A Straight Guy Weighs In On Glee

Glee has become quite a phenomenon, entirely without my help. Despite hearing rave reviews from my (mostly female) friends and family, I completely ignored the first season, as well as the beginning of the second. This changed, however, when I heard Glee was doing a Rocky Horror episode. While it would be an overstatement to say that I’m a huge fan of Rocky Horror, one could say that I appreciate (most of) its eccentric charm.
My change of heart regarding Glee was heartily encouraged by my girlfriend, who had watched and enjoyed the first season. What the hell, right? She made an effort to watch last year’s hockey playoffs and ended up really enjoying herself, so I figured this episode would give me the best chance to partake of something that she enjoyed with minimal psychological harm. Thus, much to Kristina’s delight, I parked my ass on the couch on the Tuesday before Halloween to check the episode out.
Full disclosure before I tell you what I thought: I’m a fairly progressive guy, so I’ve got no problem with homosexuality, and believe that the majority of gender stereotypes are a load of tripe. I’m also a depressive, so you could say that I’m in touch with my feelings; I may not enjoy crying, but I’m not going to feel ashamed for doing it, and I get teary-eyed on a fairly regular basis when something heart-wrenching happens in a film or TV show. But I don’t sob. Sobbing is for pussies.
I feel that we as a nation, as well as humanity in general, have become increasingly cynical and jaded, and, unfortunately, our entertainment reflects that. It’s gotten to the point where displays of “feminine” emotions (love, heartache, etc.) are immediately dismissed by most people as saccharine schmaltz. Personally, I feel our world would be a better place if people stopped regarding sentimentality as an entertainment evil. It has its place.
That said, I’m not a big fan of musicals. Never seen The Sound of Music. Never seen Mary Poppins. Even Tim Burton and Johnny Depp couldn’t stop Sweeney Todd from making me wish I was in one of those pies, rather than alive and well and bored off my ass. There are exceptions, of course. As I stated before, I enjoy The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and I absolutely love Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (except for “Cheer Up Charlie.” *snoooooore*). But, in general, it just feels weird to have people spontaneously breaking into song at random moments. Almost as weird as an entire crowd of people doing so, knowing all the words to the song and steps to the accompanying dance number, then immediately stopping and pretending that nothing odd had just happened. It’s unnatural, and it annoys me. But hey, I’m open-minded, so I’ll give pretty much anything an honest chance to entertain me. And that was exactly my attitude on that Tuesday night.
And you know what? I liked it. Not all of it, but most of it. I’ve watched every episode since, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself. It came as no surprise to me that I don’t like every musical number. Some are simply songs that I don’t like (generally the stuff that Rachel sings); others aren’t as good as the originals; others feel too much like those unnatural moments from musicals. But I enjoy music in general, and I’m not averse to excellent harmonization. In fact, as someone who loves doo-wop, I feel that harmonization is, largely, a lost art (or a marginalized art, anyway). So I’m cool with that aspect of the show.
But I have to be honest; I think the strength of the show lies not in its music, but in the characters. You could argue that the show is basically a cliché (misfits struggle to come to terms with their outcast status by finding joy in blah blah blah), and I wouldn’t disagree, but after millennia of myths, legends, and literature, almost every story is a cliché, ultimately. It’s how you treat the cliché that sets you apart (or doesn’t).
From what I’ve seen, each character is treated as a person, rather than a caricature. Yes, the hilariously named Coach Beiste is a manly woman, and they use that to comedic advantage, but they also show the underside of the issue when she finds out some of the students are using mental images of her in lingerie to “cool off” during make out sessions in order to escape the dreaded blue balls. The knowledge wounds her deeply, and this thread of the story acknowledges that, yes, there may be comedy to be mined from this character, but also reminds us that underneath that manly façade is a woman not unlike any other.
By the same token, Kurt is far from your stereotypical gay character. Yes, he often conforms to many of the stereotypes that often come to mind (his fashion sense, his effeminate voice and mannerisms), but the show delves deeper than that. It goes out of its way to suggest that yes, being gay is perfectly ok, but that doesn’t mean everyone is going to accept you. His ongoing problems with resident Neanderthal and in-denial-homosexual Karofsky is a disturbing view into the kind of harassment an “out” teenage homosexual is likely to experience. Nevertheless, Kurt is likely a welcome and potentially life-changing role model for young gays everywhere who are struggling with their situation. For that reason alone, this show gets serious respect from me.
In the end, I’ve come to enjoy the show for one reason: it’s funny. Sue’s manipulative attempts to screw with the heads of everyone within a thousand-meter radius, Brittany’s child-like naïveté, Puckerman’s delinquent tendencies…they all come together for at least one hearty belly-laugh per episode. One of my personal favorites: Brittany agreeing that she committed adultery because she thought that “adultery” meant being a dolt (a-dolt-ery—get it?). It still makes me giggle every time I think about it.
Yeah, I’m not always a fan of the drama, and yeah, some of the musical numbers turn me off, but the rest of the show is good enough to make me forgive it its faults. And while the show can be sentimental at times, it comes attached to a sincerity that I find refreshing. I’ve only seen five episodes (I don’t even know all the character’s names yet), but I’m liking what I’m seeing, and hope that, as long as it operates on the level that I’ve witnessed thus far, it has a long and prosperous run.
And now, a few of lists, because people dig lists (at least, I do).

