Analogy of the Day: May 17

Analogy of the Day, May 17:

Sports-radio opinions are a lot like the precursors to your toddler falling asleep: Based on the whining and yelling, you can always see the end result coming from a mile away.

Does Lebron want to be wanted?

Cheap Trick is full of poo — sort of.

"I want you to want me" is a phrase that applies to many people in a variety of instances. Those who come to mind include undersized high school boys who enjoy chess more than football, recently graduated college students making their first foray into a crippled economy and mid-30s women who've yet to corral Mr. Right.

It's not always fun, though. Despite what 100 percent of media personalities have been saying since Lebron James and his Cleveland Cavaliers unceremoniously exited the NBA playoffs last week, this two-time MVP who's about to be wooed more fervently than Helen Mirren at an AARP convention might not actually "want to be wan

ted." Not this much, at least.

Pundits from TV to radio to newspapers have been drooling over the thought of what lies ahead for King James: rampant wining and dining, luxury travel and over-the-top praise — all courtesy of basketball team owners from coast to coast. Who wouldn't crave such ego-stroking wonderment?

Maybe Lebron.

Not everyone likes being sucked up to from sunup to sundown. It's fake at best and insulting at worst.

Not everyone likes flying from one end of the country to the other, then back again, then back again. Many hate the skies, regardless of the vessel's plushness.

Not everyone enjoys tiny portions at pretentious eateries. Sometimes a $5 regional favorite in the heart of a city's U district is the most comforting choice.

In reality, Lebron probably will enjoy himself immensely. After all, this is the guy who's basically announced his intention to be as filthily rich as possible.

Still, one can't help but wonder if the next few months will actually be frustrating and draining for this royal underachiever. Considering the criticism he's receiving for again failing to win a title, along with the tiring summer that awaits him, I don't envy Lebron.

Sometimes being wanted isn't all it's cracked up to be.

MVPs rethought

After watching NBA MVP Lebron James treat the most important couple games of his career like a game of backyard badminton, I've decided to rethink some my own 2010 midyear awards — in sports and other areas of my life.

Best Diversion From Soccer/World Cup Buzz: Any activity involving bodily motion. Really, this could include brushing one's teeth — anything that doesn't put you to sleep instantly.

Most Important Musical Trio Involving Brothers Who Have a TV Show on the Disney Channel: The Jonas Brothers. My 21-month-old son's obsession with these curly haired crooners has saved my sanity more than once.

Person Most Responsible For the Cliff Robinson Effect, Which Causes nearly 7-foot NBAers to Discard All Reason In Favor of a Love Affair With 3-Pointers: Cliff Robinson. Makes sense, huh? Larry Johnson gets the Silver Medal.

Comeback Toy of the Year: Slides. Remember these? Before video games and animated movies ruled children's lives, parents would encourage their younguns to glide down these usually plastic half-tubes. In a pleasant surprise, my son is singlehandedly bringing this toy back to the forefront of children's attention. Part of his success in this sport should be attributed to his bringing back the "backwards belly" technique, which hasn't been utilized successfully since the Corked Plastic Era of the early 1920s.

Sing for your sports-watching freedom

Don't let dirty diapers and temper tantrums rob you of the simple pleasures that stem from season-defining sporting events. After nearly two years of fatherhood, out of necessity I've deftly integrated into my life a slew of tactics that enable me to make it through more than five minutes of "the big game." You may have to demean yourself a bit, but in the end, it'll be worth it.

1) Create a sing-a-long — Listen, you don't have to dress up in a Barney costume to appease your son/daughter through the art of music. Simply sing or rap whatever you're seeing on the screen. Just think of it as Justin Timberlake doing play-by-play. Here's a taste:

"LeBron takes the ball to the rack strong / His crazy runner draws iron / That's not a foul, that's not a foul!!! / Are you blind???!!! Hey zebra, are you blind???!!! / ooooh yeeahhhh."

This is foolproof. Kids gobble up goofy songs regardless of the content — a lot like Black-Eyed Peas fans.

2) Smile like you mean it — Often creating a song isn't enough to hold at bay the slumbering ire of an increasingly bored youth. This is where the perma-grin comes into play. Little-known fact: You can utter anything in front of your toddler, as long as you say it with good cheer. This is outstanding news for anyone who watches AL West baseball.

3) Toy pileup — Put every toy in your house within the four square feet next to the TV (the good TV, not the extra-bedroom set that requires a frequent whack upside the antenna). It's simple math: 2 minutes of toddler interest per toy multiplied by 37 toys equals 74 minutes of sports-watching bliss.

4) Laptop distraction — Pull out your laptop, search for free videos of your child's favorite boring yet highly educational show and hit "Play All." OK, so I haven't tried this one myself yet, but I see the potential. It's only a matter of days now.

