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January 29, 2006
Podcast News
Been sorta immersed in the world of podcasting lately... both inside and outside of work. It's cool stuff -- and now that I have my new video iPod, I've been enjoying more podcasts than ever. And because it's nice to share, here's the podcasts currently claiming real estate on my iPod (besides being able to subscribe via iTunes, I've linked to the feed home pages where possible):
1. The Onion Radio News. Everyone loves The Onion. (If you don't, I seriously doubt that you enjoy many of my feeble attempts at humor.) Their migration to "radio" was only a matter of time. A sample of why this podcast cracks me up, from the most recent episode: "The WhizCo Toy Company ... has voluntarily recalled 245,000 Aqua Assault RoboFighters after three dumb kids managed to kill themselves playing with the popular toy, ruining the fun for everyone else." The Onion Radio News, kids -- they'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your bartenders and waitresses.
2. Tiki Bar TV. Defies description. Strange. This is what happens when you put audio and video equipment in the hands of unstable people. But I still find Tiki Bar TV compelling and funny.
3. The Roadhouse. The Doc pointed this one out to me recently, and I'm all up in it already. If you're a fan of the blues, this is must-see-TV (even though there's no video to it, it's an audio podcast). Close your eyes while listening to this podcast, and you are in a darkened dive on Saturday night, sipping some whiskey, tapping your foot on the sawdust-covered wood planked floor, clapping along, and dropping your ones and fives in the house band bucket. I don't mean you feel like you're there; you are there. "The best blues you've never heard," promises host Tony Steidler-Dennison -- and he delivers. In my opinion, The Roadhouse is the best music podcast out there.
4. French Maid TV. You know how, if you're a guy, you saw The Man Show and realized the utter brilliance of something that tapped so shamelessly into men's baser instincts and celebrated them as worthy elements of what makes men men, for better and worse? That feeling of, "Yeah, it's lowbrow, but damn this is brilliant" is the same one you'll have when watching French Maid TV. Simple concept -- the premise is so obvious that you'll wonder why no one else came up with it. Of course I subscribed before I even saw the episode. Didn't every other guy who's ever seen it listed somewhere?
5. MLB Radio Daily. You knew I'd be all over this one, right? Pitchers and catchers report in 16 days, kids -- and the rotisserie league draft is just 61 days away. MLB Radio Daily is for baseball nuts only, obviously, but if you're one of us, this is a must-subscribe.
Of course, I also am subscribed to the series that I'm involved in at work -- I produce and host several episodes of our series, so if you know me in real life, check it out, the newest episode is one I did -- but I'm not gonna talk about it other than to admit that I subscribe to my own podcast (is that like voting for yourself in a contest or election?).
So what podcasts do you subscribe to, and what do you like about them? Hook me up with some good ones -- be they funny ones, video or audio-only, feature good music, or whatever. Maybe we can set up some sort of monthly podcast exchange or something.
Posted by Christopher at 08:06 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBackRequiem
It's not often that I stumble across a story in the news that actually brings a catch to my throat -- you know, curmudgeonism isn't just a blog persona, it's a way of life. So when one comes along, it sticks with me. And in this case, it also makes me mad.
Sean Keel was a 34 year old man living in San Francisco. He had a wife, and two young daughters, one four and the other five months. Sean hadn't had an easy run in life -- he had spent some time in a court-ordered rehab program -- but he had completely turned his life around, sobering up for four years now to focus on his wife and daughters; he and his wife just bought a house, and he was even able to buy his wife a used-but-tricked-out BMW for Mother's Day. By every report, he was a gentle and loving father who doted on his wife and daughters.
Unfortunately, last week a couple of thugs decided that car was more important than a good man's life. Sean was shot and killed in a carjacking at 2 am last Saturday night as he left his job at a valet parking service. That's sad enough, but what takes this story from tragic to heartbreaking is the reaction of Keel's four year old daughter to her daddy's death. Coping and grieving in ways that make sense to a four year old, the little girl has been calling her father's cell phone and leaving messages for him... messages he'll never return.
Dan Abrams of MSNBC covered the story in his program on Thursday... and it was quite possibly one of the most emotional segments I've ever seen on the news. As the girl's cell messages aired, Abrams was visibly shaken, and it looked very much like he didn't want to be dragging the widow onto national television; this was one instance where the media actually looked like it had a conscience. I warn you... if you click on the link and launch the video instead of just reading the story, be ready to have tears well up. If Vanessa Keel's messages -- and both the pain and the strength of his wife Rosa -- don't reach you and break your heart, then you don't have one to break.
I have two reactions to this story, the first being somewhat primal. I know there are a number of good, convincing arguments against the death penalty -- it's used arbitrarily and far more frequently in cases with minority defandants, DNA evidence is revealing that in some cases, the law gets it wrong and innocent people are jailed for crimes they didn't commit and one day soon we're going to execute someone innocent -- and I admit to being swayed by many of them. But it's for cases like the Keel murder that the death penalty was invented. If anyone has ever deserved to die for their crime, it's the punks who chose to end this man's life for a set of expensive rims. Seriously, I don't care that it's suspected that the murderers are teenagers; there's nothing in those "kids" worth saving. Fry them, with extra juice.
Secondly, I have to wonder why this isn't front page news -- why Sean Keel's photo isn't on the front of every newspaper and every cable news network isn't devoting hours of nightly coverage to the latest developments in the case. Outside of the Abrams report and the Bay Area media, it's slid quietly under the radar. Maybe it would help the media if Sean Keel were a young, rich, blonde like Natalee Holloway, and not a black man.
See, this is what I don't understand; Natalee Holloway's case, while sad and certainly tragic, is one in which a rich kid was allowed to go off with no adult supervision, got herself drunk and ran off with some total stranger late at night in a foreign country without telling any of her friends where she was going; what happened is hardly unexpected and might have been prevented by better judgement in any of a half dozen places along the timeline of the case. Sean Keel went to work, worked hard, and was trying to come home. Why is the Holloway case considered so much more newsworthy? I'm not one to read racism (either subtle or overt) into every circumstance, but I have to think this is a prime example of a subtle form of it. It's not right, and the national media ought to be ashamed that the Keel case isn't even a fraction as prominent nationwide.
Anyone reading from California who should stumble upon information that could be of any use to the police, please call 415-575-4444.
Posted by Christopher at 12:52 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBackJanuary 28, 2006
Sporting Thoughts
A couple of random thoughts about some of the past week's events in the sporting world:
1. Barry Bonds withdraws from the World Baseball Classic. What a shocker: Barry Bonds did something selfish, self-serving and self-protecting. Yeah, like no one saw that coming, right? In a move that everyone could have predicted, Bonds bailed out of the World Baseball Classic this past week, saying he owed it to the San Francisco Giants to not play and stay healthy. Which is pretty much BS, since spring training will already have begun at that point, since Bonds would have played DH throughout the tournament, and given that if your knees are so bad that you're worried about them on March 3, odds are they're not going to be any less concerning two weeks later even with rest.
There's only two real reasons, I have to think, that Bonds decided not to play for the USA. First, his self-centered drive toward the home run record that no one outside of the Bay Area wants him to get has become such an obsession with him that he is willing to sell out his country in order to continue pursuing it. Far more likely, however, it simply boils down to this: Bonds figured out that to play in an international competition, he would have to take a steroid & HGH test. And it's obvious to anyone who's looked at before and after photos of Barry that he would have a pretty serious problem passing such a test.
Personally, I'm glad that Bonds won't be representing my country in the WBC. He's an embarrassment not just to the sport but to our country; selfish, arrogant, aloof and convinced the world revolves around him, Bonds is every Ugly American stereotype come to life. But it's still head-shakingly selfish of him to bail on us, even if our team is better for it. (Wouldn't matter anyway... the Dominican Republic is going to walk away with this tournament, with perhaps one of the best baseball rosters ever assembled representing them.)
2. Kobe Bryant scores 81 points in one game. Yawn. Big deal. Kobe got 81 of his team's 122 points. All that proves to me is that the only passes Bryant knows how to make are at women who don't welcome them.
3. Ron Artest exiled to Sacramento Gee, Ron... gonna be kinda hard to become a rap star in the middle of Sacramento, iddn't it? Of course, if you hadn't been such a selfish, childish ass for the last few years, maybe you could have taken your distracting act to LA or New York yourself. Oh well... at least in Sacramento you'll get... MORE COWBELL!
