While in New Orleans, I knew I would not be able to enjoy Speed Channel’s expanded coverage of the Formula One US Grand Prix, held at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, so I made sure to record all of it. I scrupulously avoided newspapers, Sportscenter, even internet sites such as my Porsche group where the race might be discussed, so that I could watch the qualifying and race completely untainted.
Having now seen what transpired, I’m a little surprised I didn’t accidentally trip over the story before last night. That I didn’t indicates how far under the radar Formula One continues to be in the US, and what happened will only send it farther into the “cult/fanatical following” wing of sports in America.
The short story: Michelin, which supplies tires to seven of the ten two-car teams, suffered failures to two of its tires during practices, one of which sent Ralf Schumacher’s Toyota into the wall on the Speedway’s main straight (the F1 track’s turn 13) in an eerie repeat of the crash that took Schumacher out of six races last year with a broken back. Michelin came to believe that the stress of running one of Indy’s banked corners was too much for its tires to handle, and declared the tires unsafe. There are tons of circumstances, nuances and politics involved, but the end result is that when the governing body refused to reconfigure the track in the hours before the race began, none of the Michelin-equipped teams raced, leaving three teams (Ferrari, along with perennial backmarkers Jordan and Minardi) to run the race.
Racing web forums are ablaze with debate about who is to blame: Michelin, the FIA, the teams, the track, etc. My personal feeling is that Michelin bears by far the majority of the blame. They provided their teams with an inferior product. The compounded the error by stating in writing that they could not certify that the tires were safe. However, Michelin also apparently told the teams that they could not drive more than 10 laps on the tires, which suggests not that the tires were completely unsafe, but were simply not competitive. The FIA, which is so rigid that it will penalize teams for such seemingly miniscule rules infractions as using brake ducts that are half an inch too large, was not at all inclined to follow Michelin’s demand that a chicane be added to turn 13. The politics are far too involved to explain here, but there is a tremendous amount of posturing going on that has nothing to do with driver safety. Unfortunately, Michelin's carelessness and arrogance, coupled with the FIA's intransigence, prevented Formula One fans from seeing a proper race. Several foreign television services even cut off their broadcasts long before the end of the race, an extraordinary dismissal of what is constantly touted as the world's most popular sport (other than soccer, of course).
All of this is something of a huge joke to American fans, who are accustomed to watching stock cars, which weigh 2.5 times more and go just as fast on skinnier tires, pound around tracks such as Indy, with its 9 degrees of bank, or Talladega with its 33 degree banking, for as much as 600 miles. With Michelin's poor preparation for this race, and its weak-kneed, dissembling response, it’s hard to resist French surrender jokes here.
Formula One will continue to grab the attention of us incurable fanatics. I can’t blame any casual sports fan, however, who just shakes his head in wonder at the arrogance of the European powers that be that cannot get their act together to put on a legitimate race, then turns the page and never thinks about it again.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Follow the Airplane
Here's a neat little tool: http://www.aeroseek.com/webtrax/
Put in the airline and flight number of a flight and this program will tell you where it is, at that instant. I have not seen a better way to get current arrival information on incoming flights, particularly if you have the ability to surf the 'net wirelessly.
Put in the airline and flight number of a flight and this program will tell you where it is, at that instant. I have not seen a better way to get current arrival information on incoming flights, particularly if you have the ability to surf the 'net wirelessly.
The Friendly Skies Once Again
United Airlines has begun to creep back into my good graces. The Airbus 320 they use is cramped. The food-for-purchase is insulting. I still don’t trust their baggage handling, so I was fortunate to be able to travel with only a carry-on suitcase this weekend. What’s to like, then?
Cockpit communications.
United allows its passengers to listen in on the communications between the pilots and ground controllers, from gate to gate. I haven’t done that in probably twenty years, and, as an airplane geek, I loved it. As we taxied onto the runway in LA, I heard a gent with an Australian accent advise the tower that he had the runway in sight and that he was concluding his approach. As we rolled down the runway, sure enough, a Quantas 747 landed on the parallel runway right next to us. When we neared New Orleans, thunderstorms forced us to circle while the storms swept over the airport. For half an hour, our pilot, the pilot of another United Airliner, and the pilot of an American plane carrying Andy and Todd chatted genially with each other and the ground as they discussed, considered and plotted new areas to loop.
