by the tail

There’s always a lot of bantering about the Sports Illustrated athlete of the year. The result, Michael Phelps, was announced months ago but today’s events merely highlighted a name someone threw out during that discussion so long ago: Tiger Woods. I don’t watch much golf anymore, nor do I play, but I will still tune in online to follow Tiger and the Majors. The idea that Tiger was athlete of the year in 2009 – particularly when Phelps won eight Olympic golds – seemed strange until you put his six months in perspective. First, dude won the U.S. Open with a torn ACL (MCL?) and a broken leg. He walked all five rounds (it went to a one-round playoff on Monday) and applied an unimaginable amount of torque to a busted up leg and still managed to beat the world’s best golfers in golf’s toughest test. Second, when he announced that he’d miss the rest of the season and undergo surgery, the PGA Tour basically became non-existent. I don’t have the numbers for TV viewership or tournament attendance but they were no doubt devastated. In fact, I’d venture to say that no sport, at least in America and probably globally, is so wholly dependent on one athlete. Don’t get me wrong, Phelps was amazing, but if you removed him from swimming (and he’ll be retired soon enough) the Olympics would have gone on without missing him, globally, in the slightest. Tiger was back in competition today, eight months after departing, and won his opening match play challenge. All eyes will once again be focused on August the first full weekend in April. If he wins the Masters this year then we can simply remove him from any athlete of the year competition: he’ll have moved beyond comparison to mere mortals.

There's your sport for the week.

fun-da-mentals (clap clap - clap clap clap)

One of Slate’s writers finally added his voice to the much read and discussed Shane Battier story in the NYTimes Sunday Magazine from a few weekends ago. The kinfolk from Vermont were down visiting for Second Christmas when one of our late night rap sessions slipped toward sport and superstars. It’s happened in the past, and I’m probably the cause of the jumps, but there are some sports happenings that equate well to various real-life situations – I don’t remember the source of this particular foray. Oddly enough, the morning after our chat the Battier piece shows up on our doorstep as if called from the beyond. I also broached the subject of the article with my resident Sabermetrician and he assured me that the article “was all the talk” in and around the community over the weekend. I felt a bit nerdy knowing that something I found interesting was the “talk” of the Sabermetrician community; they’re a strange breed.

The piece struck me in two different ways: first, it confirmed my long-held suspicions that there are many aspects of team athletic endeavors that go unnoticed. As X pointed out while reading the article, why have we chosen to only accept (and pay athletes) by the defined box score numbers we see in the paper? Second, I wanted to believe that I was Shane Battier – and I’m also apparently the guy who could be writing the Slate piece. Hey, I lived in Arlington until this year and I have prescription Rec Specs! Secondly, my final season of playing organized basketball was way back in 1995 as I was finishing up my first tour in England and a lot of the story rings true for a mid-level player. I finally gave up playing after that year because when you hit 30 it all becomes too much. Well, that and the fact that I have a very low threshold of pain and blowing out a knee didn’t seem like anything I might be interested in experiencing. And, if I may let you know, most military bases have regular basketball leagues and over-30 leagues: I was barely interested enough in playing with 18- and 19-year-olds heaving up twenty-five footers and dressing like MJ – there was no way I was showing up to play with the old guys. My retirement at 30 had long been on the table and that Spring it was formally announced and reported to my rearview mirror on my drive home through the English fens. Those last two seasons were spent doing the same junk I'd always done: rebounding, blocking out, playing defense, setting picks, moving without the ball, and hoping that the *Kevin Johnson-wannabe point guard would somehow manage to not turn the ball over or possibly figure out how to use a pick. Two things quickly became evident way back then: the point guard would never figure out the pick and I was getting way too old and tired to play with the kids. It was also during that final season that I was ejected from a game for the first time. Oddly enough, it wasn’t because I was hanging 30 points on the opposition or yanking down 20 rebounds and the other team was targeting me; it was because of a beautiful blindside pick set on the point guard’s defender as they were hurtling down the court. For some reason, or more likely simple luck, the point ran his man right into the pick. I had the benefit of seeing it coming (don’t think I wasn’t smiling….) and had time to brace for impact. The poor defender was simply de-cleated, if you will, and he was pissed at everything. No foul was called but chucklehead was none too happy when he got up off the ground and threw a punch. I ducked – I’m a lover, you know – and the ref ejected us both: he for being a jerk, me for being too good. Or being Shane Battier, had we known.

I pulled off my Rec Specs, wiped the sweat away, and headed home. A good night, indeed.

t

*I had to dig through my dusty brain to come up with a 1995 era point guard. I was going to throw out Steve Nash or Allen Iverson but that would have taken my readers outside the picture I was creating. I would have had all kinds of feedback about how Steve Nash wasn’t yet an NBA MVP so how could that kid in 1995 have wanted to be Steve Nash? Was he Canadian? Nevermind.

sonar love

Here’s a little grammar discussion to lighten the mood. It seems like I’m forever trying to sort out the ‘I and me’ conundrum and it never sticks. I guess me should hang around those who are dubbed ‘mavens’.

