what are all those people doing out there?

I've come across an op-ed in today's NYTimes by Yu Hua. I first encountered Yu after hearing a review of his book, Brothers, on NPR. (Am I liberal enough? Reading the Times and getting my reviews from NPR; and then blogging about it?) Brothers is a monster work and details the life of Baldy Li. I'll leave the reviews to others because I haven't finished the book and because they're much better at writing book reviews. (You can hear/read the NPR review here, the LATimes review here, and the NYTimes review here.) What the book has struck me as - in the first portion - is something akin to the writing of both Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Ismail Kadare; a bit fantastical and vaguely surreal. What's more important to this day is Yu's commentary on the Tiananmen Square pro-democracy protests from 20 years ago. He purports there were two facts that have become apparent since then, the second being that "... after the summer of 1989 the incident vanished from the Chinese news media. As a result, few young Chinese know anything about it." What strikes me isn't do much a direct comparison between the pro-democracy rallies in China (or the government crackdowns) and the eight years of the Bush Administration, but a process where something is forgotten or exiled to the past because was wrong. Who resigns something to the vault if it were a just or correct choice? If they don't leave it broken and shattered the dark corner they end up justifying it until it becomes such a weary and threadbare memory that people eventually let the dog lie.

This is the premise of Dick Cheney. If his misdeeds had been left in the dark, if no one had questioned his thuggery, then we never would have seen him again; a better future for us all. Instead, he's been forced into the light - no doubt against his will or desire - in an attempt to convince "the people", as Yu says, that his decisions were in the best interests of "the people". The problem with this tack is that there's a huge difference between our looking to the past and seeing that the intention was good but execution poor, and trying to convince me that your intentions were ever good. Cheney's intentions were never good and the longer he stays in the spotlight blathering like an ass the sooner "the people" will get the truth. His intention was always solely focused on his desire for retribution and revenge; there isn't an unselfish bone in his body. Instead of wanting him to disappear, I'm perfectly happy to see his mug all over the TV and newspapers because the house of cards will fall much quicker the longer we're exposed to the lies. The people can be right - remember the millions around the World that protested the Iraq War? - and the leaders wrong not because they misjudged but because they believe their good is greater than our good. Cheney still believes he can muscle his malfeasance into truth by merely changing his story, scowling at the press, or reaching for anything that will either justify his actions or make us forget. He has been, and still is, supported in this belief by both Republicans and Democrats whose hold that their political life is their actual life. It's disappointing to see how spineless and shallow the Congress has been.

As Yu says in his op-ed, there are loads of young Chinese who don't remember Tiananmen because it's been hidden in a closet. What Cheney really wanted was the same process; hidden away so nobody would remember and he could live his dying days as some type of hero in his own mind. Instead, we have the pleasure of seeing him unwind and attempt to define his legacy as something other than shitty. When not a single piece of good comes from your eight years of work in leading your county, you are a failure.

A light Sunday chat.

t

wish upon a star

I've been meaning to bring this up for quite a spell: wishbones. One of the meals that sate the horde of boys during the week is a whole chicken, handmade mashed potatoes, peas, and homemade gravy. What I will confess to is buying an already roasted chicken; who's kidding whom? I could buy a whole chicken for nine dollars, take it home, roast it for 75-90 minutes, and feed it to the small people or I could buy one already cooked for the same price. It doesn't take me 90 minutes to do the potatoes, rice them, mash them, nor butter and milk them. Since both boys only want a pile of potatoes covered in peas, a huge chunk of breast, and gravy all over, it's the simplest route. If I bought a chicken then I'll only end up ruining it for them by taking care to add lovely herbs, seasonings, and a bit of this and that. Not worth our trouble. That's my backstory.

At the end of this little weekly feast I always end up picking all the meat from the chicken and storing it for the next day's lunch that is surely chicken, refried bean, and cheese quesadillas. As I'm cleaning the bones I always keep the wishbone for, you know, wish making. As I wash up I clean that little bastard and hang it by the sink for a few days to dry I think of my youth. This little behavior seems perfectly normal for a Midwestern boy but it usually draws strange looks - and commentary - from the liberal, 5'10" New Englander. What child of the corn didn't long to see a wishbone drying on the window sill? What kid wouldn't wait impatiently for the call to duty: "Hey, you two, come here and break this wishbone", as it's taken with great care and handled to small children. Who? It may be the single most American thing I do - think about that for a minute or two. (Actually, I made a loaf of banana bread from three ripe bananas this morning; that's pretty American.)

