Video: “Put the Green Cape On” by Jedward (aka “Why Joyce Left Ireland”)

Spotted by Footie and Music.

Ebooks do not magically appear. When I first started to write “An Illustrated Guide,” the novelty and fun of self-publishing filled me with energy. All the little setbacks were miniature hurdles for me to jump with ease. Then, last month, I filed my taxes. What did I find out? Well, after adding up a few too many 1099-miscs, it dawned on me: I am being way too straight with Uncle Sam. Also, publishing a soccer eBook takes some cash. Sadly, with a modest paying real life job and two kids, the upfront cash for this second eBook is not available. I was going to sell blood and potentially other, more lucrative, bodily fluids, but my better half put her foot down. Turner plasma shall stay within the Turner family. Needy blood transfusion patients be damned!

There is, however, still hope.

Here’s where you come in. I am Kickstartering for the $1,000 that an eBook needs to exist. Yes, I need your help to raise $1,000 by June 6. These funds will cover original artwork by Erik Ebeling, tech stuff (ePub/Mobi conversion), legal stuff (ISBN & Copyright), and other necessary & boring publishing crap that adds up. We’ve crafted some pretty cool rewards, including an Advanced Copy of the book for $15, a PDF-ePub-MOBI bundle of An Illustrated Guide for $10, a Real Madrid jersey SIGNED BY JUNITO for big spenders, and some signed original prints for ballers. Unfortunately, Dr. Dre was on tour with a hologram and unable to donate any custom Ferenc Puskas “Ghostface Playa” signature headphones. We are just as disappointed as you are.

For the curious at heart, the new book, titled “Real Madrid & Barcelona: the Making of a Rivalry,” will cover the history of Real Madrid & Barcelona from 1899 until 1999. It will go decade by decade and analyze important players, coaches, games, moments, and developments. It will also add political and economic background to illuminate the motives and actions of key individuals. Erik Ebeling has agreed to do the artwork, while (phonetically) Ell-e-o-t-t Turner, me, shall pen the words. No, I don’t actually use a pen. I type on an ergonomic keyboard. But you know what I mean. I’m a lifelong Real Madrid fan, but have loads of respect for Barcelona. I promise balance and honesty in addressing both teams. The Cules have a great history as both a sporting and political institution. I even waxed about recent board room brawls at the Run of Play.

Here’s the ubiquitous “get pumped about this project” video that I made for Kickstarter. I’m pretty confident that my use of a sample from Massive Attack qualifies as fair use under US law, but put the video on Youtube in case Kickstarter doesn’t share my expansive legal perspective:

So, check out the Kickstarter page here and, if you dare, pre-order a copy to support the cause, get your hands on a Real Madrid jersey signed by Junito, or splash the cash to get a full deck of playing cards of the forthcoming illustrations. And you thought your beta MTG Black Lotus was hot shit! Neerrrrrd alerrrrrrrt.

Once again, get more details and/or show your support here. Pretty please. You know it’s more productive than trolling Pottermore and tracking down Dark Knight Rises plot spoilers.

Images: Real Madrid, Barcelona

Song: Massive Attack, “Teardrop”

As a starting point, please have a copy of Zizek’s “The Sublime Object of  Ideology” handy. Why? Well, only Hegel and psychoanalysis can shed light on the deeper meanings and reaches of this “advertisement.” This film, ahem, actually reveals a fissure point that divides the idealistic concept of the “All” from the materialist notion of the “apparent All.” We derive pleasure from seeing it, but ultimately it revolves around the Freudian death drive’s attempt to grasp the totality of reality. Here’s how.

We know that Iker and Andres are not really fans of the pedestrians. The pedestrians also know. But Iker and Andres know that we know and also that the pedestrians know. Thus, we also derive pleasure from our participation in the “ironic act” – an obvious sketch that everybody gets as a joke. We the discerning consumer, the skeptical pedestrian, and the good-natured but contractually obligated celebrity athletes all play our predetermined roles.

The film is not the “apparent ALL” in the sense that visual medians like documentaries attempt to expose an unfiltered reality. Rather, the movie works as an unfiltered expose of filtered reality. We laugh at the obviously preposterous premise. However, a purist would argue that, like the “Real World”, the “Bachelor,” and other such programs, this film is a half-assed deconstruction of genre, is perhaps even more deceptive, and therefore the most poisonous pill of all to swallow.

To fully understand the criticism, it’s important to attempt to formulate a baseline of “reality” and “nonreality.” After decades of television, cookie cutter suburban homes with wives, husbands, kids, schools, scripted dialogue, picket fences, laugh tracks and nosy neighbors have become the standard and easy-to-see “not ALL” non-reality. We smell a situational comedy a mile away. The four young single friends live in large metropolis and regularly meet in cafes to discuss amorous escapades, workplace grievances, and career moves. Goofy slapstick character says goofy something and performs amusing & awkward physical act, to our delight. We don’t want to feel left out, so we follow the studio audience and laugh track’s lead. Our face forms a smile, but we don’t smile. That is obviously the “not ALL” non-reality.

But where is the “ALL” reality?