I heard an interesting interview on NPR this morning (the podcast is better than the written article) that looked at our current economic troubles and measured them against Japan’s in the 1990s. Since there aren’t many economic wonks around the Hilltop I’m not sure how strong the support is for the points put forth but they are intriguing. I would hope that if there’s a working, breathing example of what we’re experiencing, someone would grab it by the scruff of the neck and take a good, long look at it. The gist seems to be that if private spending disappears (in Japan the interest rates were lowered from 8% to zero in an attempt to bolster private money movement, but to no avail) something or somebody needs to step in and fill the void. The obvious, and only, choice is the government but this leads to more debt; and isn’t it rich that the word debt just scares the bejeezus out of people? In Japan, the government infused some money but just as quickly backed off due to the debt burden; they tried again, and again, and again over time but the false starts and intermittent chunks of cash probably did more harm than good. The problem, and theory of repair, is called balance sheet recession and the goals when clawing out of the hole is to keep the GDP up and unemployment down until there’s an end in sight. What happens is the government spends enough to keep the economy from collapsing – not necessarily growing – and takes on debt while the private sector struggles to get back on balance. Once the private sector gets its house in order then it takes over the spending and growth responsibility while the government backs off and starts to repay the increased debt. The great fear we all have is that the spending will happen but later on down the road the government won’t actually make the switch of payments and we’ll end up with lots of debt, tons of useless furniture, and we’ll slip underwater again.

I just realized that grammar isn’t really light discussion, is it? I’m showing my dorkapotomus colors. This one actually is light and funny and might help you get through the final hours of the day. I’ll tell you right up front that when I used to watch SuperFriends on Saturday mornings back in the 70s, my favorite superhero was….oh, nevermind. I feel used.



T

it's not light; it's not easy

It’s Friday and time for some pop psychology. My hand was forced by a piece in the NYTimes that drew me into the abyss. I remember reading about the four, execution-style killings in Iraq shortly after they happened. I think Vanity Fair or some other mag did a long piece describing what happened that night and added some background on the four soldiers involved. The verdict is in on the first soldier with three more courts-martial to follow. I’m not of the mind to debate the trials of war and the actions of players in that arena because I don’t have any experience with gunfire, killing, destruction, and that sort of misery. I do have some experience with any number of survival schools and the techniques involved: we were trained in what to expect if we became a POW. The survival training that’s managed by the AF does not – contrary to letters and stories about other services’ training – provide any type of training that would be applied if we were dealing with POWs. One thing you learn very quickly is that a lack of sleep, endless playing of loud music, yelling, screaming, and the answering of endless stupid questions will break you down almost immediately. When continued for any period of time – maybe two days? – you’ve got nothing but mush for brains and any ability you might have had to reason had started to fade away. The psychological effects could easily become permanent if you didn’t at least have some sense that there was an end in sight; without that hope, it would be unbearable.

What got me going on this subject was the testimony of Col. Charles Hoge. Here’s the excerpt from the Times article:

“In closing arguments earlier, Leahy's civilian lawyer, Frank Spinner, argued that Leahy went along with the killings because he was dazed from a lack of sleep and numb from being in a war zone for months. It was a sentiment bolstered on Thursday in testimony from Col. Charles Hoge, a doctor and director of psychology and neuroscience at the Army's Walter Reed Army Institute of Research.” (italics added)

I obviously don’t know the colonel and I have no idea what his opinion might be on torture, or whatever it was that Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld so loved. If an Army soldier, or soldiers, are willing to execute bound Iraqis – Iraqis released by their own superiors due to lack of any evidence of involvement in an attack – because they were “dazed from a lack of sleep and numb from being in a war zone for months”, what do you think the lack of sleep and numbness caused by being held without charge, without a trial, and tortured for five or six years might do to someone’s mental state? I don’t know if the four killed were guilty or not, but someone in that chain-of-command decided there wasn’t enough reason to hold them, and yet, at least one Sgt. decided that murder was the answer. I don’t know how many of those held and released, or still held, in Guantanamo (or other locations) are guilty or innocent. We do know that something like 500 have been released because there wasn’t enough evidence to charge them. Do we think that all 500 of those just sat around a nice comfortable holding cell while those in charge sorted out the evidence for five years? Probably not.

And so, it comes to this: we have the Army testifying that sleep deprivation and the numbness of war can lead U.S. soldiers to murder. Yet, a majority of Americans don’t think that sleep deprivation, numbness from incarceration, and fear of death is actually torture.

Let me close with this: I obviously don’t condone murdering anyone. I think that based on my survival training – and trying to extrapolate into some combat environment – these soldiers were mentally fucked up. Maybe the only way for them to express their anger or relieve their pain was to get together and decide to blow some heads off. More than the sadness of all the lives ruined, this story is far more important to me because there’s this little piece of what Col. Hoge supported in his testimony. Hoge let’s us know that there are people that see what an environment or external actions can do to another human being. Even with the knowledge out there that putting someone in a this type of situation can lead to such horrible acts; we chose to directly, and willfully, apply the same techniques to other. Unfortunately, we too often see the result of those events as something that only happens to us.

t

mr. 8, to you

I'll get this up quick so it can serve as first breakfasts. This is from last night's Capitals v. Canadiens game at Verizon. It developed so quickly that in real time it was nearly impossible to believe. The place went bonkers the more and more we saw the replay. The quick background: Ovechkin is coming of the bench that's on the far side of the rink (the left on your screen) on a line change. The Canadien defenseman is bringing the puck out of his own zone when one of two things cross his mind and/or peripheral vision: "I need to get rid of the puck and get back on defense or the Great 8 is going to embarrass me", or "I need to get rid of the puck and stop skating in a straight line or Ovechkin is going to steamroll me into the boards." I don't know if he decided which of the two was the better option but you can watch the result as many times as you'd like.

the sounds

More music as I return to the fold.

