her car was generic enough, so the only option open seemed to be driving away as quickly as possible and hiding, perhaps a motel, maybe just on the road. She checked her phone’s battery and found it sufficiently charged. Opening her window to relieve her of the stench of used spinach salad, she put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot heading God-knows-where to start. As she was driving, she wondered why she was expecting a call.

(These things exist to serve a purpose. Vampires, ghosts, ufo sightings, etc are merely tools used to nudge the world along a path it might not normally take otherwise. These things are extraordinary and whether they actually exist or are merely here because They would need them to exist in Their world is difficult to say. They own the world and They don’t like others interfering with its function. I would say they do exist and are things manipulated along a path to profit them. The same with religion: without Them there’d be just as much a lack of proof of any one of them but the paths they take would change. For the better, for the worse is impossible to say at the outset, but the courses taken would be HONEST, and not a course manipulated by the world’s Owners. The same with aliens.)

(“Don’t you understand?” their Leader said, his voice rising, fear obviously building in him. “The world wouldn’t fare any better without us. Working for us keeps everything level over the course of eons, keeps humanity there and happy.”

“Keeps everything static.” Joshua said, flatly. When the Leader began nodding enthusiastically, he continued, “But nothing in this world is truly ours. Nothing can grow or die of its own true nature and we stay bound to this world until you say otherwise! This war that’s coming, you say it’s the only way for humanity to continue, I think you don’t know shit about that. You only know that it’s the only way for it to continue enslaved to you. These millions, maybe billions dead are just another monument to your vanity. No more.”

Placing his hand on the book, the beach, and the Leader’s screams disappeared. )

REAL BOOK CONTINUED:

Sosa was kneeling somewhere above northern California and Joshua blanketed most of Nevada the next morning. Joshua’s jeans were set against Nevada’s yellow, Sosa’s red shorts against a pine green California. Part of the school grounds, facing the playground was a large concrete map of the United States that functioned as a basketball half-court during recess (well, the west coast at least), a parking area after hours and a social area for kids who arrived at school early.

“I wrote down as many of these things that happened the, what-a-the-word…”

“Events,” Sosa supplied, A-list of the vocabulary and spelling crowd.

“Right.” Joshua replied, briefly annoyed, but continued: “And maybe if I put them together right and then remember right, I could go back into the past somewhere.

“Wouldn’t you have to know when you’d want to go?” asked Sosa “I wouldn’t wanna go back just any time,”

“Yeah, but maybe we could think of when we’d like to go later, after we learn how. I don’t know how to make it work,”

Sosa was just as clueless as her new friend but she was fascinated with the topic and amused by the gravity with which he took the project. You could see it all in the title: Our Promise. He hadn’t been able to explain it when he opened the book that morning and she got her first look.

It was ten minutes of eight and she was considering telling Joshua to pack it up when she noticed her close friend Ciara walking up the path from the bus stop and waved her over.

Ciara was walking with her back pack slung off her left shoulder and her right pressed tightly to her midsection. That morning, her father had ’punished her for backtalk’ when she said that she wanted cereal instead of oatmeal at breakfast. “I go to the trouble of making it and it’s not good enough for you?” he’d shouted, though he hadn’t made any yet, which was why she’d asked. So he smacked her hard on her shoulder. Her right shoulder; the one he had dislocated when she was nine.

She tried to wave back to Sosa, and her shoulder reluctantly agreed to the action, though it said she’d have to be careful the rest of the day and raise her left hand in class.

When she got to Colorado, she knelt and, seeing the notebook asked them what was up. Sosa didn’t say anything, unsure of how to explain it to Cici and also not sure whether or not Josh would want it shared. It seemed private and a little silly when said aloud.

Joshua’s eyes lit up when she asked. Not the light of a boy talking to a pretty girl, nor the intense glow of the scientist explaining a hypothesis and not even the light of an artist unveiling a work; the new look on his face was that of one who has come to a sudden realization- someone who sees the answer, or at least part of it.

He lit into the subject straight away and without hesitation as if he’d known her as long as Sosa had. She felt a small pang of jealousy that Josh would just share what she felt had been their secret, until she noticed how involved Ciara had become.

“You go back in time with memories, see?” Joshua finished almost breathlessly.

“Sure, but you don’t remember in words.” Ciara said matter-of-factly, though her face was rigid in the depths of pure concentration. Don’t remember in words, no… then what? There must be something… “There’s got to be something else that means the memory.”

She looked up to see Sosa looking puzzled and Joshua looking at her keenly as if drinking in her every word. “It’s so you’d remember without having to think about it, isn’t it?” he asked.

Sosa looked over at him, as it dawned on her that he had somehow known to open up to Ciara and this was why. She shivered a little, wondering, if he had known to tell Ciara but not why until she spoke, why did he mention it to her?