We thus encounter Zizek’s favorite topic: the gap between the transcendental “ALL” and the materialist “not ALL”. In laymen terms, the gap between knowledge as perfect & explanatory versus what we as an individual can see, taste, touch, and smell. Television has always tip-toed in this nether region. In terms of the “not ALL” material world, we plug in the glowing box and press an on switch on a remote control. We see human beings, professional actors, that speak sentences and make gestures to the approval of first, a director barely off screen, and second us, the audience sitting in front of the screen. But where does and can the transcendental “ALL” fit in?

The Casillas-Iniesta video superficially attempts to push us, the athletes, and the pedestrians away from the scripted TV world and closer to reality with an ironic premise. However, you have to ask – are we really totally inside this inside joke? For example, were those really pedestrians? Or paid extras? Or actors? Also, how many pedestrian clips were filmed? How many were cut out? Obviously, not every take made the final video. To flesh out the point, was it mere coincidence that attractive but moody people always got selected (“casted”) to be in MTV’s the Real World? Directors’ hands have altered this reality. It’s as filtered as instant coffee. The Casillas-Iniesta video is thus the most dangerous kind of “not ALL” reality – the kind that sells itself as “ALL” reality. Or at least an approximation.

Therefore, this film succeeds at tugging our emotions because of the Freudian death drive. As Zizek notes, we grasp, claw, and strive to push our sense closer and closer to reality. We long to jump over the grand canyon from the “not ALL” side to the “ALL” side. We have watched Iniesta and Casillas play some scintillating soccer and become Champions of Europe and the World. We’ve seen shitty TV. This film lowers our defenses by mocking TV premises and allegedly reversing the role of fan/athlete. What could have been cooler than to have walked alongside the camera man, filming those guys on the street? Or, even better, getting asked by Casillas for an autograph! Cue swoon-track.

This film amuses, but is no transcendental formation. It’s just the latest flavor in union-scriptwriter-busting neo liberal reality TV 2.0 meets viral internet marketing 101.  Don’t let Casillas’ charms fool you, even if he is a handsome son of a gun.

Video: Dirty Tackle

Video credit: “Dancing Queen” by Abba

When ESPN debuted their new red-own-goal icon a few weeks back, it was one of those moments. Since then it has proliferated, appearing in both the Ireland European Cup qualifying game and the Brazil-Mexico friendly. But what does this little red soccer ball say about us?

Since the Roman empire, red has always been associated with Mars, the planet and God. That is to say, red can mean love and war, peace and hate. Red represents two sides of the same passionate emotional coin. Red provokes rage in bulls but also taints the blood that flows from our body. Red is a powerful color. Red is destruction, but destruction due to our own human frailty. Soeth is they Own-Goal Icon.

Not convinced? Well, let’s take a glance at some other places where we’ve seen this ESPN Own-Goal Icon or similar images before…

Hal from 2001: A Space Odyssey
Did you find Hal from 2001 kinda creepy? Even before he killed a few of the astronauts and tried to lock out another? Why? Well, he definitely had a Microsoft Mr. Paperclip vibe about him. And you got the feeling that perfection could run into a perfect loop of a shit storm. Just as defenders fight to get a foot or head to every cross in the name of the defensive mission, Hal took any means necessary to advance his own shuttle. Yet perfection applied to an imperfect world is a recipe for self-destruction.

A brief transcript of the Ireland-Armenian game:

-Open the Armenian goal, Hal. OPEN THE GODDAMN ARMENIAN GOAL!

-I’m sorry, Robbie Keane. You got injured playing for the LA Galaxy. I’m afraid this mission is too important to….
Creepy Verizon Droid Bionic Ads
Nowadays, the young people like to trot about with super computers in their pocket. They play Angry Birds instead of paying attention to adults, but rest easy at night – the radiation will hopefully render their genders a mutilated mess by their mid-forties. Assuming the brain cancer doesn’t kill them.

What has led them to hold small beeping cancer boxes so closer to their ear? This.

Yes. I don’t get it either. This is the future, what the world will look like when our bodies have long been frozen next to Joe Dimaggio’s. The winking red eye seduces them, the promise of instant gratification too great. If David Luiz spent a bit less time texting, perhaps his vision would be clearer when trying to cut out crosses. We all see Death before he takes us; some just stare at him cross-eyed.

The Eye of Sauron

I’m not a big fan of Hobbits or three hour movies or trilogies when the second film just kinda repeats the first one. Yet, as painful as those films were, nothing quite burns the eye like watching 90 minutes of effort evaporate due to a defensive miscue. Was Sauron worse than Morgoth? Is an early own-goal worse than a late own-goal? These are the riddles that puzzle philosophers and ate away most of your youth spent sifting through used fantasy graphic novel bins and comicons.

Sauron’s eye was emblazoned on his warrior orc’s shields and helmets because his own sentry dared not utter his accursed name. Even to this day, Colombians tremble at the mere mention of the term autogol. Brutal images of US ’94 snap into mind. When Frodo saw the eye, it was a yellow slit and the pupil was a window into nothingness. Yet in soccer, the red eye of the Gamecast Icon is a window into eternal sporting damnation. Ye dare not stareth too long….