There's little greater in this world than a great four piece. You might think that the Beatles would top my list but it's merely a fool's bet; I've never cared much for the Liverpudlians. There are about three songs that I really love but I could do without the rest. Don't get me wrong; don't fire off angry emails: I fully accept the talent but it's not my thing. (It's sort of like the Eagles. I guess they're really good but I only like Take It Easy.) Sorry, I digress. The greatest four-piece band of all time is the mighty Slobberbone and one of the newest and greatest rollers are Gaslight Anthem. Are they the most talented dudes in the world? Nope. Would you love to stand around on the bouncing floor with a beer in your hand just smiling like an ass and...well, bouncing? Yep. In our year-end music review they got a lot of love, and deservedly so. Here's the link to the video I really want you to watch. Unfortunately, I can't embed it here. If you want an embedded version with sound that's not quite as good, here you go:



You might ask how you can tell the great ones? First and foremost, you need a guy who's geeking on the bass. Take special note in the Letterman video of just geekin' the bass player is off to the right; that's quality.

Long live rock n' roll, baby.

p.s. There's no such animal as a good Slobberbone video, and that's truly sad; I'll get to Brent Best and his talent later this week. But, don't despair, here are the Eagles kicking out some Take It Easy from 1973. I'm heading out to porn up the 'stache. Blaze up, baby, and turn it up loud.

paisano!

Last night was pizza night on The Hilltop. Thursday nights became the night for pie about two years ago when X was in a night class at law school and I’d do pizza and a DVD to occupy the troops. Since we moved in May the program has been revived – minus the DVD and plus the girlfriend – and slightly altered into the shape of a double pizza festival: one for the boys, one for us. (Yes, I make the crust with my loving hands. I knew you were wondering.) The boys have a usual customer order pie: tomato sauce, fresh sliced mozzarella, hamburger all around, black olives on half, pepperoni on half, shredded mozzarella, freshly grated parmesan, and oregano. The Eleven gets to experiment a bit with myriad vegetarian/non-meat pizza combinations that I try to change every week. Ours tends to be thinner on the crust, based on a pesto or olive oil sauce, and loaded down with all kinds of strange stuff: asparagus, sun-dried tomatoes, mushrooms, sage, red onions, sunny-side up eggs, arugula, spinach, black beans, feta, parmesan, mozzarella, oregano, etc. Last night I did a margarita-like pie with only mozzarella, tomatoes, cream cheese and oregano. All’s well that ends well, right?

Let me take you back to February 5th, a cold night in the hills overlooking Falls Church. I’d spent the day wondering what type of magical mystery I could whip up when I got home. I started thinking about a smoked salmon pizza; but, do I cook the pie with the salmon? You might wonder. I did some research and sorted out that the poisson (and everything else) is added after the crust – lovingly brushed with olive oil – is baked and ready; sounded fab to me. I swung by TJs on the way home and grabbed a few ingredients (and wine – a chef ingredient) before settling into the kitchen to create my masterpiece. I made a batch of Greek yoghurt and dill sauce, sliced the red onions and tomatoes, and readied the capers (the capers were reserved for my portion of the pie)*. I decided to make one whole, single baking sheet pizza because both boys like smoked salmon and it would made my life a bit easier. By the way, never think for one moment that a step you might imagine making your life easier will actually make your life easier. Anyway, as I’m rolling out crust and checking my mise-en-place I get a few passing questions that can be summarized by this, “What’s for dinner?” I replied that pizza was en route and I generally felt there was joy all around. When the objet d’art was out of the oven, put together, and cool enough to serve, I rang the cow bell and the kinfolk arrived at the kitchen bar. Oh my! The horror! What in the hell is this? The crocodile tears and looks of sheer panic flooded to the fore. What is he trying to do to us? X kindly reminded me that this particular food configuration was actually a breakfast pizza. H. needed a paper bag to keep from hyperventilating. G. might have licked the edge of his piece with the tip of his lizard tongue. It did not go well. I, for one, ate away happily at my hunks of luscious smoked salmon and dill pizza. Sometimes you have to take a beating at the hands of the tribe. Don’t color outside the lines. When you say pizza, mean pizza. I’m just here to the help the team, and good Lord willing, things will work out. All that jazz.

Maybe I’ll just make them some crappy frozen pizza and call it a night.

Don’t look them in the eyes, they’ll think you want to play.

