Earlier this week, I saw this sports talk program on Queens Public Access. You know, this guy seems to know what he’s talking about regarding the NBA draft, but I feel like he’s undermining his points in some way. I can’t quite put my finger on why, though. Maybe it’s just a gut feeling. What do you guys think?
Maybe he didn’t know Rubio would play hardball with Minnesota? I mean, everyone knew there was a chance he’d stay in Europe–or at least hold that over the T-Wolves’ heads. Yeah, that’s gotta be it.
Last week, I wrote about the horrible, horrible, and hilarious saga of Bulletball. After doing so, I felt a little bad. Like I was just exploiting this man’s delusion for a few yucks. Who am I to judge? What have I done in my life that makes me so high any mighty? I was filled with shame, more so than usual.
Then I saw a few other Bulletball-related videos on The YouTube, and now…you know, I still don’t know how this makes me feel. Kind of giddy and icky at the same time. Like it’s Halloween and I just ate a whole buncha candy and I’m jacked up on sugar, but it’s Sunday night and I have to go to school tomorrow.
Most of the videos are basically sales pitches for the game, but this clip blows my mind. I don’t think it legally qualifies as a video. It may just be an animated gif, accompanied by some Casio rap, performed first by a guy who sounds vaguely like Curtis Blow, then by a kid who does the exact same lyrics.
Granted, this video was probably not made by the insane inventor of Bulletball. But it seems to capture its spirit, don’t you think?
A tweet from the inestimable Mikey J alerted me to the YouTubery below, a clip from American Inventor. The show was kinda like American Idol with slide rules, and even more self delusion. Inventors pitch their brainchildren to a panel of judges, who either greenlight them or send them on their merry way.
The sad, unspoken truth is that most inventing these days is done in corporate labs. The era of the hobbyist inventor–some guy who, in Jean Shepherd’s words, would spend years in his basment trying to come up with automatic Venetian blinds–are deader than vaudeville disco. And yet, there are still some people who think they can beat the odds and come up with The New Thing that will captivate America.
People like Marc Griffin, who says he has invented a sport that will appeal to all ages, genders, races, and creeds. He has been developing this game for 26 years, and is now ready to reveal it to the world.
Not only will it succeed, says Marc, but one day it will be an Olympic sport! Hey, confidence is good! Confidence breeds success! Confidence can also make you sell everything you own–including your wife’s wedding ring and your house–and pour it into your tabletop game, which is what Marc did. Yikes.
Needless to say, the judges find themselves in an awkward position. Even more so when Marc demonstrates his game and it seems kind of confusing and not too fun. It certainly doesn’t look like something someone spent parts of three decades working on. And the fact that Marc has poured much time and money into this makes the judges seriously question his sanity and wonder if he should seek help.
On the one hand, this is heartbreaking. Imagine you have a dream that you’ve been pursuing for almost 30 years, and in five minutes it is destroyed–on national TV, no less. I think any writer can sympathize. I’ve spent years on various pieces of fiction that will probably never see the light of day. And after writing two unsold novels, I’ve been working on a third, off and on, for five years. I love the idea behind it, but even if I do ever finish it, will it just wind up on a slush pile somewhere?
Jesus, now I’m depressed.
On the other hand, this man hasn’t just spent an enormous amount of time on this invention. He’s recklessly endangered his family by flushing cash down the toilet. And for what? An Ikea table with bumpers. If you’re selling your house to buy anything less than a kidney, you’re probably insane.
On the tragicomic scale, I give this clip nine Royal Tenenbaums.