« January 2006 | Main | March 2006 »
February 27, 2006
Good News Sells
Post a link to some inspiring video of a story that is impossible to watch without feeling better about humanity and the world... and here's what happens to your blog's hit traffic:
I didn't post it looking for traffic, I was just inspired. But what's turning out to be just as inspiring is how many people are interested in this story... how many people have heard about Jason's feat and want to be part of it, even if just by watching the video. Thanks, Jason!
Insomniac Radio
I hate insomnia. Freaking hate it. I've been a difficult sleeper since I was a kid, although it's progressed from sleepwalking as a 13 year old to this maddening inability to fall asleep that catches up to me a few nights each week now. As much stuff as I need to be writing professionally heading into Monday, I don't trust myself at 2:25 in the morning to write anything that actually needs to be any good. So I'm trying to blog myself to sleep. Yeehaw!
Let's see... I haven't talked music much lately. What am I listening to these days? Here's the current playlist for the different channels on CM (Curmudgeon M) satellite radio (eat your heart out, XM and Sirius):
Rock channel: "Here We Go," by Big In Japan; "I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor" and "Still Take You Home" by the Arctic Monkeys; "Gold Lion" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
Pop Channel: "Sorry" by Madonna; "Upside Down" by Jack Johnson; "Because Of You" by Kelly Clarkson (I know, you're gonna give me hell... but what can I say, the woman has pipes!), "Another Sunny Day," by Belle and Sebastian.
Folkie/Acoustic Channel: "Secure Yourself," by the Indigo Girls; "Cold Hands (Warm Heart)" by Brendan Benson; "Drinkin' Days," by Slaid Cleaves; "Bartender's Blues," by James Taylor.
Blues Channel: "Fixin' To Die," by Rory Block; "Hold On This Time," by Sean Costello; "Mannish Boy" by Muddy Waters; "Voodoo Spell," by Michael Burks; "Company Graveyard," by BB Chung King and the Buddhaheads.
Country Channel: "Come A LIttle Closer," by Dierks Bentley; "Miss Me Baby" by Chris Cagle; "Watching The Wind Blow By," by Tim McGraw; "Billy's Got His Beer Goggles On," by Neal McCoy; "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off," by Joe Nichols.
There. Now it's 2:40. Maybe I'll fall asleep now. Nah, I didn't think so either.
Posted by Christopher at 02:37 AM | Comments (7) | TrackBackFebruary 26, 2006
Corey's Long-Ass Meme
My friend Corey is virtually as prone on his blogs to memes as I am. (He's forgiven because he's gut-ing up and running Philadelphia with us on November 19... anyone else who wants to run either the marathon or the 8K with Doc, Tim, Corey, Beav, Erika and I should say so in the comment fields or via e-mail... 2006 is the year we all get back into fighting trim and running shape, kids.) Usually he puts one up and, true to form, I can't resist the damn things and I end up doing them too. But last week Corey posted a special meme: the longest freaking meme in the history of meme-dom. I mean, the thing went on forever; filling it out, you feel like you're applying for a security clearance.
It took me a week to find/make time to fill it out. And I am not foolish enough to think that any of y'all give a rat's tuckus about it. But since I am OCD on these damn things and can no sooner resist a meme than Michael Jackson can resist 12 year old boys, here it is. (And no, it does not end with the 35 things... it keeps going, and going, and going... its mascot is a pink freaking bunny.) And Corey... I will get you back, pal.
35 things about ME:
1) How old do you wish you were? Could I know what I know now? If so, 19. If not, what’s the point of doing it again?
2) Where were you when 9/11 happened? Driving to work on the Sprain Brook Parkway
3) What do you do when vending machines steal your money? Usually cuss and press the return button multiple times -- because it’ll work the 7th time instead of the first six, right?
4) Do you consider yourself kind? Yeah.
5) When you see a homeless person on the side of the road, what do you think? If I knew for sure that you really were homeless, I’d probably give you money.
6) If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be? Pec or upper arm/shoulder. Haven’t decided yet. (Mrs. Doc, didn’t we have a deal that we were both going to go get one done? Like as soon as you were done being pregnant with your now-3 year old?)
7) If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be? Probably Spanish. I know enough French to get by in Paris or Montreal. But Spanish I'll need for the US by the time I'm 45, not to mention that Spain is my favorite country and I'd like to be able to function more effectively there.
8) Do you know your neighbors? Barely. I keep to myself.
9) What do you consider a vacation? At least four days away from home and with no laptop, cell phone or Blackberry. No, not four days total out of 365; I mean four consecutive days.
10) Do you follow your horoscope? Not really, but I glance on my birthday.
11) Would you move for the person you loved? Have before. Would probably do it again; I never learn.
12) Are you touchy feely? Yes, I’m a hugger.
13) Do you believe that opposites attract? Attract, sure… but stick together? Not often.
14) Dream job? Either doing “Weekend Update” on SNL or being the play-by-play guy for the Boston Red Sox.
15) Dream car? Aston Martin Vanquish S
16) Favorite channel? Probably the History Channel, but I don’t watch a lot of TV
17) Favorite place to go on weekends? Terra Blues! Or any shore/ beach.
18) Showers or Baths? Showers.
19) Do you paint your nails? No
20) What do you like the most about yourself? I can sort of write kinda good.
21) What do you like the least? I make excuses too easily about not staying in shape. That changes this year.
22) Do you trust people easily? No. You're lucky I trust you to even be on this site right now.
23) What are your phobias? Heights, especially bridges. Big ones (like the Verrazano or Golden Gate) leave me curled in a fetal position on the floor or backseat (and no, I can't drive over them).
24) Do you want kids? Yes, I think so.
25) Do you keep a handwritten journal? Nope. This blog is as far as I go.
26) Where would you rather be right now? Turks & Caicos, the Costa Blanca in Spain, or pretty much anywhere else in the Caribbean.
27) Who would you like to be more honest with? I’m pretty much honest with everyone.
28) Who makes you feel guilty? No one, I don’t feel guilty about anything. Even my mistakes are mine to learn from, and I don't feel guilt.
29) Are you a heavy or light sleeper? I am on the Olympic Insomnia team.
30) Are you paranoid? No. Why do you ask? Who wants to know? Why are they asking you?
31) Are you impatient? With people I know, never. With strangers on a line somewhere or at a light that’s turned green, or who drive too slowly on the highway, very.
32) Who can you relate to? Anyone who‘s ever worked their way up from a blue-collar small town.
33) Would you ever have plastic surgery? Doubt it, but never say never.
34) Would you ever break the law? Of course.
35) Do you believe in the afterlife? An electric word, afterlife - that means forever, and that’s a mighty long time -- but I’m here to tell you!…
(more)
LIFE
they call me: Christopher. If you’re gonna go with “Chris,” you’d better be really close to me.
status: single
occupation: blogger/podcaster/communications executive-type dude
best friends: Doc/Mrs. Doc, Tim/Mrs. Tim, Nancy, Jay, Dave, Damian
REWIND
my first breath of air: 1968. No, you don’t get to know the day
most memorable memory: There’ve been so many… maybe the CBGB night with Doc/Tim
worst memory: August/September 1994
LOVE
love is: a fool’s errand, but we all keep buying into it, don’t we?
love or lust: lust
when love hurts you: Why act surprised? That's what love is for.
is there such thing as love at first sight: No, but there’s lust at first sight that can quickly turn into love
OPPOSITE SEX
turn ons: intelligence, confidence, bawdy sense of humor, eyes, derriere
do your parent's opinion on your bf/gf matter to you: Yes, but not enough to impact my choices
what kind of hair style: whatever she is most comfortable/confident in, but I do tend to like longer hair
where do you go to meet new people: wherever
PICKY PICKY
cat or dog: both/all; I am a softie for all animals
short or long hair: Used to be long. If I could still get away with it, it would still be longish.
rain or shine: Rain; I love storms
sun or moon: Moon
one best friend or ten acquaintances: ten acquaintances
summer or winter: Autumn
playstation or nintendo: PlayStation
car or motorcycle: car
house party or club: Club mostly, but it depends on whose house
LATELY
how are you today: fine and dandy
what pants are you wearing right now: Levis 505 jeans
What shirt are you wearing right now: black Ten Year Vamp t-shirt
how is the weather right now: Cold as an ex's... it's like 19 degrees out.
