Friday, September 29, 2006
Pre-Apocalympics?
What if we organized a series of Junkyard Sports Pre-Apacolympic events, world-wide, of course, in a global way of speaking, to take place during, for example, every equinox?
Could we become so skilled, so spectacular in our shard-slinging and wall-vaulting abilities, that we could possibly go straight from the Pre-Apocalympics to the Post-Apocalympics, thereby by-passing the need to go through the Apocalypse entirely?
I dunno, either. But, you gotta admit, it's sure worth a shot. Put.
Could we become so skilled, so spectacular in our shard-slinging and wall-vaulting abilities, that we could possibly go straight from the Pre-Apocalympics to the Post-Apocalympics, thereby by-passing the need to go through the Apocalypse entirely?
I dunno, either. But, you gotta admit, it's sure worth a shot. Put.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Confession
My name is Bernie DeKoven. I am the author of Junkyard Sports. And this is my confession.
I wrote that book for a hidden purpose. A purpose that only now, after the book's relative success and acceptance in the physical education and recreation establishments, can I reveal.
Junkyard Sports is not just a new way for more kids to have more fun using their bodies and minds and environment playing sports-like stuff. It's more than that. It's a Training Manual for the Postapocalympics.
The "Postapocalympics" you exclaim, questioningly? Yes, yes, the Postapocalympics, I respond explanitorilly, where we who were left behind compete for our share of glory in, say, the Rubble Games?
Rubble Games? Perhaps. Tire Games, certainly. Tin can bowling? Not necessarily.
Go ahead, look once more at the pages of Junkyard Sports and tell me what you see? Mere fun and games? Or prescriptions perhaps, powerfully playful prescriptions, you might think, of how to prepare for the inevitable eviting.
And now, today, with this blog, I make it public. I make it known. I make it an invitation. To you, the world, personally:
Come. Create. Submit. Comment. Let us join together now, at last, you and I, in the grim shadows of the future past, and create it ourselves, the Postapocalympics. Let us, the many we are, invent anew the games, the very games, the Games of the Postapocalympiad.
Shard Put for example.
I wrote that book for a hidden purpose. A purpose that only now, after the book's relative success and acceptance in the physical education and recreation establishments, can I reveal.
Junkyard Sports is not just a new way for more kids to have more fun using their bodies and minds and environment playing sports-like stuff. It's more than that. It's a Training Manual for the Postapocalympics.
The "Postapocalympics" you exclaim, questioningly? Yes, yes, the Postapocalympics, I respond explanitorilly, where we who were left behind compete for our share of glory in, say, the Rubble Games?
Rubble Games? Perhaps. Tire Games, certainly. Tin can bowling? Not necessarily.
Go ahead, look once more at the pages of Junkyard Sports and tell me what you see? Mere fun and games? Or prescriptions perhaps, powerfully playful prescriptions, you might think, of how to prepare for the inevitable eviting.
And now, today, with this blog, I make it public. I make it known. I make it an invitation. To you, the world, personally:
Come. Create. Submit. Comment. Let us join together now, at last, you and I, in the grim shadows of the future past, and create it ourselves, the Postapocalympics. Let us, the many we are, invent anew the games, the very games, the Games of the Postapocalympiad.
Shard Put for example.