5) You can always go the conventional route by asking your spouse to keep an eye on Mr. or Ms. Runt. But where's the fun and creativity in that?

Might as well be walking on the sun

Summer has brought me busy weekends, visits with out-of-town friends and family, and the onset of the Baby Heat Factor (BHF).

This is my first full summer with a kid on tow, a fact of which my sweat glands already are keenly aware. Those of you who've procreated know what I'm talking about: The BHF adds about 15 degrees to the temperature on any summer day.

Children present a host of heat-heightening activities, such as:

• Holding my son at barbecues while he thrusts his body to and fro like a Backstreet Boy.
  
• Keeping my body completely taut while lifting him in and out of the car seat in hopes of not waking him.
  
• Using one hand to hold my son, the other to feed him projectiles (sorry, that's "food" in layman's terms) and my hips to avoid said projectiles.
  

I can't believe I ever used to complain during the summer months, back when I could comfortably sit down with a cold Dr. Pepper and enjoy the warmth.  Now the heat is my worst enemy, a loud-mouthed fiend that deftly mixes sweat and deceit.

Oh summer, I will conquer you again — after school, at the flagpole, probably about 15 years from now. But for now the BHF rules with heavy-handed, formula-drenched authority.

Five funny things (that I can find online right now)

Because I'm a bookaphobic, strong-to-quite-strong dullard whose lone hobbies are sports and weightlifting, there's very little variety in my roster of often-visited Web sites. But among those that I frequent, here are the most funny items at the moment:

1) Newspaper Web sites seem to have made ridiculously inane homepage headlines par for the course. For example: "Doctors, cyclists recommend wearing bicycle helmets [www.idahostatesman.com, 09:49 a.m.]"

Be sure to catch tomorrow's front page for hard-hitting news such as, "Experts: Grass appears green in color," "Jesse Jackson speaks out on behalf of rich celebrity" and " 'Lifetime' appeals mostly to women."

2) The Seattle Times Web site's sports homepage features a story on the nuances of heckling. I'm a bit of a recovering heckler, thanks mostly to my wife's "suggestions," the presence of my 10-month-old son and my faith in God. Still, I must admit that this story's tips — including to research the opposing team's players and make sure the targets can hear you — gave me an itch that can only be scratched by informing Washington State University football players that they're quite unable to fulfill their on-field duties.

3) My checking account. 

4) I have no idea whether these stories are actually funny, but the fact that they're being touted atop Yahoo.com definitely is:

-- "Lindsay Lohan celebrates her birthday in grand style, and a Jonas brother gets engaged."

-- "Jon and Kate's family Fourth of July."

These are only funny because I think is absolutely hysterical that many people actually get the bulk of their "news" from Yahoo. That is hilarious.

5) CNN.com is reporting that "D.C.'s Marion Berry faces stalking charge." Let me be clear: Stalking is NOT funny. But you know what is? The fact that unflattering Marion Berry headlines don't even make me flinch at this point. Reading these is like eating my morning oatmeal.

I'm sure there are lots of funnier things out there in Internet Land. If you know of something in particular, please let me know.

I can't think outside the cereal box

I 'm not happy this day has arrived — the day Cheerios have become the item I handle the most.

Long ago it was my blankey. Then it was my outdoor basketball, a pad and pen (for drawing space ships, of course), my indoor basketball and finally a keyboard.  

Now it's Cheerios. Yes, I've become "that guy." You know, the poor dude who's constantly on all fours, trying to figure out why his son/daughter seems to actually be secreting these heavenly, whole-grain-oats circles.

Cheerios Guy, or CG, sprinkles them along the edge of the coffee table, hoping CG Jr. will occupy himself with this cereal buffet line long enough for Dad to grab a bathroom break.

CG carefully portions out these folic-acid-laden gems into plastic containers so he can tote them to sporting events, concerts, family barbecues and the like. CG proceeds to pick them up after CG Jr. spills them all over the [insert type of flooring or ground] at said occasions.

CG frantically offers the modified-corn-starch-rich beauties as a peace offering to his screaming offspring in moments of duress.

Now I am CG — probably retribution for years of making fun of CGs who preceded me.

But I can't help wonder whether it's possible for an particularly progressive father to buck the trend. In theory, couldn't a guy sprinkle Frosted Mini Wheats around the living room? Maybe this hypothetical father could coax his son or daughter out of a crying fit with Grape Nuts?

Imagine the possibilities.

Unfortunately, I don't have the guts to think outside the cereal box. I'm a slave to the status quo. I'm relegated to several more years of finding Cheerios in every nook and cranny known to man. 

Luckily, wherever there's a Labor and Delivery unit, there's a new crop of guys waiting to take the title "Cheerios Guy."