The agony I went through to see Bjork

I've been fascinated with Bjork since about 2001 ish when Vespertine came out. So when I saw she was touring North America, I snatched a ticket for the show in Montreal, which was the closest place she was playing to me. That's a long way to travel to see a show, but I had miles and thought it would be nice to hang out in Montreal for a couple of days.

I got to the park in the morning thinking I would hang out most of the day and then get in line for the show. Well, around noon, there were already thousands in line. I wanted to get as close as possible so i got in line. After 5 hours of sitting doing nothing and listening to the people around me all having fun speaking french, they finally opened the gates. It was like stampeding cattle. People all crammed up against each other to make sure that not a single person got past them.

After taking our tickets and passing through security, we were released to the back of the show area, a hundred acres outside with a stage at the far end. Everyone, including me, took off faster than Carl lewis for the stage. I got there in time to get pretty close, maybe about 20 people back from the stage. This is where it starting going downhill. I was already tired from hanging around this park all day with absolutely nothing to do and nobody to talk to (I don't speak french), so I decided to sit down as other folks were doing. But as more and more stampeding cattle came up, they were all jamming up against the back of us reducing my sitting area to literally the size of my butt. In order to sit down or stand up, I had to vertically rise in a space no wider than my body. i had nothing to drink or eat, thinking i would be able to get these things during the show.
After a couple of hours I asked the girl next to me if she had anything to drink and she gave me a apple juice box. That was the last thing I had until 11 pm.

After another hour or so, things started happening on stage so everyone stood up and packed even closer. This pretty much ended the chance of sitting down again.
Well, out came the warm up "band", which consisted of this hillbilly named "Will Oldham".

He and his straggly beard started playing an autoharp and playing some of the most boring and annoying music I have ever heard. He tortured us for an hour. When he announced he had one more song, the audience burst out in applause and sounds of joy. I would have rather watched drunk orangutans eating fish guts and vomiting all over each other, then licking the vomit out of each other's hair.

Another 45 minutes or so went by and we were all getting all geared up for Bjork. My body was killing me and my legs had divorced me an hour earlier.


Well, out comes.... the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Yes ANOTHER warm up "band". These guys are another one of those hipster bands that think they are too cool to have a bass player. The band consisted of a drummer, lead guitar, and a girl singer dressed in a ridiculous outfit with purple tights.
They finally started banging away and making all sorts of irritating noise. The first couple of songs were fun and a welcome relief from Will "Valium" Oldham. But after a few songs, this band showed their real colors. They were childish and were just doing the same old crap song after song, and it became apparent that they were rather amaturist. The singer had to keep pulling up her tights, about every minute or two, kind of like infants do with their diapers.

Finally, finally, they quit. Another 45 minutes. It was probably 8:30 or so, about 3+ hours or more since I was first crammed in. I was now running on fumes but certainly could not give up now. When Bjork walked out, the crowded crammed up again to the point where I was unable to move in any way at all. It was a vice from all directions. Bjork starts playing and it is absolutely stunning, which temporarily made much of my pain go away. Then it happened, at the end of the first song, the guy RIGHT next to me sticks his fingers in his mouth and lets out a long, screaming, ear piercing whistle that pretty much destroyed whatever hearing I had left. His head was no more than 1 foot away from my ear. It was impossible to move even 6 inches away because I was packed in so tight. This guy let out a airhorn after every single song, so I had to plug up my ears for about a minute, usually missing the end of the song.

So then the guy on my other side sticks his camera up above the crowd and starts snapping shots which of course is not allowed. The body guard by the stage saw this and pointed his super high beam flashlight right into the guys lens so he could not get a shot. Now I had a blinding white light in my face and a bone crushing whistler vibrating my head. I finally asked the whistler demon if he would stop. He just looked at me and went right back to it. The camera guy continued to snap pictures each time the bodyguard took a break with the light, the light went back up, the camera guy waited, then started it all over again. This continued to the end of the show.

Near the end of the show I had had enough and turned around to leave. It was impossible. The people behind me could not move a single inch out of the way because they were so pressed in. And I mean not an inch. I turned around and stood there not evening listening, no longer having even the slightest interest in this disaster. FINALLY, the show ended and the sardines around me slowly, ever so slowly started to move back. I now had room so I started walking. My knees gave out and i hit the ground in a hard thump. I had to sit there for probably 10 minutes before I could even get up. I walked to the beer stand, ordered two beers, and drank them both in 20 seconds. I had not eaten or drank in 7 hours.