There is an incredible network of controllers out there, guiding aircraft all over the country. The pilots are never alone for long, and it was a blast to be allowed to eavesdrop on that insular community for a few hours. It reminded me that if I were to rerun my life, I might well have pursued becoming a pilot. It also rekindled my love of flying.
Anything that reacquaints you with the child that still lives inside you must be a good thing.
Cockpit communications.
United allows its passengers to listen in on the communications between the pilots and ground controllers, from gate to gate. I haven’t done that in probably twenty years, and, as an airplane geek, I loved it. As we taxied onto the runway in LA, I heard a gent with an Australian accent advise the tower that he had the runway in sight and that he was concluding his approach. As we rolled down the runway, sure enough, a Quantas 747 landed on the parallel runway right next to us. When we neared New Orleans, thunderstorms forced us to circle while the storms swept over the airport. For half an hour, our pilot, the pilot of another United Airliner, and the pilot of an American plane carrying Andy and Todd chatted genially with each other and the ground as they discussed, considered and plotted new areas to loop.
There is an incredible network of controllers out there, guiding aircraft all over the country. The pilots are never alone for long, and it was a blast to be allowed to eavesdrop on that insular community for a few hours. It reminded me that if I were to rerun my life, I might well have pursued becoming a pilot. It also rekindled my love of flying.
Anything that reacquaints you with the child that still lives inside you must be a good thing.
An Epic Weekend
And it had nothing to do with all the auto racing I recorded. New Orleans with my friends was the place to be.
A great time was had by all. We experienced just about everything Bourbon Street had to offer, enjoyed good Cajun cooking in the French Quarter, saw cemeteries and elegant homes, gambled a little, even watched some golf, and stayed in a terrific hotel for a song. I will not take my children to Bourbon Street, but the rest of the city offers great architecture, tasty food, a lively musical scene, and tons of history to explore.
And to top it off, I came up with this really funny thing with coffee creamer that just cracked everybody up…
A great time was had by all. We experienced just about everything Bourbon Street had to offer, enjoyed good Cajun cooking in the French Quarter, saw cemeteries and elegant homes, gambled a little, even watched some golf, and stayed in a terrific hotel for a song. I will not take my children to Bourbon Street, but the rest of the city offers great architecture, tasty food, a lively musical scene, and tons of history to explore.
And to top it off, I came up with this really funny thing with coffee creamer that just cracked everybody up…
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Feeling Old?
Pac-Man turns 25.
I was always better at Ms. Pac-Man. "Better" is relative, though. Clearing four screens was a big night at the pizza parlor for me, with Mom's quarters. And Atari's version of Pac-Man was, to put it mildly, a huge disappointment.
Now, of course, I have a device scarcely larger than the original Atari joystick that contains arcade-faithful reproductions of not just Ms. Pac-Man, but Galaga, Pole Position and a bunch of other old Golfland USA favorites. The kids look at us like we're crazy and go back to their interactive, full motion video games and puzzles on the computer, but we like our plain old 16 color games. Rack up the quarters!
I was always better at Ms. Pac-Man. "Better" is relative, though. Clearing four screens was a big night at the pizza parlor for me, with Mom's quarters. And Atari's version of Pac-Man was, to put it mildly, a huge disappointment.
Now, of course, I have a device scarcely larger than the original Atari joystick that contains arcade-faithful reproductions of not just Ms. Pac-Man, but Galaga, Pole Position and a bunch of other old Golfland USA favorites. The kids look at us like we're crazy and go back to their interactive, full motion video games and puzzles on the computer, but we like our plain old 16 color games. Rack up the quarters!
Do You Like Helicopters?
You can get a nice view of our pretty June afternoon weather (wouldn't you like to be getting out of school right about now?) in this video ... which happens to describe a high speed chase of a motorcycle through rush hour traffic that ended in our local mall.
I have become attuned to the presence of hovering helicopters the way desert dwellers recognize circling buzzards: something bad is happening there. I was alerted to another chase last week when several helicopters thundered past the office, including a police chopper that swooped and dove low (well below the level of my 22nd story office) in ways I've only seen in movies. That and the line of eight police cars behind what was obviously the target vehicle that darted through stopped traffic. That chase came to an ignominious end just over the hill in Hollywood. But the weather was nice, huh?