Favorite Characters
1. Sue Sylvester: I’ve loved Jane Lynch since I first saw Best In Show, and her portrayal of Sue is comedic gold. And while she may seem like evil incarnate at first glance, she always seems to do the right thing in the end.
2. Brittany: What is there to say? She’s freakin’ adorable. She’s the Idiot With a Heart of Gold. Can’t get enough of her.
3. Coach Beiste: Maybe it’s because she was a focus of one of the first episodes I saw, but I really enjoy her. She’s masculinity and femininity rolled up into one package, and they do this fact justice without being trite.
4. Artie: I don’t know why. Just like the guy. Speaking as an overprotective brother-type, he seems like the kind of guy you wouldn’t mind dating your sister or daughter.
5. Puckerman: He hasn’t been featured much in the episodes I’ve seen, but I’ve seen enough to be intrigued.

Hottest Characters
1. Santana: Oh my stars and garters, I think I grow slightly retarded every time I see her. If I were a girl and she were a guy, I’d giggle and play with my hair every time she walked in the room. She’d be perfect if she gained about 10 or 20 pounds. P.S. This has nothing to do with how much I love my girlfriend. Which is a lot. Seriously.
2. Santana: See #1.
3. Santana: See #2.
4. Santana: See #3.
5. Quinn: You thought I was gonna say Santana, didn’t you? I’m not blind; Quinn’s delicious, too.

Characters I’d Most Like To See Get Kicked In the Neck
1-5. Rachel: Great googly moogly, she’s obnoxious! I’m assuming she has some redeeming qualities, but I have yet to witness them.

I'm Tired of Hipsters! Can I Get An Amen?!

They’re everywhere you go these days, especially if you live in a metropolitan area. You can see them on street corners dressed in skinny jeans and clunky glasses, or in a bar sucking down PBR. Odds are good that they have more than a few tatts and an asymmetrical haircut. Ask what they’re listening to on their iPod, and they’ll undoubtedly spout off a string of band names that you’ve never heard of.

In general, I’ve got nothing against individual hipsters. While many of them are pretentious douchebags, I’m confident that most of them are fine human beings. But goddammit, I fucking hate almost everything they’re about. If you’ve got 20 minutes, read this definition of what a hipster is, and perhaps you’ll see why.

Now ain’t that a bunch of pretentious bullshit? If there is a hierarchy of douches, then this definition was clearly written by the Ultimate Supreme Douche. The fact that the guy needs over 800 words to define “hipster” pretty much says it all.

Look, my hipster friends, I get it. Mainstream culture is, in general, meant for mindless, conformist sheeple. But guess what? By being a hipster you’re still conforming; you’re just conforming to a more obscure aesthetic. But when you get down to brass tacks, conformity is conformity.

I’ve got a couple of tatts and would probably have a sleeve if I could afford it, but I’m not about to go broke covering myself in ink. I’m well educated and proud of it, but I make an earnest effort not to act superior. My taste in music is diverse, and I have to admit to deriving pleasure from knowing a band before others catch on, but I’m not going to mock you if you’ve never heard of Dr. Dog, MF DOOM, or Aṣa.

But here’s the thing. I also affect a ridiculously high voice when I talk to animals. My sense of fashion is practically non-existent; I wear baggy, comfortable jeans (that don’t sag so that my ass hangs out) and the same five shirts every week. My relatively vast music collection, while containing the aforementioned Dr. Dog and MF DOOM, also contains artists like Aqua and Justin Timberlake. And as you can see by my handle [I go by the name of Gryffindork on the website this was originally published on], I’m a huge Harry Potter geek. In other words, I’m a huge fucking dork.

But you know what? I own that shit. I don’t care about my wardrobe because I’m poor and spending money on clothes is not a priority. I may sound like an idiot around animals, but they love me, and that’s all that matters to me. Just like every meal can’t be a nutritious gourmet meal, I don’t require that everything I listen to have deep artistic merit; sometimes I just want something with no nutritional value (like a song about a Dick In a Box). And if you’re a Harry Potter hater, I’ve got three words for you: eat a dick. If you weren’t too cool to read the books, you might actually enjoy them.