I will never go to a concert again.

A flight that I enjoyed less than an aerobatic ride

I'll cut to the chase; in 1986 during a flight lesson, my instructor and I hit a powerline.

I like articles that get right to the point. Most articles would have opened like this...

"It was a warm morning, not unlike any morning in south Louisiana, a slight settling of mist in the rich green fields. The beauty of a certain green field was interrupted by the rainbow of colors of our hot air balloon, tethered to the ground, anxious to ascend skyward, anxious like a horse ready to ride..." and a bunch of crap like that.

This flight was my third lesson and only fourth time to be in a balloon at all. Prior to my lessons, I had only crewed 3 times and flown once as a passenger. This is rather unusual I think; most pilots have a substantial amount of exposure to ballooning prior to their flight instruction.

My lessons took place in south Louisiana near Hammond, a densely forested area that in retrospect is not a very good place to learn how to fly. The only good part was that it forced me to learn how to land in very small places, usually just a hole in the trees where a house was.

So our 3rd flight was routine and after about 45 minutes, I was getting rather fatigued. I was at treetop learning a bit of contouring when it was clear that i had over-valved and we were headed directly into a tall pine tree about 20 feet from the top. My instructor, who I will call "Todd", (his real identity is unimportant for this story), sat down in the bottom of the basket and said dryly "I don't want any part of this" just as we crashed into the branches at about 8 knots. After we pulled all the limbs out of the basket he suggested that I take a break for a little while, which I wholeheartedly agreed with. Todd took over as we came directly over the I10 interstate, and thanks to a wind change, were now flying right down the middle of the median with 2 lanes on each side of us. Now, this was a very wide median, so there was no real danger of whacking side mirrors off the cars, so I did not see any problem, but let's remember that this was my 3rd lesson and did not realize how illegal and stupid it is to fly along with cars on a high speed freeway.

Todd decided to do a rather stupid thing; a few touch and go's down the median. Once approach was fine, then on the 2nd one, about 30 feet off the ground we heard an explosion overhead and saw a big fireball. Later we both agreed that we thought the burner had exploded. The powerline was the worst kind in that the poles were buried completely in the trees on each side of the interstate, completely invisible from any point of view. We had contacted the wires right at the skirt while in a descent. This is pretty much the worst way to hit (i think). Immediately upon impact the wires arc'd, blew some sparks, and my suspension cables starting popping. This balloon was a Barnes and had 18 cables. By the time the fireworks stopped, 14 had been severed leaving 4 to hold the basket. The problem is not the ability of the cables to hold, but instead, that they were mostly on one corner which makes the basket tip down in a rather steep fashion. Each cable has a tensile strength of roughly 1,100 pounds.
Todd immediately closed all tank valves which is the precise action that should be taken at this point. We were lucky that the power system breakers did not automatically reset as we jumped from the basket to the ground, a drop of only about 8 feet if I remember correctly.

I was rather shaken and sat on the ground for a few minutes until chase arrived. Hot on their tail were the police and two TV news crews from Baton Rouge. The news cameras were on us within seconds. Todd went and sat in the truck with the window closed, leaving me to deal with them. It was at about this point that I realized I had made a poor choice in an instructor. The news crew made sure to show all the damage and sensationalize the whole situation as much as possible. This is a news crew's job, make something out of nothing. As proof to this, let me divert the story with proof of my opinion.

Three years ago, my copilot and I did a gas flight out of Albuquerque and landed two days later just outside of Biloxi Mississippi. We were tired and low on ballast so we decided to do a standard landing in a tree'd area in a forrested area which is a safe place to be (no powerlines). In gas, any landing is a good one, and they most often are not pretty. We came in at tree level, saw a clearing, threw out the trail rope and popped the deflation port. The landing was gentle and of no danger. We could care less about the trees, but when ABC showed up, all they could talkl about was the "crash" no matter how many times I told them that gas landings are purposly executed in this manner. Well, the camera went live and the Reporter started out; "So tell me about this balloon crash". I responded "Well, this was not a crash, it was a standard gas landing". She just kept it up, repeating the word "crash" over and over again, with me correcting her each time. She realized that I had ruined her interview and stormed off. So back to the main story here.

