Saturday, August 27, 2011


It's football time, again. I had a draft last night with co-workers and, while I may have made a couple of bone-headed picks, I am thinking that my team has a chance to do well this year. A lot of the responsibility rests on the strong shoulders of Adrian Peterson. As his backfield-mate, I selected Matt Forte. I'm a little concerned about M. Martz's pass-happy offense, but I think Forte'll still put up some good numbers. I got the stud receiver L. Fitzgerald out of 'Zona--I just pray that Kolb will know to pass to one of the best catchers in the league. You throw it anywhere near Fitz and he'll snag it. I also got B. Lloyd--he's a question mark. You want a bigger question mark? I drafted Plaxico Burress, fresh outta the clink. I think this: He has something to prove, to both fans and himself. I think he'll turn into Sanchez's number-one option in Jay-Ee-Tee-Ess-land.

But who cares, right? Well, obviously, I, for one, give two shits. I love football, the NFL in particular. I. Can't. Wait.

I picked up the Philadelphia Eagles defense/special teams. First, I think they're gonna terrorize the league. (But maybe I'm buying into the off-seaon hype? Perhaps.) I know this, though: They have DeSean Jackson returning kickoffs and punts--he's always got a chance to break one for a touchdown. So. I'm covered.

I called my team the Galloping Ghosts, an allusion to Red Grange, one of the the best--if not the best--collegiate football players in the history of the game. He was nicknamed the Galloping Ghost. I really don't know that I have ever heard a better sports moniker. Oh, he was a beast. Google him, if you want to. Even a non-sports fan can recognize that the dude was head and shoulders above everyone else. I kinda fricked around with a picture of him: It's in the upper-right corner; I added some color to it. That's my logo. (I'm proud of it.)

Anyway. Bring on the football! I can't wait!

Wednesday, August 17, 2011


This is the picture of a camera carcass. I have given up with this one. It is a Nikon Coolpix s6000 and it is--and pretty much always has been--a piece of shit. The price wouldn't tell a person that. I bought it for about three-and-a-half bills about two years ago, but the results I have had with it render it pretty much the brown organic stuff civilized persons flush down a toilet.

It belongs in the toilet.

I'll keep it in the desk drawer just to remind myself never never to buy a Nikon point-and-shoot ever again. (And, also, maybe I'll be able to export the pictures from its memory card, many of which are from the Kid Rock Concert in Detroit. Another thing the Nikon Corporation took away from me.)

I have a thing about technology: I want it to fucking work. With this particular piece of machinery, I have had nothing but problems. Listen: Three-and-a-half hundred dollars is not a gold mine. I know this. But, damn it, it was hard-earned money, and the least, the absolute least, my purchase could do is give me at least a year (maybe two years) of harmony. The Nikon Coolpix s6000 didn't. Did. Not. In fact, damn-near out of the box, it gave me problems. Our marriage has been oh-so-much-less-than harmonious. Its latest malady is a ubiquitous "lens error" message, a situation in which I press the power button, through the view the picture is nothing but BLUR and then the lens closes its eye, goes to sleep, says fuggit. Um. No. No fuggit. Work.

But it simply refuses and I have had it far longer than the warranty (that I probably never purchased, anyway) and the receipt is long-lost and its idiosyncrasies have forced me to turn my back on Nikon and its products for the length of my God-given life. I spurn Nikon. And that gives me great pleasure.

It'll reside in the computer desk's center drawer, now. Now and forever.

You know the funny thing? The image of the camera in the drawer was taken by my Canon PowerShot SD630, a four-year-old camera, a relic, a camera that spent a year of its life in the side door compartment of my mother's PT Cruiser. It stayed there for damn-near a full year, through 105-degree-greenhouse-summer temperatures and the biting freeze of a Michigan winter. Does it complain? Does it go to sleep on me? Does it give me nothing less than its best effort? No, no and no. It works. End of story.


But, of course, it's not the end. Is it ever really the end, with me? No. I like to type. I like to spew keyboard diarrhea. I'm loopy, that way. Does price matter? I believe in my bones that, most times, yes, you get what you pay for. I spent three bills on the Canon about two years before I lost it and purchased the Nikon. It has been steadfast in its reliability. The Nikon boasted great zooms and stellar HD videos. Tell you what: Take the HD videos and zooooom them up your ass. I'm a Canon-man from now on.

The devil's advocate may whisper: "Hey, man, maybe you got a lemon." And maybe I did. If that is the case, it sucks for the Nikon Corporation, because I am a lost consumer. I think that is just the way it works. People become loyal to products that work for them. The ones that don't? Well, consumers turn the other cheek to them. (And I'm not speaking biblically.)

This is not supposed to be a manifesto, but maybe it turned into a mini-manifesto. In my gut, I don't feel bad that I excoriated the Nikon Corporation. I am angry. I feel that I just gave my money to them and they wiped their collective ass with it.

Shout it loud and proud from the rooftops! Shout it! Nikon sucks! Nikon sucks! Nikon suc--

And Canon should be hereforerafter-known as Old Reliable.

(In my estimation.)

(And I am only one little ole blogger...but, damn! It feels good to write again! [Even if most of it was a vitriolic rant against a highly-successful electronics company.])

(Parenthetically? Good night, godspeed and God bless.)

By the way...I'm thinking about buying a DSLR camera sometime soon. Guess what? It ain't gonna be a Nikon.