Beautifully Unique Sparkleponies: On Myths, Morons, Free Speech, Football, and Assorted Absurdities (18 page)

Rage.

Don’t wait for me to write a letter for you—write your own! Let the world know how angry vapid stupidity and blind indifference make you. Don’t expect someone else to always show you the
way—lead yourself! Make changes now, raise your voices now, fix the disease now, show your rage now, while there’s still a chance to do it peacefully; and to those in power, I would urge you to listen to the peaceful protests because I can promise you this.

Rage.

The longer we continue on this path, the greater the odds grow that one day someone like me will experience that same rage. Only it won’t be someone like me. It will be me sans empathy, sans control, sans restraint—equipped with an absolutely murderous desire to burn this entire structure down because of the completely callous lack of sanity that lets children starve in streets while another CEO proclaims the virtuousness of wealth. It will be me, armed not with a pen but with any sword that comes to hand and the same driving will that’s made me so successful in everything I’ve set my mind to, the will to win no matter the personal cost. It will be me, and all those like me, sick of the greed and hate, driven by the shackles our system keeps building to the only viable response left open.

Rage.

• Days
  
• Dates
  
• Trees
  
• Traits
  
• Trains
  
• Planes
  
• Don’t Be Late
  
• Hustle
  
• Bustle
  
• Blouses
  
• Rustle
  
• Cattle
  
• Thieves
  
• Winner’s Muscle
  
• Winter
  
• Ice
  
• Must Be Nice
  
• Summer
  
• Island
  
• Despot’s Vice
  
• Sin
  
• Grin
  
• Let Us In
  
• Teeth
  
• Gleam
  
• Look
  
• The End.
  

D
isappointment. Faith. Trust. Love.

These emotions define the human race, define our relationships, define our history and our wars and our lives. We trust those close to us, and we are disappointed when they fail to meet our expectations. We trust wholeheartedly in creeds and doctrines that make us miserable, and we love the blind obedience of faith. We project our perceptions onto the reality of others’ lives, onto the reality of our own lives, and there’s only one way to avoid being burned time and time again.

Honesty. Honesty, not with another person, but with ourselves.

We have to be able to examine our own desires, our own needs, our own wishes, and judge whether or not what we expect from someone else is in keeping with that person’s actual behavior. We each must ask, “Am I seeing who this person really is, or am I seeing who I want him to be?” We have to look at our own actions, clearly
and objectively, and determine whether or not the outcome is something to be avoided.

The spouses who stick with their abusive partners, thinking that this time it’s going to change, this time it’s going to work out, unable to see the truth right in front of them—why do they continue to lie to themselves? Fear of change, of giving up one bad situation for a potentially worse one? Blind hope, that the fairy tale will come true if they just believe hard enough? What makes them ignore everything their eyes and ears are witnessing? What makes their brains try to override reality with idealized visions of people who doesn’t truly care for them? When will they recognize the truth—that they’re saddled with monsters who don’t care one whit for their feelings and dreams?

The worker stuck at a dead-end job, passed over for promotion again and again, yet somehow convinced that this time will be the one. Why does he put up with the demeaning pettiness of his boss, day in and day out? He knows exactly how he’s going to be treated, that hasn’t changed in ten years, yet he’s still disappointed when performance reviews come around and he’s stuck at the same desk he’s been sitting at for his entire career. Why is he disappointed? He shouldn’t be, because reality is right there in front of him. He just doesn’t want to see it. When will he stop lying to himself?

The woman whose heart breaks every time her spouse cheats on her, even though he’s done it multiple times before. The father who yells at his son for wanting to read instead of play sports, though the boy doesn’t have the slightest inclination toward athletics. The believer who shunts all responsibility onto representatives of the faith and then asks how such horrible things could have happened. Countless people in countless places, all perfectly
capable of sight, yet all unwilling to see—liars, every single one, blaming others for being themselves. When will they stop lying, stop treating their false conceptions as reality?