last person you talked to on the phone: Some stupid telemarketing (freak)
last dream you can remember: Last night I dreamed I won $1,000,000 on some game show
who are you talking to right now: No one
MORE ABOUT YOU
what are the last four digits of your phone number: 0827
if u were a crayon, what color would you be: Raw Umber
what's the next cd you are going to buy: I don’t buy CDs anymore, just mp3s
what's the best advice ever given to you: Be yourself
have you ever won any special award: CINE and TELE awards in 2003 for a corporate video i co-wrote/executive produced
how many kids do you want to have: a few… 2 or 3 maybe? I dunno, it kinda depends on circumstances and what the woman in my life thinks, don't you think?
shampoo: American Crew
how many TV's do you have in your house: 1
do you have your own TV: duh
who do you dream about: like I’m giving you all fodder on this one?
who do you tell your dreams to: pretty much no one
who's the loudest friend you have: Either the Goths or Beav (but I got nothin' but love for ya)
who's the quietest friend: Nancy
HAVE YOU EVER
drank: Of course
stayed in your pj's all day: Yup
left your state: At least once a week.
left your country: Yes
drank milk straight from the carton: Yeah, but I am lactose intolerant so I don't drink milk at all now.
tripped up the stairs: Yes
tummy ache: WTF kind of question is this? Tummy ache??
wished upon a star: No
had it come true: No
slapped someone: Yes
danced like a maniac: As a big white man, it does not behoove the world for me to dance. That said, when I do dance, do big white men dance any other way but like maniacs?
chased a butterfly: When I was a little kid
gone on a cruise: Not on like a Princess line or anything, but have done a few boat trips
driven a motor boat: Yep
put salt on a slug and watched it shrivel up: No, I can’t stand cruelty or pain to even the slightest of animals (except for like mosquitoes or things like that)
burned stuff just because: Yeah
been called a pyro: Only in jest
seen a ghost: Haven’t SEEN one but felt one there (not to mention pissing it off; it got me back)
had something published: Yes
written on money: Don’t think so
lost someone you cared about: Yes
ran away: Depends on how you define it. From home as a kid? No. From situations? Yes, it’s how I came to live out east.
punched a wall: Yes. Not to mention breaking my hand punching an 800 lb bale of packed and compacted cardboard boxes in the back room of the grocery store I worked in when I was 19. No, I wasn't very smart. No, she wasn't worth the frustration that led me to punch a cardboard bale and bust my hand up.
punched a person: Yes
talked to a street sign: I occasionally shout at traffic lights to turn already.
shopped at wal-mart for over an hour: I refuse to shop at Wal-Mart for even a minute.
been a hero: I don’t believe in heroes (or Beatles); I just believe in me.
taken a picture of yourself: I’m not a photo kind of guy
had a journal: What do you call a blog?
worn mardi-gras beads: No. Have delivered quite a few to those who've "earned" them though.
been to Mardi-gras: In Austin TX, but not New Orleans.
heard a damaging story about your parents when they were younger/or older: No. Sadly, all the evidence from outsiders seems to support my parents’ contention that they were angels. Which makes one wonder how the hell to explain me.
heard of blind melon: All I can say is that my life is pretty plain.
started a trend: Well, three people who read my blog are running Philadelphia’s 8K with me, does that count?
been to a rally (for a cause, not a pep-rally): Yes, reproductive rights rallies as well as those for a few political candidates
given up on your dreams: Never
had your dreams come true: I'm living the dream baby! Well okay, maybe not.
seen someone as your guardian angel: At work, yeah - I am lucky enough to have several. In life, no. I rely on me.
protested the national anthem by not standing when everyone else does: No
had a pen-pal: When I was a kid
met someone famous: have met two presidents (Carter and Clinton), one elected president who never took office (Gore), a dozen or two Senators and members of Congress, a few baseball players, and hung out drinking all night with George Clooney once.
gone out with one of your best friends: To borrow Corey’s words, “Out as in to a club or something? Like hanging out? Sure.” If you mean the other way, no comment.
put a message in a bottle: No
sent a telegram: No
received flowers: Yes
listened to a sea-shell: Yes
been stung by a jellyfish: Yes
been on tv: Yes - have done interviews for political campaigns, and I was on Jeopardy once (don’t ask!)
played tag when you were over the "acceptable" age: No
notice patterns in the time (11:11, 12:34, etc...): Yes
had your mom show off embarrassing baby pictures of you when your were little to your friends/boy/girlfriend: No. Mom wouldn’t do that to me… WOULD YOU MOM?
been arrested: No.
been put in jail: No.
been put on trial: No
re-named yourself: Shifted from “Chris” to “Christopher” when I moved east.
followed someone just because: No
been stalked: No
stalked someone: No
lived a day like it was your last day: Why would I do that? If it was my last day, I’d probably be like laying in bed with tubes up my nose or something.
had your 15 minutes of fame: It would seem that I may be in the middle of them right now.
been self-conscious: Occasionally
been in a band: Yes, lead singer for three years in college
started a band: No
sat and watched smoke float through the air: No
want to be somewhere with someone so much it made you cry: No
played a practical joke: yes
had a practical joke played on you: yes
PEOPLE THINK
my father thinks I am: Hard to understand and a little bit elitist, probably, although he's proud of me.
my mother thinks I am: Finally hitting my stride and figuring out life
my boyfriend/girlfriend thinks I am: Don’t have one right now. I do know that a couple exes lurk this blog who don’t think I know that they’re here… now that I have called them out, maybe they’ll enlighten you.
you are often complimented for: Being very smooth on my feet, my writing…
you get embarrassed when: I was in the pool! ;-) Seriously, I get mighty embarrassed by news articles that make me the face of the program I lead at work, when its success is due to the efforts of literally thousands of people.
what makes you happy: Beaches, baseball, being on stage, attention, peanut brittle, drawing to an ace flush on the river, and women.
upsets you: Conservatives and the way they think, and hypocrisy, and women.
February 24, 2006
Why I Love Sports
My posts on sports lately have been full of vitriol -- railing on Lindsey Showboat and Bode "Paulie Shore" Miller (thank you Tim)... hating on Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds.... railing on an X Gamer culture that I disdain. The news from sports in the last year or so has been full of jerks like Terrell Owens, cheats like Rafael Palmiero, and other assorted punkz and thugz. So as angry as sports can make me these days, why do I still love them? Here's why.
This story captures everything that I think is right and good about sports. Jason McElwain is an austistic high school senior who has been his Greece Athena high school basketball team's manager for three years. On Senior Night, the coach decided to let McElwain suit up and wear a jersey and be on the bench as a player -- a classy enough gesture on its own. With four minutes left in the game and the game firmly in Greece Athena's hands, the coach decided to put McElwain in the game -- another classy move, give the kid some playing time. But watch what happened next: The kid caught fire. Jason McElwain hit six shots in a row from three point range (though on one of them his foot crossed the line so he "only" got two points), scored 20 points in four minutes, and became the hero of the game.
Most of the attention on this story has been focused -- and rightly so -- on Jason himself and his incredible feat. But what got me about the video when I watched it, what brought a lump to my throat, was the reaction of his teammates and his school. Watch the video that accompanies the story. Watch the kids on the sideline watching Jason play, and watch how deliriously happy they get when their friend is doing well. They're jumping up and down and pumping fists as if they'd just won the NCAA tournament, the Super Bowl, and the World Series all at once. Listen to the crowd of high school kids reacting to every shot Jason makes. They're roaring with glee as if nothing in the world had ever been so wonderful; I doubt you'll ever hear such joyfully raucous applause and cheering even at a high school football game in Texas.
There was no look-at-me X-Gamer showboating; there were no greed-driven holdouts to renegotiate contracts signed just last year; there were no clashes of ego on the medal stand. There was just pure, unadulterated joy at the accomplishments of a friend and teammate (a teammate, by the way, who was fully accepted as one despite his differences from the other players). The team was all about their teammate, not their own showboating or their own spotlight. And when the game ends, and the entire crowd -- not just the team, but the whole crowd -- rushes the floor to hug Jason and lift him onto their shoulders in celebration, if you don't have a huge grin on your face, a lump in your throat, or a tear in your eye, you don't have a heart. This is sports; not Lindsey Jacobellis, not Bode Shore, not Terrell Owens or Barry Bonds or Rafael Palmiero or an NBA player with 7 kids by seven women. Nope, they can't take sports away from us. Jason McElwain and his teammates are what sports are, and this is why I still love sports.
Congratulations on a magical moment, Jason. Congratulations on being a great team, Greece Athena. And thanks for the reminder.