Which is my main point, really. If you do or don’t do something simply because it’ll affect your social stock, then I’m sorry, you’re a poser. You’re allowing the attitudes and beliefs of others to control your actions, which is the very definition of conformity.

If you’ve seen me then you know I’m just a touch darker than an albino. Convention suggests I should listen to stuff like rock (and I do), but despite the fact that my favorite group is The Beatles, I fucking love hip-hop. DOOM is my favorite MC. I think Lil Wayne is the best rapper alive. I think it’s a shame that more people don’t know who Z-Ro is. And I love discovering shit like “Shake This” by Royce Da 5’9” or “The Truth” by Jake One, Freeway, and Brother Ali (or maybe they're not obscure; I wouldn’t know, since I don’t listen to the radio or watch MTV). The point is, if I bowed to convention I’d never listen to this stuff. But I like it. So I do.

Maybe I’m coming off as preachy. Maybe you think I sound like one of the douches I’m professing to hate. The great thing is, I don’t care. I couldn’t care less what you think of me. Hip-hop has a motto that we should all be trying to live by: keep it real. Don’t pretend to like something just because other people do. If you like something geeky, enjoy it to the fullest extent. If you dig disco, then do the Shuffle, dammit. And if the hipster aesthetic is truly your thing, then ignore me and do your thing. Just remember that knowing obscure bands doesn’t make you a better person or mean that you have better taste than others; it just means you stumbled upon something most people haven’t. Above all, do whatever is right for you, and fuck the haters when they make themselves known.

And that’s real, bitches.

Pub Quiz Fun

I haven't posted anything here in quite some time. Why's that? Because I've been working, and part of work includes blogging. I'm now a quizmaster for Geeks Who Drink, a company with pub quizzes (aka trivia) in Colorado, New Mexico, Texas, Utah, and Washington. I thought I'd post my latest blog here on the Garden, on the off chance that some of you may be interested, or live near a Geeks pub quiz. It's a lot of fun (expect some blue language), they're free to play, and you get chances to win gift cards and free pints, so don't pass up the chance to check it out if you've got one in your area. Interested in reading some of my other Geeks blogs? Check out my entries under The Clock Tower Grill (my home blog), or my guest entries at The British Bulldog, The Doghouse, The Irish Hound, Moe's BBQ, and Milo's Sports Tavern (coming tomorrow), all located in Denver. I go by the name Gryffindork.


This place might be small, but they know how to make some grub!

There are three ways to a man’s heart. The first is by stimulating his mind. Provide good conversation, watch an occasional hockey or football game with him, read the same books or watch the same movies as him, and you may just win him for the long haul.

The second route is through his penis. This route can rarely be taken concurrently with the first, since men have two heads and only enough blood to operate one at a time. Wow him with your bojingo, do things that his mom told him “good” girls don’t do, and he’ll beat a bag full of puppies with a hammer for more, although he will be racked with remorse once he regains control of his faculties. And why not? Who in their right mind brutalizes puppies?! That’s fucked up!

The last way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Cook something a man craves, and he’ll be thinking about you every time he gets hungry, which is approximately 10 times a day. Ok, so he’ll more likely be thinking about your food, but that, ultimately, is an extension of you, right?

The Doghouse took the last route to this quizmaster’s heart. I’ve eaten at my fair share of pubs since I started this job, and The Doghouse Tavern beats ‘em all! The menu is relatively small, and that might be a good thing. When it comes to cuisine, doing a few things extremely well is better than doing a bunch of things in a mediocre manner. I had the burger smothered in chile verde, but the real story was the chile verde-covered pulled pork sandwich that my girlfriend ordered. Great smokey taste with a little kick, and nice and big to boot. If you are in the area and pass it up, then you will earn yourself a place in a special hell made for unbaptized retarded kids, and fans of Twilight and Justin Bieber over the age of 10.

As for the quiz itself, well, Lisa led me to believe that you guys would heckle me a bit, and generally give me shit. I’m always down for a crowd with some attitude, but I found the ‘tude largely lacking last night. Perhaps you have to know someone better before you’re comfortable heckling them. It’s cool, though. You guys were a lot of fun, and I think we all enjoyed ourselves, despite the non-quizlings who wouldn’t shut the hell up.

This is half of the Twenty O’Clock Shadows and Patrice. She’s in charge around these parts, and she calls you things like “honey” and “babe.” So if you’re starved and/or starved for attention, then the Doghouse is the place for you!