My brother was on chase and being a rather responsible person, begin following the wire directions to see what sort of businesses and houses might be affected. He saw a concrete plant and took off running that way. The guys at the plant claimed that I had just ruined an entire batch of cement and would be suing me for the loss. Little did they know that my brother just happen to work in the concrete business (no kidding) and let them know that this was BS and promptly showed them how to water the mix to keep it viable.
We got everything cleaned up, gave the finger to the news crews, and headed home. Todd got on the phone and had a new set of cables overnighted to my apartment. The short story is that two days later I was back in the air. I could not get the balloon below 3,000 feet. Todd calmly told me that if we were to land, I would have to get a little closer to the ground. Over the next half hour I was able to get down to tree top level and started an approach. At this point I did not care what the landing spot looked like; I just wanted to get down. Well, I should have cared at least a little bit because the landing field was a muddy mess with dozens of cut off stumps. the mud/water was about about a foot deep. The envelope was draped over all the stumps and was a complete mess. It took an hour of staggering and tripping and falling through the mud and stumps to get the balloon out. It was hot and miserably humid. We went home, Todd got on a plane and headed home, and I just sat in a chair in my apartment, alone, and rather discouraged. I don't think it could have been any worse except for the fact that we escaped a wire strike with our lives.
A week later I got in contact with Dave Koenig, an excellent pilot, to continue my lessons. Dave took good care of me and after 3 more lessons I soloed and got my ticket about a month later. I now have 22 years and 800 accident free hours under my belt including a gas rating.

The worst mistake you can make if you are writing a blog/article/book

Ask your friends to read it.

First, most of them will only do it out of obligation. For some folks you will have to hold a gun to their head or threaten to beat them with a rubber hose or make them stand in an ant bed or something.

Second, you are not as good as you think you are, so this puts your friends on the spot. If they even respond, they will have to lie and say it is great or something.

If you want to write an article for the paper, write it, send it in, and don't tell anybody.
If you run a blog, let people keep up with it on their own and never ask them to go read anything on it.
if you want to write a book, well, the odds of getting it published are about 100,000 to 1.

I read the above about 10 years ago in an article about non-writers trying to write. It was much longer (and much more entertaining) but this is the gist of it.

Scientist unearth Missing link in Redneck Evolution

Tickfaw Louisiana-

A project effort from leading scientists from LSU and Tulane Universities have discovered possibly the most important fossil remains of homoredneckus, the south Louisiana redneck. The find was accidentally discovered by Troy "T Bo" Skallens while pulling the straight six engine from his 1967 Buick. "The damn hoist snapped right when the motor was up in the air and the whole shootin' match dropped down in the mud. I had to dig a pit around it in order to run the hoist chain underneath and when ol' Cletus stuck his shovel in the mud, he hit something that went kinda "crunch". We got an hold post hole digger and commenced to gettin' all that mud out and damned if we didn't see this skeleton lookin' thing. I gotta buddy that does drywall work down at the college (LSU -ed) and asked him to get one of those science guys to come take a look. Shit, he was here faster than a bulldog in heat." Scientist Mathew Salmon comments; "I received a phone call from an old acquantiest describing a skeleton he found and it sure sounded like the missing link we have been searching for for decades. Could it be homorednecknus, the link between apes and rednecks? I was so excited i wet my pants. Well, I changed and rushed to the scene. It was hard to find because the road signs on all those gravel roads out there are full of bullet holes, and from my amateur forensics, i would say a 12 gauge loaded with #2 shot.  I made it to the scene, located which car in Mr. Scallen's front yard had the dig, and almost wept when I saw the find."  Salmon called the archaeological team at LSU and organized the extraction process, moving the skeleton into a temporary sealed tent enclosure similar to the one used on the movie "ET".  Upon closer study it became apparent that these remains are indeed the link they have been looking for.  Careful examination shows the mullet style haircut, poor posture, and excessively long fingernails so common among modern day rednecks. But Salmon is quick to point out characteristics that cloud the issue. "It appears that all teeth are intact and appear in good shape, a definite departure from the modern homoredneckus.  Additionally, there does not appear to be any bullet holes caused from accidental shotgun misfires in the feet or lower limbs". Still, Salmon is convinced that there is no question to the authenticity of these remains.
"Leap of faith"
There has been a frenzy of activity among the rednecks who claim that they can see an image of Jeff Gordon, famous NASCA driver, in the skeleton (see image above).  "This is where science crosses over to myth, and is utterly ridiculous", says Salmon.   "In order to keep riots from occurring, we plan to prove this as a scam, not unlike that "Shroud of Turin" nonsense.  Still, the rednecks are convinced in their belief. "Shit, Jeff is the greatest ever, and we ain't nuts or blind. Look your self!".  Rednecks from six southern states have assembled in Tickfaw demanding to see the skeleton first hand. "It was rough" says State Trooper Ernie Trout, "So far, we have confiscated over 700 shotguns and 2,000 knives of various length".