Last night, I was in the middle of my drive home when I saw a bunch of helicopters perched just above my intended route as I approached Glendale. Selecting one of the several news radio stations (the one with traffic on the ones, or on the sixes, or something), I quickly learned that the chase had only moments before gone right past me on the freeway parallel to the frontage road I use. Such excitement! To top it off, the guy got away after ditching the bike in the Galleria parking structure, but was arrested this morning.
Come visit LA! Especially if you love helicopters.
I have become attuned to the presence of hovering helicopters the way desert dwellers recognize circling buzzards: something bad is happening there. I was alerted to another chase last week when several helicopters thundered past the office, including a police chopper that swooped and dove low (well below the level of my 22nd story office) in ways I've only seen in movies. That and the line of eight police cars behind what was obviously the target vehicle that darted through stopped traffic. That chase came to an ignominious end just over the hill in Hollywood. But the weather was nice, huh?
Last night, I was in the middle of my drive home when I saw a bunch of helicopters perched just above my intended route as I approached Glendale. Selecting one of the several news radio stations (the one with traffic on the ones, or on the sixes, or something), I quickly learned that the chase had only moments before gone right past me on the freeway parallel to the frontage road I use. Such excitement! To top it off, the guy got away after ditching the bike in the Galleria parking structure, but was arrested this morning.
Come visit LA! Especially if you love helicopters.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Another Big Odd Sports Weekend
For my fellow unconventional sports fans, this coming weekend will be another blockbuster. First, golf’s U.S. Open (admittedly, in the Age of Tiger, not too far out of the mainstream) will take place at the classic Pinehurst No. 2. The winner at the last U.S. Open played there was Payne Stewart, who died in a bizarre aviation accident four months later. Expect many gauzy-imaged tributes. Also, the Formula One circus comes to Indianapolis for its only stop on U.S. soil, and the world’s premiere sports car race, the 24 Hours of Le Mans, runs through several villages in France over the course of the weekend. Good times sitting in front of the tube! (With the wireless-modem-equipped laptop in hand showing live lap time updates, of course.)
And for those of you who only read the front page of the sports section, if Detroit manages to win a game this week, Game 5 of the final series of the NBA’s interminable playoffs will be on Sunday as well.
And for those of you who only read the front page of the sports section, if Detroit manages to win a game this week, Game 5 of the final series of the NBA’s interminable playoffs will be on Sunday as well.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Things You Learn By Checking the Referral Logs
Every week I get a report about traffic to this site. Hi, Andy! Thanks for checking in!
Just as interesting as knowing that your friends and family drop by every now and then (only to click away in frustration because there's nothing new to read, again), are the random searches that sweep this site up for one reason or another. Most of the referral sites are merely search engines that register a visit time of zero seconds. Every once in a while, though, someone actually clicks through to read a post. For instance, someone from Greece apparently paid a lengthy visit to read something I wrote about Kimi Raikkonen (there's your key to increasing blog readership, fellow bloggers: write about Formula One or the World Cup). To my new Greek pal: thanks for coming! Drop a note next time to say hi.
I also found out that I am on the blogroll of someone I had somehow forgotten had a blog: my sister, Megan. In the time-honored tradition of bloggers everywhere, because she gave me a permalink, she gets a permalink (over there on the left). I actually like that MSN blog thing, because it allows the posting of pictures, which I can't do here.
Well, actually, I could if I paid a monthly fee, but I'm too cheap for that. You'll have to make do with the pictures my words create.
Just as interesting as knowing that your friends and family drop by every now and then (only to click away in frustration because there's nothing new to read, again), are the random searches that sweep this site up for one reason or another. Most of the referral sites are merely search engines that register a visit time of zero seconds. Every once in a while, though, someone actually clicks through to read a post. For instance, someone from Greece apparently paid a lengthy visit to read something I wrote about Kimi Raikkonen (there's your key to increasing blog readership, fellow bloggers: write about Formula One or the World Cup). To my new Greek pal: thanks for coming! Drop a note next time to say hi.
I also found out that I am on the blogroll of someone I had somehow forgotten had a blog: my sister, Megan. In the time-honored tradition of bloggers everywhere, because she gave me a permalink, she gets a permalink (over there on the left). I actually like that MSN blog thing, because it allows the posting of pictures, which I can't do here.
Well, actually, I could if I paid a monthly fee, but I'm too cheap for that. You'll have to make do with the pictures my words create.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
What To Get the Girl Who Can Get Anything?