Posted by Christopher at 07:04 AM | Comments (11) | TrackBackFebruary 22, 2006
Come On Feel (and hear) The Noize
Courtesy of Pete, here's a little exercise that pretty much cured me of my belief that modern popular music absolutely sucks when compared to the top 40 songs of my youth. It cured me because I realized that the top 40 has pretty much always sucked, and that as a nation we have the musical tastes of neanderthals. (Although a second look at the charts does show a dramatic drop-off in the presence of even tolerable songs after about 1991, so things seem to have gone from bad to worse.)
This little site will tell you what song was #1 on the Billboard Top 40 charts the day you were born... and obviously every year after that.
The #1 song in the country the day I was born was something called "This Guy's In Love With You," by Herb Alpert. Great. A trumpet player trying his hand at singing a sleepy would-be ballad was the top song on the charts? Rock and roll, baby! It got no better -- on my 1st birthday, #1 was the love theme from Romeo and Juliet, by Henry Mancini. Geez, why don't we just get the freaking Ray Conniff Singers in here and put the entire world to sleep?
My first decade of life saw birthdays marked by crap like ""Song Sung Blue" by Neil Diamond, "Love Will Keep Us Together" by The Captain & Tennille, Silly Love Songs" by Paul McCartney & Wings, and "Ring My Bell" by Anita Ward. Things got no better in the 80s, with such sludge as "Ebony and Ivory" by Paul McCartney & Stevie Wonder, "The Reflex" by Duran Duran, "On My Own" by Patti LaBelle & Michael McDonald, and "Baby Don't Forget My Number" by Milli Vanilli. The 90s were characterized by slop from the New Kids on the Block, All-4-One, Jennifer Lopez, and freaking Puff Daddy.
Pop music sucks nowadays, it's very true; nothing that appeals to anyone over the age of 14 has hit #1 in at least 15 years. But looking at these lists will convince you that pop music has sucked since its inception. So the questions to you, faithful readers, are: 1) What song was #1 the day you were born? 2) What song's presence on your list of birthday #1s makes you break out in the most painful hives? and 3) Are there any songs on your list that you actually like? (I am 37, and I counted all of 4 on my list that I even like... so my hopes for you are not high.)
Posted by Christopher at 07:02 AM | Comments (11) | TrackBackFebruary 21, 2006
Inspiration
It's stuff like this that's bound to make me believe in intelligent design. No further comment necessary. Faster, stronger, higher... indeed.
(Photo via Sports Illustrated)
The Surreal World
Upon returning to my desk after a two hour meeting with lawyers this afternoon (during which I got basically everything I was looking for heading into the meeting), I found an e-mail from my boss... that I needed to call the Wall Street Journal back because they were looking to talk with me. Which I couldn't do right away, because I had another meeting to discuss a potential story with USA Today we're working on. This morning, one of the first e-mails I sent was agreeing to do an opening morning keynote panel at a conference in London in May, a conference whose organizers had asked for me by name.
When in the blue hell did this become my world?
The danger in this, as much fun as it is, is that you start to believe your own hype or start believing yourself worthy of the attention. It's all too easy to forget that you're simply in the middle of your 15 minutes, and that you're really not all that big of a deal in the long run. This is not good -- not only because you can easily become an arrogant jackass, but because when the alarm goes off at 15:01 and your time in the spotlight is over, if you've gotten too used to it or started feeling worthy of it, you'll miss it. Which would just be flat out obnoxious of you.
Then again, that would be almost as obnoxious as writing about it in your blog.
Posted by Christopher at 07:50 PM | Comments (8)February 19, 2006
Don't You Feel Safer?
So Karl Rove wants to make "security" the focus of the 2006 elections... I think it's time we said, "Bring it on, you classified information-leaking-to-extract-political-revenge piece of donkey refuse." I mean, we've already seen that the Bush Administration is thoroughly incompetent at protecting the American people from standing water (thank you, Keith Olbermann) or protect 78 year old men from a Vice President with a gun. (Hell, the old guy even had to apologize to the Vice President for getting in the way of his rifle.)
Now, the party that wants you to believe that they will keep you safe has sold over the rights to managing American ports... to a foreign company. Not just a foreign company, but one from the Middle East. Yes, you read that right, kids: the Bush Administration has sold control of operations at six key American ports to an Arabic company. No, not one owned and run by an Arab-American businessman who loves his country as much as you do. One owned and based in the United Arab Emirates.
The Bush Administration spies without warrants on Americans in the name of the "war on terror;" it invades sovereign nations with leaders we find unappealing while letting those who attacked the United States escape and regroup, leaving us vulnerable to another attack. But it has no problem selling off control of some of America's most vulnerable assets off to a company based in the same part of the world as the people who've been attacking us for 20 years. So being Arabic in this country means warrantless searches from the Bush Adminstration; being Arabic with lots of money from another country means they'll give you the keys to our ports with a wink and smile.
Lest you think this is merely a partisan rant from someone who hates George W. Bush and anyone connected to him more than the Yankees or brussels sprouts, I give you the words of new blood conservative Senator Lindsey Graham of South Carolina:
“It’s unbelievably tone deaf politically at this point in our history,” Sen. Lindsay Graham, R-S.C. said on “Fox News Sunday.” “Most Americans are scratching their heads, wondering why this company from this region now,” Graham said.
When even conservatives are going on Faux News and railing against the Bush Administration's moves, you know it's particularly boneheaded. Add it to the cover up of the Dick's potential drink-and-shoot incident, the utterly bungled Katrina response (and if you haven't watched Keith Olbermann's angry on-air denunciation of the government's inaction, it's one for the record books, one of the most angrily patriotic declarations of disgust at Americans not getting the government we deserve ever issued), and the continuing debacle in Iraq -- one based on exaggerations and flat-out falsehoods -- and it's a wonder how any true, patriotic American can possibly still support this administration. They're sure not doing anything that resembles protecting the American people when they're selling off control of our ports to Arab companies.
Rove, if you want to make security the core issue in 2006, bring... it ... on.
Posted by Christopher at 06:00 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBackBad Customer Service
I got an envelope in the mail yesterday from a national publication that I subscribe to. (I won't tell you which one, but it starts with a "P" and ends in "ayboy.") Screaming across the envelope in big, bold letters was the warning, "SUSPENSION ADVISORY."
I thought back. Had I bounced a check? Not bloody likely. Failed to update credit card information? Possibly, but since I pay by mail for this one it was a moot point. Written disturbingly stalker-like fan letters to their, uh, staff? No comment, but how would their accounting department know?
When I opened up the envelope, it turned out that it was simply a notice that my subscription is about to run out, and that to ensure uninterrupted service I need to resubscribe now. And I thought, "couldn't you have just said 'RENEWAL NOTICE?' I mean, now the mail carrier thinks I'm delinquent on my bills. This is the postal equivalent of a clerk asking for a price check on condoms at the drug store when you're 16! Totally unnecessary, and I don't like the implication.
It bugged me. Still does, in fact. So much so that I'd cancel my subscription.... if there wasn't a chance that this rumor might be true. Sigh.
(And by the way, I really do read the articles. There's a feature this month on the rapid advance of global warming that will scare the living spit out of you.)
Posted by Christopher at 01:17 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBackUgly Americans
I'd like to thank Bode Miller and Lindsey Jacobellis for proving me right this week at the Olympics.
Last month, I wrote about how much I hate the X-Games, and how much I generally dislike X-Gamer types -- in my opinion a collection of gnarly rad look-at-me types getting together to show off and trying turn radical tricks in a pathetic attention-seeking exercise. And naturally (not that I predicted it, except I basically did), Lindsey Jacobellis was dominating the "boardocross" event (how far the Olympics have fallen when spit called "boardocross" is an Olympic event; is it any wonder the ratings are way down and American Idol is kicking the Olympics' Nielsen ass?), and in true snowboarder/X Gamer style, she tried to hot dog and show off and pull a "look-at-me" showboating stunt... and promptly fell on her ass and lost the gold medal.
Lindsey Jacobellis got exactly what she deserved. No one should feel the slightest bit of sympathy for this little showboat; she got what she had coming by falling on her ass and losing in such ignominoious fashion that her name will forevermore be a synonym for hubristic, ego-driven failure. Unfortunately, while she's now become the poster child for the egotistical excesses of this "sport," her attitude reflects its pervasive culture... only they didn't have to pay for it as overtly as she did. Snowboarders are all over message boards defending Jacobellis, and other snowboarders at the Olympics have actually been stupid enough to say it would have been a shame if she didn't try to hot dog.