The skeleton, "Bubba" has been moved to Washington DC for further examination

Some Technological "Advancements"

My friend Jeff likes to quote a famous saying from back in the early days of the computer frenzy.  "Computers are going to improve our efficiency and we will have much more free time".   People now spend most of their waking life (and ALL of their free time) in front of a computer.  By the way, Jeff is a pilot and flies one of those "aerobatic" airplanes, the ones you see at airshows that are spinning around in all sorts of ridiculous ways in an apparent attempt to rip the wings off a perfectly good aircraft.  Jeff took me up one time for some "fun", in a Cessna 152 Aerobat.  These old Cessna planes are small, rickety, underpowered, and annoying to ride in, much less have to drive.  So anyway, we get up in in the air and jeff starts all that violent maneuver nonsense, and of course i start feeling sick right away.  I find the experience akin to closing yourself up in a small closet and then  slinging yourself against the walls in violent and random fashion, upside down, after taking ipecac (drug that induces nausea).  Jeff starts doing these things called "lazy eights", and then the "Hurl Guarantee" move, a "negative G pushover".  There went lunch, right out the window.  When we landed i had to clean the spew off the side of the plane with some ditch water and a greasy rag.

Doesn't that all sound like fun?  It's as bad as parachuting, no, I think worse.  A big mystery is why these high performance (and very expensive) aerobatic airplanes have propellers.    Pretty lame compared to a plane with a real powerplant, a JET ENGINE.  You wanna have some fun and get some attention?  Come in 20 feet off the deck at 400 knots with a jet in full afterburner.  THAT, my friends, is real fun and entertainment.    

(Left: Cesna 150, shame of the aviation community,  Right: F15 Eagle, a real aircraft)

A final note, my friend Jeff is a really good aerobatic pilot.  He won first place at the US National Championships as well as lots of other prizes.  He's also a safe pilot, I would fly with him anytime (as long as the wings stay level to the ground haha).

Technological Advancement #1, the Food Processor

Left, 1950s food processor, Right 2000 food processor.

My 1950s food processor has a handle, 3 blades, and one moving part.  It is fast, easy to use, and cleans up in about 10 seconds.

The 2000 processor consists of about 20 parts that must be all 1)dragged out of the bottom of the cabinet, piled on the  counter, assembled, and plugged in before it is of any use whatsoever. After chopping up 3 onions, you then have to dissasemnble it, put all the pieces in the dishwasher, and put the motor part back under the cabinet.  Also, since you the motor base is electric you cannott wash it, so oer time it starts getting all sorts of disgusting crud built up in the cracks and crevices.  After the dishwasher finishes you unload the parts and put them back in the cabinet.  After a couple of years you go buy a new one because they are designed to have short lives (which is a necessary thing in order to keep consumerism, the cornerstone of our country, alive).

#2 - the mobile phone.

Prior to this lovely device, you only had to endure the pain of talking on the phone when you were home and felt like it.  Now you are able to enjoy this agony 24 hours a day, no matter where you go, it follows you.  Visits to the doctor's office used to mean an escape, nobody could find you, and you could relax in the waiting room.  no more.  Nobdy seems to understand the rule "Just because it rings does not mean you have to answer it".  People grab for their phones like it was on fire.  A person could be doing CPR on you and if their phone rang, they'd drop you like a hot potoato "just a sec, i really need to get this".  Whoever invented the cell phone should be quartered and drawn, keelhauled, chopped up and fed to the rats.

#3 the riding lawnmower.

