Tag: Jordan

Why the internet is wonderful

Gather one, gather all, let me tell you a story, let me regale you with a simple yet powerful tale of the wonders achieved when the internet and compassion of (wo)man join in harmonious union.

OK, maybe not. But I do have an excellent example of how this interwoven online life we lead is actually a good thing… bear with me though, as this covers many tangents.

It all started with an RSS feed…

[cue wibbly wobbly dream sequence]
wibbly wobbly wibbly wobbly

[cut to dashingly handsome man, idly checking his RSS feeds]
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Air Frivolous

It’s all his fault, him and his “old skool kicksology“. Although I guess I could work a little harder on the willpower front…

Let’s rewind a little.

I enjoy playing basketball, but don’t get much chance these days. Many moons ago I used to play every Sunday night, and my idol, like every basketball fan of that era, was Michael Jordan. These were the days when rampant commercialism was just beginning, in fact I’m not even sure we realised, back then, where it would lead, so it took me all of a nano-second to decide to buy my first pair of basketball boots and, naturally, they’d have to be Air Jordan (V).

I can remember trying them on in the shop and the first time I wore them on a court, the squeak and slap of the sole on the varnished wood still etched in my memory. You see, of all the sports I’ve ever played, basketball was not only my favourite but something at which I was, well, let’s say above average. Ohh balls to that, I was pretty good! I’m still not sure why, possibly something picked up from my Dad — memories of being allowed to play in the school gym where he taught, and entire basketball court and more to myself — or maybe it just suited my brain better. Whatever the reason I know that, in my year, there were two good basketball players and I was one of them.

Those basketball boots lasted me for several years before, having worn them almost constantly, they kinda fell apart. Ohh yes, it was a sad day when they were finally laid to rest. A touching ceremony, although Mr. Jordan declined the invitation to attend.

Zip forward several years and, in Stoke Mandeville, I found a group of guys who met up on a Sunday night to play basketball. I hadn’t played for years but leapt (no pun intended) at the chance to get back on the court. Admittedly these guys were all MUCH better than me, including the guy who could dunk, but I held my own and enjoyed every minute. I invested in a new pair of basketball boots and, unable to shake my youth, I plumped for the latest Air Jordans again (the XIII). I still have them, as I don’t really wear them often, and it’s those very same boots that I was wearing when I broke my foot.

That was three years ago, and the boots are still at the bottom of my wardrobe. With no basketball in my near future, Lord knows I’ve no reason to buy another pair, not even if they were the same as my beloved original Air Jordan V.

But I did.

Hey, they were cheap, doubly so as I paid for them a couple of weeks back when the dollar to sterling rate rendered things virtually ‘half-price’, and they arrived on Monday. Yes, I have NO willpower. Unfortunately you can’t buy that on a whim (which, surely, is kinda odd?).

Frivolous? Hell yes. But you should see the smile on my face!

Related: Air Jordan History

Sporting

I watch and follow a lot of sport, in fact there are few sports I don’t watch – horse racing being the main one (I just typed “house racing” which could be an interesting DIY show…). I prefer basketball to football, football to rugby, and everything else falls in line after that. I play 5-a-side irregularly, used to play badminton, and the odd game of basketball.

Not sure where this post is heading, maybe it’s just an excuse to point out that the Scottish international rugby team won a game last night, beating the Barbarians 38 – 7. Or maybe I just want to wish Liverpool luck tonight, even if they are playing my preferred Italian team.

Ohh there’s a thing – who do YOU support?

I’ve never really followed one team in any support, with the exception of the Lakers whom I’ve been a fan of since I saw my first skyhook and heard that they had a player named “Magic” (damn that Jordan bloke and the Chicago Bulls…).

Football wise I tend not to follow the specifics of any team in Scotland as I’m from the West Coast and growing up that meant choosing one of the two Glasgow teams, something I wasn’t keen on as it wasn’t anything to do with football. Of the English teams I have to admit that this season I’ve been pulling for Chelsea, mainly since catching Jose Mourinho’s interviews last season with Porto – anyone see a comparison with Martin O’Neill (who’ll be departing Celtic soon)? Both very honest and dry with their humour.

