Games and Sports

I don't know why this bugs me, but it does. It just irritates me when people call baseball a sport. Not just baseball, but lots of other competitive activities like NASCAR, shooting, throwing darts...Not sports, people. Not. These are games. Football, rugby, basketball--these are sports.

Let's start with definitions. Yes, I know the dictionary definitions of sport and game. I've looked 'em up in my very own OED*. But it's been posited that a proper language should have one word for everything and two words for nothing, so I think it's time to tease out some finer shades of meaning.

A GAME is a competitive event which is at least theoretically good-natured (thus a game of poker qualifies, even if high-stakes) in which the outcome is based on skill or luck of any sort. It is not necessarily physically demanding.

A SPORT is a competitive event which is at least theoretically good-natured** in which the outcome is dependent on some sort of physical capability. Sport IS necessarily physically demanding.

A useful litmus test to determine between sport and game is: Can you do it without sweating?

EXAMPLES:
Sports
Football, rugby, basketball, lacrosse, hockey, foot racing

Games
Baseball, darts, bowling, bocce, auto racing

Yes, I recognize that standing on a baseball field on a hot August day waiting for someone to hit a ball in your direction is enough to make you sweat. But that's a function of the environment, not the game, so it doesn't count.

On a similar note, it's been argued that NASCAR should be a sport, since the drivers sweat so much due to the heat generated by the cars. Not so. This is equivalent to saying that chess, played in a hot room, is a sport.

Horse racing is a sport. The athletes all have four legs and hooves.

I hope this clears things up.


*thanks Ed
**thus war does not qualify, despite being known as The Sport of Kings

And Now For Something Completely Different

Skimming through _The Book of General Ignorance_, I learned something last night that was so fascinating and unbelievable it made me get out of bed.

Most of you probably know (or think you know) that all mammals have 7 neck vertebrae. While this is apparently true in the general case, there are exceptions. Three of 'em, to be precise.

The manatee and the two-toed sloth both have only 6 neck vertebrae. This is probably due to a fusion of the first two, but that's just a guess on my part.

The three-toed sloth has a whopping NINE.

Weird, huh? Anybody want to go to the bone room at the Smithsonian?

What Is This "Smell" You Speak Of?

First full day with at least one working nostril. Makes for some interesting experiences. I became very motivated to air out the camping gear, for one thing. Went to dinner at Zea last night, where The Wife ordered a glass of house red. I could practically TASTE it from across the table. Very strange. Do not ask me about duck empanadas, or shrimp fetuccini.

Today I went to the park, and was accosted by an orange tree. Did y'all know that trees have smells? I didn't. Very strange. The Wife is making dinner, and has let me sample the mashed potatoes. I spent a good five minutes eating one teaspoon--flavors/odors I had literally never experienced before.

I can't WAIT to taste--really taste--some good spicy chili. And Scotch. That may be the plan for tonight, taste Scotch. Wish me luck.

Airway Update

I've been trying to get off the pain meds, perhaps a little too quickly. Last night The Wife got fed up with my crap, dosed me with what I should have been taking, and dragged me out to the bookstore (oh no, Brer Fox, not the briar patch!). I bought another Bryson book, a copy of Transformers, and some stupid trivia book that looked interesting in the checkout line.

Anyway, we spent the night watching movies and chatting, I didn't make much sense, and I slept pretty well. I've spent most of today sleeping as well, in between episodes of The Tick (and let me tell you, Ben Edlund's imagination in animated primary colors plus controlled pain medication equals strange naps). I've been pretty comfortable all day, but I'm really looking forward to getting these damn tubes out of my nose (tomorrow at 11). Ought to be interesting.

Under the Knife

So I got back from RenFest EAARLY Monday morning, unpacked the car, crawled into bed for about an hour, and then got up to get ready for my surgery. Yes folks, I finally went and did it--had my nasal septum straightened, my turbinates, uvula, and tonsils trimmed, and my palate re-hung. It's entirely possible that I won't snore anymore when I'm done healing (not that I snored in the first place). For right now I have tubes jammed up both nostrils and a foreign-body type sensation on the back of my soft palate where some scar tissue/bovie burns haven't quite sloughed off yet. I go back for follow-up on Friday.