FOlks used to have to push a small mower for hours to get their grass cut.  they would expend a couple of thousand calories in the process as well as toning up those muscles.  We now sit our fat asses on a riding mower and then go inside and write a check to the local gym for $60 a month so we can go work out to expend calories and tone up muscles.

#4  The Moden Plastic Vacuum Cleaner

As a kid i remember my grandmother "vacuuming" the rugs in her house.  Her vacuum was basically a box thing that was on the floor and a handle.  The box had two of those brush rollers just like modern ones have, but they were mechanically driven with gears or something.  As you pushed the thing, the rollers worked against each other and forced the brushes against the carpet, picking up all the crud in the rug.  It was tough to push because you were using your body strength to drive the rollers instead of a motor.  Every couple of minutes you would empty the box into a trash can.  Her rugs always looked and smelled clean.  Oh, and it worked quite well before electricity was run to their farm house.  I think she must have used it for 40 years.

Today, vacuums are made of extraordinarly cheap plastic and now they look like rocket ships (i.e. "dyson" see above left photo).  They have lame underpowered motors that last about a year or two.  The handles, hinges, bolting points and such are all plastic and are designed to break a day after the warranty expires.  AFter a few months of use, the plastic pieces dont fit together so well and if you bump the vacuum while running, you can see little clouds of dust escaping.  hepa filter shmepa filter.  its BS marketing.

After a few minutes of marginally effective vacuuming, you write the check to the gym to get the exercise that you did not get pushing a real vacuum device.

I will say that the first electric vacs were pretty well built.  They were all metal, and built like tanks.  And unlike the garbage you buy now at walmart, these units were designed to be serviced and repaired.  My 92 year old neighbor Naomi put her 1950s Royal out at the curb because it quit working.  I grabbed it and popped it up on my bench.  After a minute or two of dissasembly, i found the problem, the motor bearing just needed some grease.  I added grease, reassembled, and turned it on.  It worked perfectly.  I brought it back to Naomi and she was so happy that she baked me a sour cream apple pie, which is possibly the best desert I have ever had.  I am going to ask her to add me to her will (for the royal). I bet it will last me 30 more years.

The questionable use of "Dr." for Chiropractors

I have a good chiropractor scam story to tell. These folks call themselves "doctors" but I was always suspicious of this because I thought that they never went to medical school. So I did some research. Turns out I was totally right, here are the requirements: TWO years of college, 3 years at a chiropractor school, and one year of bending people under supervision. In comparison, the requirements for a real doctor are : A four year college degree with a substantially high GPA (like near 4.0), four years of medical school, two years of internship/residency, then another couple of years in specialization.

Now let me quickly say that chiropractors are essential in helping many people with spine problems, but mostly what they do is the mechanical part, i.e, the actual bending and snapping to get things back in line. From the diagnostic perspective, any MD is just as capable.

Here are two experiences I have had with chiropractors. I expect a deluge of hate mail from chiropractors on this . "There are of course bad apples in our profession, you are an idiot for deriving an opinion based on just two experiences".
The most common complaint is that regardless of what is wrong with you, they will always recommend a "lifetime of adjustments". That appears to be how they stay in business.

Experience 1
I sustained a rather severe knee injury when I was 18. One day I was hanging out with my friend George who is a chiropractor; my knee popped and I limped a bit.
"What's wrong with your knee?"
"Oh, it just goes out sometimes"
"I can fix that".
He didn't even know what was wrong.
That's a rather cocky attitude if you ask me. If I could go back in time, I would have replied "George, I don't even have a leg, my prostheses just needs the bearings greased". There is not an MD on this planet that would have made such a statement without hearing what caused the damage, X-rays, and a thorough examination. Only then would they let me know if they could do any sort of repair.
A short while later it got worse so I went to an orthopedic surgeon. He did a full examination and found that substantial arthritis had set in and the kneecap was damaged. The only chance at a repair would involve surgery, which he did not recommend. Chiropractors are not allowed to have any knives, much less a scalpel in their clinics.