4. Texas A&M Angry With Seattle. Believe it or not, Texas A&M is getting on the case of the Seattle Seahawks -- and the entire city of Seattle -- for their use of the phrase "12th Man" to describe their fans. A&M claims to have exclusive rights to the phrase, dating back to the 1920s. In other news, A&M is also going after Steelers' coach Bill Cowher for using the cliche "the team needs to focus," and ESPN analyst Stuart Scott for using the phrase "Booyah!" in his sportscasts; A&M claims to have owned focus since 1951, and to have been using "Booyah" since 1897.
Freaking stupid.
Posted by Christopher at 02:08 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBackShout-Outs
Yeah, I know it's a dated phrase. Shut up.
Just wanted to throw out a couple of blogs for recognition... first of all, "Reports From Abroad" is a blog by a college junior who is the son of a friend of mine at work and the brother of frequent commenter and occasional Mudge-ripper Sarah (more on her in a second). Daniel is spending the first eight months of 2006 studying abroad in Germany. His blog's a fun read -- beyond the college experience and the living abroad experience, you also get a great set of trial-and-error reviews of German beer. Good read from a perceptive guy; worth your time checking out.
As for Sarah, she's gotten herself a radio show at her college. Sarah and I have plenty of playful banter about her taste in music -- her father (who is a friend and reads this blog occasionally) has warped her mind with too much 60s and 70s stuff ;-) , and she and I will never agree on Led Zeppelin (I'm right, by the way... they're overrated, drug-addled wailers) -- but all joking aside, it's a hell of an accomplishment for anyone to get their own radio show... and at 18, I think I'd have been in absolute heaven if someone gave me a few hours on the air every week to inflict myself upon the world. Sarah, having your own show is a hell of a thing... good for you, and lemme know when you get some of your programming streaming on the Web.
And last but not least, I wanted to call your attention to someone who I blogrolled a few weeks ago, but whose writing is deserving of a special call-out. Jill over at JillWrites is a really thoughtful writer (even teaches writing) and is a pretty creative person. I've really enjoyed reading her stuff in the last few weeks. If you think of me as something like a Farelly Brothers/Tim Robbins mix (except not as funny as them and not as satirical as him), Jill's something like a Nora Ephron -- I get the sense that someday she's going to write something like a hippier, far sexier version of "When Harry Met Sally." In other words, she's a lot more thoughtful and nuanced than I am (me of the lead feather-style bludgeoning with my points). I enjoy her, and think you will too.
Posted by Christopher at 12:01 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBackJanuary 27, 2006
California Love
When it comes to policy, California often leads where the federal government is slow to act. It is California emissions standards that the automakers follow now, not the federal standards... a generation ago, California's Proposition 13 was the harbinger of the 80s mantra of tax cuts. Now comes a story that I sincerely hope is a harbinger of things to come around the nation and even the world: California has declared second-hand smoke to be a toxic air pollutant, equal to diesel fumes or arsenic.
The move comes on the heels of a report by the state's environmental health hazards board that draws direct connections between second-hand smoke exposure and cancer deaths. The report by scientists at California's Office of Environmental Health Hazard Assessment draws on more than 1,000 other studies of the effects of passive smoke. It blamed secondhand smoke for 4,000 deaths each year in California from lung cancer or heart disease alone. The most significant new finding is that young women exposed to secondhand smoke increase their risk of developing breast cancer between 68 percent and 120 percent. The disease kills about 40,000 women in the United States each year.
My feelings about cigarettes are well known; I've never been shy about them on this site. And I don't want to hear any of the apologist mantra about how it's an individual choice and that if people want to do it to themselves, it's their right. More stats from California: The panel's 2005 study found that about 16 percent of all Californians smoked, but 56 percent of adults and 64 percent of adolescents were exposed to second-hand smoke.
That's 16 percent of Californians choosing to deliberately expose more than half the population -- and nearly two-thirds of the state's children -- to known carcinogens. You know, if a large corporation knowingly exposed two-thirds of a state's children to known carcinogens, there'd be literally millions of lawsuits, billions of dollars in fines, and public outcry about the abuse of power from corporate America. And yet when a dwindling minority of smokers chooses to do the same, suddenly they want to talk about how it's their individual right? What? It's your individual right to poison me -- and hundreds of thousands of kids, and millions of people? How about we let it be my individual right to discharge a fire extinguisher in your face any time I see one of those things in your mouth?
I say bravo, Calfornia. Hopefully the state's move is only the first among many states -- or, once there's a new administration less hostile to the environment and air quality, even including the federal government. Take a deep breath, Californians. You've earned it.
Posted by Christopher at 07:32 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBackJanuary 26, 2006
Back Soon
Hey ya... work and life backing up on me this week, there's been little time to blog. I'll try to have something new written tonight.
-- Mudge
Posted by Christopher at 05:07 AM | Comments (1)January 22, 2006
Get Fit Or Die Tryin'
FoM (that's "Friend of Mudge" for those playing along at home) Corey laid down a challenge a while ago that I said I would respond to... and then of course promptly got nowhere close to responding to. In a post last week, he laid out a challenge to his readers to join the Discovery.com Body Challenge 2006. I signed up... I don't have any expectations whatsoever that this challenge will have any impact at all -- it relies on "meal plans," which are totally unrealistic with the lifestyle of just about everyone I know; who the hell do they think has time to follow meal plans and spend 30 minutes or more cooking every day? But even if I don't follow their little program, Corey's done a good thing by challenging his readers to get fitter in 2006, and I intend to join him.
Frankly, I hate exercising. Always have. Even when I was in playing ball or in the Navy and in my peak condition, I hated working out; I just wanted to go play ball. That fabled "runners high" or endorphin release just has never happened with me, at any point in my life; it's never felt good. By now, all exercise does for me is make my bad knee and bad back ache, and make me uncomfortably sweaty. Far from "getting the juices flowing" and energizing me for the day, it just wears me out and makes it that much harder to get through the day and do the stuff I need to do. I hate the gym like I hate the Yankees or brussels sprouts.
But being a former ballplayer and moderately good athlete, having ballooned into Marlon Brandoesque territory is hard for me to accept... it has a severe impact on my self-image and self-confidence. And in the last six months especially, my body has been rebelling angrily at my lack of discipline and legitimate lack of time (damn high-stress, long-hours desk job!) for any of this junk (thankfully, my latest test results came back and they have finally proclaimed that I'm going to be fine...). So I know I have no choice this year... I have to do it. I resent the hell out of having to go, which makes my already sour mood about working out in general turn even more fierce. So the only way I'm going to actually go through with this !@*#%!@ thing is if folks like Corey turn it into a competition -- because the only thing I hate worse than the gym is losing.
Doc and Tim have run marathons in the past in both Chicago and New York; they have periodically made noises about running another one. I'm not ever going to be a marathon runner; between surgically repaired knees and the fact that even with 8% body fat I'd still weigh 210 pounds (big-boned ain't just an excuse, kids... some of us were born to be large people even when thin), I just don't have the physiology to run 26.2 miles. However... as the Doc has pointed out, the Philadelphia Marathon has a companion 8K run every year. And I think that's something to aim for -- especially given that the run isn't till November 19.
So Doc, Tim... I'm calling you out. You guys are the marathoners, so what about running the Philly one this year? I'm committing to being in shape to do the 8K; I will run it on November 19 if it kills me. You guys are fitter'n me, but we could all stand to do some training, so what say you? As for the rest of the readers here... especially those in the east coast/northeast area... what do you say we extend that Body Challenge for the rest of the year and have a group run of that 8K race? Hell, if I can do it -- me, the 250 pounder with bad knees and an allergy to treadmills -- anyone can. Anyone in with me?
Posted by Christopher at 02:06 AM | Comments (10) | TrackBackJanuary 21, 2006
The "X" Stands For Xtra Stupid
If you watch ESPN, you can't escape it, because they've been hyping it as a bigger deal than the Olympics. If you don't watch ESPN, you don't know about it -- because no one else in the world gives a rat's ass about it. "It," of course, is The X Games -- otherwise known as "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure."
For the uninitiated, the X Games are when a collection of teen and 20something sk8tr boi types who will all be played by Keanu Reeves in the movie of their lives get together and pretend to be in sports. They do gnarly things like ride motocross bikes upside down, get stoked and hit these rad half-pipes, and spell thing in funky ways, like "sk8" in order to show you just how rebellious they are. These are "games" for the kids who you gave noogies to in the high school halls; even Screech thought that these kids were lame. Now they've grown up, and they've taken over my ESPN for a few weeks every year.