I find that I am rarely disappointed by people. I pay attention to them, I study them, and I define them by their actions, not by what they say or profess to believe. I know multiple people who claim to be religious, who attend Bible study and church on a regular basis, and yet act as if those tenets are merely a form to be observed, a box to be checked off on a list. The other six days of the week they go out to strip clubs; they gamble; they get into fights; they occasionally get arrested, and when they do, I’m not surprised or let down, because I’m honest enough with myself to see them for who they are, not who I wish them to be.

I know others who claim to be intelligent yet frequently act against their own best interests. Spending money they don’t have, ignoring a job in favor of play, valuing objects over people, and then they’re supremely disappointed when life doesn’t work out in their favor. Why are they disappointed? The path they followed led to one clear outcome, and every step down it was made by conscious choice—yet they followed it anyway, one foot after the other, in a slow march toward inevitability.

I know people who’ve played in the NFL for five, six, seven, or more years who are disappointed when the team that says “You’re a member of the family” gets rid of them due to injury or a down year. Why be disappointed? This is one of the most cutthroat industries in the world (aside from actual piracy), and all you have to do is watch the waiver wire each year to see the truth of that. We all get cut eventually, it’s just a question of when, but guys are shocked by it time and time again. They believe the lies that are
fed to them because they’re lying to themselves, putting their faith in a mirage of feelings and camaraderie when they know this is a cold money business—what have you done for me lately? Can we get someone cheaper? Have the honesty to see the time you’re living on is borrowed; enjoy what you can while it lasts, because it always ends sooner than you think it will.

One of the most enduring proverbs from ancient Greece is
Gnothi seauton
—“Know thyself.” It echoes throughout history. Socrates, Plato, Hobbes, Pope, Franklin—all of them concerned with recognizing what drives and motivates humankind, because how can a person understand the actions of someone else when he can’t even understand his own? How can any of us avoid making the same mistakes over and over, judging the same people the same wrong way again and again, tripping down the same path to the same destination that shouldn’t be such a surprise but always is?

We know the answer. We just don’t like admitting it.

Honesty.

It’s not the best policy.

It’s the only policy.

Who is Nate Jackson? Nate Jackson is a former tight end for the Denver Broncos (he played from
2003
to
2008
and recorded
27
catches for
240
yards and
2
touchdowns) who wrote an article essentially saying I should shut my piehole because I was a punter and no one wanted to hear my opinion.
¹
Now, this surprised me, because Nate is a fairly intelligent fellow and writes pretty well, and I was somewhat miffed at his going after such low-hanging fruit (“You’re only a punter, hur-dur-dur”). If you’re going to engage in a word fight, make sure your ammo is something heavier than
See Spot Run.

Now, the reason he wanted me to be quiet was that I had called a couple prominent players douchebags
²
for holding up the resolution of the NFL lockout,
³
and, apparently, that wasn’t very respectful. Me. Being disrespectful to authority figures. Who’dathunkit? His piece originally ran on
Deadspin
and
Slate,
and it was moderately funny (I laughed a couple times), but at the core, it was about taking away my ability to
speak out because I didn’t meet some nebulous criteria of speakingoutability, criteria that I’m still unable to determine.

I took that about as well as you would expect.

After reading his letter, I sat down in my study to compose a reply. My wife walked in about twenty minutes later as I sat in my chair typing and giggling and asked, “What on earth are you doing?”

I replied, “Having fun.”

She sighed, shook her head, and left the room, which tells you she has the patience of a saint, because I’m pretty sure she wanted to club me with my keyboard. I silently thanked her for her forbearance and continued typing and laughing (I’m easily amused; what can I say?).

About an hour later, I sent this reply off to
Deadspin
(which actually took out some of the nastier bits, for which I’m thankful; no point in crushing poor Nate any more than necessary).

So, a word to the wise: If you ever start thinking about calling me out somewhere, doing something stupid, or just generally being an asshat, I wish you the best of luck, but bear in mind that this is what could potentially happen.

To you.

