"... and I Feel Fine ..."

Mysterious portents afoot. Major earthquakes. Prospects for peace in the Middle East. Locusts. And of course, this. Clearly, the end is nigh.

Good News on the HD Front

Finally, positive news on the pressing issue of the day. It appears that the world is significantly closer to having a single format for high definition DVDs. Whew!

Actually, I didn't realize that DVDs were not HD until recently (thanks, Andy). Still far better than VHS, though.

We seem to be getting into the era, long-promised, in which HD-ready TVs are not significantly more expensive than ordinary sets. If you haven't gone HD yet, you will, and you will love it. On a large widescreen TV, the image clarity is noticably sharper. Football games, in particular, seem to be made for this format.

My one complaint: I've been an early adopter, grabbing Charter Cable's HD box as soon as it was available, then trading it in for the all-powerful cable box/DVR for which I had pined for years. Unfortunately, I picked it up before the advertisement blitz hit, so we missed out on all the free inducements made available to everyone else. I probably could have asked for the same treatment, but really, who wants to spend extra time on the phone with the cable company?

MNF Furor -- Oh, That's Right, It's My Fault

We are being told by our betters that anyone who has a problem with Monday Night Football's pre-show skit is an uptight red-stater. Every time there is an "edgy" program shown on TV, the inevitable adverse reaction is dismissed as reflection of an increasingly moralistic government in the thrall of right-wing evangelicals. I'm more than a little tired of that kanard. Entertainers are constantly pushing the boundaries of social acceptability (which is not the same as good taste), and there is always going to be a segment of society pushing back. That segment is always going to lose. "Sex sells" has been the entertainment industry's mantra since, what, Elizabethan times? This has nothing at all to do with today's "cultural climate," which is usually code for "Bush's jackbooted oppressors." Remember, NYPD Blue came out during 1993, under Clinton's watch. The now-automatic excuse of blaming everything on "W" didn't exist then, yet the loud complaints existed. Does anyone remember Elvis, or The Beatles? Those cultural battles seem quaint now, as I'm sure today's concern about Janet Jackson will seem 30 years from now. But if that's so, what are we going to be watching on broadcast TV then? Will the Playboy Channel be irrelevant?

The MNF skit, for what it's worth, was mildly amusing, poorly acted on both sides, depended on a single, obvious punchline, and probably would not have made the cut on SNL. More importantly, it would have been ignored on SNL, airing late at night. The problem is that the risque lead-in aired at 6 pm on the West Coast. Our betters seem to automatically believe that there was nothing there that kids couldn't handle. Excuse me? It is not within the experience of my 7 year old daughter for women to drop their towels in front of men. Was there depiction of naughty bits? No, but the nudity was obvious nonetheless. Plus, try explaining the point of the skit to a second grader. I don't know what your primary grade kids are watching, but I would imagine it doesn't involve "adult situations."

Thankfully, I got home too late to see the beginning of the game, so it wasn't an actual issue for my family. I think I'll wait a few minutes to turn on the game in the future, though. I just want to see the game, not a crass cross-promotion (thanks, Fox, for leading us down the rathole on that one).

And this is what I thought even before I heard about Tony Dungy's remarks. Dungy, the African-American coach of the NFL's Indiannapolis Colts, was offended by the skit's perpetuation of the stereotype of African-Americans as sexual predators. Interesting point.

Then there's the hypocricy of the league and network apologizing, sanctimoniously condemning the skit, when they provide hours of commercials featuring nubile young women and beer, usually in the same ads. C'mon, NFL, you may not have good taste, but for the sake of credibility you could at least at least own up to it.

Just call me a conscientious blue stater who believes that his daughter is entitled to a few more years of childhood.

The Quietest Place on Earth?

That would be Legoland on a Friday in November. A lovely little park, but a little sad. It seems to want to be a big boy amusement park, but if you are over the age of 9, you probably will be bored. Unless you are a parent, in which case you will spend too much of your day trying to corral your kids to care one way or the other, just like at any other amusement park. It's a nice place for little kids, though.

To its credit, Legoland has the single coolest attraction I've ever seen in an amusement park (this is a very personal preference, mind you), one that would have made it a season pass must-have when I was 10: the "driver training" area. Kids get to drive underpowered go-carts (festooned as Volvos, of course) around a little "city" grid, complete with lane lines, stop signs and traffic signals. Since the park was basically empty, the kids got to use the ride every other cycle. That's a solid hour of fun. You couldn't have pulled me away from that for all the world's treasures when I was that age. Too bad I came along about 25 years too early.

Aaaaand, We're Back

So, if any of my four readers are still there, thanks for checking in. It's been a little hectic lately, so extracurricular writing suffered. Regular blogging will resume momentarily . . .