Love to all

t

*Okay, I’ll fess up to something here that shouldn’t actually have a serious effect on the outcome. One of my weekend breakfast menu items is bagels, cream cheese, tomatoes, red onions, capers and smoked salmon. This pizza MAY appear to be similar but the beautiful crust, olive oil, and yoghurt/dill sauce takes it all to another galaxy. Galaxy.

boarding

There was a thread on the WaPo’s Washington Capitals blog yesterday that had me laughing aloud at the desk. As with all crazy sports fans, Caps fans always want more – the team was so bad for so long that it’s success over the last year-and-a-half leads to endless discussions of trades and desires toward other players. Most Caps followers think the team needs a big forward to push some folks around near the goal and play the role of enforcer on the ice. One name that’s been inked onto someone’s wish list is big George Parros (6’5” / 240) who currently hangs his jersey in the Anaheim Ducks’ locker room. Parros played four years of hockey at Princeton University and that background led to this blog input:

“I would love Parros on this team! A Princeton grad turned enforcer! It would be awesome to hear a detailed explanation about why he had to kick some tail! "It was an egregious offense that could not be brushed off so easily. I dismissed one transgression, but upon seeing the second, I deemed a round of bloodletting in order."

This one-act play dialogue was continued by another fan:

"Accordingly, I removed my excess equipment, namely the gauntlets and helmet, and set to upon the vile offender, whom, I am certain, has learned his lesson and shall not commit that particular offense again. Should he do so, I will stand ready to pummel him once more into submission!"

They were killing me yesterday. The Caps fell in a shootout to the NY Rangers at Madison Square Garden. It happens. They have two games down in Florida this weekend. Get back on the bike.

warning: grumpy bears

I want to make sure I’m not crazy. As with most office pool environments – cubicles, bad light, crappy equipment – my office has shared LAN printers. There’s only one in our laboratory and it had a signed posted above it that decried:

PLEASE PICK UP YOUR PRINTOUT OR IT WILL BE SHREDDED

A few weeks ago I tore it down and threw it away. There were many more reasons for me to do this – acting out, frustration, hatred – but I only want to focus on the crazy person who posted the sign. The idea that this little rubric would be posted at the printer is laughable. What? I’m going to walk to the printer after spooling my job and then say to myself, “Screw that! I’m not picking up my printout!” I’d think that posting one of these little signs on my monitor might be more useful. It’s kind of like a warning sign that isn’t actually a warning sign but a sign placed at the actual point of danger. Maybe instead of having a construction warning that alerts me to a lane ending in 1500 feet they could have just a single sign that reads “Road Ends Here”.

Needless to say, a new sign was immediately posted after my little fit.

They don’t get me.

working on a nightmare

As somewhat of a follow-up to the yelling and screaming about Billy Joel – and Springsteen – from the last few weeks, I give you this entry. I’m here to report, as a Springsteen fan, on his hot, new offering, Working on a Dream. I wrote every word of this while listening to the CD once through. Rest assured, it won’t get another listen.

Outlaw Pete – What is this? This is the opening track? I guess you don’t want me to listen to the rest of the CD. It seems to be a yarn with no point and bad music. I’ve got to say that I’m really disappointed in this effort. I’ll try to marry the imagery up to something beyond a baby robbing people in his diapers, marrying a Navajo, getting hunted by Dan, killing Dan, and riding off. Yikes. (grade: C-)

My Lucky Day – More droning music that attempts to vaguely sound like the E St. Band. I’ll guess that this song is either for his wife or his daughter; but who knows? Another poor song at the front of the CD. (D)

Working on a Dream – Please, give me something. At least there’s a groove going with the music – something missing on the openers – but lyrically it’s pretty hollow. It appears that Bruce is, in fact, workin’ on a dream…that’s the vibe I get. Clearly, he’s not workin’ on songs. (C+)

Queen of the Supermarket – “A dream awaits in aisle number two.”? Surely this is a joke. This is awful. A story song about a girl at the grocery who the narrator is smitten with? A fine subject rolled into a crappy song. I think Bruce needs to give her a name: Mary, Wendy, something! I don’t like a single bit of this song. Not one bit. In the end, he did get his groceries to his car. Well done. (F)

What Love Can Do – F. There’s my grade right off the bat. I don’t even need to listen all the way through to pass judgment. I’ll make it through the song out of respect, but it’s awful. This sounds like a bad bar band doing a bad song. It seems like he’s trying to address dire circumstances and where we lie within those circumstances. I’ll tell you what, just read that last crappy sentence I wrote and put it to music. There. Now you know. (F)

(mental health break)

This Life - I am seriously going to be sick. This dandy is about exploding stars, galaxies, the universe, love, etc. It’s really bad. He did work “I fingered the hem of your dress” into the song; it rhymes with “my universe at rest.” Putrid. (D-)

Good Eye – My, oh my. A semi-blues rocker that calls Tom Waits to mind. There are only about four lines of lyrics – which on this CD makes me thankful – but the music is at least respectable. In the grand scheme of things this song might warrant a B-, but in the context of this CD, and its other songs, I’ll grade it higher (B)

Tomorrow Never Knows – Cue some of the Sessions Band action. The is the first track with music that sounds fresh, even though it calls out to folk, and inviting. Once he works strings into the mix it showcases just how good he can be in the folk environment. That’s a good thing because as far as I can tell it’s all that he’s got left. (B+)