In the meantime, I'm on Amoxil every 8 hours (because my sinuses can't drain until these tubes come out) and I have a quart of Lortab Elixir to call my very own. Fortunately, I don't seem to be needing it much--Ibuprofen does nearly as good a job, although the pills are slightly more challenging to swallow. Of course, ibuprofen doesn't knock me out so much, so I'm posting at 4am.

MAJOR props (and lots of Good Spouse Points) to The Wife for getting up at ass-o'clock in the AM on practically NO sleep to take me to the hospital for 5:30, for keeping my folks up-to-date during the procedure, and for putting up with me since--she came to visit me when they kept me overnight after the surgery and got flooded in, which meant she wound up having to sleep in the recliner in my room. THEN she bought me ice cream, brought me home, made me Wife Soup (way tasty, y'all should get the recipe), and let me beat her at Scrabble. She is now getting some well-earned sleep as I clatter away on the keyboard.

Get-well wishes, tasty recipes for liquid lunches, and all feedback welcomed in the comments section.

TexRenFest '07

Was a BLAST. Props to The Wife for skipping class on Friday so we could get rolling earlier. Further props for putting up with my weird hobbies, and doing such a great job on her first camping trip. That's right folks, actual tent sleeping on the Fest grounds, coffee on a propane burner in the AM courtesy of yours truly. Snacks (including some kick-ass rum balls and assorted breads) by The Wife--although the majority of food was purchased at the fest. Grilled meat served on a stick--what more do you really need?

Well, duh. Beer and lots of it. And grown adults dressed up like pirates singing bawdy songs.

We hung out with David and Melissa and Ben, met some new friends, and generally had an awesome time. Pics (many) are being sorted and will go up once I figure out how to use shutterfly.

The Second Amendment....

The People's Democratic Republic of Insomnia is now a military power. Or something like that.

I got my Concealed Handgun Permit in the mail today. This is terrifying for many reasons.

Any of my readers who remember me from my college (or pre-college) days will probably point out that I am not to be trusted with a handful of rubber bands in a quiet, empty room; much less a loaded firearm hidden in my armpit on crowded public transportation (for example).

I've always been, if not anti-firearm, then at least anti-me-having-a-firearm. Just couldn't see any good reason for it. Then we had that nasty rainstorm, and I had an experience that drove home that sometimes there is no law west of the Pecos (or east of the Mississippi, for that matter). This clarification of the Facts of Life was, in itself, a little scary. The delay between the storm and my permit can be blamed on 1)bureaucratic delay 2)changing job duties making it more likely that I'd be stuck in-town long-term during and after the next major rainstorm and 3)developing competence with the weapon.

The firearm in question (a Glock Model 23 (that's .40 caliber to you)) gives me 13 available rounds (plus "one in the pipe" should I so choose) with less weight than a .45; it still has very respectable stopping power (I just don't trust a 9mm).

The most terrifying part of the process is how easy it was. I went to a gun store, pointed to the piece I liked, gave 'em my driver's license and promised to be a good boy. The clerk made a phone call to the state and another one to Visa for my credit card authorization. The call to Visa took longer. I walked out of there with a pistol. The whole transaction took about 20 minutes.

Of course, I still had to take the class for the concealed carry permit. I spent a Saturday watching NRA videos (which persisted in referring to shooting as a "sport". Remind me to rant about that) and doodling on a notepad. Then they took my picture, fingerprinted me, and told me to send $100 to the state. Honestly, the trickiest part of the whole operation was finding someplace to sell me a money order.

That's right folks. The Great State of Luzianne will trust me to carry a loaded gun, but not to write a check. Somebody explain THAT shit to me.