The Eleven has been in a bit of a reality TV run of late. And by TV, I mean Hulu.com. As we await the last season of The Closer to show up on DVD (Tuesday), we've been watching Hell's Kitchen, Kitchen Nightmares, and the Dog Whisperer. (Funny enough, Ramsey and Millan use nearly identical techniques.) I love some Gordon Ramsey from a decade ago and watching Kitchen Nightmares last night before bed led to dreams of Gordo showing up and motherfucking my refrigerator - I couldn't even sleep. Let me tell you this right here and right now: that thing is scrubbed and clean as I type. Scrubbed. Clean. Efficient. It IS good enough. I have a whole separate entry on the Whisperer: we've created entire skits around the Work Whisperer, the Cat Whisperer, the Driving Whisperer, the Lawyer Whisperer. You get the idea. Make up your own.

The heat is here in D.C. We've got a long weekend, homemade pizza tonight, the Farmers' Market tomorrow, and a clean refrigerator. What've you got?

Love to all.

t

thumbs up, thumbs down

I’ve been trying to sort out a long weekend trip to NYC while L. is here over the summer and the planning has once again raised the question of hotel reviews. The beauty of the internets is the number of travel sites where every Ma and Pa Kettle can add reviews for just about any hotel in the World. The problem, as with any review of any product, is how to apply the appropriate heft to the really good or really bad reviews. In fact, let’s just wonder about the bad reviews. You’d think it would be one pissed-off traveler and really horrific service to push someone towards the “this place is hell and I shall never return” input. Or not. And, that’s the rub. Even though this little nugget of a story doesn’t come from a hotel review I think it’s apropos; at some point on Amazon.com, someone gave a product a zero rating because the Post Office – admitted behavior by the Post Office – lost the package. If this disgruntled person wanted to slag off the USPS then please do; just don’t do it at Amazon when reviewing a new clapper or sonic ear. It’s something I like to call, apples and oranges. A few of the hotels I’m looking at have poor reviews that are well written and useful; unfortunately, most of them run something along these lines;

“I will never stay in this hotel EVER again. We checked in for three nights on August 3rd and it was VERY hot in New York City. We were hoping to enjoy the city but the hotel is four blocks from the subway and walking anywhere in 98° heat and loads of humidity is unbearable. We had no idea the city could be SO hot. We ended up taking cabs everywhere we went and I swear all the drivers must have attended the Al Qaeda Finishing School. I would not recommend this hotel to my worst enemy. AND, the girls in New York City, when it's so hot, don't wear bras.”

I bought my summer sandals today. (I know, I’m changing subjects.) I’m not a huge fan of socks and shoes once it gets to about 70° and the humidity is rising. I managed to buy the exact same style as last summer – a perfect pair of Clarke’s – so everyone will be able to easily recognize me even if you only see my feet. Last year’s pair was eventually destroyed after six months of hard work. I’m contemplating buying a few more pair and simply storing them for my future self; always consider your future self.

Funny story about shoes. When X came to Reno to visit me back in the summer of 2005, we spent three nights at a smashing bed & breakfast up in Truckee, CA . We hiked a few Tahoe trails, ate great Mexican food, walked the small town, and saw a guy pick up a broad at a hen party simply by simply flexing his bicep. Anyway, we stopped in an outdoor shop one afternoon because she wanted to look into some nice Teva sandals and Truckee is nothing if not ready to help with outdoor activity and kit. After about thirty minutes of quality expertise, and as we were having our order rung up (we were the only customers in the shop), the guy helping us suddenly ups and sprints, hell bent for leather, out of the shop while yelling over his shoulder for us to get out; cash drawer open and nothing but cartoon dust and spinning legs. As his words were ringing through the atmosphere we suddenly felt a massive rumbling. As we (sort of) ran out of the shop and into the street behind our savior, we realized that what had caused the commotion was a pretty strong earthquake – certainly the strongest I’ve felt in all my earthquake experience. We asked him if this running from his rickety store/shack was standard procedure. Was there a worry that the building was going to collapse? Was everyone in town supposed to now be standing in the middle of the main street? Because if that’s the case, the whole town was missing the boat and only he was following the emergency checklist. His response to our inquisition was this: he thought a train was going to crush the building, not an earthquake. We turned and gandered at the shop and realized that it is, in fact, right next to the tracks that run through town. Granted, these tracks don’t host freight trains, but most likely passenger trains because the station and its tracks seemed like a spur into town for the purpose of picking up passengers. Regardless, you’ve got to be one shaky character to spend all day working in a store and pondering the fear of getting flattened by a locomotive. He told us it sounded to him exactly as he’d imagined a locomotive gone bad – a beast sounding just like he’d dreamt. Death. Once he realized it was just a strong quake he laughed it off and headed back inside. I bought my shoes, a pair of socks, and left the store wondering whether to fear trains or earthquakes. Ponder.