Why do I hate the X Games and so-called "X Sports" in general? First of all, because there's nothing "sport" about them. They require some atheltic ability, I'll concede; but the only way these activites would be sport would be if we viewers were given elephant guns and allowed to hunt them like wild game while they perform. Sports actually have a purpose; X Games are designed primarily to give the participants a head rush. And let's face it: no sport whose recap of last year's event reads, "Last year, these muchachas showed each other what was up" is anything to be taken any more seriously than the North Slope TripWeed that it took to come up with a phrase like that. The X Games are to sports what Pixie Sticks are to nutrition: a pure-sugar induced orgy of hyperactivity that does no one any good and in fact drives grown-ups crazy.
The entire idea of the X Games strikes me as a juvenile cry for attention and an unoriginal, post-adolescent foot-stomping insistence that "We are different." In that sense, the X Games are a delayed onset occurance of the "rebellion" gene that usually asserts itself when a 14 year old dyes their hair blue and starts wearing jet-black fingernail polish and eyeliner. And anyone who's ever competed in a real sport can attest that the point of sports, the greatest lesson they teach, is teamwork -- the idea that there is a goal bigger than the individual, and that only by working together with others can this goal be achieved. The X Games are full of "look at me" types participating in activities in which the entire idea is to stand out as an individual. That's not sport; it's simply a physical representation of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs -- with the top layer missing, where you'd actually be self-actualized enough that you wouldn't need attention or seek self-acceptance by convincing yourself that you're not like everybody else.
The Doc, who is otherwise an intelligent, thoughtful, (semi)sane human being, inexplicably likes this garbage... and he's insisted to me more than once that X Games are actually a truer manifestation of the real spirit of sport than professional athletes are today; that the reason X Games are popular (though we should really define "popular," Doc!) is because kids today are increasingly sick of the punkish, me-first, I'll-do-what-I-want attitudes on display every day in pro sports from princes like Terrell Owens, Ron Artest, Allen "Practice?" Iverson, and others like them. He says that pro athletes have turned kids away and turned them inward, looking to find athletic achievement and challenge within themselves instead of from self-indulgent spoiled brats unworthy of their adoration.
While I'd love to agree with any theory in which today's selfish, I-love-me-some-me athlete is rejected out of hand, I gotta call you out for being wrong on this one, Doc. You're wrong because the X Games are manifestations of the very personality traits you say are being rejected. Athletes who can't play with team goals in mind? The X Games are all about flashy preening and showing off. Athletes who don't feel that the rules apply to them? X Games are sports all built around the concept of having no rules. Athletes who care more about themselves than their sport? You get points in X Games for being as individually flashy as possible. The X Games didn't spring from a disdain for the modern professional athlete's attitude; they are in fact the attitude's magnified extension. They respresent not a rejection of that attitude, but its embrace.
Here's hoping that this fad quickly finishes running its course, and all the Spicoli wannabes gathering in Aspen are released back into their natural habitats (VW vans reeking of pungent herbs parked on a beach somewhere) as soon as possible.
Posted by Christopher at 11:33 AM | Comments (18) | TrackBackMovin' On Up
According to Technorati, there are 25.9 million blogs in the world. Also according to Technorati's ranking system, The Chronic Curmudgeon is the 98,016th most popular blog in the world.
Ten percent of 25.9 million is 2.59 million. 1% of 25.9 million is 259,000. Half of that -- 0.5% -- is 129,500. I am 98,016th. In other words, I am in the top 0.4% of the world's most popular bloggers.
My mom always said I was special.
Posted by Christopher at 11:08 AM | Comments (11) | TrackBackJanuary 20, 2006
Randomly Random
A short collection of random thoughts for a Friday morning:
1. The Vatican newspaper condemns "intelligent design." There's an idiom that we used to use all the time as kids, whenever someone insulted you: "It takes one to know one." I kind of got that feeling when I read the Vaitcan's dismissal of so-called "intelligent design" -- that if anyone would recognize religious dogma, it'd be the folks running the religion I lapsed from. So I found this week's article in the Vatican paper to be noteworthy. "Intelligent design “doesn’t belong to science and the pretext that it be taught as a scientific theory alongside Darwin’s explanation is unjustified.” What he said, man. What he said.
2. Virtually visiting. For those who've always wanted to tour America's largest city but never had the time to get here, the Internet provides you The Virtual NYC Tour. It's not complete; there are no mentions or photos of The Mudge, The Beav, Jill, or Ethan for example (and I'm thinking that no tour of New York could possibly be complete without experiencing each of us in charming and witty person). Still, it gets you to lots of the other more well-known places in Manhattan. Kind of a cool site.
3. Music to your, uh, fingers. Looking for a semi-amusing time waster? CHeck out "Let Them Sing It For You." Type in any lyrics that spring to your mind (yes, even the dirty words), and the site will process them and "sing" them for you, in a weird, derivitive sort of way. Kind of cool that the technology can do something like that, dorky or not.
4. Sometimes, anonymity sucks. As I've said before, hiding behind the pseudo-anonymous "Mudge" persona allows me to keep writing this blog and writing what I want to write about, the way I want to write it. Given my increasingly public role in my career, that veneer of anonymity is becoming both more important and harder to maintain. And sometimes, it kind of sucks to have to do it. For example, I did a panel this week with one of the most well-known figures from the combined worlds of blogging and politics; he's a very insightful, very nice guy, and I would love to be able to share a little bit about our conversation and about the event itself. But - doing so would cross the streams, a la Ghostbusters, between the professional me and the Mudge me, and the result would be what Harold Ramis might call an ectoplasmic dimensional rift of catastrophic proportions. (Egon always did have a talent for deadpan melodrama.) So... no stories. Sigh.
5. Wham-O gets bought by China. Quick, think of some of the most Americana-evoking toys ever produced. The Frisbee? Check. Hula Hoop? Check. Silly String? Yep. And who among us didn't play on a Slip-N-Slide as a kid? Well... they're Americana no more. Wham-O, the company that makes all of these classic American toys, has been purchased by a Chinese company.
You know, the Chinese can buy all the computer and electronics companies they want, and it's cool with me; globalized economy/world is flat arguments are fine and dandy in those cases. But start selling off Great American Toys like the Frisbee and the Slip-N-Slide? That's an act of war, man. ;-)
Posted by Christopher at 05:43 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBackRhetorical Question #353,975
So how come the United States has spent 50 years punishing Fidel Castro for being a Communist, and yet engages in billions of dollars of trade with China? It can't be about human rights; China's government routinely commits some of the worst human rights abuses anywhere on the planet.
I couldn't help but juxtapose a couple of news stories this week: 1)Wham-O, the maker of such quintessential American toys as the Hula Hoop and the Frisbee, has been sold to a Chinese company -- joining several other high profile Chinese purchases of US companies in recent years; and 2) the US, led of course by the Bush Adminsiration, will not allow Cuba to play in the first World Baseball Classic -- a move that could lead to the cancellation of the tournament.
I don't get it. If communism is so bad that we need to have sanctions so severe that we can't even allow a baseball team to enter our country to play a game, then why the billions of trade every year with China and US firms building offices in Shanghai like it was SimCity? If free market economies can be used to break down walls of control and shatter the false economic precepts of communism, then why aren't we selling Wham-O to a Cuban company and letting Cuba play freaking baseball? (By the way... Cuba participated in the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta. The world didn't end.)
Sometimes, hypocrisy isn't just maddening, it's stupefying.
Frank Deford had an article in Sports Illustrated a month ago that I just found, but in it he explains what a stupid decision this is, and why. If you're a baseball fan, I strongly suggest that you read it. If you're an anti-Castro nutjob whose hatred blinds you to common sense, I insist that you read it. You can't have a World Baseball Classic without Cuba, whose people are among the world's most passionate fans of the game; if the Bush adminstration insists on trying, the rest of the world -- including US baseball players -- should just say, "forget it, then."
Posted by Christopher at 05:38 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBackJanuary 19, 2006
Betcha He's Still Too Stupid To Listen
Global warming isn't just a liberal conspiracy or a Hollywood fabrication anymore... now even Republicans are admitting it. In a damning indictment of George W. Bush's irresponsibility and individual fault over global warming, six former heads of the EPA -- five of them Republicans -- clobbered the current administration's ostrich-like position on global warming on Wednesday.
“I don’t think there’s a commitment in this administration,” said Bill Ruckelshaus, who was EPA’s first administrator when the agency opened its doors in 1970 under President Nixon and headed it again under President Reagan in the 1980s.
