Sinister: "Standing on the mound, with the ball in my hand, staring at a guy...

[Matthew Henderson]

...with a wooden stick, and knowing he can't touch me.  It is the only time 
I feel powerful."

I generally do not like tradition.  Growing up and still living in the 
southern United States, I know how much traditions matter to people.  To me, 
traditions seem to be sort of an antithesis to progress.  If we don't change 
things, nothing can move forward.  This is why I've done my best to not 
participate in as many traditions as possible (much to the annoyance of my 
parents, my ex-girlfriends, my ex-teachers, etc...).  However, I must admit 
that for the past few months, I have begun what seems to be a tradition.  
Every Sunday morning I wake up, throw on some clothes, and drive to the 
local Blockbuster Video (the one on Cottage Hill Rd. to be exact).  I then 
rent a crummy new release I have no interest in ever seeing. I go home, then 
I watch it.  I'm not sure why I do this, but I do it.  And I enjoy it.  In 
fact, I even wake up on Sunday mornings very excited about it.  Sometimes it 
turns out alright (15 Minutes was okay), but then, sometimes it turns out, 
well, pretty much how I expected it to (Scary Movie 2, Rush Hour 2, The 
Glass House).  This week's however, might just take the cake for the worst.  
Summer Catch incorporates everything bad about romantic-sport-comedies, and 
takes it about three levels worse.  It's got the wrong-side-of-the-tracks 
romance, the cruel and controlling father(s), the wacky friends that seem to 
feel left out when the 'hero' makes new friends, the rivalries with the 
teammates, that last game, that last inning, the girl is leaving town, 
etc...

I have a whole new confidence in life today.  This actually happens quite 
often, but I always lose that confidence in a matter of days.  Sometimes, 
something very special comes along to lift my spirits back up, something 
that makes me feel the world is mine for the taking.  Summer Catch has 
become the newest inspiration.  If somebody (WB in this case) is willing to 
put up several MILLION dollars to make that rubbish, then surely, anything 
is possible.  A movie this bad, this poorly written, this badly acted, this 
terribly unfunny, can be made, then anything is possible.  Anyone can do 
anything.  Just remember that.

Kieran's story about the kid in primary school reminded me of one of the 
worst feelings I've ever had.  When I was in third grade, a boy named Shane 
Hale was something of the bully of the class.  He annoyed me and many others 
terribly.  His mother died in a car wreck when we were in third grade.  I 
felt bad for him, because I could never imagine my mother dying at the time. 
  He was picking on a friend of mine, making fun of him for some reason.  I 
can't remember what.  This made me upset, so I turned to him, and said 
"well, at least his mother's alive."  It took me a long time to get over 
saying that.  I don't know what I was thinking.  I never apologized either, 
although I wish I would have.

Moving on to more belle and sebastian-y things, I had an idea to be totally 
disregarded.  Now that there is a heavely body (turning the list into some 
sort of Wim Wenders film) pining for Ms. Cambell, I think that MISS (not 
Mrs.) House and the banchory crew should start selling dates with members of 
the band.  I am sure there are plenty of people willing to pay ungodly 
amounts for an evening with Ms. Cambell, Mr. Murdoch, Ms. Martin, Mr. 
Jackson, Beans, and the rest of the lot.  They are sitting on a gold mine.  
It's time to stop thinking about ethics and music, and start thinking 
profit.

Anyhow, I had originally planned on writing a diatribe about how much I love 
baseball, but I'm not going to do that now.  I've gone on for far too long.  
I must apologize, but I really felt like typing.  My online diary is not 
working, so I had to do it somewhere.

Okay.  I'm not proofreading this.  I like to live dangerously.  Sometimes.

-Matt
P.S.  The only reason Scary Movie 2 was not the worst is because I could not 
help but chuckle at Andy Richter playing Mystikal's "Shake it Fast" or 
"Shake your Ass" on the piano at a dinner party.

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