The bell rang, time to go to class; Sosa and Joshua to Mrs. Greene’s fifth grade and Ciara to Ms. Edwards. Ciara had been on a roll and was reluctant to stop. She was afraid to ask for it, she always was afraid to want something aloud, a grand accomplishment of her father, but this time, she wasn’t too afraid to actually ask:

“Can I borrow your book? I want to look at it some more.”

Joshua smiled and held it out to her left hand, then gently took her right hand and Sosa’s left and said “It’s our book,”

Gooseflesh ran along all three of them because he was right, it was.

He’s written a lot. Ciara thought to herself when she opened the book, pretending it was her usual Trapperkeeper. There were indeed about twenty pages of lines that might otherwise be incoherent: The flat tire on the way to the soccer game, September 9. Aslan’s grave on the top of the hill when I wanted a tombstone for him December 4. When mama burned the brownies and didn’t know it until she gave me one, my last birthday, March 8.

They don’t go together. What if… her thoughts broke off as she began to work. She took the one about the brownies and wrote it on a clean sheet in her own handwriting, a near-frighteningly precise cursive, and then held the pencil point under the word “mama”.

That’s when it began: she started seeing not the words, not the letters, not even the sentence, but the idea as a whole and the time attached. The idea took a form, not really a shape and she closed her eyes to see it better, guiding her hand by touch as she began to put form to paper. The joy of creation enveloped her and cut off all of her senses; her eyes and her hand were singing, bringing into existence a whole new method of perceiving it.

It was composing reality; forms and experience changed places as her mind and hand started to move more swiftly. It was music that could be tasted, a tantalizing touch that could be seen and a vision of loveliness and perfection that could be felt and heard. This was life itself in a moment, its very essence rolling through her core, making her heart leap and ache at the same time. When it ended, it ended sweet and without regret or loss; completed, not finished.

When she opened her eyes, she found she had been holding her breath and gasped aloud, coughing as she did so, her eyes watering.

“Are you alright, Ciara?” Mrs. Spivey asked, breaking off her talk about Silas Marner.

“I’m ok, Mrs. Spivey, just a little cough,” she answered, a vague fear clenching her gut as she wondered if Mrs. Spivey would tell her parents she was sick. Daddy sometimes didn’t let her be sick.

“Ok, but if you need to get some water, you can,”

“Thank you, Mrs. Spivey, I’m fine,” The teacher turned back to the lesson.

Ciara looked down at what she had drawn and found she couldn’t look at any specific piece of it. If there were angles or circles, she had no way of telling. The only way she could see any of it was by seeing all of it and that put the memory in her mind: It was her birthday and the brownie cake was burned and her mother was so sad, she could say nothing but how sorry she was and I laughed and ate some anyway it’s only extra crispy!

It was all there- almost. There was a connection and it was right, but there was something missing, something needed to tie it indelibly to the real event. Must be something from him. How’m I gonna make him see it?

David had done something he loved and could rarely do: nothing. Well, not entirely nothing, after all, sleeping until noon was something and napping at 3 was something else. As was now, ordering delivery pizza at 7.

He had a standard pizza from which he never deviated: extra cheese, extra pepperoni, extra sauce and spinach. Seeing nothing wrong with this, he was surprised by some people’s revulsion at the idea- even when they had no problem with a spinach calzone.

He called it in and considered his upcoming case: a wife murdered by her husband of 2 years. From the outside, open and shut, but the plea of ‘not guilty’ was made and now began the often unfulfilling task of assembling documents and witnesses to the contrary. So it goes.

A lot of society sees the monstrous things criminals do and will therefore name them monsters; things utterly and wholly evil, deserving nothing but contempt, jail and sometimes death. David knew better.

“There are no evil people, only evil acts” was an old saw and he thought it to be mostly correct; crimes committed are an evil (or at least venal errors of judgment) and the people are not. The crime is what’s wrong, the crime is punished and hopefully a harm is corrected as the letter of the law states (with the letter of the law, however, he was adept at the use of nuance and phrase: outlining the letter of the law in a way that melded with the act and the perpetrator). The worst part was the people: not evil, just average.

A criminal wasn’t scum, they were typically the same as anyone met on the street, or an office acquaintance, even sometimes a friend. The gamut of the criminal went from petty selfish to petty anger to “one more second to think and this wouldn’t have happened”. The people of the world are petty or stupid or both, but either way, boring after a while.

What kept him going was the structure of the law: not in any particular law or set of laws, but in the structure of their creation and then the application of that structure. One can erect a building according to the set plan of an architect, but creativity and finesse turns the rooms from office space to gym, warehouse to theater. It also doesn’t stop someone from standing on their head or climbing the exterior. Such was his view with law.