I'm done with olden stories.

what? in florida?

There’s a coffee place in Arlington, Murky, that we used to frequent often but they’ve closed the doors on that enterprise and moved to D.C. to start a new joint. At one time there were two Murkys (Murkies?) – one in D.C. and one in Arlington. The move ends the franchise name but the owner will have the new place, Wrecking Ball, up-and-running in D.C. soon enough. What’s interesting about the tale is the follow-on business at the old Murky locale: a coffee shop. One of the reasons Murky is moving, per the owner, is because the funkadelic two-story place they occupy was sold last year and the new rent has become untenable. The folks talking over the new beanery own and operate a place called the Liberty Tavern which is a restaurant bar about 200 feet down the road. The building in located right across the street from the George Mason University School of Law and just blocks from thousands of young, urban professionals who live in the Clarendon district and Ballston area and do very little beyond drink coffee and display their MacBooks. What I don’t get is this: Murky was always full. They made the best coffee east of Reno (Bibo), they had free wireless, the vibe was cool, and all the kids dropped lots of cash. In fact, I don’t even know where the nearest Starbucks was to Murky – it was a challenge too great for even them to unseat. Back to the full part; if the owner decided that rent was too steep for him to stay open then what makes the Liberty folks think they can swing it? Apparently, they want to overhaul the entire building and go from there – something that’s beyond my comprehension. Sure, they may well be able to keep the Murky customers coming back but there isn’t any room for real growth of custom in that building so how are they planning on making it work after an investment (refurbish) that might run up near $100K? Not only that, no matter how good the Liberty Tavern folks are, the coffee won’t be as good. I’ll wager that Starbucks or Caribou are already plotting a move into or near that very corner in Clarendon. I’ll also wager that the new place won’t make it more than a year; mark my words. Business people, I just don’t get them sometimes.

X put out this phrase last night while trying to explain why she’d be an excellent buyer for a woman’s clothing store, “I am very average at many things.” I’ll have her forward the CV if required.

Love to all,

t

beware

I was hanging about the Westpark transportation hub awaiting my bus driver yesterday (the bus was sitting at the terminal but the driver was inside chatting) and I couldn't help but notice a bus-side ad for the the upcoming John Travolta movie. I don't remember the name of the film, nor do I much care, but I did spot the the yellow MPAA warning banner in the bottom left of the huge poster. The film is rated R for "violence and pervasive language". I'm no rhetorician, nor did I have access to my OED at that moment, but I was fairly confident in thinking that pervasive language meant lots of words. So unless this is a rendition of The Jazz Singer I'm not sure how the warning would affect the audience. Exactly how the MPAA came up with a phrase such as that to indicate anything of interest is beyond me. Isn't that sort of like saying that the film is rated PG-13 because it contains a "duration of minutes"? Or maybe it's rated NC-17 for an "encumbrance of sex".

I did get through two films on DVD this week: The Band's Visit and The U.S. vs. John Lennon. I haven't quite sorted out Visit in my head but it was very enjoyable. This afternoon I headed to the talkies to see Sunshine Cleaning with Amy Adams, Emily Blunt, and Alan Arkin. First and foremost, there is no Alan Arkin movie, or role, that I don't like; I could watch him forever. Amy Adams, after seeing her in Junebug, instantly became a favorite. The movie reminds me a lot My Big Fat Greek Wedding for one reason - it doesn't feel the need to rip out your heart at some point. But, don't think that if you loved Wedding, you'll love this film. There's some dark stuff going on but the inevitable 'holy shit' moment never materializes. In fact, we've become so Pavlovian in our expectation of that moment that when it doesn't occur we absolutely stunned. How could they not do something horrendous to my senses? It's a bittersweet film that ends perfectly with Blunt's character (sister) on the road and Arkin and Adams' characters (father and daughter) together in life once again. A fine film and great acting. It's worth a Netflix if you aren't one to take in films.