You know, RIck Morrissey of the Chicago Tribune got it 100% right (free subscription required): It probably would be a good thing if somebody explained to the snowboarders that once they decided to sit at the adults' table, they made the tacit agreement to play to win. They made the decision to act like Olympians, which now means to act professional. It means trying your hardest to finish first. And part of trying your hardest means doing whatever is necessary to win. In this case, a little clear thinking would have gone a long way.
Meanwhile, Bode Spicoli continues to set all sorts of records for ineptitude and officially sucking. In his latest debacle, the Olympic version of Robert Downey Jr. couldn't even stay on course long enough to finish a race. Then, like the chicken-spit coward he is, he went trekking off through the woods to avoid reporters (probably headed back to the bar or to see if the Mexican team had any good sinsemilla on 'em. This came after getting disqualified from one race and then publicly proclainming that he didn't care. The Washington Post's Sally Jenkins has it right when she suggests that if Bode Miller can't or won't take the Olympics seriously, then perhaps he should just cart his partied-out ass back home.
Wow... this is the best America has to offer: a train wreck stoner who can't be bothered to take the Olympics seriously or even stay sober long enough to complete a run, and a hot-dogging attention hound who would rather showboat than win. Between that and how our athletes have behaved like arrogant children in the past (remember the disgraceful display from the 4x100m relay team at Sydney?), Americans at the Olympics keep adding to the oh-so-stellar reputations we have built over the last 25 years (and that have been crafted to new levels by Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld). They're both a disgrace to sports. If Ameirca keeps choosing to appoint "athletes" like these two to represent us, then we'll have a whole new generation to blame for the reason the world knows us as Ugly Americans.
Posted by Christopher at 12:50 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBackFebruary 17, 2006
Random Friday Thoughts
A collection of unrelated and random thoughts for Friday:
1. Sammy Sosa is apparently retiring. You know, at least McGwire had one great season without the juice. Sosa was unremarkable before the streroid era, brilliant during it, and downright suckalicious after testing began. You do the math. McGwire will get my HOF vote before Sosa does, because 588 home runs or not the man was clearly a product of the substances that gave name to the era rather than being a genuinely great player. Not to mention that by the end, he was just an egotistical jerk.
2. Watch out for the drunken trees! Stanford University's mascot is a giant walking tree. Members of the school band portray the tree at basketball games. (And I thought it was embarrassing that I once donned the Chuck E. Cheese costume!) One of the trees has just been fired because she was drunk during a basketball game. In a Bode Miller-esque statement, the band's spokesman said that the tree girl was fired because "We don't want to risk our core mission of rocking out and bringing funk to the funkless." Higher education, ladies and gentlemen, at one of the country's most prestigious universities.
3. Bush satisfied with Cheney's "explanation." The man who gave us "You're doing a heckuva job, Brownie" believes that the Dick "handled the issue just fine," in his so-called explanation of how he shot a man. Has there ever been deeper proof of who really wears the pants at this White House? Bush is so incompetent and emasculated that he can't even step up when Cheney commits the biggest PR gaffe in an administration since Clinton did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss Lewinsky. In fact, name the last time Bush stood up to anyone he couldn't order the Pentagon to bomb? (Meanwhile, it's clearer than ever that the "above the law, accountable to no one" attitude that has hallmarked this administration since the day the Supreme Court installed them comes directly from Goldfinger in the VP's office.
4. Greenland ice caps melting faster than ever. But there's no such thing as global warming, kids. Never mind that the second largest ice sheet in the world is disappearing faster than Nick Lachey's career. Global warming isn't real. Neither were dinosaurs, for that matter.
I'll do some real writing over the weekend. I promise.
Posted by Christopher at 04:18 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBackFebruary 16, 2006
Cheney's Got A Gun...
Sing it with me, everybody... I wish I could take credit for the Aerosmith parody, but it's all over the place out there. Still, it's damn fun to sing, ain't it?
Scooter Libby's boss, Shooter Cheney, went on Fox News tonight to "explain" his incident (read: spin it his way in a forum in which he knew he wouldn't get pressed or asked any tough questions by any of Faux News's "journalists"). That's a little like asking Cheech and Chong to explain a marijuana arrest to High Times. What we saw out of Brit Hume and Faux tonight was little more than a softball tournament -- just another embarrassing display of partisanship from the most falsely advertised product in America today (were truth in advertising laws enforced, Fox would have to acknowledge in its marketing that it is really just the publicity arm for the Republican Party).
As my friend the Doc pointed out, any good PR person would have had Shooter with NBC's David Gregory, who'd had a testy exchange with Scott McClellan over the issue, or perhaps on CNN... just as if we'd have had a Democratic Vice President who shot somebody go on Fox News. In this case, you go out there to the most skeptical audience, face the toughest questions head on, and mute the issue... and if the hostile press pushes too hard, you become a symapthetic figure badgered by a stubborn and angry reporter. Going to a blatantly sympathetic ear, in an environment you know to be friendly and where you won't get pushed, just contributes to the impression that you have something to hide and are still trying to manage the fallout rather than be honest about the incident... and lord knows Cheney has a credibility problem when it comes to being honest with the American people.
Beyond the predictable softballs and controlled-setting questions from Hume, Shooter's responses were also pathetically predictable. First came the insincere acceptance of responsibility... which was unavoidable, since Cheney had the gun, he had no way to blame liberals for the actual shooting itself. But then, like every other conservative who gets in trouble, Shooter quickly tried to deflect attention from his own conduct by -- you guessed it, say it with me kids... blaming the media. Yes, kids, this whole firestorm over Cheney's attempts to cover up the incident and hide it from the American people is the "liberal media's" fault, if you listen to Shooter.
I had a bit of the feeling that the press corps was upset because, to some extent, it was about them -- they didn’t like the idea that we called the Corpus Christi Caller-Times instead of The New York Times.
What a pathetic, vapid, and totally predictable response. It's laughably sad that conservatives have so little to offer and so much to mask that their first course of action in any circumstance is always to blame the media -- in a sad attempt to discredit the messengers who will report their activities to the people. It's tired, it's old, it's almost wholly invalid, and people just aren't stupid enough to fall for it anymore. There's a reason your poll numbers are in the low 40s, Chuckles. People don't buy slop like this anymore.
Hunting accidents happen. But, as Tim and I discussed on IM today, if it had been you or I and not Shooter who were involved in this case, the authorities would not have allowed us to get away with not talking about it for five days or trying to cover up or manage the story. This whole story is just another case of Shooter and the Bush Administration believing themselves above the law and accountable to no one for anything they do.
Marlin Fitzwater, a former Republican White House spokesman, told Editor & Publisher magazine that Cheney "ignored his responsibility to the American people."
Marlin, he's been doing that for at least the last five years. What surprises you about it now?
Posted by Christopher at 01:43 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBackFebruary 14, 2006
V.D. Part II
I hadn't planned on doing a Valentine's Day post; I figured that I said all I had to say about the "holiday" last year. I was going to focus on the good news of the day: pitchers and catchers report tomorrow. But then Beav mentioned over IM today that she'd been expecting a full-on, patented Curmudgeon rant about VD, and I had a couple of other people mention that they either missed the rant or look at the holiday with similar cynicism, so now I feel kind of like I ought to do some sort of venting -- for you more than for me, kids.
Thing is, I really don't have anything else to say about it, and can't vent it any better than last year. So while it might be the lazy way out, here's last year's VD sucks post. No, my perspective hasn't changed. Yes, I actually can be a romantic, I just hate being told to do it by Hallmark and Kay Jewelers. (No, I have never diamond shopped in a mall jewelry store and never will; the selection was made on purpose to drive home a point.)
Happy VD, all you happy couples. Snoogans.
Posted by Christopher at 10:32 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBackTotalitarian Pastries
Glad to see that the House Republicans don't have the corner on stupid food re-naming tricks... and that "Freedom Fries" is now no longer the stupidest sobriquet ever conceived for edibles.
Iranians have decided to rename the “Danish pastries” relished by this nation of cake lovers. From now on, the sweet, flaky pastries which dominate the shelves in Iran’s cake shops will be known as "Roses of the Prophet Muhammad," the official IRNA news agency reported as pressure on Denmark over the cartoons took on a new dimension.
Ah yes. Because silly things like changing what you call food will distract people from the policies of your government. It's a good thing that conservatives are smart enough to realize tha... wait a minute... uh, scratch that.