When punishing criminals became passé, the structure of the case kept its appeal. Especially when, through research of written law, police/witness/accused statements and evidence, assembled in his mind the way a physicist sees quantum field theory, he discovers that the case for innocence is stronger than the case for conviction. More than that, when he saw the defendants, he knew that they weren’t guilty. Something about them didn’t fit into the structure of the accusation. It happened twice and both times he anonymously (and illegally) slipped his information to the defending attorney.

He was told on many occasions that, with his knowledge and adroitness of the law, he should run for office as a legislator, beginning with State of California and, who knows? The way people spoke to him about it, national office didn’t seem that far out of the question. He smirked.

It had been forty-five minutes since he ordered the pizza and he was beginning to get impatient. The local place was a ten minute drive at worst and he was hungry. He had just picked up the phone to inquire when a knock sounded on his door.

Putting the receiver down, he called out “Pizza?”

“Yes sir, sorry it’s late”

It was almost too late when he registered the black suit and the gun. He slammed the door shut and locked it, even as a bullet pounded through the door an inch from his head, lodging in the refrigerator in the kitchen, adjacent to the front door. The only door, fuck!

The apartment was a single-bedroom with a small kitchen, a large living area to the left of the door and at the far right corner, the door to the bedroom and the bathroom beyond.

There was also, a small balcony attached to the living room and he ran towards that, thanking whatever gods existed that he was only on the second floor, even as another bullet came through the door near the knob and the deadbolt.

He had the balcony door open and was lowering himself down when the door slammed inwards, ricocheting off the utility room door and bouncing back into the face of a tall man, in a black suit with sunglasses and a very large automatic in his hand.

A fucking man in black. He laughed aloud, even as he finally let go and plunged into the twilight of the night. It just be raining black people. He laughed again, recalling the Will Smith line.

Fuckaduck. No shoes, just a t-shirt and sweatpants covering his thin but tall frame. Running, hearing shots fired behind and shouting. Cursing, yeah, but sounds like he has back up.

He ran around the small grassy area towards the parking lot and then immediately ducked behind a bush and back around the corner of the building. Two more men, dressed the same as the first were waiting by his car, guarding it and alert to the shouts of their buddy. Shit, shit, shit he thought, even as the sound of footsteps came louder, behind him.

He saw a decorative rock amongst a line of them, bordering the shrubby, mulched area from the grass. He grabbed it and did the only thing he could do. The man didn’t seem to know precisely where he was and that made the ambush all the easier. Grabbing the rock and launching himself out, he knocked the side of the MIB in and toppled him over. He found himself bludgeoning the MIB’s head a second time, this time with more force and hearing a disconcerting cross between a creak and a crack. The man’s body started to convulse.

The gun had fallen from his grip just beyond the reach of his hand and David easily picked it up and cast a glance around. He was still alone, the attack had been relatively quiet, thanks to traffic. He peeked back around the building and the guards on his car were still there even though he hear another voice behind him yelling “U, this is C, report!”

Fucking men in black. There’s no way. No way this is real. But the gun was real and solid in his hand, like the one his dad had taught him with. For a brief second, he wished for a rifle instead, but dismissed the thought, holding the grip with two hands, the right hand steadying the left’s aim.

“U, REPORT!” the voice around the other side shouted.

This will not work. “I have him! I’m bringing him around back to you!”

“Alright! A! P! U’s got him, get the car and bring it around!”

David nearly screamed laughter (it would have been more laughter than scream, he could feel the waves of hysteria trying to lap against his reason’s shore) when he saw the two in the parking lot get into another car and drive around the building.

Hey, my car’s free! He joked to himself knowing that it was locked and his key was still in the pocket of his slacks on the floor of his bedroom.

The way was clear enough however for him to make a break. He stowed the gun in his pocket and stole the shoes off the feet of the dead MIB. They looked like a tight fit, but a fit nonetheless. Not pausing to try them on, he ran for the street and then got himself lost as soon as possible. Then he put on the shoes. The instep was tight, but a blister here and there was a small price to pay for his life.

He had fled without his keys, but he did have one extra thing in his favor: his wallet. In getting ready to pay for the pizza, he had put it in his pocket without thought. As long as I can find a pay phone, I can get a cab. He looked down at his clothes, As long as I don’t scare the driver off. This time he did laugh and it felt good.

A cheap hotel outside the city sounded like a good sanctuary, because he had the strangest feeling that he shouldn’t go to the police. Not just yet. Have to get in touch. He thought vaguely, walking to the safety of a gas station and it’s telephones arranged neatly (if dirty) on the side.

#Joshua Moffitt #sosa #writing #2017 #Disney College Program

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