Chris Kluwe Responds: Can I Kick It? (Yes, I Can)

Dear Nate Jackson,

It was with some dismay that I read your piece in
Deadspin,
and I immediately tried to wrap my head around why a player with a reasonable grasp of the English language who made no measurable impact upon the game (i.e., you) would stoop so low as to berate a National Football League player who has actually completed a full sixteen-game season (multiple times!), has
broken every team record at his position, and, above all, has contributed to his team’s winning games (and occasionally losing them [i.e., myself (I love parenthetical asides)]).

Raise your hand if you got lost at the end of that last sentence.

Let’s be honest here. Yes, I am a punter. Yes, I don’t run routes, or zone block, or cover receivers. Apparently, though, neither did you, which is the only explanation for your total lack of statistics. You, more than anyone else, should know what goes on during special teams, and yet your description of a special-teams practice, while venomously hilarious, is quite inaccurate (or maybe you guys had a really crappy punter and you’re spot-on, in which case, my condolences).

You talk about me like I’m some kind of disease, like punters are some kind of infection that should be excised for the good of the game, and how dare we raise our voices when our betters are talking. According to you, punters should be happy to sit in the corner and be treated like shit because we do something different, something that the other fifty-four members of the team can’t do.

Wait, let’s parse that last clause for just a second—“something that the other fifty-four members of the team can’t do.” Huh. Would you look at that. Tell me, Nate, how well can
you
punt a football? What’s that you say? You CAN’T punt a football?

Why in fuck would you think that just because I can punt, my opinion is somehow less valid than yours?

I freely admit I’m not a receiver, or a lineman, or a DB, or a quarterback, but why should it matter what position I play?
Have I not spent sixteen years of my life honing my craft (just like you)? Have I not spent countless hours running sprints, lifting weights, trying to stay awake during boring-ass special-teams meetings (just like you)? Have I not suited up for a game, gotten my clock cleaned by a blindside block on a punt return, tried and failed to tackle Devin Hester (just like a lot of people)? Tell me, when it comes to breaking down who gets to talk, what’s the order? Should linebackers not be able to talk before safeties, or are they allowed to talk after the centers? When does the long-snapper get to chime in? Does the X go before the Z or after?

Please, enlighten me with your wisdom, because the next time I have something to say, I’d like to make sure it’s okay with you that I say it and that I say it at the proper time.

Oh, wait a minute.

I don’t really care what you or anyone else thinks about what I say or when I say it. If I see something greedy, hypocritical, or just plain stupid, I’m going to call out whoever the offending party happens to be. I’ve done it to the owners, I’ve done it to the NFL front office, and I’ll certainly do it if I see it happen with the players. And make no mistake: Trying to hold up the settlement of a CBA affecting almost nineteen hundred players just so four can get special treatment is pretty much the definition of
greedy.
Whether it was instigated by their attorneys, their agents, or whoever, it’s still a douchebag move to make.

And you know why it’s a douchebag move to make? Because it makes ALL OF US look bad. It makes ALL OF US look like grasping, blackmailing, money-grubbing jerks whose only care
is how much blood we can squeeze from the rock that is the fans—you know, the people who ultimately pay all of our wages. And I’m not a fan of that. (Owners, make sure you pay attention too. Charging outrageous sums for drinks, seats, and seat licenses, while it’s a great moneymaker now, is definitely counterproductive in the long run, especially with the advent of high-def TVs.) You know how you grow the football pie? It’s definitely not by shitting on the people who spend money on you. Maybe this is a small thing, but small things add up over time.

I’ll grant you that Mankins and Jackson got screwed by the CBA situation last year. They’re at the prime of their careers and they were counting on entering free agency. But at the same time, the franchise tag and restricted-free-agent tag aren’t exactly the kiss of death. One year under the RFA offer would be as much money as a doctor earns in his/her ENTIRE LIFE. What. The. Fuck. You’re telling me that having to go one year making “only” as much money as most people will earn their entire lives is such a hardship that you need an extra $10 million payout for putting your name on a lawsuit? I honestly don’t know how to respond to that.