I think we really ought to defend the Danish. After all, Ty Webb's lines in Caddyshack don't ring as amusing without them. "A flute without holes is not a flute... a donut without holes is a Rose of the Prophet Muhammad." Just doesn't have the same funny ring to it, wouldn't you agree?
Posted by Christopher at 10:21 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBackSecond Hand Smoke Out
You know how I feel about cigarette smoke.
So two news stories today made me quite content. First, the UK has passed a country-wide ban on smoking in all pubs and clubs, including private clubs. Jolly good show, old chaps!
Better yet, here in the States, Virginia -- the very bastion of the tobacco industry here in America -- saw a measure passed today by its Senate that would ban smoking in virtually all indoor public places. Even if Virginia Governor Tim Kaine won't show a spine and sign the legislation (assuming it passes the VA House, which isn't likely), the fact that it passed the Senate just down the road from Phillip Morris headquarters is another sign that Big Tobacco's death grip on all of us is slipping.
Posted by Christopher at 09:53 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBackBEANPOT, BABY!
It'd be almost old if it wasn't so damn satisfying every year. For the 10th time in the last 12 years, my alma mater Boston University won the 2006 Beanpot tournament and took home the trophy... again. (For the uninitiated, the "Beanpot" is the annual hockey tournament between the Boston area's four national college hockey powerhouses: BU, Boston College, Harvard and Northeastern. They take it very seriously -- bragging rights for the Beanpot are like the Michigan-Ohio State game, the USC-UCLA game, and Texas-Oklahoma all in one. College hockey is serious damn business in Boston.) The tournament's been played 54 times. BU has won 27. That's half, for those of you who went to Harvard.
This year's title win came at the expense of Boston College (or Betting Central, as Tim likes to call them), who are our archrivals. We handed them their ass, 3-2. (Yes, I know that's a close score. Shut up. We handed them their ass.) The only thing better than winning the Beanpot (again) is beating BC to do it (again).
The Terriers have now won 11 straight -- the longest current streak in NCAA hockey -- and have now risen to #5 in the country according to the latest rankings. (And yes, I know that my undergrad school, Minnesota, is #1. I'm no front runner; my loyalties lie with my grad school and always will.) We're a solid #2 seed in the Hockey East tournament, and are gaining on Betting Central.
Yes, I realize that no one in this blog community cares about college hockey or is from Boston, and I am talking smack basically to myself. Shut up. BU won the Beanpot. Again.
Posted by Christopher at 09:23 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBackFebruary 12, 2006
Weekend Update: The Calm Before The Storm
I looked at the weather reports on Friday while I was in our DC office, and had made the decision by the time my big work meeting was over that it would probably be wise to change my flight and come home a day early. There was always the chance that the weatherman would be wrong, but I am going to be doing so much traveling for work in March and April that I did not want to start my world tour off with a travel from hell story before I'd really even begun. (The Delta Shuttle from LaGuardia to National -- I refuse to call that airport "Reagan," under any circumstance -- does not really count as "traveling," now does it?) So, despite disappointment in not being able to stay all day Saturday as planned, prudence overcame valor and I called Delta to make the change and got on the 2:30 flight yesterday. As it turned out, that was the last Delta Shuttle that left National before the storm.
As of 11:00 am Sunday morning, there's been 14 inches of snow here in New York already; they think there might be as much as two feet by the time it's all over, which would put this in the record books as one of the ten worst blizzards ever recorded in New York. While all three airports remain open, Delta Shuttle has suspended all flights until at least Monday. Score one for judgment.
But even if the visit was cut short, it was still wonderful to get back to the DC area for even a day. You know, it's funny. Since having moved east, I lived in Washington/Northern Virginia for three years a decade ago; I have been based out of New York for more than seven years now. And yet, it's still Washington that feels somehow more like "home" to me. I have a comfort and a familiarity there that I never seem to have settled into here. That's an odd thing, seeing as that I've spent twice as much time here as there (even counting for the time I spent floating between Florida and New York). But I do still have just a sense of fitting in DC that I've not yet found up here. I'm sure I'll find it some time; with every year that goes by and every big new development in my career, the odds of my settling in here permanently increase... it's just weird that after seven-plus years, I still feel like I'm transitioning here -- that NY is a phase or an era for me and not "home." I wonder if, if/when I finally do get that feeling of being settled in as a New Yorker, it will happen instantaneously like a light switch, or whether I'll simply be the frog in the boiling pot of water who never realized it was getting hot until it was too late.
Anyway - I spent Friday working out of our K Street offices; the meeting I was there for went very well (you know it went well when the senior exec you just briefed asks if you're going to be around next week, maybe you could have lunch), and so I was bouncing full of adrenaline when I took the last hour of the day off and headed off to meet my brother and my good friend/former DC roommate Jay at 4. After a couple of drinks at the lounge at the Mayflower Hotel , where we could indulge our "we're so important" jones by sitting in an upscale place doing the cigar/scotch thing, we headed off to meet my brother's wife and get to the evening's highlight for me: dinner at Mama Ayesha's -- a DC institution well-known for its authentic and well-reviewed Lebanese cuisine. I'm a stark-raving lunatic fan of Middle Eastern food (Turkish, Afghan, Lebanese... LOVE it), and this is one of my favorite restaurants in any city. If I was only going to be in town for one night, this was where I wanted to have dinner.
And that was that. Saturday morning was a lazy breakfast at my brother's, a quick dash to National, and home before a single flurry fell. Today's going to have to be a lazy day -- my car's snowed in and the streets are pretty much impassable right now -- which is not a bad thing, a day of unexpected rest. Happy snow day, y'all.
Posted by Christopher at 11:03 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBackFebruary 10, 2006
Blog Stew: Long Weekend Version
Of course a major winter storm would schedule itself to be hitting the Northeast the weekend I plan on traveling. I have a feeling my post-weekend posts will be filled with unhappy airport stories. Party on, Wayne.
I don't know about you, but I tend to wake up really early on mornings when I'm supposed to fly. My subconscious is so afraid of oversleeping and missing its flight that it decides to take no chances; unfortunately, for my subconscious to be ready, it pretty much needs to drag my conscious self with it, and so we all wake up at 3:50. The fact that none of us need to leave for LaGuardia until 7:45 doesn't seem to matter much. So after fighting it for an hour and a half to no avail, here we are with an entirely-too-early-in-the-morning version of Blog Stew.
1. The Grammy Awards. I thought they went pretty strong this year. "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" was my favorite song for much of 2005 (yes, I know it's not punk but power pop, fine, I accept it, let's move on), so I was pleased to see it win Record of the Year. Despite Beav's apparent disdain for U2, I still kinda like them, so I was glad to see them sneak in for Album and Song of the year.
Best of all, however, was that Mariah Carey was shut out in prime time. I have never understood how people have mistaken her ability to screech in four octaves for singing; squeaking like a dolphin does not one a diva make. Her "comeback" this year, while admirable from a personal standpoint, was just another sign to me that pop music is dead. (Anyone looking to make arrests for its murder should know that ClearChannel is based in San Antonio, so you can have the Texas Rangers -- sans Walker -- ride shotgun with you.)
Kanye West is kind of cool -- I don't like the arrogance gimmick, but I have to admit that "Gold Digger" was one of the catchier tunes of the year -- but I can't see people covering any of his stuff 10 years from now, so I don't know that his stuff should win any of the big awards. But of course the huge news was the Best Polka Grammy going to Jimmy Sturr for "Shake, Rattle and Polka." (Grow up in Minnesota or Wisconsin and try not to hear polka as a kid. It haunts you worse than a bad touch.)
2. Vanity Bare cover. Thoughts upon seeing Ms. Knightley and Ms. Johansen making their contribution to Half Nekkid Thursdays: Belly button rings are awesome, Keira. Going knickerless took balls, Scarlett. Well, actually, it obviously didn't, but you get my point. In my next life I want to be Tom Ford. Of course, Tom Ford is openly gay, so if I were him I probably wouldn't get the same charge out of the picture that I get in this life as me, but you get my point. Keira is quite waif-like, Scarlett is less so. I'm perfectly okay with that, Scarlett, in case you were wondering. Healthy is good. Men are suckers for nudity; an actress can only mildly register on our radars, but let her pose in any form of undress, and suddenly we're huge fans. Well actually, that goes for pretty much any woman, not just actresses... but you get my point.