Paris Hilton and her beau, Paris, apparently are in need of some moderately priced stemware and Calvin Klein sheets. Fortunately, someone has already sprung for the Frydaddy and heart-shaped cake pan. Whew!
I Guess I Am the Manliest Man
According to a recent study (who commissions these things?), the Porsche 911 is the car most appealing to men.
Interestingly, the average cost of the top 10 cars for men: $81,717.81. The average cost of the top 10 cars for women: $21, 345.06. Hmm.
I guess we can conclude that women can actually buy their preferred cars, while men just put up posters of them.
Interestingly, the average cost of the top 10 cars for men: $81,717.81. The average cost of the top 10 cars for women: $21, 345.06. Hmm.
I guess we can conclude that women can actually buy their preferred cars, while men just put up posters of them.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Friday, June 03, 2005
Before It's Too Late
I have had the unhappy circumstance this week of learning of the sudden, tragic and untimely deaths of two acquaintances. Both men were in their thirties. There was a time not too long ago when it seemed that most my friends (and I) were getting married, then most my friends (and I) were having children. Now, I seem to have entered into that part of life when one common social point of reference is death. Too soon!
Justice Janice Brown (remember that name) of the California Supreme Court recently delivered a moving eulogy of her friend and mentor from the California Third Circuit Court of Appeals, Justice Robert Puglia. We would all do well to live lives worthy of the words Justice Brown penned in remembrance of Justice Puglia:
Justice Janice Brown (remember that name) of the California Supreme Court recently delivered a moving eulogy of her friend and mentor from the California Third Circuit Court of Appeals, Justice Robert Puglia. We would all do well to live lives worthy of the words Justice Brown penned in remembrance of Justice Puglia:
He taught us that character counts and integrity is personal. He never allowed cruelty or deception or hypocrisy to go unchallenged. He did the right thing even when he would have benefited from doing the expedient thing. Freedom is not free he would often remind us, but, in Justice Puglia’s view, it was worth the price—however dear.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
And They Say Americans Are Uptight
It seems that the Brits (well, 1,671 of them) have taken offense to a TV commercial that has the unmitigated gall to show ... people talking with their mouths full. As the CNN article reports,
I'm sorry, but that is pretty funny. And requires a lot less explaining to your children than Paris cavorting with a hamburger.Offended viewers said it encouraged bad manners in children by making it appear funny to sing or speak while eating, and 41 of those who complained said their children had aped the ad.
That'll Buff Right Out ...
There has been a lively debate among Formula One fans regarding the cause of Kimi Raikkonen's crash at the European Grand Prix. As I noted here, Kimi's McLaren suffered a spectacular crash at the beginning of the last lap of the race. The onboard cameras had caught a tremendous vibration in the right front wheel over the several laps preceding the crash, which the commentators traced to a couple of instances when Raikkonen locked his brakes, causing a flat spot on the tire. The vibration eventually destroyed the brittle carbon-fiber suspension, spinning Raikkonen out of the race.
The question then arises: why didn't the driver switch tires when the vibration because intolerable? The answer is that F1 requires the teams to use the same set of tires from qualifying through the race. If you watch any other racing series on TV, you will see that tires are routinely and frequently changed on race cars. F1, in contrast, instituted the single tire rule this year in a effort to reduce costs in this most costly series, only allowing changes for "damaged" tires; flat-spotting, being the driver's fault, is not considered "damage." This leads to the classic plea: will we have to wait for someone to be killed before this rule is abolished? Frankly, that may be overstating it a bit, since it is possible that McLaren could have made a case that the tire was creating a dangerous condition and replaced it. Kimi would not have won, but he would have picked up valuable championship points.
To me, the most fascinating aspect of this entire affair is observing how effective the tethers that hold the wheel hubs to the car were in preventing injury to the driver or spectators. Participants and fans alike have been injured and killed in recent years due to crash debris flying off the cars. While body panels can be dangerous, their low mass usually limits collateral damage. Wheels and tires, on the other hand, are extremely dangerous when they become detatched from the car at any speed, but particularly at racing speeds in excess of 150 mph. Many open-wheel sanctioning bodies have now instituted rules that require wheels to be tethered to the car by steel cables to prevent them from become deadly projectiles.