I've pulled my laundry from the line just as the rains came. That's something from something.

blind and naked

Both David Brooks and Andrew Sullivan are missing the boat on the Administration's plans (and hopes). You can find Sullivan's piece here and it will further link you to the Brooks op-ed in the Times. Both are suffering from the great red herring of the here-and-now. What triggers this realization for me are these two paragraphs from the op-ed:

"Obama aides talk about "game-changers." These include improving health information technology, expanding wellness programs, expanding preventive medicine, changing reimbursement policies so hospitals are penalized for poor outcomes and instituting comparative effectiveness measures.

Nearly everybody believes these are good ideas. The first problem is that most experts, with a notable exception of David Cutler of Harvard, donít believe they will produce much in the way of cost savings over the next 10 years. They are expensive to set up and even if they work, it would take a long time for cumulative efficiencies to have much effect. That means that from today until the time President Obama is, say, 60, the U.S. will get no fiscal relief."

I'll call this the "next Monday I stop smoking" plan. Both Sullivan and Brooks believe that having one marshmallow now is better than two marshmallows later. (I know, read this if you must know.) This mentality always put forth the idea that if some program won't happen in the next two years, the next month, or the next week, then it's not worth our effort: and that's the most dangerous of all ideas and it runs rampant through myriad politically-charged issues. If your grand plan doesn't involve where we will be in ten or fifteen years - especially based on our current morass - then you're the problem. The Obama plan is certainly premised on reducing healthcare costs across the board in order to not only fund some of the spending required to support the American economy, but to prevent the spiraling costs from, well, spiraling. The Sullivan commentary even reposts a poorly chosen chunk from Bruce Barlett in order to support something:

"To summarize, we see that taxpayers are on the hook for Social Security and Medicare by these amounts: Social Security, 1.3% of GDP; Medicare part A, 2.8% of GDP; Medicare part B, 2.8% of GDP; and Medicare part D, 1.2% of GDP. This adds up to 8.1% of GDP. Thus federal income taxes for every taxpayer would have to rise by roughly 81% to pay all of the benefits promised by these programs under current law over and above the payroll tax."

I love Sullivan but he's simply circled back on himself by using this example as support for why reducing health costs isn't the solution. If you remove the 1.3% tagged to Social Security, you're left with the larger 6.8% chunk. If those numbers are reduced, and significantly, not only can we avoid increased future outlays but we can start saving now - and by now I mean over the next few years. As usual, the yelling and screaming must have impeded the use of a calculator, something I'll get to in a minute. Where exactly does Sullivan and Brooks think the demand for Medicare dollars come from? I'll wait a second while they think about it. What? Those costs (and percentages) come from...healthcare. Huh? From healthcare needs for those that can't afford it and/or don't have any coverage, or preventive medicine, or good health, or helping those who eat Twinkies everyday. If we don't even consider the future savings - or the resulting spirals that can be avoided we can suddenly go to our calculator powered by silence and get some real numbers. The average GDP (the mysterious GDP from above) from 2006-2008, in 2008 dollars, is about $14 trillion. My handy-dandy calculator tells me that 1% of that number is $140 billion. If we can cut just 2% from the 6.8% of the GDP that accounts for those parts of Medicare then we've can save $280 billion over the course of one year. If we assume that the GDP will grow, maybe slowly for a few years but quickly in the later years, and I can project the current number over six years then I'm sitting at about $1.68 billion in savings by lowering the amount of money spent to unfuck people's health, and the system. That's a big chunk of the TARP, stimulus, and etc. that we've already spent to prop up our addled economy. When you consider future numbers beyond that: possible further percentage cuts, maintaining a lower cost level, and providing better healthcare to everyone, then I'm cool with looking beyond Obama's time. As I've said before, this cat looks and plans way beyond what we imagine: every time. How many times do you need to be fooled?

As for Brooks, who finds savings of $100 million across agencies, or $17 billion in budget cuts to be comical, fuck off. I can look out beyond next Friday and say that if we have sorted out the massive issues we face today by the time Obama is 60, well done. You know, you have to start sometime, right? It's Monday, get onboard.