Red and Blue -- It's All Wrong

I'm incredibly frustrated with this whole Red State/Blue State thing. I keep hearing about California being a "Blue" state, and it just rubs me wrong. Now I know why. As Keith Olbermann reports, until just days prior to the 2000 election, Blue corresponded to Republican, and Red corresponded to Democrat. For reasons unexplained, the networks switched that convention four year ago. I remember it the old way, and I don't think I'll ever get used to the reversal. Just one more reason to hate politics. Or mass media, take your pick.

You see, rather than taking unilateral action that would disturb the peace of millions of Americans, I would have built a coalition of focus groups, reached out to those who advocated overturning decades of tradition . . .

First Hot Stove Rumor of the Winter

There is some speculation that free agent Pedro Martinez may be interested in going to the Giants ... to be their closer. Petey is tight with Felipe Alou from their Expo days, which might explain the desire to come West. I don't think Pedro-as-closer is a viable option, though. Pedro has been a starter for too long, and being so fragile needs to protect his routine too carefully to be successful as a closer. John Smoltz made a remarkable transition to become a lights-out closer, but Pedro seems to require more time to prepare than most relievers. Evidence: Game 7 of the ALCS, and Game 3 of the World Series. The Yankee game, in particular, was instructive. Pedro was knocked around hard by the first few batters he faced, but what the announcers failed to point out was that after Pedro made about 15 pitches, he suddenly became unhittable and closed out the inning quietly. Similarly, against the Cardinals, Pedro was wild in the first couple of innings, then shut them down for the rest of the game.

Based on very recent performances, then, Pedro is still a top-flight starter when properly motivated, but he is unlikely to be a successful closer. Of course, it's pretty unlikely that anyone would ask him to be a closer. Even if the Giants still had to toss Herges out there to close games, they would prefer to have Pedro as a starter.

Why I Started This Blog

I was reminded last night of the reason I wanted to embark on this little venture; it's so I can say things like this:

Fellow driver, you know that light on your dash? That pretty blue one? That pretty, bright blue one? Guess what: it is not, contrary to your apparent belief, an indicator light advising you that you have turned your headlights on. No. Oh no.

IT MEANS YOUR HIGH BEAMS ARE BLINDING EVERYONE COMING TOWARD YOU!

I don't feel better yet. Drat.

If I Had to Have a Pickup

... I'd want room for five

... and 500 horsepower.

I guess this would be my choice. Rock on.

Murphy's Law, Quantified

Thanks to the fine folks at British Gas who commissioned a study on the topic (gee, isn't high taxation great?), the world now has the formula for Murphy's Law (as reported by the New Yorker). Pencils ready? Good:

Let U, C, I, S, and F be integers between 1 and 9, reflecting, respectively, comparative levels of Urgency, Complexity, Importance, Skill and Frequency in a given set of circumstances. A, which stands for Aggravation, must apparently be set to 0.7. The likelihood of Murphy's Law applying under any particular set of circumstances, on a scale of 0 to 8.6 (no, I don't know why) is:

[((U + C + I) x ((10 - S))/20] x A x 1/(1 - sin(F/10)).

According to the New Yorker article, the study was based on a survey of 1,023 mishaps, and found that bad things happen at the most inopportune time at a statisitically significant rate. The shower will turn cold when you're covered with soap rates a 6.0, whereas the likelihood that you will be stuck in traffic when you're already late rates a 7.3. The likelihood that the Sox will screw up? 7.4.

I leave it to you to find new applications for this stunning breakthrough.

For the Sake of Accuracy

Following the various conflicting accounts in the debates, go here for an explanation of Mr. Kerry's accomplishments in the Senate. Make of it what you will.

You Wanna See Me Lose It? Try This.

Here's something I posted this morning with the web group I belong to, made up of owners and aficionados of ... a certain car marque. Anyway:

Before you remove those lumpy US-spec rear bumperettes in search of the last few ounces of weight savings, consider this (if you drive your car on city streets):

So I'm on my way to work this morning, in a line of cars at a stop sign. As we creep forward, the guy behind me apparently picks that moment to adjust his latte or something and gives my car a 1 mph love tap on the rear bumper. I've had this happen once before in another car, and 1 mph certainly doesn't sound as low impact as it actually is. With dollar signs dancing before my eyes, I scream a couple of uncharitable remarks about my fellow commuter's parentage at my disinterested windshield as we pull to the side of the road. Thankfully (and here's the point), there was absolutely no damage of any kind to the car. There was a tiny mark on one bumperette to show that the guy's car had been there, but nothing else. Nothing dented, deflected, folded, spindled or scraped. Without the bumperette, I'd surely have at least a gash in the paint (as I said, I've been through this before in another car and know of what I speak).

At the almost negligible speed involved, it's really no surprise that there is no damage, although I wasn't quite thinking clearly in the instant after the bump and feared far worse. Without the bumperette, though, I definitely would have been left with an annoying scrape in the paint. Just something for you all to consider as you ponder body mods.

Okay, adrenaline is bleeding off nicely. I feel better now.