As you can see from Kimi's crash, the tethers worked perfectly. While the F1 single tire rule still seems to be an imperfect solution to a problem nobody was concerned about, which unfortunately has led directly to at least one dangerous event, the tethers are a simple solution to a significant problem that we would only hear about if the solution hadn't been put into place.
The question then arises: why didn't the driver switch tires when the vibration because intolerable? The answer is that F1 requires the teams to use the same set of tires from qualifying through the race. If you watch any other racing series on TV, you will see that tires are routinely and frequently changed on race cars. F1, in contrast, instituted the single tire rule this year in a effort to reduce costs in this most costly series, only allowing changes for "damaged" tires; flat-spotting, being the driver's fault, is not considered "damage." This leads to the classic plea: will we have to wait for someone to be killed before this rule is abolished? Frankly, that may be overstating it a bit, since it is possible that McLaren could have made a case that the tire was creating a dangerous condition and replaced it. Kimi would not have won, but he would have picked up valuable championship points.
To me, the most fascinating aspect of this entire affair is observing how effective the tethers that hold the wheel hubs to the car were in preventing injury to the driver or spectators. Participants and fans alike have been injured and killed in recent years due to crash debris flying off the cars. While body panels can be dangerous, their low mass usually limits collateral damage. Wheels and tires, on the other hand, are extremely dangerous when they become detatched from the car at any speed, but particularly at racing speeds in excess of 150 mph. Many open-wheel sanctioning bodies have now instituted rules that require wheels to be tethered to the car by steel cables to prevent them from become deadly projectiles.
As you can see from Kimi's crash, the tethers worked perfectly. While the F1 single tire rule still seems to be an imperfect solution to a problem nobody was concerned about, which unfortunately has led directly to at least one dangerous event, the tethers are a simple solution to a significant problem that we would only hear about if the solution hadn't been put into place.
Monday, May 30, 2005
Movie Micro-Reviews: Before Sunrise/Before Sunset
If you are a Gen-Xer who has not sold your soul to Jerry Bruckheimer, there's a chance you will enjoy Before Sunrise and its recent sequel, Before Sunset. To call these films dialog-driven is to underplay how much text, and how little action, occurs. These are finely tuned character studies that genuinely capture the sensibilities of worldly people in their early twenties, then again in their early thirties. Before Sunset, which we saw this weekend, surprised me. I expected a letdown after the imaginative Before Sunrise, but I was instead moved by the depth of emotion that I believe accurately reflects the dilemmas of these thirtysomethings. The stars, Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, were heavily involved in the writing of the second film, but rather than turning it into a vanity-driven piece of tripe, their involvement in their characters led to a surprisingly touching denoument to their story.
Are these movies chick flicks? Sure, to a certain extent. However, both movies offer a depth and cleverness that redeems them from the typical Hollywood formula, which is reason enough to watch them, as far as I am concerned.
Are these movies chick flicks? Sure, to a certain extent. However, both movies offer a depth and cleverness that redeems them from the typical Hollywood formula, which is reason enough to watch them, as far as I am concerned.
Memorial Day Weekend: Best Sports Weekend of the Year
There may be some debate about this, as some people point to the last weekend in March (NCAA basketball final four, opening of the baseball season). However, if your sporting interests include the unconventional, this weekend is without question the topper.
On Memorial Day weekend, professional basketball's interminable playoff process nears a critical juncture with conference finals ongoing. Summer can be sensed just around the corner as the boys of summer play meaningful games under warm skies. Even better, the NCAA contests its final four and championship game in lacrosse. For the last several years, I have happily spent the Saturday and Monday mornings of the holiday watching the finest collegiate lacrosse players play for the love of the game. A compelling combination of hockey, soccer and football, contested at a very high level by young men who appear to embody what is good and traditional about scholar-athletes, college lacrosse is a fantastic sport to watch. The players, unlike most college althetes seen on television, are not preening for agents. Many players metioned on the telecasts are high-achievers, with impressive SAT scores and Wall Street jobs awaiting them (fulfilling the Ivy League stereotype). In fact, one David Evans, a midfielder for Duke, the championship runner-up, starts his new job at Lehman Brothers Tuesday morning at 7. The games this year were great, particularly the semifinal involving eventual champion Johns Hopkins. Virginia broke a tie with 14 seconds remaining, then Johns Hopkins forced the match into overtime with a goal 13 seconds later. Johns Hopkins ended up winning dramatically on a fast break following a long Virginia possession. Great stuff.