Why don't you guys just have your one marshmallow and go home.

Thanks.

t

drivin' and cryin'

I'm not sure why Andrew Sullivan decided to have a quick debate on bike helmets but I can't help throwing my penny into the jar. I don't have stats at hand - if they even exist - but the helmet isn't necessarily on your headmeat in order to save your life when pummeled by a car that weighs 2,500 pounds. If it works in that situation then consider yourself lucky. The reason you wear a helmet, and it's efficacy, is for when you fall off your bike and hit the pavement; via a rut, a curb, another bike, a tree branch. What the helmet does it keep your head from whacking the pavement, or curb, and scrambling your brain. Think about it this way, if you have your wrist guards on while riding your Schwinn Sting-Ray to the skate park to pull some some googly-footed double ollies and you get run over by a car, those wrist guards aren't much good. On the other hand, if you're whipping a 1080 after you've smoked a sick sash of weed and you smack the edge of the half-pipe and tumble down on your wrists, those guards will do you some good. Car. Fall. Car. Fall. Lesson over.

Speaking of cars. I'm just about at the point where I'm going to quit driving. I don't think I'm a crazy old man, I think I'm a pretty good driver - not perfect, but I can't deal with the idiots that are out and about. Here are are my three golden rules of driving: stay in your lane when turning, use your indicator any time you change direction, slow down in parking lots and if you see reverse lights then slow down even further. I'm not a fan of the "he's backing out and he should be more careful" argument. That's just great when we are both sitting in a parking lot because there's been a collision - that's worth it, isn't it? In most parking lots I can't see around the SUVs and if I'm slowly pulling out of my space and you see my car - stop. (No, I haven't had an accident of late, it's just an ongoing rant.) As for the indicator, it comes from the Greek term "indicate" which means: hey, dumb ass, indicate your intention and I'll do my best to not only not hit you, but possibly accommodate your lane change. It's not so hard. The grand point is this: I'm getting so stressed out by trying to avoid tomfoolery that it's just killing me. I think I'll ride the bus, ride my bike, or have X drive everywhere.

If you didn't know, I no longer have any adolescent progeny - L.'s 13 today so it's nothing but teenagers and up for me.

love to all

t

what a trip

We’ve got a pile of stuff to cover today and a good bit of it revolves around the Capitals’ game last night. Not necessarily directly related to the game, just the doings to and from, and while at, Verizon.

The most interesting piece was the last part of my commute home (and by ‘last part’ I mean it will become clear when you finish.) was a young lady who got on the Metro in D.C. as I was heading back to Virginia on the Orange Line. She had about six stops – I now know this because she got off at Clarendon – and immediately after sitting down, and taking a look around, and apparently deciding we were all cool enough, she did her entire make-up routine: base, blush, eyes, lips…everything. Obviously, she’s comfortable enough doing her work en route to the club at 10:30pm and, more power to her. I did think she might pull out some Nair and get her legs in order but she simply ran out of time and possibly towels.

I decided to try to catch a cab home from the game last night so I walked up to 6th St. and Massachusetts Ave NW . This was a grand idea on my part. Traffic in the blocks around Verizon Center after an event is always questionable (police blockades) but after a playoff game versus Pittsburgh it’s even worse. The first cab I corralled told me he didn’t want to go to Falls Church because he was hungry. As I sat in his cab, with the door open, I passed along two helpful tips: first, we have food in Virginia . Second, if he’s hungry and is going to pick-and-choose his fares, which he’s not suppose to do, then he needs to turn off his vacant light and go get some food. I finally get a second ride and he decides, after I tell him I want to go to East Falls on I-66, to head south down 9 St. NW to Constitution Ave. NW. From there he’s ‘planning’ on heading west along Constitution and (I’m guessing) to 14th St. before eventually crossing the river on 395 and heading back north to I-66. What the hell? Now, I don’t think the guy was taking me for a ride I just think he only knows one way in and out of D.C. I, unfortunately,  didn’t pay enough attention until I realized that the traffic was bumper-to-bumper all the way south to Constitution and just as packed heading west. By the time I got to the Ronald Reagan building on Constitution Ave. – after about 25 minutes and six blocks – I just pulled the rip cord, gave the guy the $7 I owed him, and hopped out into stopped traffic. I knew I could trundle over to the Federal Triangle Metro about 100 metres away and catch the Orange Line home. The greater issue is why he would go that direction in the first place; with the other 17,000 people leaving the game? We were about two blocks from K St. NW (to our north) when he picked me up and we could have shot west on K St. to the Whitehurst Freeway passed Georgetown and straight onto I-66. (I know, I’m boring you. Go to Google maps, find the Verizon Center, and if you’d like, play along.) The lesser issue is that I really had to use the bathroom and I foolhardily imagined I’d be home in about 20 minutes when I got into the cab – after 10pm at night it should only be 20 minutes to get home. Great. I wasted that 20 minutes sitting in traffic on 9th St. By the time I got out of the cab and was heading into the Metro I knew there was no way I was going to wait fifteen minutes for a train, ride 30 minutes to West Falls, and another 10 or so to get home. For those non-D.C.ists out there, when you're near the Mall at night there is nothing open: nothing. IF I were lesser man I would have just pissed all over the EPA building right above the Federal Triangle Metro. IF, I were a lesser man.