Maybe Not the Result You'd Expect

I'm suffering from poll fatigue (believe me, it doesn't take much), but I found the results of this mock election to be rather interesting. I'm not sure quite what to make of it, other than to note that this doesn't track with the MTV party line, that it involves a pretty significant sample size (although I cannot vouch for the sampling methodology), and that the geographical distribution of voting trends continues to be stark.

Martha Stewart's (New) Living

The comedians, it appears, weren't far off the mark -- that ever-resourceful Martha is at it again. Those lucky inmates; is there any doubt that they will be having the best big-house Thanksgiving feast ever?

Jon Stewart: Brilliant, Annoying, or just Brilliantly Annoying?

If you're like me, you just might have missed last Friday's Crossfire (I can't figure out why my DVR is not set on "record all"). Jon Stewart of The Daily Show conducts an epic takedown of Crossfire's hosts. The sites hosting the video clip have been crashing at record rates, but the transcript tells all. Beware to all who would have Stewart on their show in the hope that he would bring his presumably younger, hipper audience to your punditryfest: he can be a lousy interview, and he really doesn't care. He knows better than you, and you're going to hear all about it. Good theater, though.

Harsh Weather Alert

I've had my car since April. I used my wipers today for the first time. Three swipes.

And they say California has no seasons.

California Dreamin'

For those of my readers who have UCSB connections (I think that's all three of you), here's a little taste of what used to be home.

Also, in other UCSB news, that which was long feared has finally come to pass: several homes/apartments/overpriced hovels on DP have been condemned due to bluff erosion. A bunch of juniors and seniors, who thought they had finally scored the cool pad they had been waiting for through their first four or five years in school, have been evicted. Bummer, dude.

I jest because I love. Actually, UCSB is burnishing its newfound reputation as a top notch institution with two more Nobel Prizes -- UCSB's fourth and fifth since 1998. Go Gauchos!

Thumbnail Movie Review: "Friday Night Lights"

At Cheryl's request, we went to see "Friday Night Lights." On her birthday. I swear I had nothing to do with that choice ... other than 14 years of watching sports on TV, reading about sports in the newspaper, subscribing to Sports Illustrated, participating in (dare I say, dominating) fantasy football and baseball leagues.

Anyway, here's the bullet: it's no Hoosiers, but that's okay. The movie is filmed as the documentary it essentially is. From the opening frames, director Peter Berg uses the jumpy, continuous motion camera style that will someday be identifiable as a distinctively late 20th/early 21st century cinematographic style, one that is usually used to convey as sense of "this is really happening." (Incidentally, the movement of the camera was so constant that there were only a few moments during the film that I was able to tell that the projector was not in focus. Really; the camera never stayed in one place long enough to allow the moviegoer to concentrate on any particular element on the screen sufficiently to see that the whole thing was out of focus. Thanks for putting my $11 to such good use, Universal City Cinemas.) Berg also employs the kind of washed-out exposure that Steven Soderbergh used to such great effect in "Traffic." Rather than a mere stunt, the dry look of the film fits the West Texas setting.

The football scenes are excellent and believable, with none of the hokey lighting effects and shot-from-a-cannon player movements that made "Any Given Sunday" unwatchable as a sports movie. Ultimately, though, the documentary style lets the story down. Although this true story is rich with dramatic potential in the lives of its key players, the film merely skims the surface, focusing instead on the inexorable chronological march of the games. The core drama of the games is certainly gripping, but I get that rush nearly on a daily basis on the TV. The pathos comes from the lives of the players, and it is in this area that the film does not reach the full potential of the book. After all, "Hoop Dreams," a true documentary and quite possibly the best sports movie ever, wasn't a stellar film and story because of the games William and Arthur won or lost.

All in all, an easily enjoyable movie. I have no idea how to interpret Andy's movie rating scheme, since he has yet to follow through on his promise to explain it, but it seems to be based on an unusual numbering system with verbose prose correspondents. Okay. Here's my take: I give this a 13.8375/16.00762, which obviously means "a truly great time was had by all, especially since the evening included dessert at the Hard Rock Cafe."

Pulling a Grady

Are you like me? As Francona left Timlin in to face lefty Matsui with lefty Myers sitting in the Boston bullpen, couldn't you just hear Beantown-o-phile Simmons screaming at his TV? He must have been like Cameron trying to resist a day out with Ferris, banging his head against the back of his sofa: "He'll keep leaving pitchers out there, and leaving them out there ..." And was there any doubt that Manny wasn't going to catch Bernie's drive in the eighth? Not enough is being said about this.

[That, in case you are woefully uninformed, was a pitch-perfect Simmons tribute. It is hilarious. Trust me.]

Actually, plenty is being said about Manny, and Pedro, and the Babe, and the Curse. Can we please be spared one of these years from the narcissitic self-flagelation of BoSox fans? Enough! No, you're not the most deprived pro franchise (see Cubs, Chicago). You're dedicated fans, but by no means more knowledgeable or loyal than anyone else (Nomar who?). Just .... enough. Please.

Just Because

A guy in my neighborhood has one of these. Very sweet.