The Masque of the Red Death

In Edgar Allen Poe’s short story, the rich protect themselves as best they know how – cloistering themselves far away from the poor and hollowly paying lip service to the conventional god of the day. Yet, despite their efforts, one by one, the Red Death comes to them as a stranger and leaves them as a killer. Similarly, no matter how many times a team practices set pieces or defending crosses, the prospect of self-destruction lingers.

As you watch the game, probably from work, you flinch as you click re-fresh. You immerse yourself in the match to forget the toils of the day. Yet, deep down in your heart of hearts, you dread and fear and anticipate that little red ball appearing. Then, horror of horrors. The Gamecast play-by-play is a few minutes behind, but you already have seen the red writing on the wall. The dot of Mars sears your eyes and leaves a profound mark on all it touches.

Less they be damned….or own a smartphone.

Elliott’s soccer eBook, An Illustrated Guide to Soccer & Spanish, is available on the Amazon Kindle for only $5.99. Check out a free preview here.

Video Credit: Chris Farley, Saturday Night Live

Video Credit: Expert Village

Things do not look pretty. Here are the likely forms and results:

First Partial-Flotation Variation: Huckleberry Finn’s Raft

A partial flotation is a quick cash grab. You usually have a big but floundering parent company, and a studly subsidiary. The parent company sells a minority interest in the subsidiary looking cash in on “the good son.” This raises some cash but also a dilemma – how can a shareholder truly value this somewhat removed fraction of an interest in a spin-off? Uncertainty leads to volatility, like the choppy waters of the Mississippi in Mark Twain’s classic “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.”

The Glazer’s Singaore IPO certainly has shades of the escapades of the Duke & King from Huck Finn. The American owners have royally angered England-based fans, so what do they do? They hop on over to the next town down the river and try a new trick to raise funds. Overseas, far away from the local fans who have filled Old Trafford for decades, who knows what the Glazers will do if we turn a blind eye? What will they sell? Like the last few chapters of Huck Finn, this ending could be unsatisfactory on various levels. 

Second Partial-Flotation Variation: Captain Jack Sparrow’s Ship

Another major risk for a partial IPO in a subsidiary is that instead of price volatility, it simply flops. Investors could be concerned about two issues: First, who calls the shots at the subsidiary? After all, an executive Board holds the Parent Company in check (in theory), but does that same Board have a say in the Subsidiary? What about possible conflicts of interest between the studly Subsidiary and plodding Parent? On a general level, isn’t it odd that the Parent Company is slowly sinking but the Subsidiary is a Black Pearl of profit?

Then there’s the biggest risk – like the first Pirates of the Caribbean, success breeds shitty sequels intended to squeeze more dimes out of a bored populace. If the Glazers raise some cash in Singapore, then will a partial IPO in Bangladesh be next on the agenda? Perhaps they could go to Barbados, canvass door-to-door, and raffle off certificates of ownership to local residents! And, ad nauseum, this will further dilute the value of the “what the fuck are these exactly” shares already sold.

Third Partial-Flotation Variation: the Barge from Apocalypse Now

The Glazers really haven’t made many friends in England. Let’s just imagine that their “unfriendliness” leads to a few local enemies in Singapore, who then pull strings to make United’s ownership on the  Stock Exchange a living hell. After all, the former American owners of Liverpool got ran out of town on a horse. In Singapore, things could end even messier.

Why? Well, the alcoholic beverages advertised on the Singapore Corporate Counsel Association website gives an impression of an entrenched “Old Boys” culture. “Let’s take a few shots of Jim Beam and wax fiduciary duties, dude!” This is not a land to get mired into a messy corporate battle. Nor a place where you will probably get the fairest of shakes in a dispute. An exit could be tedious, costly, and worse than the benefit of entry.

Fourth Partial-Flotation Variation: Willy Gets Freed, Kinda

Another risk in selling a minority share in a subsidiary is that the subsidiary gains enough momentum to break free from the parent company. This is the least likely and most fascinating scenario. What if Manchester United manages to break free from the Glazers and…falls into Singapore investors hands? Technically, a partial flotation will require the Glazers to create or use a legally distinct subsidiary and then sell shares in that entity. If there’s enough cash, and, crucially, belligerent shareholders, then the parent company could be swept away in  Tsunami of money & boardroom politics & lawsuits. Granted, the two-tiered voting structure is meant to impede this. Not likely, but we can hope.

The great irony, of course, is that thousands of Englishmen & women love Manchester United and would love to own a part of the club. The Glazers want that cash, but not the responsibility. Even now, I can imagine local Singapore subsidiaries being created to allow for English investors to own a piece via the Singapore IPO. I’m sure the English are somewhat happy with United’s success, but, like the end of Free Willy, are sad to see a friend go away.

In sum, the IPO partial-flotation has several possibilities. It’s unlikely that the Singapore IPO will free United from the Glazers, but we can dream. In a few weeks or months, the Red Devils will go public. We can only pray for the best results. Will you be there?

(Via AFR)