Russell Train, who succeeded Ruckelshaus in the Nixon and Ford administrations, said slowing the growth of “greenhouse” gases isn’t enough. “We need leadership, and I don’t think we’re getting it,” he said at an EPA-sponsored symposium centered around the agency’s 35th anniversary. “To sit back and just push it away and say we’ll deal with it sometime down the road is dishonest to the people and self-destructive.”
Gee, imagine that: the Bush administration being dishonest to the people. In other news, Pamela Anderson has implants.
Christie Whitman, the first of three EPA administrators in the current Bush administration, said people obviously are having “an enormous impact” on the earth’s warming. “You’d need to be in a hole somewhere to think that the amount of change that we have imposed on land, and the way we’ve handled deforestation, farming practices, development, and what we’re putting into the air, isn’t exacerbating what is probably a natural trend,” she said. “But this is worse, and it’s getting worse.”
Yeah well, Christie, Bush is most certainly in a hole somewhere. He's got his head up his...
Posted by Christopher at 10:02 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBackJanuary 18, 2006
Whither The Weather?
It's been a strange run of weather we've had in New York in the last few days. Friday night and Saturday, it was about 50-55 out, but with dense, pea soup-like fog even in low lying areas; it felt like a San Francisco morning around here. Saturday afternoon a front went through, and by 7:00 Saturday night it was sleeting and icing out, and the temperature dropped into the upper 20s. Sunday was bitterly cold, and Monday was worse; it was 11 degrees out when I went to work on Monday morning. Yesterday, it was back up around the mid 40s.
This morning, it is 60 degrees out, but there is a sustained wind of 28 mph, with gusts up to 52. I've a tree right outside the window by my bed, and it's been bending and the outer branches have been scratching the window all night long... so I've gotten sleep in 25 minute bursts between gusts. And the sound outside... if I didn't know better, I'd swear I was in a midwestern summer superthunderstorm, or down south as a tropical storm came ashore. I feel like I ought to be standing outside on a street in a blue Weather Channel slicker, telling people to stay off the streets because it's dangerous to be outside on the street. "Reporting live from outside on the street, where it's dangerous to be and you should stay away from, I'm the Chronic Curmudgeon."
Let's see, in the last 100 hours we've had some of the densest fog I've ever seen here, a 32 degree temperature drop in 5 hours, a sleet storm, bitterly frigid cold, a 45 degree rise in temperature over 30 hours, and gale force winds. Yeah, but this is all normal, there's no such thing as global warming. I'm half expecting a tornado this afternoon and a Chicago-like 100 degree heat wave tomorrow. Driving ought to be a blast today... or should I say a gust?
Posted by Christopher at 06:36 AM | Comments (12) | TrackBackSome People Need Lives
In one of the surest signs yet that what's left of American culture is going directly into the sewer system, someone has actually paid $25,000 for... one of William Shatner's kidney stones.
Actually, it's worse than that. It's not that someone has paid 25 Gs for it. I could probably live with it if it was some internet geek who'd never yet left his parents' basement, yet managed to build a new business that earned him a fortune. I'd be able to blow it off as just the utter geekiness of someone whom fortune has chosen inexplicably to smile upon. But nooooooo. The buyer was an online casin0 famous for its growing collection of oddities.
[the business] is noted for its collection of oddities, which includes a partially eaten cheese sandwich thought to contain the image of the Virgin Mary. “This is a bold new addition to our fleet,” [business] Chief Executive Officer Richard Rowe said in a statement. Shatner, who played Kirk on the original “Star Trek” TV show and won an Emmy for his role on “Boston Legal,” passed the stone last fall.
This online business expects to raise interest and get people to come to it because it owns William Shatner's kidney stone and a grilled cheese sandwich of the Virgin Mary. And the worst thing is, there will be people who do go to their site because of stuff like this. Granted, none of them will have more than four teeth and will likely have sired at least one of their own siblings, but it's mindboggling nonetheless.
Posted by Christopher at 06:16 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBackJanuary 16, 2006
The Dream
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal." I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood... I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today...
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring." And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania! Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado! Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California! But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia! Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee! Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"
Thank you, Dr. King. We'll see you at the mountaintop.
Posted by Christopher at 11:13 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBackDe-Lurking: It's Not Just For Breakfast Anymore
Eden did it. So did Pete. And now, because I can be frighteningly sheep-like at times with the originality of a Hollywood producer, I'm doing it. "It," of course, is observing National De-Lurking Week. Granted, technically it was last week, but I'm just getting around to it.
Anyway, what is De-Lurking? Simple: there's a lot of people who read others' blogs who just read, but either never comment at all (i.e., "lurk"), or only comment once in a blue moon. De-Lurking is the process by which we bloggers appeal to the better angels of these lurkers' nature, and ask them to expose themselves. NO, not that way! (Well, maybe.... depends on what you look like, I guess.)
Granted, I don't have the readership that I did pre-hiatus, nor do I come close to Pete-like or Eden-like audience levels... but Site Meter tells me that there's a few of you coming in regulalry who haven't sounded off. So today, let us know you're here. Say hello. Tell me your favorite song, or what the weather's like today where you are. Just say something. Please. De-Lurk. Your mother would want you to. It will make you run faster and jump higher. It's good for your libido.
January 15, 2006
When Cheap Effects Attack!
Generally speaking, I am a Europhile. I like Europeans. I love visiting Europe. I'm psyched that I get to go back there in about three months for work and will be there for a while.
But one thing I neither understand nor like about Europe is the taste Europeans have for the more embarrassing elements of American pop culture. The love of the French for Sharon Stone, for example. Or the bizarre and diisturbing fascination the Germans have with David Hasselhoff.
Courtesy of my friend Dave out in the Bay Area comes a link that makes that aforementioned German fascination even more troubling -- dare I say frightening. You'd think that having been the star of the world's most successful television series ever, and being a "big star" on the German music scene, Hasselhoff could afford special effects for his music videos. As you'll see here, this is not the case. In fact, it would appear that Mr. Hasselhoff hired the Sunnyvale Middle School A/V club to produce and do the effects for his video for his cover of "Hooked On A Feeling." Seriously, it's a 7th grade production project. Hell, my friend Ethan's video is 20 times better, and he just did his all by himself for a grad school project; he's not Germany's biggest musical star. (Well, not yet anyway.)
But you have to check this video out. Not only is it the most unintentionally, hysterical in that it's-so-awful-it's-funny way video of all time, but it features the whitest dancing in the history of all white men. Dig it when the acoustic solo ends and Hasselhoff is superimposed over the image of people dancing in the club... when that annoying "Ooga Chaka, Ooga Ooga, Ooga Chaka, Ooga Ooga" thing is going on: you won't even see dancing that white when I'm drunk enough to be in da club and on da floor. If you survive all the way to the very end, you're rewarded with fresh fish. And, of course, Hasselhoff dancing in front of that world famous Anchorage, Alaska skyline.
Destined to join that video of the fat kid singing the theme to Titanic and Hurra Torpedo's ass-crack and kitchen appliance version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" as the worst-best video performances of all time. It's that bad/good. Check it out here.
Posted by Christopher at 07:57 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBackAxels, Salchows, and Lutzes, Oh My!
I don't watch figure skating. I know virtually nothing about figure skating. I couldn't tell you the difference between a lutz and a salchow. I don't really much care, actually. It may be a beautiful sport, no disrespect to anyone who enjoys it, it's just that I don't watch it, and beyond the fact that it requires ice, music, and short little skirts, I don't know anything about it
I do know, however, that Sasha Cohen is hot. And her being the US champion means that she'll be on TV a lot during the Olympics. So I am very happy that Sasha Cohen won the US Women's Figure Skating Championship yesterday in St. Louis.
Congratulations, Sasha. You've accomplished an amazing achievement and I wish you the best in Turin next month. Call me.
Posted by Christopher at 07:43 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBackToxic Spread
The virus spreads shockingly quick, infesting areas of the planet so suddenly that often times officials don't realize the level of infection until it's too late. Ruthlessly, it poisons the environment wherever it takes hold, choking off everything in its path and representing the truest threat to a society's health that humankind now faces.
Avian flu? Ebola? Marburg? No, none of the above. This spreading pandemic begins right here in the United States. The poisonous virus is the American-styled religious conservative movement, and it's begun infesting the rest of the world.
From Peru to the Philippines to Poland, U.S.-based conservative groups are increasingly engaged in abortion and family-planning debates overseas, emboldened by their ties with the Bush administration and eager to compete with more liberal rivals. The result is that U.S. advocacy groups are now waging their culture war skirmishes worldwide as they try to influence other countries’ laws and wrangle over how U.S. aid money should be spent.
