Complete strangers often approach him on the street and strike-up a conversation by asking; Raider Fan, what accounts for the fact that you are a man who always gives off such positive vibes?
And R.F. responds; Who the hell are you and how do you know my nickname?
But, really that is beside the point, isn’t it? Come on, even his family members or in-laws, were they actually to take their time and speak with R.F., might ask the same thing.
How is it that Raider Fan, a keen and caustic critic of culture remains so positive; how is it that a man obviously and acutely tinged, if nor suffused, with a nearly bottomless pit of smoldering animosity and seething animus constantly welling-up under intense psychic pressure until it erupts in a sudden rebarbative rhetorical tsunami against all things modern remains so positive; how is it that a man who actually is a fan of The Oakland Raiders, despite their insane and viperish owner, and their horrible won-loss record year after year after dreadful year remains so positive; how is it that a man who loves the owner of the Oakland Raiders, one Lord Al Davis, whose splenetic mendacity and vicious grudge-nursing has been the one constant throughout the years but who, thanks to his personal registered nurse, prior to every not-to-be-missed-press-conference, sneaks a stimulant into Lord Al’s Butterscotch Pudding so that during one of his infamous Pressers, like the one in which he used an Overhead Projector to lay-out the case for firing Lane Kiffin, Lord Al will rise to levels of near comprehensibility remains so positive; how is it that a man who watches every single second of The NFL Draft televised on ESPN and who, year, after year, after depressing year, sees the Raiders Draft some worthless unknown Negro with world-class speed from some Third Rate Team from some Fourth Rate Conference and which pick only serves to reinforce the reality that Lord Al’s intellect is totally concretised in unspeakable insipidity remains so positive; how is it that a man who, apparently, is never going to end this sentence, teeming as it with fetid invective, weird rambling, nonsensical babbling and oblique references, and the use of far too many semi- colons; how is it that Raider Fan is always in a good mood ?
That is an excellent, if way too long and meandering, question that he is happy to answer.
As any Licensed Clinical Psychiatrist, Dog Whisper, Female TV Talk Show Host, or any Whole Foods Market Employee who assembles the radish display, can tell you, the key to remaining upbeat and positive is to establish a routine that breeds confidence and self-satisfaction and constantly reinforces a sense of accomplished professionalism and worldly competence.
For many, like those who are employed, or who know their neighbors by their right names (in other words, not like Raider Fan, who recently discovered that the woman he has, for more than a dozen years, called, “Kathy,” actually has the first name, “Mary”) there are many events in their daily lives that provide challenges of various levels of difficulty that they meet and defeat on a regular professional basis and that challenge-successful-response-loop provides a steady stream of self-reinforcing and positive feed-back, all of which tends to keep one feeling good about themselves.
Ok, that is fine and dandy for competent successful adults, you think, but what about men like you, Raider Fan, I hear you silently wondering; what habit of yours is it that keeps you so vibrant, so temerariously bursting with such puissant positivism and self-actualised confidence?
Well, wonder no more. Here it is.
After many years of sleeping late, after many, many lunches of leftover spaghetti, followed by a quick 30-45 minute nap, after many, many nights of saying to The Bride – Well, Darlin’ you’d better hit the hay; tomorrow is a workday – while R.F. stayed-up to all hours of the night drinking Cabernet and watching “Die Hard” for the twentieth time, it finally hit him.
R.F. suddenly remembered the old saying, It is easy as shooting fish in a barrel. Now, as you well know, that is an idiom denoting an activity absurdly easy.
And isn’t that just the sort of activity that Raider Fan could successfully complete and capitalise on and build-up his self-confidence and sense of self-worth, the result of which would lead him to begin exuding the positive vibes R.F. is now so justly famous for?
Perhaps.
Raider Fan had the barrel; but the fish? Sure, he lives only about 15 miles from the ocean but he hates the ocean and he doesn’t have a saltwater fishing license and so where is R.F. going to secure live fish?
And, come on, let’s face it; shooting fish in a barrel seems, well, almost unseemly, doesn’t it?
After several months of lassitude and the courting of despondency, R.F. was reminded of the old family motto that we developed back when we lived in Springfield, Vermont – Work with what you have or try and steal it from the neighbors when they go shopping in Claremont, New Hampster.
Well, they say a picture is worth a thousand words and R.F. thinks the photo of me in the midst of my meeting and defeating this particular challenge speaks volumes. And it is not as easy as it looks, although what he is doing is, admittedly, even more relaxing and less stressful than shooting fish in a barrel, but, because he is not a fan of killing sentient creatures just to make his own self feel good, this is the contest for Raider Fan.
However, it is even more demanding then shooting fish in a barrel. It challenges spatial relationships, aim, accuracy, and balance and just consider the multiple threats of possible untoward consequences were Raider Fan to slip and fall?
And it is not always as easy as it looks.
We have not yet figured-out how to photograph this in action yet, but, on any given Sunday, The Bride flushes the toilet and high-tails it out the door while Raider Fan starts firing at the Finless Browns.
And if you don’t think that is an arduous, exciting, and exacting task, think again…who knows how how many times shot has ricocheted off the toilet bowl rim sending The Bride diving into the pool for safety...
Hey, how come you just didn't write that the photo clearly communicates the idea that you are just shooting the shit on this crummy blog?
Raider Fan finds that observation irksome; clearly, you have the soul of a man who works on a line in a factory and whose sole task is to cram the last pickle into a jar; it may actually pay a decent salary but it has robbed you of the ability to derive any joy from play.