My latest sporting passion may very well be Extreme Dodgeball which I stumbled across on Saturday, very VERY American and over hyped but actually quite tactical and fast paced. Too much equipment required for it to catch on properly though.

Free Content

A nameless person (well he does have a name but I’m not disclosing it here, he has been popping up in the comments recently though) and I had an MSN chat about THAT article today.

Note: This is edited, mainly to make me look better …

¿Dónde están los banjos? says:
He reminds of a cave man looking at a glacier and saying
“Ug no like hard-cold water. Ug will push hard-cold water back to hills”

¿Dónde están los banjos? says:
You no likey bloggy?
You no ready bloggy then.
The badger faced, turd juggler.

Gordon says:
Maybe it’s because the ‘masses’ are discovering that journalism isn’t actually that hard. It’s just processing information (research) and writing about it.

¿Dónde están los banjos? says:
Actually “journalism” is, I would say, rather difficult.
Printing 6 pages on how big Jordan’s tits are though – that’s easy. As is regurgitating whatever propaganda your lord and master wants the public to see.

¿Dónde están los banjos? says:
Hmm – will you blog this?

Gordon says:
I will now!

Next up, a photo of some kittens (the last resort of blogging!)

Soul Stealer

A very nice man he was. Nice little sports car, bag full of impressive looking lenses.

Sit here, balance your laptop on your knees, try and pretend it’s above freezing. Do you always look this grumpy?

Click, flash, whirr. Click, flash, whirr. Click, flash, whirr.

Painless.

And what did I forget? I forgot to ask him for a copy of the photos! DOH. I’ll send an email on the off chance it’s possible.

P.S. Still no sign of my mug. Found it – it’s been “borrowed” (borrowed, stolen, such a fine line…) for use by some visitors. Such is the price for having a nice presentable mug. I guess I’m now faced with no choice but to go and buy one with a picture of Jordan on it, topless, preferably (“yeah so you can get the coffee in!” … just before anyone else says it).

Scam?

So, how can you find out if a website is scamming you?

I WAS going to order some replica Air Jordan V’s from Old School Sneaks but I’m a bit dubious to be honest. There are a few other sites selling similar stuff which have been outed as scam sites, but I see no mention of Old School Sneaks. On the other hand, I can’t find a customer reference (there are some on their site but I’d rather read it somewhere else).

What REALLY gets me is that I’ve never been that bothered about this stuff in the past, usually it’s only after I’ve clicked that button that the (admittedly small and distant) bells start ringing in my head.

I guess it’ll be covered by the credit card company if it IS a scam but how do you prove it?

Arse

Three quarters of the way through a post about re-mortgaging, Lloyds TSB, Air Jordan Mark V, Lomo and Photoshop and WHAT happens?

My PC turns itself off.

The problem seems to be the cable modem. Someone from Telewest will be getting an ear bashing tomorrow morning!!!!

Bugger this, I’m off to bed.

Limbering up

So congratulations to Porto for winning the Champions League. The new Chelsea manager seems like a bit of an odd bloke, so he’ll fit in at Stamford Bridge quite well.

Anyhoo, we were visiting a friend tonight who is recuperating after an operation on her back, there was some talk of the details but thankfully my squeam-o-meter kicked in and disengaged my brain before any of them made it too far. Ick.

Mind you, after four swift bottles of Corona I’m feeling a tad light-headed (christ, what a light-weight I’m becoming) so it’ll be off to bed for me soon.

But not before I mention that I’ll be buying Jordan’s “autobiography” at the weekend. No, not for me, it’s been requested as a birthday present for someone, and no I won’t be borrowing it as I’m not the slightest bit bothered about that “celebrity”. The birthday in question is my brother-in-laws girlfriend’s and will involve a 3pm start in a pub in the West End of Glasgow (somewhere in Ashton Lane). I’ve already written off Sunday.

23 reasons to hate Beckham

Number One: If his ‘ultimate sporting hero’ is Michael Jordan, then he has some bloody nerve stealing his number! Doesn’t he realise that shirt numbers are retired in the US when a legend leaves the game?

Number 2 – 23: Because.

Sorry, thoroughly sick of all the hype surrounding a ‘slightly better than average’ football player.