Life Itself – It was but a short reprieve. I don’t know if it’s Steven Van Zandt of Nils Lofgren playing the solo in the midst of this ship wreck but it’s horrid. Maybe this is a song about relationships and drinking (?), but honestly, I haven’t the vaguest idea. Droning droning droning. (D)

Kingdom of Days – At least there’s some rhythm to the cut. A nice chorus (as far as this CD is concerned) fills out this diddy about time passing and guys and girls walking through life. For the first time they FINALLY let Max Weinberg, Clarence Clemons, and Bitten/Federici cut loose on instruments. For that, the song gets some credit – but it’s not great. (B)

Surprise Surprise – Opens with the chorus and the band in full flight. Could this be something? We got a birthday party and a song sung to the birthday girl (?). Unfortunately, this could have been made-up at a kid’s request to ‘sing me a song about my birthday’. Maybe it was, there’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not a very good song. (C-)

The Last Carnival – A song that would probably fit better on Nebraska. Lyrically, it’s probably the strongest on the CD; a clear story about the risks and hardships in life tied to a carnival life. I’m not too sure I like the ending with the choir showing up out of nowhere and wrapping up the song. (B-)

The Wrestler (Bonus Track) – There better be a bonus; maybe I should just call it a song added to the end. There’s finally something that does justice to what Springsteen can do when he puts his mind to it. I’m sure he worked hard on the actual CD part of the CD but the results aren’t good. This song, if you’ve seen trailers for The Wrestler, fits perfectly with the feel of the film. Maybe what Bruce needed was some focus. This is a really strong song. (A)

Overall? A few of the songs could possibly pull this debacle out of the garbage if it were another artist, and there were no expectations, but I’m calling him out for shoddy workmanship. This CD is nothing better than a C-/D+…and I’m being kind. Since The Wrestler is a bonus track I’m not letting it play with the other songs; it was clearly written in another time and place – maybe the late 1970s when Springsteen was really good – and won’t sway my opinion. Horrible.

I just tried to give the CD away to guy at work. No dice.

It’s a good thing he still puts on a good live show. I read the other day where Bruce said that he thinks his last three albums (not including Sessions) stand up positively against any three albums he’s every done. That is purely delusional.

I feel dirty.

gimme your lunch money!

As if I need this kind of aggro on a Monday morning. X forwarded me this NYTimes piece written by David Carr (Night of the Gun). It seems like less than a month since I bitched about some portion of the music industry; and now this? About 15 years ago Pearl Jam sued Ticketmaster (or maybe it was the venues under contract to Ticketmaster: same thing) along the lines of monopoly or antitrust issues. Talk to the lawyers in the family if you need actual legal jargon. The gist was that Ticketmaster and the contracted venues didn’t allow artists to set prices and / or service fee details. Basically, just about every venue of size in America was under Ticketmaster contract so if an artist wanted to play that venue they had to essentially agree to Ticketmaster rules. The options for any band back then, if not playing within the established contracted circuit, were limited to places like the Cheyenne RodeoPlex. Pearl Jam, in the final judgement, didn’t win its lawsuit. I remember how music fans reacted to the entire string of events: very supportive of the band at first, but not overly concerned that they lost; the band almost became a joke of sorts. Why? Well, Pearl Jam was then standing on top of the World – the biggest draw, the most sales, the king of kings. I think everyone figured that it cost the band nothing to step forward and complain because they’d just go home to Seattle when it was over and still be ridiculously wealthy. It seems quaint now, doesn’t it? But don’t we want the artists with the muscle to flex it on behalf of the fans and smaller artists? All Pearl Jam was trying to do was keep ticket prices below $20 and service fees under $1.80 per ticket. Now, I’m not going to wander off and find a calculator to sort out the inflation index and the difference between the $20/$1.80 situation of 1994 and what would no doubt now be a $125 ticket with a $20 service fee. I think Pearl Jam probably attacked the system from the wrong legal angle – and no doubt lost on those legal grounds – but they were so far ahead in seeing what was happening to the live music industry that it’s frightening. It’s doesn’t matter much to me that in 2009 most big-time artists make almost all their money from touring; that’s not an excuse for overcharging, service fees, and artist-sanctioned scaplers. I guess if I’m going to pay $100 for a Springsteen ticket then so be it; but, I’m not cool with paying an additional $20 for ‘service fees’. Even if I had walked down to the Verizon Center to buy my ticket I would still have been responsible for that extra $20 for Ticketmaster. And for what? My time? My money? Now we find out that Ticketmaster is pushing fans off to a ticket black marketer that they own and where they scalp tickets – are we really surprised? Nope. In fact, the idea that the ticket market for any big show is open to all is a joke. One of my hockey ticket connections – an agent of sorts – told me a few weeks back, before the Springsteen tickets went on sale, that she had here order in and would be picking them up Monday morning (I think the pick up was actually from the venue.) Needless to say, they were immediately resold for a 250% profit. And now onto Mr. Springsteen…