2. Torino: Indifference Lives Here. I guess there's something happening in Italy over the next couple of weeks. It's in Turin, happening under a shroud of indifference. Seriously, does anyone even care about the Olympics anymore? The "amateur" nature of the athletes hase been a myth for at least a half century (the Soviets took care of that), but ever since the US semi-dropped the facade, at least with basketball and hockey, the whole thing seems kind of... you know, pointless.
The Olympics have become just another corporate spectacle and playground; the Games themselves are a competition for sponsorship and profitability, the athletes are amateur in name only as training complexes and coaches and equipment are subsidized and sponsored... the whole thing has just become a bloated joke. You couldn't have a 1980 US Olympic hockey Miracle On Ice today; none of those kids could have made a modern squad, and even if something like that started to happen, you'd have media digging into their backgrounds to see how quickly they could puncture the athletes' images, while corporate logos would be plastered over everything from jerseys to rink boards to the name of the arena itself. And we already have that; it's called the NHL. (Or the NBA. Or FIFA.) The point is that we don't need the Olympics to get our sports corporatized; we have a zillion other corporate sports endeavors to choose from.
The Olympics were a nice idea from a more innocent age. Their time has passed just like that innocence. It's time to let them go.
Posted by Christopher at 06:18 AM | Comments (11) | TrackBackAn Icon Departs
An American icon -- and I think a hero -- died last weekend. Betty Friedan's passing merits noting, because of the contributions to American society that she not only made herself, but inspired others to make. Long before the concept of "feminism" was complicated by sexual politics on one end of the spectrum and fear-and-control-insppired insults from Limbaugh on the other, there was a basic premise that seems incredibly "duh" now, but was quite revolutionary in its day:
"A woman has got to be able to say, and not feel guilty, `Who am I, and what do I want out of life?' She mustn't feel selfish and neurotic if she wants goals of her own, outside of husband and children," Friedan said.
During her lifetime, Friedan was vilified by many for airing the simple concept that if a woman wanted more out of her life than her MRS degree and 2.5 kids in the suburbs, that was not just okay but was normal. But unquestionably, America is a better place for her having been here. Feminism and its definition changed over the years, both from within (schisms over sexual politics, sexuality itself, and an unfortunate sort of demonization of the choice to stay home and raise children all impacted what it meant to be a feminist) and without (frightened reactionary men, seeing their complete control threatened over not just their homes but their workplaces, responded with name-calling, exaggerations, and demonization of their own). But that basic concept: that women -- not society -- should be in control of their own destinies and making their own choices, shouldn't be lost in the confusing melange of political agendas that elicit such intense reactions today.
Friedan wasn't the first feminist, nor were her concepts original. But by daring to articulate what generations had felt -- and drawing the arrows of ignorance fired from lesser quarters over it -- Friedan empowered generations of American women to explore life and make the most of their gifts. It's not just women who benefitted from that. Whatever choices women make today -- careers, families, and combinations thereof -- are all up to the individual and not "society." Men, too -- as husbands, boyfriends, brothers, fathers and friends -- are the better for this.
And for that, we all owe Betty Friedan a debt of gratitude. Bon voyage, ma'am; you'll be missed.
Posted by Christopher at 06:06 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBackFebruary 09, 2006
M.I.A.
I was gonna write last night about a few things: the Grammies (generally, I'm pleased with the results I read this morning), the Republican complaint that Democrats are angry (of course we are, I'll be delighted to explain why later in a post, you election-stealing theocrats), Scarlett Johansen baring her ... soul to Vanity Fair, headlines that are really funny in a juvenile sort of way (the story's not funny, though), Betty Friedan's contribution to American society, and of course I still owe Jill a post. But it's been an exhausting week at work, and I came home and pretty much fell asleep.
Oh darn.
I'll try to get a couple things written tonight ... after that I will be in DC for the weekend (gotta love it when you have legitimate work meetings on a Friday in a town you used to live in and have family in, and can extend the trip to see said family and town over the weekend) and probably won't post again until Sunday evening. Just telling you because I know otherwise you'll be logging on all day Saturday and wondering where my new posts are. You're crazy like that, I know.
Posted by Christopher at 06:12 AM | Comments (9) | TrackBackFebruary 08, 2006
Dog Bites Man
When even George W. Bush gets that reliance on foreign oil is a threat to the stability and safety of the United States, you know that the big oiil companies have to realize that the trough they slop at is in danger of drying up. So it's not surprising to see Big Oil fighting back -- not to do the right thing by its customers, but to protect its gravy train.
Exxon's Senior Vice President, Stuart McGill, in essence threw down the gauntlet to even his loyal ally Bush yesterday in a speech in which he proclaimed that the US will always be dependent on foreign oil, and that we'd better get used to it and stop even trying to become energy independent.
“No combination of conservation measures, alternative energy sources and technological advances could realistically and economically provide a way to completely replace those imports in the short or medium term.”
In other words: come and get us, W. You want to wean the US off of foreign oil? Not gonna happen -- we're not going to let you. See, we like the stranglehold we have on the throat of the American people, the one that allows us to price gouge our way, during natural disasters and times of war, to record profits. We like making American consumers squeal like a pig. They have purty mouths. And if you think, George, that just because we and Dick Cheney's friends installed you in office that you actually have any power to curtail us, think again. We're not going to let you. Understand?
In Big Oil, America has our very own set of classic villians -- Dickensian in their disdain for the public they serve, and Ludlum-esque in their arrogance and shadowy control. And with this speech, McGill and Exxon were sending a message that Big Oil will not allow even their hand-picked president to affect the system they've spent decades perfecting -- not even when even the president knows it's in the best interest of the country. Come and get us, Big Oil just said. You can't do anything about it. Don't even try.
Posted by Christopher at 06:51 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBackFebruary 07, 2006
By Request Blogging Part VI: For Eden
Eden's challenge to me was to blog about "someone (past or present) who "gets" you. Someone you have a kind of verbal or mental shorthand with or to whom you don't have to explain your jokes or allusions." Okaaaaaay. This one won't be an easy post. Because I really don't think that there's anyone who "gets" me. Hell, most of the time I don't even "get" myself, so expecting others to get me is a bit unrealistic. I have bonds with a few close friends that could, in different arenas, be described as "getting" that particular part of me -- but I don't think anyone has that whole picture. That's not meant a whiny boho artist's lament that "no one understands my art," but simply an assessment of my interactions with people.
I suspect, Eden, that you were looking for some relationship-related answer. There isn't one. As close as I have been with some of the women in my life, I can't say that any of them ever really "got" me. I'm a hard person to know -- both in the sense that I open up on this blog more easily than I do in a conversation, and because who I am has changed so often and so dramatically during the different phases of my life. And on the occasions where I had once thought that I had that kind of bond with someone, time and hindsight have since taught me that none of those bonds were what I believed them to be. So none of them count. Doesn't mean it won't happen someday, I just don't know that it has yet.
My brother and I can communicate volumes using the single word "Dude." Intonation, length of vowel sound, punctuation... all of them matter; we can even turn "dude" into a two syllable word for use under great duress or frustration ("duuu-uuude!"). In the same manner that tribesmen speaking Khosian languages convey varying pieces of information through simple clicks, my brother and I can get a dozen different meanings from that one nonsensical word. If that's not mental shorthand, I don't know what is. However, for as close as we are, we haven't lived in the same metro area in going on 12 years now -- save for three weeks in August 1997 when he had moved to the DC area just as I was getting ready to move away from it -- but despite our ability to discern the many complex meanings of "dude," there's too much distance involved to really "get" someone...
My friend Nancy and I have an unspoken sort of thing going on in the realm of relationships; we can each sense disaster in the other's romantic lives a mile off. I've gotten warning bells going off in my head about some of the guys she's dated who turned out to be the biggest jerks, and she's had similar alarms going off over many of the biggest mistake women I've ever gotten involved with. It's uncanny and unerring, at least in my memory -- I don't ever remember one of us having a bad feeling about someone that turned out to be wrong. Unfortunately, we rarely if ever listen to the other's warnings. We should -- by now we should really have learned -- but neither of us do. But even though we each give the other failsafe romantic advice, I don't think either of us would say that we totally "get" the other.