Innoculation is available in the form of common sense, logic and human decency... however, once this virus takes hold it is virtually impossible to eradicate. Those in other nations had best take heed and warning, before it's too late.
Posted by Christopher at 07:38 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBackJanuary 14, 2006
Future Hall of Famers, Part Two: American League Central
All right, continuing on the idea I started yesterday, here are my Locks, Probables, and Potentials for the Baseball Hall Of Fame from the AL Central division.
Locks:
Ivan Rodriguez (2,190 hits, 264 HR, 1,050 RBI, 104 SB, .304 career BA, 11 gold gloves, 12 time all star -- including 10 straight, one MVP) First of all, Rodriguez was considered the best at his position in either league for a decade straight. He was the best defensive catcher of his generation, possibly of all time. How many catchers do you know who stole 100+ bases? Who batted over .300 in a season, much less for a career? Among catchers, only Carlton Fisk had more hits -- and I-Rod needs only 167 more hits to overtake the immortal Pudge. Only five catchers (Piazza, Berra, Bench, Fisk and Carter) have ever had more home runs, and only six (the same five, plus Gabby Hartnett) have ever had more RBI. So - Rodriguez is perhaps the best defensive catcher ever, and one of the top five offensively. And his performance carrying the 2003 Florida Marlins through the post-season on the way to a world title was legend-cementing. The only question with Ivan Rodriguez going into the Hall is whether he breaks 95% on the first ballot. As a former catcher myself, I have loved watching this guy play the game; we've all been privileged to see one of the best to ever play.
Probables:
Frank Thomas (2,136 hits, 448 HR, 1,445 RBI, 2 AL MVPs, .307 career BA) Two MVPs say a lot, as do the power numbers. BUT… injuries have robbed him of nearly half his team’s games in the last five years… and, fair or not, voters may well look very differently on the power numbers of sluggers from the 1990s. I’m not accusing Thomas of anything, nor am I saying he doesn’t deserve to go in. In fact, his numbers are even more amazing when you realize that they were primarily accumulated in 12 seasons and not 16. But do I consider him a lock? No. Will he get in? I think eventually… but it won’t be on the first two ballots. 70% chance to get in.
Click below to see the "Potentials."
Potentials:
Jim Thome (1,665 hits, 430 HR, 1,193 RBI). How could I argue that a guy with 430 HR (and a good shot at 500 HR) isn’t a lock or even a probable for the Hall? Easy. 1,665 hits in 15 seasons, and 1,762 strikeouts. Literally, the guy strikes out more often than he gets a hit. Plus, he was only an all-star four times -- in fifteen years, he was only considered among the best at his position four times. And, he only finished in the top five in the MVP voting once in those fifteen years. Add into the mix the likely voter re-assessment of 90s era power numbers, and Thome looks less like a Hall of Famer to me.
He may well get in, because many voters will still be blinded by his likely career 500 Hrs, but if I were voting, right now Thome would not get my vote. He’s 36 this year and has a gimpy back… making even 2000 hits a question. In my book, not a HOFer unless he a) gets to 2200/550; b) enjoys a renaissance as the White Sox’ DH and has a few more 35+ HR seasons even without the hits; c) emerges with post-season heroics that give him that “champion” air (right now his career post-season BA is .229). I think he’s got anout a 33% chance to get in, but for me, Jim Thome is not a Hall of Famer.
Juan Gonzalez (1,936 hits, 434 HR, 1,404 RBI, 2 AL MVPs) Sure, he’s won two MVP awards (though it can be quite persuasively argued that he shouldn’t have won either one; Alex Rodriguez probably should have won in 1996, and either Junior Griffey or Nomar Garciaparra in 1998). But JuanGon has only been an all-star 3 times, and pretty much fell off the table after 2001. Given that every slugger of this era is going to face steroid suspicions, and that JuanGon has been far more notable this decade for his injuries than his play, I don’t think he makes it. But - voters could be swayed by the two MVPs and 400+ homers. 20% chance to get in.
Paul Konerko (1,115 hits, 210 HR, 692 RBI, 29 yrs old) His post-season heroics this year certainly helped his cause, made him beloved in Chicago (and being beloved can get you in with borderline numbers; just ask Kirby Puckett), and eventually Konerko's power numbers could be there. The problem is that he didn’t emerge until he was 28/29 as a premier player, and has spend his career mostly being overshadowed by many others at his position.
Still, two straight 40 HR seasons plus a post-season legend-making performance bear watching. At his career average,Konkero needs help, ending up with about 2300 hits and 400 HR -- good but not great. But he's just entering his prime as a slugger, and another half decade of years like his last two, with 160 hits, 40 HR, and 110 RBI per season, and Konerko could end up with 2500 hits and 475/500 home runs. It's possible. He's a 10% longsht to get in, but worth keeping an eye on.
Johan Santana (59-25, 901 Ks, 3.31 ERA, 1.126 WHIP, 1 Cy Young, age 26) 6 seasons, but only 2 ½ as a starter. Despite my cousin Joe’s fervent insistence during the 2004 playoffs that Johan Santana was already the greatest pitcher of his generation -- and quite possibly who ever lived -- after just a season and a half as a starter, I’m still a little more skeptical. I think it’s just a little too early to anoint Santana or mint his Cooperstown bronze just yet. Call me funny that way.
Actually, Santana has had an amazing beginning to his career as a starter; remove his early years as a middle reliever, and in 2 ½ years as a starter he’s 48-16, with 702 Ks, an incredible 0.988 WHIP, and an ERA of 2.825. Those are unbelievable numbers, kids. Give him five more seasons like that, and he’s looking at 145 wins and 2000 Ks. Give him 10 or 11 more years at even 80% of where he’s started from, and you’ve got a 225-250 win guy with 3000 Ks and probably at least one more Cy. It’s way, way too early yet to project him as a HOFer; injuries can still happen, especially with pitchers, and no one’s ever gone to the Hall on 2 ½ seasons. But boy, does this kid bear watching.
.
January 12, 2006
Future Hall of Famers, Part One: American League West
Now that the Hall of Fame class of 2006 has been announced (and Goose Gossage and Jim Rice were shamefully not in it), I've been thinking a lot lately about players I've seen play who I think are Hall of Famers. Time and perspective lead me to believe Gossage and Rice are HOFers even though I watched them play mostly when I was a kid. But... if I were a kid today, who would I be bragging about having seen when I was young? I'm good friends with my boss, and he has a 12 year old son. If I were him (the son, not my boss), who would I be thinking about when I was 37 -- in 2031 -- from my youth who were among the greatest players ever? In other words... who's playing today that will make it to Cooperstown?
By division, here are my picks. I've divided them up three ways: Locks (guys who are going no matter what), Probables (guys who, barring injury or a sudden and inexplicable fall-off, will make it if the remainder of their career follows their current arc -- and assuming some drop-off with age), and Potentials (guys who might make the Hall if they continue to improve, and they have a few more years performing a little bit better than they have to date). Locks I have saved for players who, if they had a career-ending injury tomorrow, are still in based on what they've already done. Probables are guys I think will eventually go, but they have to keep it up for a few more years. Potentials could do it if the stars line up for them. Any questions? I'll start with the American League West, and do a division per day. And awaaaaaay we go.
American League West
Locks: None.
Probables:
1. Vladimir Guerrero. In just over 9 seasons, 30 year old Vladdy has collected 1,586 hits and has a lifetime batting average of .324; he has 305 HR, 936 RBI, 860 runs, 151 stolen bases, has one MVP award. That's in nine years. He's averaging about 175 hits, 34 home runs, 95 runs, and 104 RBI per season -- and he missed much of 2003 with injury! True, he does have a spotty back, and back injuries don't bode well; that said, he's only missed 27 games in the last two seasons. Vlad's 30 now, so we can expect about another 3-4 seasons of this kind of peak performance from him before he starts to decline; that's about another 650 hits, 125 HR, 350 runs, and 375 RBI right there. Even factoring a mid-to-late 30s decline into the picture, barring injury Guerrero should end up with about 2,750 hits, more than 500 home runs, about 1700 RBI, maybe 200 stolen bases, and should score about 1600 runs before he's done. Add in the fact that he's been one of the most feared hitters in the game for at least the last three or four years, and should be for at least another three, maybe more... and you've got a guy who goes in on the irst ballot if he keeps this up.