Of course, Memorial Day weekend also means the Indy 500. This year was the first I've watched in many years, now that some of the Champ Car guys are coming back after the senseless split caused by Tony George and his IRL. The race this year was fast, well-driven, and particularly dramatic thanks to the presence and strong performance of Danica Patrick, a legitimate contender who just happens to be a woman. She didn't win, but she led a bunch of laps, only losing the lead five laps from the end when she had to run lean in order to conserve fuel. More good stuff.
We're not done! Memorial Day weekend also mean the Grand Prix of Europe in Formula One. This year it was contested at the "new" Nurburgring. As Speed TV's Bob Varsha aptly introduced the venue, the Nurburg castle stands guard over one of the most revered race circuits in all of motor racing ... and Formula One will be racing right next door. (Please see here for my entry on the "old" Nurburgring.) The race was as good as F1 gets these days (which, frankly, isn't that exciting if you're not completely fanatic about the sport due to infrequent passing) thanks to a spectacular suspension failure on race leader Kimi Raikkonen's McLaren on the final lap presaged by a fierce vibration owing to a flat-spotted tire over several preceding laps. The announcers noted the problem and anticipated the breakdown, which allowed Fernando Alonso to bring home his Renault for his fourth win of the year.
If you live on the West Coast, you must be truly dedicated (or simply daft) to follow Formula One, as the practice sessions, qualifying and race are broadcase live at 4:30 a.m. I have reconnected with Formula One, my passion as a teen, since the Monaco race last year, shortly after our cable system added Speed TV to the lineup. Good times, but lots of lost sleep. I can usually use the digital video recorder, but this Sunday, since I was going to record the Indy 500, and only had about four free hours in the afternoon between church and a pool party, I had to watch the F1 race live so that I could watch Indy before the party.
I had to, I tell you.
On Memorial Day weekend, professional basketball's interminable playoff process nears a critical juncture with conference finals ongoing. Summer can be sensed just around the corner as the boys of summer play meaningful games under warm skies. Even better, the NCAA contests its final four and championship game in lacrosse. For the last several years, I have happily spent the Saturday and Monday mornings of the holiday watching the finest collegiate lacrosse players play for the love of the game. A compelling combination of hockey, soccer and football, contested at a very high level by young men who appear to embody what is good and traditional about scholar-athletes, college lacrosse is a fantastic sport to watch. The players, unlike most college althetes seen on television, are not preening for agents. Many players metioned on the telecasts are high-achievers, with impressive SAT scores and Wall Street jobs awaiting them (fulfilling the Ivy League stereotype). In fact, one David Evans, a midfielder for Duke, the championship runner-up, starts his new job at Lehman Brothers Tuesday morning at 7. The games this year were great, particularly the semifinal involving eventual champion Johns Hopkins. Virginia broke a tie with 14 seconds remaining, then Johns Hopkins forced the match into overtime with a goal 13 seconds later. Johns Hopkins ended up winning dramatically on a fast break following a long Virginia possession. Great stuff.
Of course, Memorial Day weekend also means the Indy 500. This year was the first I've watched in many years, now that some of the Champ Car guys are coming back after the senseless split caused by Tony George and his IRL. The race this year was fast, well-driven, and particularly dramatic thanks to the presence and strong performance of Danica Patrick, a legitimate contender who just happens to be a woman. She didn't win, but she led a bunch of laps, only losing the lead five laps from the end when she had to run lean in order to conserve fuel. More good stuff.
We're not done! Memorial Day weekend also mean the Grand Prix of Europe in Formula One. This year it was contested at the "new" Nurburgring. As Speed TV's Bob Varsha aptly introduced the venue, the Nurburg castle stands guard over one of the most revered race circuits in all of motor racing ... and Formula One will be racing right next door. (Please see here for my entry on the "old" Nurburgring.) The race was as good as F1 gets these days (which, frankly, isn't that exciting if you're not completely fanatic about the sport due to infrequent passing) thanks to a spectacular suspension failure on race leader Kimi Raikkonen's McLaren on the final lap presaged by a fierce vibration owing to a flat-spotted tire over several preceding laps. The announcers noted the problem and anticipated the breakdown, which allowed Fernando Alonso to bring home his Renault for his fourth win of the year.