Professionally, there's no question that Doc and I hit a rhythym when I worked for him a few years ago. We were good friends before that, but when we started working together we quickly settled into a groove where we knew what the other was going to say, how the other would react to business issues that popped up... and when we started working on speeches, we literally would just shut ourselves in an office and start brainstorming aloud, because we knew that if one of us even came up with a half-finished thought, the other could complete it and we'd make it as eloquent as necessary. We did great work together and made the other one look good. And certainly on a personal level, he and I share a sick and twisted sense of humor -- it's usually a race between us to see who will, in Tourette's-like fashion, blurt out the crassest, lewdest possible comment or reaction to something, and we bond over the well-placed vicious insult... but I don't think I'd say he "gets" me. (Especially with Brokeback Mountain jokes being all the rage lately.)
Despite a series of partial bonds like these with other close friends, I just really can't say that I have that kind of overall thing with any single individual, Eden. Does that answer your question?
Up next... Jill's challenge to me.
Posted by Christopher at 10:08 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBackFebruary 06, 2006
Blog Stew: Post-Super Bowl Party Edition
Quick collection of thoughts:
1) Seattle got totally hosed by the referees yesterday. Phantom touchdowns (if Big Ben got the ball across the plane, I'm Kevin Federline), interference calls on routine plays that never get called during the regular season, the second worst football call I've ever seen*, in which Matt Hasselback was called for blocking below the waist while tackling someone, phantom holding calls... the referees took 14 points off the board for Seattle, and did everything they could to steal the game for Pittsburgh. (Of course now that the calls went his way, no one's hearing anything from that whiny-assed little bitch-ass punk Joey Porter -- no whining about league conspiracies when the league conspires to hand you a Super Bowl, eh Joey?) Don't just take my word for it -- even ESPN knows a fix when they see one.
2. When you have Pittsburgh 1-3, 1-6 and 1-8 in the Super Bowl pool, and the score is 21-10 with time running down, and the Seahawks driving for some sort of score to stay alive, you feel very good about life. When there's a stupid-ass turnover on downs (aided by the refs) to improbably end the game even when you looked utterly golden, you feel very not good about life, or your friend who will go home richer instead of you.
3. How utterly pathetic and sad is it that the Rolling Stones -- the so-called one-time bad boys of rock and roll -- are now so old and so sell-out that they'll willingly accept and agree to being censored? This was pretty much as bad as "Let's Spend Some Time Together" on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1967 -- except that back then the Stones were up and coming and needed the airtime, a different generation controlled the networks and the TV rules were in theory more puritanical then, and the Stones hadn't yet had two more decades straight of hits that earned them the right to use whatever lyrics they wanted. A gutless display from a band old enough to being walkering around on stage. And frankly, it was a gutless move by ABC to pre-acquiesce to the puritans who would have whined about the lyrics.
4. Over the weekend, one of the most important women in American history died. I'll have an appreciation later this week that stands on its own and isn't a part of a sports-related collage, but I wanted to at least acknowledge Betty Friedan and her contributions to American society and life today.
*the worst call was when that cheater Drew Pearson for those cheating Dallas Cowboys blatantly cheated and pushed off Nate Wright, cheating so openly that he knocked Wright over in the 1975 championship game, wasn't called for his cheating, and that cheating cost the Minnesota Vikings a third straight Super Bowl appearance (and what would have been four in a row when the Vikes went to face Oakland in 1976)
Posted by Christopher at 11:38 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBackFebruary 05, 2006
By Request Blogging, Part V: For U.G.
Useful Guy wanted my take on the whole cartoons and embassies situation. Regarding the source of the whole fiasco, I cannot write it any more plainly or succinctly than Pete did in his post on this subject. It's hardly like this is the first time people have done flat out stupid crap over something as ridiculous as religion. In fact, it happens all the time, as Pete pointed out. It's a cartoon. A cartoon.
Though I might have initially been sympathetic to cultural sensitivity and said that the cartoons went too far, the thuggish and unspoken-declaration-of-war response throught the Islamic world has me completely turned around on the issue now. I'm solidly for digging in the West's collective heels and refusing to concede freedom of speech and expression -- least of all in the face of a coordinated campaign of intimidation.
Regarding these specific protesters, first of all they are slitting their own throats in the rhetorical war. So you're offended that the cartoon 'unfairly' represented Muslims as violent and bloodthirsty and more barbaric than other faiths? Naturally, let's counter that image by burning down embassies and threatening violence against people simply for being citizens of a country whose newspapers you're mad at. That'll change how the world sees Islam.
Second of all, I'm just not buying the lame-ass rationale for all the mob violence and chaos. Oh, so the image presented was offensive to Islam? Guess what, mother truckers? I'm pretty offended by the images I consistently see in your corners of the world of the American flag being burned, or of innocent civilians being beheaded. I don't go running off to torch your freaking embassies. There is a concept in free thinking parts of the world that establishes that even the criminally stupid and offensive have the right to express themselves (witness Ann Coulter's continued existence, for example). If you don't like what someone has to say, don't listen, don't read, don't buy. But somehow, the protesting nations seem to believe that the West are all supposed to go cowering into corners and begging forgiveness because our media didn't follow their prescribed line or do precisely what the Muslim world wanted.
Syria's largest paper chimed in defending its right to sponsor arson by saying, "It is unjustifiable under any kind of personal freedoms to allow a person or a group to insult the beliefs of millions of Muslims." There's a between the lines message in that statement, a superiority complex at work that holds Muslims' religion as somehow above parody or criticism. Those personal freedoms Syria so blithely dismisses are held pretty dear in western society... and I have news for them: it is unjustifiable under any kind of religious expression to allow a person or group to limit the beliefs and values, through violent intimidation, of millions of Westerners.
The West shouldn't roll over and play victim. If these folks aren't careful, the Danes are like to start channeling Eric the Red -- never (screw) with a Viking! -- and start making bonfires out of a few embassies in Copenhagen (say, starting with the Syrian and Lebanese). Of course that's a sarcastic comment... since there seems to be so much trouble understanding satire and parody in this world, I figured I should point that out before protesters start burning down my blog.
Posted by Christopher at 03:27 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBackBy Request Blogging, Part IV: For Jose
My cousin Joe requested that I mention something about my insane family in this post. Not insane in the same sense that Eden's mother is, but oddly not right all the same. (And before you snark at me for talking 'bout Eden's mama, please know that she posts frequently about her interactions with and tolerance of her mother, so I am -- rather than insulting -- giving a shout out to a series of funny posts.)
Anyway, you may remember that last February, my own mother -- a good-hearted, if extremely misguided soul -- took leave of her senses and decided to participate in a fundraiser for the Special Olympics that involved rushing headlong into the Atlantic Ocean ... in February... when the water temp might hit 45 degrees on a good day. I posted about the sudden onset of 50something dementia that had seized my mother, and was really hoping that such rapid-onset-temporary-dementia was not hereditary.
Unfortunately, it apparently is hereditary. My kid brother -- also an ordianrily sane human being (well, that's pushing it perhaps... he's a practicitioner of both kendo and ballroom dancing... because obviously, being handy with a samurai sword often comes in handy when you're doing the lindy) -- has decided to join my mom in this year's "polar bear plunge," which happens this afternoon. They invited me to join them. I had to wash my hair.
Just as last year, the cause is honorable enough -- raising money for the Delaware Special Olympics. The thing is, both my mother and brother are just bat-spit crazy enough where I think they'd do this even if the charity were raising money for Special K. Anyway, according to The Weather Channel, the air temperature where they're doing this today is 48 degrees, with a stiff breeze of 14 mph, gusting to 18 mph (making the "feels like" temperature about 42), and the water temperature is about 45.1 degrees. That's Farenheit, kids.
My family, ladies and gentlemen. We're only slightly less troubled than the Hemmingways.
Posted by Christopher at 11:18 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBackFebruary 04, 2006
By Request Blogging, Part III: For Beav
Beav threw me a curve ball with her request for not one but three subjects. Fortunately, they're pretty easy topics to tackle: love, life, and facial soap that doesn't feature unwanted guests.
1. Love. This one's easy. If there has ever been a marketing-induced mass hallucination that affected the entire planet''s population, this one's it... and Hallmark stands guilty of slipping the whole world a roofie. There's lust, of course... and physical chemistry so intense that it makes you willing to tolerate the other person's spit for a while. And then there's the like, need-companionship/fear-being-alone kind of emotion that I guess is love. But love? I don't rule it out completely, I suppose; I just think that it's an annoying concept and that there's nothing more obnoxious in the world than listening to someone prattle on about how in love he/she is with the tube of wonderful flavor of the month. (I'm not alone in thinking this, kids... witness the precipitous drop in Tom Cruise's Q rating this year.)