2. Ichiro Suzuki . He came to MLB late, arriving from Japan at the age of 27 in 2001. But in only five major league seasons, Ichiro has an incredible 1,130 hits and a lifetime average of .332, has stolen 190 bases, scored 561 runs, won five Gold Gloves, was the 2001 MVP and Rookie of the Year, and set the all-time record for most hits in a season. He's fit and healthy, so it's easy to expect he could play another 10 years, even though he's 32 now. Averaging more than 200 hits a season (actually, so far he's averaging about 225, but who's counting), it is entirely possible the man could end up with 3,000 hits despite not playing a day in MLB until he was 27. Even allowing or a slowdown, it's highly likely that Ichiro will end up with at least 2,500 hits, more than 400 stolen bases, will score 1500 runs, and could well win a Gold Glove every year he plays until he retires. The man is the premier get-on-base threat of his generation, and has been among the very best defensively at his position through his entire career. If Ichiro plays even five more years at just 80% of where he's been for the first five, he's not only a HOFer, he might make it on the first ballot.
Click through below to see my "potentials" from the AL West.
Potentials:
1. Eric Chavez. (1,026 hits, 190 HR, 644 RBI, 5 gold gloves in 8 seasons). He's never been an all-star, though -- never even been considered among the best at his position in a single year. Cumulatively he's doing okay -- but the Hall doesn't like third basemen anyway, and the numbers just won't be there at the end... unless he steps up in the next six years (he's 27 now). Currently he extrapolates out to 2,000+ hits, 350 HR, 1250 RBI; that won't cut it. Get up to 2500/450/1400? Maybe he'd have a shot. I'm saying he's a 15% bet to get there.
2. Barry Zito (86-53, 3.50 ERA, 1.222 WHIP, 945 Ks, 1 Cy Young Award in 5 1/2 seasons). His ERA is a full run below the league average during his career, which is impressive in a hitters' era. And he has the most devastating curve ball of his generation. Problem is, he has been a .500 pitcher for three straight years now, and he's among the streakiest hurlers in the game. Even though 250 wins is going to be in the future what 300 was in the past, I'm not sure Barry gets there... even if he gets 10 more good years in, winning only 14 games a year only puts him at 230 or so... good but not great. And the strikeouts -- at current pace, he'll end up with about 2700 Ks. Again, good but not great. He's got the curveball and the talent to win 260 and strike out 3000... but I don't know if it will ever be enough. He's about an 8% chance to get in.
3. Mark Texieria. It's waaaay too early to talk seriously about him yet; he's only 25 and a three year vet. I'm not even going to give percentages yet. But I bring him up because you should note the numbers; in three seasons, Texieria has 484 hits, 107 HR, 340 RBI, 279 runs, 104 doubles and a Gold Glove. That's a hell of a way to start a career, and he bears watching in the coming years. I see at least one MVP in this kid's future.
Posted by Christopher at 08:17 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBackChuck Norris Facts... and Reacts
Courtesy of Boing Boing, this gave me quite a laugh when I read it -- and gave me a begrudging respect for an aging action movie star who seems to have a sense of humor and some Net savvy. There's a site out there called "Chuck Norris Facts" that was easily the funniest thing I've seen all week. (True, I've had kind of an unfunny week, but these are still amusing.) It lists a whole series of obviously made up "facts" about how badass 80s action star and 90s TV star Chuck Norris is. Among my favorites:
-- Chuck Norris has counted to infinity. Twice.
-- The opening scene of the movie "Saving Private Ryan" is loosely based on games of dodgeball Chuck Norris played in second grade.
-- Chuck Norris drives an ice cream truck covered in human skulls.
From Boing Boing's entry, it appears that the origin of these witticisms is somewhat in question; this guy says he started it. I don't care where it started, these are pretty funny. But where the story gets interesting is when you read the real Chuck Norris' response to it all. He's pushing 70 now, so you might not expect that he'd be one to "get" Internet humor or know what to do with it. But his response is smart.
Some are funny. Some are pretty far out. Being more a student of the Wild West than the wild world of the Internet, I'm not quite sure what to make of it. It's quite surprising. I do know that boys will be boys, and I neither take offense nor take these things too seriously. Who knows, maybe these made up one-liners will prompt young people to seek out the real facts as found in my recent autobiographical book, "Against All Odds?" They may even be interested enough to check out my novels set in the Old West, "The Justice Riders," released this month.
First, he shows a sense of humor. Next, humility ("I neither take offense nor take these things too seriously.") Then, he tries to use them to his advantage in an overt yet unintrusive way. This is either a very smart man, or he has very wise advisors. Either way, that's a very smart response from a guy who clearly "gets it."
I've never been a fan of Chuck Norris; action movies ain't my thing (demonizing whoever America's most feared enemy du jour is, or blowing stuff up/kicking people/vigilante justice crap does nothing for me), and the love that Christian activists showed for Walker, Texas Ranger was enough to guarantee that it would never see my television set. But I'll cut Mr. Norris some slack after reading his response. Besides, if I don't, he might give me a roundhouse kick to the face.
Posted by Christopher at 07:00 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBackBlog Stew: Mid-Week Version
A quick collection on unorganized thoughts for you here as we downshift into the upcoming weekend:
1. Best. Almost Mis-Read. Headline. Ever. Somewhere in the bowels of the AP offices, there's a 20something headline writer chortling over this one, elbowing his friends and going, "Pope shooter... behind... ya think anybody got it?"
2. Mark Their Words. For the love of everything holy, somebody please transcribe the Alito hearings and write down every last damn word the Republicans and conservatives bandy around about how nominees to the Supreme Court don't have to answer any question they don't want to. Beyond displaying a galling disrespect for the American people (how DARE a nominee actually have to explain to the people his judicial philosphy? they should just accept conservatives' word for it and accept conservative court stacking for a generation or two!), the Republicans should expect to be held accountable for what they're saying.
Someday, whether in a couple of years or less (or heaven forbid, more), the current totalitarian regime will be gone, and a Democrat will once again sit in the White House. That Democrat may have opportunity to nominate someone to the Supreme Court. And when that happens, I want to be able to remind every last stinking Republican that according to them, no nominee has to answer any question he/she doesn't feel like answering, and that the people are owed no answers or explanations if the party in power deems them unnecessary. It's the Republican philosophy on display this week, and while I disagree with it, I see no reason not to hoist them on their own petard when the opportunity comes.
3. A-Rod is a Wuss. When you try to please everyone, Bitch Slap, because you're deathly afraid of actually taking a side or making a stand or having an opinion, you end up bugging everybody. Be a man, choose whether you're going to play for the Domican Republic or the United States in the World Baseball Classic, and then defend your decision and live with it. This pansy-ass "I don't want to play because I don't want to offend anybody" bullcrap is just one more reason why Alex Rodriguez isn't fit to be the face of baseball. Give me Pujols, give me David Ortiz -- hell, give me Derek Jeter -- before this chickenspit.
4. Saturation Point. Just in time for me getting my iPod comes the final proof that the gadget has permanently entered the mainstream, like Walkmans, CDs, and DVDs before it: Levis is now making jeans with a pre-sewn pocket to hold the wearer's iPod.
I got on the "hip" bandwagon just twelve days before iPods went from "wow" to "duh!"
Scenes From An Instant Message Session: The Olsen Twins
An recent IM session between my friend The Beav (her blog is far raunchier than mine, so consider yourself forewarned if you're heading over there...) and I that I still find amusing (note: in this conversation, I will be playing the role of the not funny one):
Mudge: LOS ANGELES - Britney Spears tops Mr. Blackwell’s annual Worst-Dressed list for looking like “an over-the-hill Lolita.” Mary-Kate Olsen’s dumpster chic lands her in second place.
Mudge: Dammit
Beav: wow
Mudge: my two favorite too-young-to-look-at chicks
Beav: ok what is with MK
Beav: are you SURE you've got the right one?
Beav: that woman is HIDEOUS
Mudge: Blackwell says it looks like Olsen needs bug spray instead of perfume.
Mudge: MK is much better than Ashley
Beav: no freakin way
Mudge: i like boho girls
Beav: you are CRAZY
Beav: I hate the word boho
Beav: boohoo
Mudge: ashley looks like some suburban princess
Beav: yeah, but that's her style -- her face is pretty at least
Beav: MK looks like a heroin addicted fraggle
Mudge: lol
Mudge: MK looks like she's real. too thin, but real
Beav: BLECH
Beav: real skeletal
Mudge: like she'd kick back a beer with ya, while ashley would snoot if the white wine wasn't expensive enough
Beav: ethiopian chic
Mudge: MK looks easier, too. ;-)
Beav: easy to lose in the couch
Mudge: LOL
Mudge: find her with the quarters?