It’s Unofficial Awards Time!
Team Name of the Week goes to Two “Gents” & a Jew (I literally just got the “Gents” joke as I was writing this). I smell a sitcom! Surely the Jew can write, right?
The Public Enemy #1 Award goes to the Twenty O’Clock Shadows, the only team to correctly identify Public Enemy’s “911 Is a Joke” in our first audio round.
The Dumbass Award goes to me for forgetting to tell you the theme to that first audio round. I’m a wee bit surprised that no one called me on it, to be honest. I offered to roll through the round again, but apparently you were confident that you either knew it or you didn’t.
The Surprise of the Week was seeing three teams joker the T’d Off round. This kind of mind-bending round usually gets a groan of disdain, but you all did quite well on it (and Two “Gents” & a Jew even pulled off the only perfect round of the night). Well done, everyone.
The Who Remembers That Shit?! Award goes to The Furr-Burgers, who gave me the names of not one, but both of Marty McFly’s siblings (Linda & Dave). Who remembers that shit?!
The Huey Lewis & The News Fan Club Award is shared by Poo Drizzle and The Furr-Burgers, who gave me the names of both Huey Lewis songs featured in Back To the Future. You guys are so square, you’re hip!
The Answer of the Week goes to Peeing In Public, who decided Rich “Goose” Gossage’s nickname was “The Ejaculator.” I’d hate to be catching what he was pitching.

This week’s E-mail Bonus Question winner was Troy, the proud new owner of onion ring-flavored breath mints. Helps you bang a carnie every time, or your money back!


6th Place: The Wackness
Contrary to their name, they were not, in fact, wack.


5th Place: Peeing In Public
At least, I hope they’re peeing.


4th Place: Poo Drizzle
They took 4th despite missing the first three rounds! Impressive.


3rd Place: Two “Gents” & a Jew
There may be only one Jew on the team, but I bet they’re all circumcised. God Bless America!


2nd Place: Twenty O’Clock Shadows
They led most of the way, but couldn’t quite hold off the night’s winners. But they like Bad Religion, so really, they’re winners anyway.


1st Place: The Furr-Burgers
They lulled everyone into a false sense of security before slipping into 1st in the final round, ninja style.



Final Scores:

The Furr-Burgers                      66
Twenty O’Clock Shadows                60
Two “Gents” & a Jew                   57
Poo Drizzle                           42
Peeing In Public                      41
The Wackness                          35

Thank You, Bob Bradley!

I've been watching the US throughout this year's World Cup, as well as a smattering of other games, and I've been meaning to talk about the issue of flopping. Now seems like a good time to address this, after hearing Bob Bradley's comments on the subject.
Soccer isn't nearly as popular in the US as it is elsewhere. Like most Americans, I don't pay much attention to it, although I've watched all of the US's games thus far, because, well, it's the freakin' World Cup. But as I've watched I couldn't help but get irked by the way these well-conditioned athletes writhe around on the ground like 5-year old girls every time someone breathes on them too hard. In fact, "irked" is too tame a word; it simply pisses me off.
I understand that this is kind of a soccer "tradition." I understand that it's done in order to gain an advantage for one's team, and all's fair in love and war, right? Pardon my French, but fuck that. There's a word for going down that fast and hard: it's called being a whore. It's dishonest and utterly disgraceful, and acting of this sort has no place in any sport.
Sports are, in essence, a form of warfare and displaced aggression. I suppose this ideal is waning in today's modern world, but warriors were once expected to be not only the baddest guys on the block, but honorable as well. America being the bellicose nation that it is, we take our sports (and war) seriously. We expect our athletes to uphold the warrior ideal of toughness in the face of great pain. Basketball players play with tweaked knees and elbows. Football players play with concussions. Hockey players get 7 teeth knocked out, go get some quick dental work, then return to play in the same game. It's almost certainly asking too much of them, but it's what's expected of them. To act otherwise is to be branded a pussy.
And I think that this is one of the main reasons Americans have a hard time with soccer. I don't think it's the "slow pace" of the game, or the low scoring that turns off Americans, because baseball is much slower paced, and hockey is comparable in the amount of goals scored. No, I think the issue is the antics of the players. How can you possibly respect a guy who squirms on the ground in mock pain when just last week you watched Rich Franklin knock out Chuck Liddell after Liddell broke Franklin's arm earlier in the round?
Yes, there is flopping in other sports, most notably basketball and hockey. But do it too much, and you're labelled as a d-bag. You lose the respect of the fans and your fellow players. That doesn't seem to be the case with soccer. "It's just part of the game." Well, it's a disgusting, disgraceful part of the game, and I whole-heartedly encourage FIFA to take Bradley's advice and start cracking down on it. It does nothing to benefit the game, and plenty to denigrate it. I played soccer for many years as a kid, and it's a tough sport; these fools are making a mockery of it.
And I think this foolishness is keeping a lot of American fans from truly enjoying it. You may say that soccer doesn't need American fans, that the rest of the world is doing just fine without us. You're not wrong. But that's a pretty poor attitude, don't you think?

Testing, Part 2

Trying this a different way