Yeah, I keep forgetting that part every time a new woman walks through my world and the pheromones kick in and I lose my brain temporarily. Seems I'm susceptible to the same mass hallucination as everyone else.
2. Life. Speaking of life, here's a story from real life. Erika, the Beav and I went hanging around in Manhattan last night. (Photos exist but they will be withheld to protect the innocent.) We started out in a British-themed pub down near Wall Street called "Pound and Pence" that I really did not want to like (it's full of Wall Street types who ooze self-importance and expect you to be impressed that they work on the exchange floor or for a big financial house) , but did (despite the expectations of pomposity, the bar food was good, the drinks flowed freely, the house music was Brit-rock -- I even got to sit there listening to the Pistols' "God Save The Queen" while waiting for Beav to show up -- and the ambience was pretty cool).
After that we cabbed over to the Bowery to have dinner and catch the show at Lucky Cheng's -- where Beav and Erika proceded to pretty much get us tossed out for being too rowdy, something I really thought was impossible to be at a drag queen bar that prides itself on outrageousness. Ethan was called during this debauchery, but perhaps out of fate or perhaps out of wisdom he had prior engagements. We started heading up into Midtown for some further troublemaking, but halfway up in the cab, just as we got to Times Square, Beav pretty much threw in the towel for her portion of the evening. (In her defense, I have about 150 pounds on her, so it's to be expected that she'd be done first when going drink for drink.) So Erika and I bailed out of the cab, sent the driver on the way to Beav's neighborhood, and caught our own cab back down to the financial district.
How's that for a "life" post?
3. Facial soap. So many potential jokes, so little time. Let's just say that during the madness at Pound and Pence, the vagaries and nuances of Beav's suggsted third topic were discussed at length. I'm still recovering.
Thus endeth my creativity for the day. I'll try and get to the other suggested topics tomorrow.
Posted by Christopher at 12:50 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBackBy Request Blogging, Part II: For Erika
I realize that this will sound like a statement from one of those overly pretentious intellectual types who want you to know that they think they're more highbrow than you... but I swear it's not. Genuinely, I don't watch much TV anymore. I've settled into a routine with work where I work lots of hours, come home, either blog or try to catch up on reading the news on the Internet, and then go to bed. Plus, there's just so very little worth watching anymore. So I don't watch TV much. And when I do, it's usually stuff like History Channel specials on the Bible Code or DaVinci Code or UFO sightings in Brazil (how the hell did stuff like this make it on to a channel devoted to history, by the way? Should we re-name it the "In Search Of..." channel?... Oh! mental note, do a post someday about what a great show In Search Of was and how it used to (mess) with my head when I was a kid.)
Anyway, I've digressed. My point was that I don't see much TV. So when Erika asked that I blog about Doc and "the Little Giant," I actually had to look up on the Net what a "Little Giant" even was. Turns out, it looks like something Doc has to use in order to be tall enough to tie his own shoes. It's also adjustable, so if he needs to be even taller (like needing to look Vern Troyer eye to eye for example), Doc's covered. Seems like a good fit to me.
Posted by Christopher at 12:24 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBackBy Request Blogging, Part I: For Sarah
I turned over the blog this weekend to the request line... which was a dangerous thing, because I should have seen it coming that I would be given subjects I have no interest whatsoever in blogging about. Led Zeppelin, for example. This band makes the top of my list of Bands I Hate The Most. Because unlike one-hit-wonders like OMC responsible for infuriatingly get-in-your-head pieces of sludge like "How Bizarre," people actually for some god-forsaken unknown reason actually insist on taking Zeppelin seriously. You know, as if inhuman, banshee-like screeching passed for singing, derivative hack axing passed for good guitar work, or vomiting passed for percussion.
Robert Plant has the voice of a drunken ten year old girl -- in both octave and ability. Jimmy Page may well be the single most overrated musician since Pat Boone. Speaking of overrated, Paul McCartney's "Silly Love Songs" featured John Paul Jones on bass -- whose willingness to play on such an insipid piece of AM Gold automatically disqualifies him from inclusion in any list of musicians with dignity. Bonham, I'll give credit for actually being talented... would that he was as talented at puking as he was at drumming.
Still, Sarah asked me to do a Zeppelin post, and this is all-request Curmudgery... there was no way in hell that I was going to even listen to one of their albums, much less three (like I even own one?), so this was an impossibility. Instead, I give you an Internet animation set to one of the only two Zeppelin songs that I can stomach: The Viking Kitties, performing "The Immigrant Song."
The rules were that I'd blog about what you asked... but not necessarily the way you wanted me to.
February 03, 2006
Reality Bites? Perhaps?
If you were reading my blog way back in the day, you know that despite my general dislike (!) of reality television, I was highly amused by the Joe Schmo Show series, probably because the show was not just a great prank but a pretty vicious parody of reality TV. You also know that during Season 2, I became a huge fan of the female "mark" for their Bachelor/ette spoof, Ingrid Wiese. I thought she was smart -- too smart to be on a reality show, actually -- funny, independent, took no spit from anyone... and okay fine, being the sucker for blondes that I am, I also thought she was drop dead gorgeous. (But I swear that her personality on the show really made the attraction for me!) I did a couple of quick posts during the show's run two summers ago about both the show and about Ingrid's immediate presence on my top ten list.
Fast forward to my comment review tonight (the best feature of Movable Type is the junk comment filter that at least separates the spamments out and lets me easily delete them...)... I see one posted to an entry from August 2004 - long before I even switched over to this template. I thought, "Hello, what's this?" As it turns out, the comment was on my last Joe Schmo 2 post... and was signed "Ingrid." Okay, I thought: Doc is jerking me around again, in the same way that he comments on other posts as "Ashley Olsen" or whatever. Either that, or it's a really mischevious spammer. But out of curiousity, I decided to play along, and clicked over to the blog that "Ingrid" claimed as her own -- fully expecting to land on an online casin0 or to be offered some bogus m0rtgage deals.
Gad zookes, it looks kinda legit. This would obviously score very high on the Holy Spit-ometer for comments I never expected to get.
Maybe it's not legit. Probably not. It could still be Doc playing around. If it's actually the real person though, I have my first semi-famous person commenting on this blog. Would be kinda cool.
February 02, 2006
I Have Nothing To Say...
Empty.
This week, I've been reaching into my idea bag and finding nothing but dust bunnies... been spinning the giant Wheel Of Inspiration and landing on "Lose A Turn"... rolling the idea dice and coming up snake eyes... dipping into the creativity tank and finding I'm on fumes.
I have nothing to say.
Could that be? Me, who's never without an opinion he's just itching to share? Who's always deluding himself into believing he's funny and trying to toss out snarky thoughts or wisecracks? Who's made a living out of being the one who can come up with things to say? I'm the guy who's run out of ideas?
Sad but true. I suppose I could blame work; I'm on a new project that is both extremely daunting and extremely challenging (in the good way), and a lot of my creativity is getting channeled into it. So maybe trying to blog as the Mudge right now is like trying to hit the treadmill for a 30 minute jog after having just run the Boston Marathon. Or maybe it's just because between work and this site, I'm immersed in blogging for what feels like 24/7, the very word follows me around like a lost puppy, the lines between the professional me and the personal me are continuing to blur uncomfortably, and I'm just burned out on blogging for the moment. Maybe I'm just having a bad week. Maybe aliens came down from the planet Zepton and caught me without my tinfoil hat, and thus were able to use their super secret sucking ray to drain the creativity from my brain. Whatever the reason, my idea place is a bg giant echo chamber right now.
I'd say it's time to drop out for a while and restock my shelves, let the tank refill... but I pulled that stunt once already and so even doing that would be unoriginal. I think I'll just load up some blues on the iPod (courtesy of The Roadhouse), and turn it over to you guys. (And yes, I know that with readers like Beav and the Doc, I'm really asking for trouble here!) What do you guys want to read about? What do you think my next blog posts should be? Maybe this could be an exercise in creativity -- this weekend, I will write a post on every subject that gets suggested in the comments to this post. (I'll just ask you to please keep in mind that as I alluded earlier, my pseudo-anonymity is fading fast and people are beginning to connect this site to the professional me, so please don't be setting me up to blog about something that will cause professional embarrassment!) But - be the topic serious or frivilous, sarcastic or idealistic, one you take home to mother or one you just take home... this weekend, my blog belongs to you.
(Putting on my best goony radio DJ for a teenage top 4