Beav: yeah man!
Beav: you're vacuuming and you hear a THWOK
Mudge: LOL
Beav: and then a knock from inside the canister
Beav: "[mudge]! it's me, MK"
Dissent and the Regime
After a short stretch in which he actually conceded mistakes or the first time and sinking poll numbers forced him to say publicly that disagreeing with him wasn't unpatriotic, the dictator in the White House is back to his real self. Apparently buoyed by a stabillization in the polls, General Bush (yeah, to get a rank you actually have to have served in the military instead of going AWOL and lying about it, but since he and his administration behave like a third world banana republic tin can military junta, we might as well give him the honorific) this week accused anyone who disagrees with him of giving "comfort to our adversaries."
While it's obvious that Bush and the dwindling number of Republicans who still support his regime would far prefer an unthinking, unquestioning, cattle-like America of zombie drones -- or would simply love to amend the Constituion to make dissent illegal -- unfortunately the whole "the only way to be patriotic is to agree 100% with Bush" BS has finally begun to wear thin on the American people, and it impacted his poll numbers recently. (Well, that and lying about the war, bungling the response to Katrina, and allowing his oil cronies to jack gasoline above $3.00 per gallon.) I doubt it'll work this time.
As for giving comfort to adversaries, I am proud to call myself an adversary of George Bush, and yeah -- every time an American citizen actually thinks or dares to ask questions of this regime, it absolutely brings me comfort.
Posted by Christopher at 06:52 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBackJanuary 10, 2006
What's Good For The Goose Is Good For The Sutter
So, the Baseball Hall of Fame election results were announced today. I have no problem with Bruce Sutter being elected; in fact, I would have voted for him if I'd had a vote. But for Goose Gossage and Jim Rice to come up 54 and 53 votes short, respectively, is a joke. Gossage was far and away the most feared closer of his day -- as innovative and dominating as Sutter was, I'd have rather faced him than Gossage. And Jim Rice was the premier American League slugger of his day, one of the top five power hitters in his era, and a dominant figure who led the AL in both home runs and triples in different seasons ... when do you ind a power hitter with the speed to leg out enough triples to lead the league? And ask any pitcher of the late 70s and early 80s who they'd least like to face, and you'd get one of three names: Reggie Jackson, George Brett, or Jim Rice. The first two are in the Hall of Fame. The latter one should be.
You can make cases for others on the ballot: Bert Blyleven, Andre Dawson, Jack Morris, or even Alan Trammell. But to leave Gossage and Rice -- two of the best players of their era -- out of the Hall is a Devil Ray-sized joke. The writers blew it this year. Big time.
Posted by Christopher at 10:23 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBackA New York Minute
It's been one of those bizarro weeks in Curmudgeonland. Yesterday morning, a news article ran that I was a big part of, and sadly for me it was complemented by a disturbingly large and somewhat out of proportion photo that literally took up 2/3 of the front page of the local business section. (If you know me in real life, a Google News search on my name'll reveal the story -- without photo, thankfully! -- if you don't... as much as I was tempted to share and show my plumage a little, I decided in the end that maintaining a veneer of anonymity on this blog allows me to keep writing it the way I want to... so no links. Sorry.). And the only thing worse than opening the morning paper and seeing your own towering, goony image looming over things ... is realizing what your friends at the office are going to do when they get ahold of it. Suffice it to say that I'll probably be a lot more judicious in the future about which photo poses I'll agree to; the boys in the office have been merciless.
Today was also interesting... Ethan, another friend/colleague whose privacy I'll protect by simply christening him with the totally from left field nom de plume, "Jacques Smithsteen," and I were in Manhattan today to meet and do a consultation with another big company (whose name you'd know if I was indiscreet enough to slip it). We got major league wined and dined at one of those chi-chi Manhattan restaurants that you usually only see on TV -- Osteria del Circo, which is owned and has the same executive chef as Le Cirque. (I had the butternut squash bisque and the ricotta & spinach ravioli with butter and sage, with the mixed sorbet for dessert, in case you were curious.) There were three of us; there were six of "them" who'd come along to hear our schpiel. We spent the better part of two and a half hours chatting and actually sounding smart. And that's a weird feeling... not being smart, but realizing that a major company has people spending hundreds of dollars for the privilege of meeting you and picking your brain for a while -- and that you actually give them their money's worth. Maybe Ethan's used to that feeling now (feel free to expand on this in the comments, Eth), but it's one I'm still getting a handle on.
As I walked through the streets of Midtown Manhattan today, my best attempts at business suit formality being thwarted by a stiff breeze that made an Einstein-like mess of my hair (god, do I need a haircut!), I used the cover of sunglasses to acutely observe that even in the dead of winter, there are plenty of incredible examples of the female of the species in Manhattan who are more than happy to dress as if it were May. I have frequently ripped on New York in the pages this blog, and suspect I will again (more than once), but I must admit, it's good to be a boy and be walking down the street in this town.
It's dorky to think and even dorkier to say, but as I walked past all the power lunch restaurants full of self-important business types doing Important Things and having Important Conversations together, I realized that I'd been one of 'em today -- and I'd fit in. I wasn't the sore toe in the sneaker, forced to fit in quite uncomfortably and making each step along the path more painful than the last. I was one of those people. And all I could think was, "When the hell did this become my life?" And then all I could think after that was, "Will you stop taking yourself so bloody seriously?" And then after that, all I could think of was, "How can she wear a miniskirt when it's 45 degrees out?" And then all I could think of was, "I really should have peed before I left the restaurant."
These are things that occur to me on random Tuesdays in Midtown Manhattan.
Posted by Christopher at 07:58 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBackJanuary 09, 2006
He's Ba-a-a-a-a-a-a-ck
Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water... dunh dun... dunh dun... dun-dun-dun-dun, dun-dun-dun-dun, dun-dun-duh-DUNNNN...
Yes, our old friend the Doc, who'd relegated himself to the occasional attempts to be funny in my comment field, has returned to blogtopia after more than a year away (during which I can only assume he, er, amused himself in ways we'd all prefer not to think about). SpinMD is back -- drop by and give him a shout, will ya?
Not only is he back, but he's back with a bang. (No, not that kind of bang. Get your minds out of the gutter.) He did a post just before New Year's, right when it was announced that Michael Vale -- the guy from those old "Time to make the donuts" commercials for Dunkin Donuts -- had passed away at 83. Ol' Doc suggested that perhaps Dunkin Donuts ought to do a memorial commercial for Mr. Vale.
Fast forward a week. Saturday Night Live is on, and all of a sudden, Michael Vale's walking out of his house half-asleep, muttering 'time to make the donuts." After about 20 seconds of all the old commercials, they faded to white, and showed the words, "He didn't just make the donuts... he made us smile. In Memoriam: Michael Vale (1922-2005)." Which was not only touching, but was pretty much the commercial Doc had described/concepted/suggested a week earlier. Do ad agencies scour the blog planet looking for ideas? Maybe they do -- at least the Doc's ideas anyway. Kinda cool, I thought.
Posted by Christopher at 08:28 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBackJanuary 08, 2006
Reclamation
Everybody has a song or two that they lose over the course of the years, as various relationships start, run their course, and end. If they end amicably, you keep custody of the songs that represented or supplemented them. But if things end in an ugly or painful way, you lose those songs. From that point, you don't ever want to hear those songs on the radio; you turn the station as quickly as possible. If you're too slow on the draw and happen to hear more than a few seconds, it impacts your mood for the next few minutes or longer. If you're out somewhere and the song comes on the Muzak, or gets played at a reception or party, you'll find a reason to leave the room for a few minutes. You may even be so drastic as to throw out or give away the CD you bought when the song incited much more innocent feelings. Especially if you're a guy, you don't admit to your friends or anyone else that the song bugs you; you don't mention it or make a big deal if it comes on when you're around other people But admit it aloud or not, you know that you've lost that song -- you'll never hear it the same way again, and you'll never listen to it if you can at all help it. It's gone for you.
For me, one of those songs is "Beautiful Mess" by Diamond Rio. (Yeah, it's country-pop. So? I like country, for one; and besides, it was what she listened to, so by default it was what I listened to. Sometimes, you don't pick the song -- it picks you.) If you haven't heard it, it's a harmless, uptempo little piece of harmony-laden fluff about a guy who's happily and completely lost control over his new woman, to the point where even he notices that he's 'not quite right' anymore. He's laughing to himself about how out of it this girl's made him. It captures that butterfly-laden, first intense weeks-where-you're-falling-in-love-and-can't-get-enough-of-each-other, half-crazy and half-afraid feeling that we've all felt at the outset of a relationship that ended up being really significant (whether it lasted or not).