First, he contracted to sell his new album only through Wal-Mart. For that, he gets a big piss off from me. He’s tried to back off now and admit that it was a mistake – but primarily because someone pointed out that their labor practices are for junk – and he, as spokesman for the people, shouldn’t support Wal-Mart; true enough. But more importantly, he shouldn’t be cutting out local records shops and dealers. Lord knows, his success has never been based on local fans and businesses. Now he’s caught up in this Ticketmaster scam because he – and other big names – didn’t step up way back in 1994 and take a stand against the behemoth. He can try to backtrack now and say that he had no idea such nefarious activities were occurring, but who’d believe it? He is just as responsible for creating and releasing the monster as anyone, and feigning shock and surprise is embarrassing. As if Ticketmaster isn’t a drain on music fans’ lives; merging with the equally monopolistic Live Nation would truly be disastrous. Live Nation has almost completely taken over ownership of most live venues and combining that with the mega ticket distribution specialist will only increase fees. It’s hard for me to be critical of artists charging a free market price for their wares; it’s not hard to complain about fees that are nothing more than free money to a third party. Apparently, free money that is then used to pawn off overcharged tickets from the same vender and ‘surprised’ artist. And, if I might say, charging people $125 for a ticket takes entertainment spending dollars out of the pockets of folks who might actually use some of that money to see a show at Iota, Jammin’ Java, or the Black Cat; venues that are the lifeblood struggling musicians.

I rest.

p.s. If you must know, my first concert ticket (Kiss/Uriah Heep, 1976) cost $5.50. We were shocked - SHOCKED - when prices skyrocketed to $6.50 for my next show (Steve Miller Ban, 1977).

i can't believe that you need my love so bad....

I'm not sure what triggered the rock n' roll tonight but I was watching the very first Huey Lewis and the News hit (Do You Believe in Love) and then started to wander a bit. Feel free to depart the blog at this point if you must; there's nothing deep going on here. I did a bit on Guns n' Roses a few months back so I decided to pull up a well-recorded version (BBC, no doubt) of Knockin' on Heaven's Door from the 1992 Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert. This was not long before they returned to Wembley the weekend before Use Your Illusion (I and II) was released. You get some Axl, some Slash, some Dylan. I owned this on CD single, if you can believe or imagine something that crazy.



There's no reason why the next step should be to this song aside from the fact that I think it's in the great hall of fame: The guitar, drum, bass, and Rob Halford trying to kick your ass by singing, is first ballot stuff. I'll admit that I know next to nothing about the great metal bands but I first heard this diddy when my friend's band (Doc Friday) added to their live set and practiced it often. My friend Buzz, of playing the saw and cutting hair fame, ripped some guitar on this baby. Maybe since Buzz was in town last night it triggered this strange memory. This cut of Green Manalishi is from the 1985 Live Aid concert session in Philly. Get out the headphones and turn it up to 11...



t

how it crumbles

Ah, ethics. Now we’re talking some spirited discussion.

After reading this my very first impression was that I hate when parents sell kids’ junk at work. I hate it; I’ve cleared the air.

The next thought that crossed my mind, uninvited, was what would I do if I had a kid that needed to sell a pile of stuff for an organization? I’ll assume that they like the group, enjoy being a member, and want to do well at whatever activities are on the agenda. My first inclination would be to walk door-to-door with them in our neighborhood while they did the knocking and selling. It seems like parents are pretty willing to escort their children out-and-about on Halloween if they feel the need for safety or supervision, right? Why not one long evening of going door-to-door selling something for a troop and showing your child how to interact with people? After a first evening of selling I’d imagine the kids would be more comfortable, and willing, to strike out on their own during the day over a weekend. How about doing it in pairs? Or threes? What I have a hard time marrying up is the time invested in a Halloween escort tour that essentially involves getting free candy, and the unrealized cookie-selling escort tour that raises money for a troop. If anything, the lessons learned through sales – per the Scouts – should be far more important than the bag of junky Halloween candy parents spend their time supporting. Maybe committing another night or two a year to working on sales with your scout should be added to the calendar. As I’ve been typing this doctoral thesis or sort, I’ve realized that I wouldn’t have a second option in my cookie sale bag when my child came looking for help. If I were to push it I’d say that selling to my friends might be all right but nothing beyond that circle interests me. The rub is this: if an organization needs to raise money to support itself then it should do it in a more straightforward manner. If cookies need to be sold then ask parents if they will sell cookies; don’t pretend the kids are doing the work and reward them with sales gifts if there’s no way to equalize the process. I’d probably be more inclined to donate money to my child’s troop then I would be to sell “their” goods at work under the auspices that they are doing the selling while the troops look the other way and hand out awards. I think the best solution I’ve seen is to have the troops work tables at places like grocery stores: events where they are putting in the time and effort to sell while still fulfilling the safety requirement demanded by parents. Or, simply take all cookie sales on-line, distribute the orders troops, and they pass them to the scouts to deliver in their neighborhoods. Wouldn’t the cost be the same?

Then again, I could do without Girl Scout Cookies – I don’t find any emotional attachment to the culture of cookies.

As a final thought, the parent complaining about the eight million things her daughter needs to do should probably back off and let the kid be a kid. “Okay, little Jimmy. You’ve got to get to your nuclear fusion club early tonight and work hard. The moment you are done I need you to run out to the Hummer because I’ve got to get you to your LSAT review course. What? Yes, I know you’re only thirteen but you’ll need to prepare long and hard for that entrance exam. I’m not going to support you forever.”

t

I want my two dollars!

