My understanding of what it means to be the spiritual head of my household is so much different than before I was married.

I used to believe marriage gave me this God-ordained right over my wife and family to tell them what I felt we should do, where we should go and how we should accomplish things in our lives and they would just follow my lead.

You know, like obedient little robots.

Of course, then I married my wife, and quickly realized she either A) had not been reading the same Bible as me or B) didn’t believe the Word was directing her to a life of blind subservience.

Shocking, right?

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Interviewer – Today we have with us, Jerry, one of the guards responsible for ensuring the security of Eglon, the king of Moab…

Jake – (interrupting) Actually, it’s Jake.

Interviewer – uh…yes…we were changing your name for the sake of your own safety being that you are on the run and all.

Jake – Oh…right. Well, it’s great to be here. (looking behind him nervously) But do you think I can get a seat with my back to the wall?

Interviewer – I don’t think so. Now, tell me, you were not originally one of the king’s main body guards. Is that correct?

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One of the things my wife says she loves most about me is my indifference to watching sports on TV.

I’m not kidding. It almost makes her giddy with joy how little I care about professional sports.

Of course, participating in sports has been a complete “thorn in her side” since before we were married, but I am pretty confident (not really confident at all) she is coming around on this one.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand the appeal and will occasionally get sucked in to watching the World Cup or NBA Championships (maybe the Superbowl but the commercials are getting worse each year) but, overall, sitting and watching professional athletes play a game I would rather be participating in myself is not really my idea of a fun time.

What is even more beyond my understanding is the exploding popularity of Fantasy Sports.

I just don’t get it and really need someone to explain it to me.

As I have been able to gather, individuals no longer just watch the games but now have a vested interest as mock owners who are pretending to create their own teams by drafting real players and using their individual stats throughout the season to gain points toward the ultimate goal of “winning”.

(You can’t tell this by reading but I actually fell asleep half-way through that sentence I was so bored.)

Does that about sum it up?

So, instead of watching an amazing player and going out on the field, court, diamond, etc. to physically play and emulate the amazing achievements of these incredible athletes, we are now just pretending to be the rich owners who decide if the player is good for the virtual team?

Also, has the Fantasy Sports World expanded into Nascar, Gymnastics, Beach Volleyball or Alaskan Dog Racing?

If so, I am going to start working on an app that pulls tire changing speed stats of pit crew members and see about making some cash.

And I am seriously not trying to be harsh on Fantasy Sports…players…uh…competitors…er…homo sapiens, but trying to figure out if I am missing out on the greatest non-professional sports bonding activity on the planet or carefully guarding what few “cool” points I have left.

Open to being swayed either way. Let the arguments for and against begin!!

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I don’t really understand teenagers these days.

Yes, I know this statement alone makes me seem incredibly old and, if you are one of the two people who stumbled upon this blog post by some accidental, misdirected Google search, you are probably picturing me as a 75 year old, wrinkled bag of bones with a permanent scowl and pants up to my chest.

Well…sure, that will be a pretty accurate description in about 40 years (minus the pants – don’t plan on wearing pants past 65), but as for now, I am an out-of-touch adult wondering where the sense and desire for freedom has gone in today’s youth.

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I am going to let you in on a secret.

Ready for this?

I kind of want a tattoo.

I know. I know. Tim, you are mid-30s and probably just going through some sort of weird 1/3 life crisis. Don’t mark up your flawless (your words, not mine) body with ink that will end up being pushed, pulled and stretched to the point where local psychiatrists ask you to stand in for the “Ink Blot Test”.

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