The song was really big on the country charts a few years ago, right about the time that I started hopping on JetBlue or Delta flights to south Florida every weekend, wondering what the hell it was about this particular woman that was making me want to drop $200-$300 every week just to see her for two or three days before I had to come back to New York, wondering what my friends thought of the whole thing, wondering if I really knew what I was doing, wondering why an un-sentimental curmudgeon like me was getting butterflies every time I walked through Palm Beach International, wondering if I had completely lost it.
We sang along to it when it came on the radio when we drove home from the airport; we danced like idiots in the living room when it came on; I'd sing a line or two when we were drifting off to sleep, and she'd laugh a little and cuddle in a little closer, and fall asleep with a smile on her face. It was devoutly not the kind of song I ever get into, but then again, I wasn't behaving like my usual self either, so it seemed fine. (For the record, there's nothing wrong with that out-of-your-mind rush; it's making rash decisions during the out-of-your-mind rush that gets you into trouble.)
Even after my flights became "up to New York" rather than "down to Florida," we held on to "Beautiful Mess." But we all know how things turned out. And in the aftermath of the demise, I lost that song. At first my reaction to it was angry -- violently hitting the next preset button on the radio and getting grouchy as hell for a few minutes; later, I got past the angry part but still never listened to it. Even after I'd gotten over the worst of missing the girl, "Beautiful Mess" remained adamantly on my Do Not Play list. It wasn't that it reminded me of her; more than anything else, the song reminded me that I'd made a mistake -- that I'd lost control of my own best judgement, and done something completely out of character, impulsive, and in the end ill-advised. I messed up, and the only thing I hate worse than messing up is being reminded that I messed up.
Fast forward a few years. I'm older, wiser, heavier (!), and a bit more forgiving of myself for having made foolish judgements back then. I'm organizing song lists on my new iPod, and all of a sudden there it is in my iTunes library... last played about two years ago. For whatever reason, something made me click on it. And the damnedest thing happened. As the song began, instead of getting angry or feeling all the old kicked-in-the-testicles-and-can't-catch-your-breath sensations again... I actually smiled. The memories that came back weren't the unhappy and angry and betrayed ones. I didn't relive the ugliness at the end. Instead, I was back on JetBlue, flying from JFK to PBI and wondering what it was about this particular girl that made me willing to fly to Florida every weekend, having butterflies and wondering if I'd completely lost my mind. (As it turns out, my friends all thought I had - only no one said anything. Doc eventually told me, "We all knew... but you were so happy that no one wanted to ruin it for you." I haven't yet decided whether I should thank him or throttle him.)
All of a sudden, no one else owns that song anymore. Not her, not The Other Guy... no one else. I do. It's mine again. I may not listen to it again for another two years. I may listen to it again this morning. It doesn't matter when; the point is that I will listen to it. And that's kind of cool, you know?
Posted by Christopher at 07:39 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBackI Want To Thank The Gonademy...
In resopnse to Doc, who thinks I went a little bit soft with today's other entry, here's a quick piece of much harder news... the adult video awards were handed out this past weekend, and received mainstream attention. (Question: Do these awards have nicknames? I mean, instead of the "Oscars," are these the "Jimmies?" The "Dicks?" Just curious.)
But unlike the Golden Globes and Emmys, the goody bag contained "Barely Legal" playing cards and Hustler condoms, and the stars such as Arnold Schwartzenpecker and Britney Rears were not quite household names..
Okay, I'll give the Britney chick some credit; that's a funny nom de... er... nom de boom.
The 23rd annual Adult Video News Awards... boasted a higher attendance than ever this year, with more than 5,000 watching Saturday night's two-hour-long event in a huge ballroom at the ritzy Venetian Hotel.
Couldn't they have found something else to call it, even for one night, besides "huge ballroom?"
The winners were as earnest and even as tearful as their Hollywood counterparts in their appreciation of the glass trophies they took home, and works such as "A Day Without Whores" and "Big Butt Road Trip" won fulsome praise.
Something tells me I'd have been in tears too, had I worked on something called "Big Butt Road Trip." Anyone else besides me wondering exactly what shape those glass trophies were? And what were the speeches liike? "I'd like thank my fluffer for always being there for me -- you're the best!"
Ron Jeremy, a portly p0rn superstar, pledged to keep delivering the goods for his fans.
Now I can sleep better at night.
Adult entertainment... shot mainly in Southern California's San Fernando Valley, racked up estimated sales of $12.6 billion in 2005, according to statistics compiled by AVN. That compared with U.S. theatrical revenue of $8.9 billion for mainstream Hollywood films, according to figures from box office tracking firm Exhibitor Relations.
$12.6 billion? Something tells me that's not all just teenage boys in their parents' basements, or guys in polyester who refer to themselves as "The" something. ("The Jack-meister." "The Larrynator." "The Big Lebowksi." You get the idea.) We're spending more on adult entertainment as a country than the GDP of many countries -- not just small ones either, but countries like Hungary, Mexico, Russia and Thailand.
It's insight like this that keeps you coming back to me, I know.
Posted by Christopher at 05:48 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBackJanuary 07, 2006
Punkz and Thugz
Two athletes on my list of people who are splashing in the shallow end of the gene pool:
1. Bode Miller. Seriously, this guy is like 29 IQ points short of the short yellow bus. And at this point I'm kinda thinking I should've taken him in the Dead Pool. I mean, this might be one of the more irresponsible things I've ever heard an athlete say:
Bode Miller knows he puts his life at risk when he skis drunk, but the outspoken Olympic favorite admits he may try the dangerous activity again. “Talk about a hard challenge right there ... If you ever tried to ski when you’re wasted, it’s not easy,” Miller told “60 Minutes” for a segment that will air Sunday. “Try and ski a slalom when ... you hit a gate less than every one second, so it’s risky. You’re putting your life at risk... It’s like driving drunk, only there are no rules about it in ski racing.” Asked if the risk meant he would never ski drunk again, Miller replied “No, I’m not saying that.”
This little weasel is just asking for the Sonny Bono ending. And when it happens, no one should feel any sort of sympathy for him whatsoever. I just figured out who I am rooting against in Turin. He qualifies as the "punk" in this story.
2. Marcus Vick. This thug is gonna end up going the Maurice Clarett route; I'm willing to bet you $20 that Marcus Vick is in jail within three years. And it can't happen soon enough for me. Vick, you may have heard, has been kicked off the Virginia Tech football team -- and gee, I'll just bet you he won't be bothered with school anymore either -- for cumulative on field unsportsmanlike conduct and maturity issues, and repeated off-field arrests and transgressions and not-getting-into-legal-trouble issues. The straw that broke the camel's back was Vick's deliberate stomping of an opponent during January 2's Gator Bowl; the opponent's offense was apparently tackling Vick.
However, it's not like the stomp was an isolated incident. During the season, Vick threw an elbow into the back of the head of West Virgina's coach on the sidelines, and flipped the bird to West Virginia fans. Off the field, Vick has been in legal trouble repeatedly since arriving at Virginia Tech. He was arested in February 2004 for providing alcohol to 14 and 15 year old girls (and convicted that May of contributing to the deliquency of a minor); he was charged in July 2004 with reckless driving and possession of marijuana, and was suspended for the 2004 football season after pleading guilty to those charges. Then in December, he was pulled over for speeding and was found to be driving with a suspended license. And he's all of 21. Yeah, a real good egg, this one; a real prince. He's got a great future ahead of him in license plate production.
Of course, did he learn anything after being kicked out of college football? DId he understand that his personal conduct was out of line, was unacceptable, and had consequences? What do you think?
"It's not a big deal. I'll just move on to the next level, baby" he said.
First of all, I am begging the teams of the NFL not to draft this pathetic loser. Drafting him sends a horrible message that there is no accountability in sports, and Marcus Vick ought to be allowed to continue his inevitable path of destroying his own life and heading toward a 12 year prison sentence without interference from the NFL. Vick has no place in anything that calls itself "professional."
But secondly, Marcus Vick represents everything I despise about most modern athletes, and the reason I can barely watch or even care about sports anymore. He very obviously believes himself above reproach, as an untouchable whose actions will never have any consequences. The arrogance with which he's just decided and proclaimed that it doesn't matter what kind of trouble he's in, because he'll just go pro, is EXACTLY the problem with most college athletes today; they're shielded and coddled from any kind of personal responsib