Moreover, the concealed carry class is completely voluntary. I didn't have to take it before they'd let me have the gun. I could have bought the damn thing and stuck it in my pants and just gone wandering around any kind of way. I didn't, because I'm slightly brighter than that. But I wonder how many people do, even though it's illegal. Even better is the fact that some fairly significant information given to us in the course is just blatantly WRONG. I'm not talking about minor details here, I'm talking about whether or not to immediately inform a peace officer of my firearm if I'm stopped. I wonder what else they screwed up that I DIDN'T catch.

I'm of two minds about this whole thing. On the one hand, I know that tightening gun laws won't get guns out of the hands of criminals. On the other hand, it seems like more responsible gun owners would relish the opportunity to learn about their weapons BEFORE bringing them home, just like responsible dog owners should WANT to go to obedience class. On the gripping hand*, I don't trust the gummint to do it right.

One thing I do know: If we're allowed to have 'em, it makes sense to--at least for me.



*Thank you, Niven and Pournelle

Discussion Question Number 3

What does a yellow light mean?

I'm On Vacation

That's right, blogateers....No work-related duties for the next two weeks. I can't freaking believe it. Got off work this morning at 7am, hit the Tavern with the night shift, had some nachos and beer (for which I am paying now, oh yes my precioussss. The Ring, it burnss me...) and got home safely for HOURS AND HOURS of uninterrupted sleep. It was marvelous. It is now 11pm, I still haven't gotten out of my pajamas, and I don't have to do anything I don't want to until...NOVEMBER!

Life is good.

Now, theoretically there's a long to-do list out there, but most of it is stuff like shoot, look into getting a pilot's license, sleep, maybe work out a little, go to TexRenFest. I ain't complainin'.

Let's Change the Rules a Little

First, we change the automobile standards to require all cars, trucks, etc to be made out of Nerf.

Next, we make it completely legal to run over anyone who deserves it. Even a little bit.

--"Your Honor, I saw him throw a cigarette butt on the sidewalk"

--"Guilty! Nerf bruises and time served?" *gavel*

Wouldn't that be an amusing world to live in?

This Explains It All

I think the following nicely sums up some major male-female relationship issues:

Overheard:

Woman: He was such a nice guy. I totally forgot about him.

What a Day

Last night my job held our monthly Peons' Meeting and Group Getting-Yelled-At. It was, all things concerned, rather painless. Tasty chow, free booze*, interesting conversation, discussion of new information relevant to my existence.

After which I had to go to work.

Showing up at the office after all the junior partners have been gone for 4 hours is, well, challenging. A couple of the Senior Mucky-Mucks (two of the more respected Mucky-Mucks at that) were on duty the whole time, but two warm bodies is no match for six (just ask Jenna Jameson). We had our work cut out for us, not to mention that somebody dialed the Stupid Meter up to 11 right before we showed up. Exhausting evening, but we still managed to look good at shift change.

My Cunning Plan (given that the weather here has finally gotten not-so-awful) was to get off work and go to the park for a walk/jog. THAT didn't happen. Instead I went home and sat in the hot tub while I hydrated post-shift. The Wife joined me for pleasant conversation while she had her coffee.

It occurs to me that the conversation we had this morning must have been fairly interesting to a bystander, as she wasn't awake when it started and I wasn't awake when it finished. I've been known to say some fairly amusing stuff when I'm half asleep.


*I did not partake.

Discussion Question Number 2

Is healthcare a Right or a Privilege? Feel free to define "right" and "privilege" in your comments.

Discussion Question for the Class

If you had to choose between true love and unlimited wealth, which would you pick and why?

I Know It's Wrong But It Feels So Good

One of my favorite snacks from my bachelor days--which I have recently managed to sneak back into the house--is peanut butter crackers with a beer chaser. The peanut butter has to be creamy, the crackers have to be saltines, and the beer has to be something light, like a lager or IPA. But MAN, that's tasty.

In other good news, I have a whole day off today. All I have to do is catch up on my schoolwork, go to a doctor's appointment, and make it to karate class, and I should really make some progress on my research project. Good thing vacation's coming up.