As for the game, it was something special on a Monday night. Both Alex Ovechkin and Sidney Crosby had hat tricks and the Caps won 4-3. For the second time in as many games in the series, the Caps came from behind (twice this time) and stretched the series lead to 2-0. Games three and four are in Pittsburgh on Wednesday and Friday. These two players are the faces of the NHL and the league couldn’t have asked for more. Crosby ’s goals were all from two or three feet – banging in rebounds, real grinder work – and Ovechkin’s were beautiful slap shots and wristers from open ice. His final two came within about a two minutes of each other in the third period when the game was still tied at 2-2. I’ll wager you’ve rarely heard the kind of eruption from a crowd that came when he broke the tie and made it 3-2. No one had even settled back into their seats from that score before he took a pass at center ice, powered into the zone, moved left in front of the covering defenseman in order to set him up as a screen, and ripped a devastating wrister into the upper corner. I thought Ovechkin, someone who plays the game with pure and reckless joy, might explode. Needless to say, the roof came off the arena and hundreds of hats rained down on the rink. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. If you want to see all three goals in a short video, you can see them here. Considering that the core of this team falls between 21- and 25-years-old, there is a very bright future beyond even these playoffs.

My last scene for today takes place in our bathroom at work. Suddenly this morning we’ve found a huge bottle of Purell and boxes of tissues at our sinks. I’m a tad confused because we have really nice sinks, plenty of soap dispensers that are always full, and loads of paper towels. The last place you’d think of the need for Purell would be in our corporate bathroom. Are people more likely to wash their hands because of the Purell? Aren’t they already at the sink if they are heading for the Purell? Are we in some sort of new FLUCON?

t

winners around

You get a perfect shot of an exceptional save from yesterday's Caps win over Pittsburgh. The Caps goalie is 21-year-old Semyon Varlamov* of Russia (playing his 13th NHL game) and he came back across the crease to stick block what appeared to be an open-net goal by Pittsburgh's Sidney Crosby. At the time, the game was tied 2-2. Some have called it luck, some have called it skill. Either way, you make both, don't you?

There's nothing but rain and cool weather here on a Sunday morning.

We all headed to church this afternoon - don't get carried away - for the boy's spring Suzuki piano recital. The kids ranged in age from five to maybe thirteen and everyone played (and some sang) quite well. Certainly better than I did in my recital days. Unfortunately, I now have Go Tell Aunt Rhody, Twinkle Twinkle, Row Your Boat, and the French Children's Song rattling around in my head.

I've been reading the book Outliers which simply confirmed the stuff that bangs around when you hear stories about "people lifting themselves up by their bootstraps". Does it happen? Sort of. Is it all as it appears in the soft music and soft lit 'behind the scenes' stories? Nope. One of the most interesting pieces of the book concerns Jewish immigrants and Jewish-founded law firms in Manhattan. It's strange to see - and think - that the end result of some sorts of discrimination end in success. It's hard to explain and my very limited storytelling doesn't convey the facts. If you have time and enjoy a good read, give it a whirl. How's that for a recommendation? Priceless, no doubt.

*If you want an enlightening piece on the pronunciation of names for the Caps' herd of Russian-borne players, here you go.