Experience 2:
One February I started back running after a lapse in the winter. After a few runs I begin having hip pains when I ran. I had a race coming up soon and my cube mate at work told me he had the same thing and that a chiropractor might be able to fix it quickly with onef those "adjustments" and get me back in the race. I made an appointment and went in. I was worried right away when the only thing i saw were fat people and rows of bizarre looking couches. The first thing they did was take about 40 X-rays; I did not even meet with the chiro first. After they developed them, the chiro came in, put the xray of my back up on a light box and proceeded to start drawing all sorts of lines on it with a ruler and grease pencil. After a few minutes and about 50 lines, she finally started talking to me.
"Here are the problems with your spine". She went on to discuss many of these grease lines and telling me what was wrong using big words.
"So... um, can you fix my hip?"
"I am setting you up with daily adjustments for the first two weeks, then 3 adjustments for the next two weeks, then once a month from there out".
"Um, that's a lot of visits, is that really necessary?"
"Your spine has to be proper in order for you body to work right".
"How long do i have to do these monthly visits"
"oh, forever of course".
"That's a lot of money...."

I ran from that clinic (located between a tuxedo shop and a Quizno's), and went to see a sports doctor located in the same building as a shoe store. I was seated in the exam room when the door busted open and a guy in short polyester "coaching shorts", white ankle socks, white running shoes, a polo shirt, and "handsome man hair" came in. "Doctor Chuck Schick, damned glad to meet you !!!" he barked out, while shaking my hand, crushing every bone. Following right behind him was a girl dressed the same has him with bleach blond hair and from her looks, I would assume had a night job at Hooters. She had this high tech looking roll-around stand with a laptop on it. She was typing everything he said, probably even the "Chuck Schick, damned glad to meet you" comment. "Doctor" Schick was loud and boisterous, kind of like salesmen are. I told him about my hip pain and he asked me to lower my jeans down so he could look at it. Right in front of miss bimbo. I think this is illegal but I have to do some research on it. Regardless, this was highly inappropriate if you ask me. "You'll need to stop running on this for a while until it completely heals, maybe a couple of weeks or more". and blah blah blah. I paid my money and ran.
FINALLY I came to my senses and did what I should have done in the first place; I went to my regular physician, a real M.D. We chatted a bit and I told her the same thing I told those other idiots. "William, how many miles are you running a week?". "Oh, about 20 I think, I have a race coming up soon". "Cut that in half and give me a call in a week". I did as she said, the pain went away, and never returned.
Oh, and regarding the Chiroscammers; that was 15 years ago and to date, I have never had any back pain in any way, shape or form. My MD says my back and spine are just fine.

If you use the term "To be sure," you are a complete idiot

(note: after re-reading this entry, i don't think it is very entertaining. I'll probably leave it here for a while only because I love to talk about "chumming for sharks", but after I get tired of that I'll pull it.)

This phrase has been surfacing more and more in articles recently, which I personally find quite disturbing. It is both unnecessary and wastes the readers time. I think the author is trying to convince you that the statement following "to be sure" is A MILLION PERCENT ACCURATE AND SURE. Well, it is either a fact or speculation, and facts have no variance so there is no need to shore it up any further. If it is speculation, you simply need to state that it is speculation. I think these authors are trying to be cute and act like they are better than they really are.
Let me give you an example:
Let's say you make the statement "To be sure, sharks are able to eat 80 buckets of chum".  If you actually went out on a boat, threw in 80 buckets and they seemed full and content, then you need only say "Sharks can eat 80 buckets of chum".  BUT, let's say that you only went out with 60 buckets, threw them out and the sharks were still banging against the boat wanting more.  If you were convinced that they could eat at least 20 more buckets, you could only speculate and say "Sharks are capable of eating 60 buckets of chum and I speculate that they can eat at least 20 more buckets before being content".  Typing "To be sure" before either of these statements does nothing to change the validity of either statement.

While on a literary rant, annother stupid thing that many people say is "irregardless, ....".
From Wiki...
The origin of irregardless is not known for certain, but the speculation among references is that it may be a blend of irrespective and regardless, both of which are commonly accepted standard English words. By blending these words, an illogical word is created.

You need only say "regardless", so don't waste my time with illogical prefixes.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I personally make no claim to be a good writer as I am a product of the Louisiana school system. I make all sorts of pathetic mistakes in both grammar and spelling, so that tired phrase "Don't talk bad about other people unless you can do better yourself" does not apply. It never really applies since you are totally ok to insult other people for doing stupid things "regardless" of whether you can do better or not. The fact still remains that that person is doing stupid things.   If you see a quarterback throw 10 interceptions in a row, you totally can say "that quarterback sucks" regardless if you can play football or not.