Here’s the opening of the article at CNN:

(CNN) -- On Monday, Congressional Republican leaders put out a list of what they call wasteful provisions in the Senate version of the nearly $900 billion stimulus bill that is being debated:

The Senate is currently debating the nearly $900 billion economic stimulus bill.

Here is the list of wasteful provisions they came up with in the release. I’ve added my earth-shattering remarks after each.

$2 billion earmark to re-start FutureGen, a near-zero emissions coal power plant in Illinois that the Department of Energy defunded last year because it said the project was inefficient.

- Oh, earmark! There’s a catchphrase. I’d like to see a review of the Bush administration’s DoE report. I will say that this is based purely on my hatred of Bush, I won’t lie. In my defense, haven’t the conservatives been pushing the idea of “clean coal”? Suddenly, any hope of making coal clean(er) is mockable?

$246 million tax break for Hollywood movie producers to buy motion picture film.

- What is this? I think this little nugget simply mists our vision (along with the earmark comment above) before reading the rest of the list. Once you read this you immediately thing “What the hell is going on.” I would imagine that this $246m is questionable at best.

$650 million for the digital television converter box coupon program.

- Shoot, I don’t know who came up with the converter box program but it’s there and it’s not going away. When you suddenly get millions of American homes with no TV in a few weeks you are going to have a riot on your hands. That doesn’t mean I think it belongs in the package, I’m just donning my riot gear.

$88 million for the Coast Guard to design a new polar icebreaker (arctic ship).

- I don’t know if this icebreaker (the “artic ship” wasn’t needed to clarify) will be used for scientific research but I’m guessing it has some value in that area. I wouldn’t call it wasteful.

$448 million for constructing the Department of Homeland Security headquarters.

- Is this one of those “shovel ready” projects? If so, it’ll certainly boost the economy in the D.C. area (I think it’s planned for SE) and provide jobs, right? Based on what I’ve heard from just about every economist on the spectrum, it is the jobs and unemployment that need to be solidified before anything else turns around. Now, we may not need a new HQ and that would certainly be an issue.

$248 million for furniture at the new Homeland Security headquarters.

- Hmm. Let’s call this wasteful spending. I think that if your furniture costs more than half the price tag of your new building then you’re doing something wrong. Imagine building a million-dollar home and then spending $600K on furniture.

$600 million to buy hybrid vehicles for federal employees.

- They make this sound like we are buying 30,000 Priui and handing them out to employees. Opa! How about it probably being a buying program for fleet vehicles for federal employees? Again, spending and responsibility….I hate that!

$400 million for the Centers for Disease Control to screen and prevent STD's.

- Fuck health. Sorry. I think every penny we spend on preventive healthcare comes back tenfold in the end. I think my father might have better numbers on that…and I apologize for the profanity.

$1.4 billion for rural waste disposal programs.

- Fuck waste. Oops. Okay, I’m pretty sure we need waste disposal, right? Once again we are in the spending area where it provides jobs and economic lift.

$125 million for the Washington sewer system.

- Well, the federal government is responsible for a good bit of the D.C. funding, it being a federal city and all. And, if you don’t know, there must be at least a dozen water main or sewer bursts in D.C. every week in the winter. Employment? Spending? I’m cool with it.

$150 million for Smithsonian museum facilities.

- Tourism. Tourism. Tourism. Let me put it this way: isn’t tourism one of the huge economic boosts for just about any major city, and by default, the economy. Secondly, if you’ve been to D.C. and enjoyed the Smithsonian, gratis, then think about coming here with the family of five and paying $10 for every Smithsonian building you want to see. Before you know it, you’ll be into museum costs to the tune of about $600 for the week. Don’t worry, you can eat Ramen in your hotel room.

$1 billion for the 2010 Census, which has a projected cost overrun of $3 billion.

- Doesn’t the taking of the Census employ loads of people? We’ll have none of that! Doesn’t the Census affect elections and voting districts? Isn’t it important?

$75 million for "smoking cessation activities."

- See healthcare above.

$200 million for public computer centers at community colleges.

- And the problem here is what? Education? Learning? Kids and adults trying to better themselves and enhance the economy and our standing in the world? Shenanigans!

$75 million for salaries of employees at the FBI.

- They make this sound like it’s merely a raise for everyone there. That’s not it, right? Are we hiring more people in law enforcement? That’s crazy.

$25 million for tribal alcohol and substance abuse reduction.

- Beating a drum.

$500 million for flood reduction projects on the Mississippi River.

- I have two things to say here and they are both pretty straightforward: JOBS and KATRINA.

$10 million to inspect canals in urban areas.

- I’ll go along with more jobs here. I’m guessing there are plans on the books to catch up on infrastructure projects that have been put on hold.

$6 billion to turn federal buildings into "green" buildings.

- I think the Republicans thought this meant green paint. With the quote marks it really does seem sneaky: do they mean non-green buildings? Liberals. I think the work involved would be an economic boon and the feds really need to get buildings upgraded.

$500 million for state and local fire stations.

- Let the fuckers burn. And screw the police, too.

$650 million for wildland fire management on forest service lands.

- This is in here simply because they are Republicans. They couldn’t allow this to stand.

