COLUMN: Foot

"How far that little candle throws his beams!" Shakespeare once wrote. "So shines a good deed in a weary world."

Shakespeare's an idiot.

Once upon a time, I was an optimist. I was pretty sure life was grand. I thought good deeds were supposed to pay you back, fill you with warm fuzzies, and make the world a better place. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Let's flashback to two weekends ago. Having just gotten off work on a Friday night, your intrepid columnist thought it a wise idea to compete at a charity trivia event. I've always found trivia nights great fun. Not only do you get to contribute to a good cause, but it's pretty much the only occasion where the pointless amount of pop culture knowledge in my brain can actually be useful.

At the event, I was happy to discover that I knew the emcee and his reputation for very good trivia questions. As I sat there waiting for the event to begin, I noticed him having some difficulties getting the microphone PA set up. Having DJed parties and events since puberty, I know my way around a PA. Hence, I thought I should probably be a do-gooder and offer assistance.

That's when I sprang into action. Specifically, the action of breaking my foot.

Okay, I don't actually think it's broken -- but I definitely jacked it up pretty good. I'm still not quite sure how it happened. I went onstage and helped bring out a speaker. Then I turned to hop down and instead slipped off the step and landed on my foot sideways. I can now cross stage-diving off my bucket list. I gamely walked back to my table, but I knew I'd just done a bad thing. Minutes later, it felt like my rapidly swelling foot was about to split my tennis shoe in two. By the end of the round, I knew I had to get home to elevation and ice pronto.

So, yeah, if you were at a trivia night and your between-round entertainment was a grimacing fat guy in the throes of hysterical embarassment getting carried out by two poor trivia judges, that was ME and you're super welcome. I'm never doing a good deed again. My hero days are through. If I'd have just minded my own business, I might not have been able to hear the emcee but I also could've walked out of the place on my own power.

Don't worry, it's much better now and I'm already back on both feet, but only after having spent the past two weeks dwelling on my couch, using up every cube of ice in Rock Island and every ounce of charitable goodwill I could wring out of my friends. I've also been learning just how horrible summer TV is. When I broke my ankle several years ago, I at least had the common decency to do in the middle of winter, which got me out of snow shoveling AND allowed me to catch up on some great shows. In summer, though, the TV landscape is pretty bleak.

They say we're living in a renaissance of fantastic television programming. You wouldn't know it in August. About the only thing I've learned over the past two weeks is that America's got both Talent and Ninja Warriors, and I couldn't care less about either. Every channel is filled with Love Islands and Big Brothers and vapid people being vapid and it about did my head in. Until, that is, I found a show that single-handedly reinstilled my faith in humanity and the power of good.

How have I slept this long on "The Great British Baking Show"? I always assumed it was just another boring cooking show -- and it kind of is. I don't even like baking. But in a moment of boredom, I tuned in -- and was instantly wooed by its charm. I'm used to reality shows full of big personalities, back-stabbing and cutthroat competition. TGBBS, though, might be the nicest reality show of all time.

It's a competition, but you'd barely know it. Aspiring amateur chefs show off their best bakes, from cookies to cakes to truly weird pies (haggis and lamb? No thanks.) But they're all so unbelievably kind that it's endearing. They take tea breaks. They compliment each other. When one competitor finishes early, they help the others. And I'm pretty sure the winner gets nothing more than a plaque and a handshake. The closest they ever had to scandal was when one baker accidentally removed another's cake from the freezer forty seconds early. I've binged two seasons now and it's already rekindled my hope for humanity.

So even if you end up with bruised feet, good deeds and common decency are worth it. And right now, you've got a chance to prove it. Do you guys know what Codfish Hollow is? It's a barn up in Maquoketa that plays host to the most amazing concerts in our area. It's a magical place I visit as often as possible. Attendees park in a cow pasture and take a hayrack ride to the venue.

But last weekend, there was an accident. The tractor that pulls the hayrack toppled over. Codfish's friendliest face, 74-year-old driver Marv Franzen, was briefly pinned underneath. He's now in Iowa City facing a lengthy hospital stay with broken arms and a broken pelvis. Marv's a legend and needs our help. Friends and family have set up a fundraising website to assist with his medical expenses. If you have any spare coin, please consider a donation at gofundme.com/f/fundraiser-for-marvin-franzen.

I'd do just about any good deed for my buddy Marv and Codfish Hollow. Just don't ask me to fix their PA. Stage diving is NOT all it's cracked up to be.