$1.2 billion for "youth activities," including youth summer job programs.

- I’ll again defer to my father’s opinion from my youth. He felt that kids should have work opportunities in the summers. Let me ask you this; if we were to put $500 million in the pockets of youth through a summer jobs program, do you think they would spend it? On what? They can’t be serious with this objection.

$88 million for renovating the headquarters of the Public Health Service.

- Again, I know the feds need some remodeling but some of the plans may need to be put on hold, especially when it comes to new buildings.

$412 million for CDC buildings and property.

- Disease has been eradicated. Get rid of the CDC!

$500 million for building and repairing National Institutes of Health facilities in Bethesda, Maryland.

- See above. (I have a good friend who’s a chemist at NIH and I know her lab is a piece of junk.)

$160 million for "paid volunteers" at the Corporation for National and Community Service.

- Well, anyone involved in community service or as a community organizer clearly has no future.

$5.5 million for "energy efficiency initiatives" at the Department of Veterans Affairs National Cemetery Administration.

- More energy efficiency. Can we get off this? Drill, baby, drill.

$850 million for Amtrak.

- The only thing I’ll say here is public transport. If you don’t live on in the Northeast or along the seaboard you don’t know how important Amtrak is for reducing traffic. Having said that, isn’t Amtrak one of the worst run organizations in the country? Or am I making that up?

$100 million for reducing the hazard of lead-based paint.

- Lead is a problem?

$75 million to construct a "security training" facility for State Department Security officers when they can be trained at existing facilities of other agencies.

- I’ll take their word that there are other facilities for the training…with this caveat: since the conservatives have been hell bent on scaring the living shit out of everyone for the last eight years isn’t this a bit rich?

$110 million to the Farm Service Agency to upgrade computer systems.

- I don’t know anything about this. Nor do I have anything witty to say.

$200 million in funding for the lease of alternative energy vehicles for use on military installations.

- I know the military and they need some energy efficiency.

I think I’d probably question and/or remove about 5 or 6 billion of these “wasteful initiatives”. My calculator runs that out to two-thirds of one percent of the proposed $900 billion. Is the package perfect? Nope. Is it worth bickering over what would amount to about $23 of my monthly take home pay? Nope. But once you open up with words like earmark and Hollywood, you're golden. Hollywood, gay liberals!

If they want to simply pose and blow smoke up our skirts then they've done a fine job. But don’t pretend that all this evil stuff is being thrust upon us. Do you see any repairs being done to Ted Stevens' house, nope. You know what? I don’t want any stimulus package that is spending nearly a trillion dollars of taxpayer money. But aren't these the same politicos that voted for, and released, $350 billion of the first package and have nothing to show for it?

That barn door needs closing.

expedition

Let’s play a little multiple-choice Jeopardy. Here are the possible answers:

A. H
B. G
C. X
D. Kt

Here’s the question, ready your buzzers: When asked why they didn’t sleep soundly on Friday night the response was this: “It must have been the three Jameson’s I had at the strip club.” Good luck.

Our weather here has come out of the freezer yet I see the 40s and 50s forecasted for today might turn to snow showers over the next two nights/mornings. Why I’m telling you this, or why you might be interested in it, is beyond me. If you really wanted to know what the weather is like in northern Virginia you’d probably look it up for yourself on the newfangled internet. The real reason behind my forecast is to pass along a tidbit learned about life on the Hilltop. Our front yard – and by default, the driveway parallel to it – is very steep. I think I paced it off a few months ago because I want to get some degree of climb so I could call Car Talk to find out if going up the driveway really used a lot of gas. (I never called, just so you know.) For the engineers out there I think the length of the climbing portion of the driveway is about 30-40 feet and the footage of gained altitude is probably close to 15-18 feet. Is that possible? Let me know. What we’ve learned is that if there is any indication of snow in the forecast then we need to park in the street well in advance of the dusting. Even with just the first flurries last Tuesday morning, Galactica decided it was easiest to just slide its 3,600 pounds right down the to the street. That’s not a great feeling when just across the street from the foot of the drive sits two or three pick-up trucks working construction at the newly built house of our neighbors. Needless to say, you won’t be driving back up the drive anytime soon. The secondary issue became the Tuesday night/Wednesday morning ice storm that followed, and it was a good one. Even with the grand decision to park in the street it became clear that not shoveling the steps (as if you would in Virginia…) before the ice storm was a mistake. The steps became a deathtrap, walking on the grass/yard that is just as steep as the driveway and covered in snow ice wasn’t an option, nor was attempting to walk up the drive a smart choice. I needed a spelunking set-up and Sherpas to get to or from the front door. The little man in the house took one look outside and decided the best way down to the street was to run from the top of the drive and slide down, while standing up, to the bottom and tumbling into the street over and over again. Ah, youth. X eventually took all the ashes from the fireplace and scattered them about the steps after two days of misery. Suddenly, as if by novelty, the ice melted and traction was restored.

Plans are taking shape for the summer and it looks like L. will be here for a month and we’ll all spend a week up on Lake Memphremagog up in Quebec. After that she’ll be back to the Plains of Nebraska and her first year of high school.

p.s. On Sunday afternoon I witnessed my first Alexander Ovechkin hat trick. It was a blast.