If you live on the West Coast, you must be truly dedicated (or simply daft) to follow Formula One, as the practice sessions, qualifying and race are broadcase live at 4:30 a.m. I have reconnected with Formula One, my passion as a teen, since the Monaco race last year, shortly after our cable system added Speed TV to the lineup. Good times, but lots of lost sleep. I can usually use the digital video recorder, but this Sunday, since I was going to record the Indy 500, and only had about four free hours in the afternoon between church and a pool party, I had to watch the F1 race live so that I could watch Indy before the party.
I had to, I tell you.
RIP Pre: January 25, 1951 - May 30, 1975
Memorial Day marked the 30th anniversary of the death of America's premiere distance runner, Steve Prefontaine. Not only was Pre an running icon at the dawn of the fitness movement, he was instrumental in the creation of Nike and the reorganization of world amateur track events. At the time he died, Pre owned every American record from 2000 to 10,000 meters, and from 2 to 6 miles. Because some of the distances he ran are no longer contested, some of his records stand to this day. His accomplishments are too numerous to mention; go instead to the University of Oregon's excellent summation of his racing career or this official site for the mind-bending numbers. Nike is also running an interesting ad campaign describing his life.
The U of O reference hints at my interest in the man. My grandparents have lived in Eugene for more than fifty years, and my family and I were living with them in May 1975, awaiting the birth of my sister, who would arrive three weeks hence. Pre lost his life in a single car accident on a little road in the hills above the U of O, about a quarter mile from where my great-grandparents once lived. For those who do not know, the University of Oregon was, and to some extent still is, the center of the American collegiate running universe; Pre was a big reason why.
Being a little kid, I wasn't aware of the accident at the time. However, thanks to a movie called Without Limits, I was brought back to the story. In my humble estimation, Without Limits is one of the finest sports movies in existence. Qualifying the film as a "sports" movie accurately describes the subject matter, but unfairly and unintentionally diminishes its power as a great film, period. I became a Billy Crudup fan because of this movie; he bears an uncanny physical resemblance to Pre, and gives a masterful performance depicting a complicated, driven person. Donald Sutherland, as coach Bill Bowerman, was beautifully understated in his role as Pre's muse, tormentor, teacher, friend and business partner. The movie was filmed in Eugene, including Hayward Field, which still looks much as it did when Pre ruled the track there. I have had the privilege of running on that track, which is a surreal experience when one is mindful of the history that has taken place in those lanes.
Pre's Rock, where he crashed his car, is now a shrine where runners leave tokens of their craft in memory of Pre. If you have any interest at all in Pre's story, Without Limits is a pretty powerful memorial in its own right.
The U of O reference hints at my interest in the man. My grandparents have lived in Eugene for more than fifty years, and my family and I were living with them in May 1975, awaiting the birth of my sister, who would arrive three weeks hence. Pre lost his life in a single car accident on a little road in the hills above the U of O, about a quarter mile from where my great-grandparents once lived. For those who do not know, the University of Oregon was, and to some extent still is, the center of the American collegiate running universe; Pre was a big reason why.
Being a little kid, I wasn't aware of the accident at the time. However, thanks to a movie called Without Limits, I was brought back to the story. In my humble estimation, Without Limits is one of the finest sports movies in existence. Qualifying the film as a "sports" movie accurately describes the subject matter, but unfairly and unintentionally diminishes its power as a great film, period. I became a Billy Crudup fan because of this movie; he bears an uncanny physical resemblance to Pre, and gives a masterful performance depicting a complicated, driven person. Donald Sutherland, as coach Bill Bowerman, was beautifully understated in his role as Pre's muse, tormentor, teacher, friend and business partner. The movie was filmed in Eugene, including Hayward Field, which still looks much as it did when Pre ruled the track there. I have had the privilege of running on that track, which is a surreal experience when one is mindful of the history that has taken place in those lanes.
Pre's Rock, where he crashed his car, is now a shrine where runners leave tokens of their craft in memory of Pre. If you have any interest at all in Pre's story, Without Limits is a pretty powerful memorial in its own right.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Headin' Down Lousiana Way
I, along with approximately 25% of my readers, will be going to New Orleans in a few weeks for a wedding of a college friend. It will be my first excursion to the Big Easy; as an all-purpose adventurer, I'm really looking forward to the trip.
Believe it or not (and if you are my wife, I really need you to believe it), this hotel, where we will stay, is significantly less expensive than almost any other suite or double-room alternative we explored. Sweet!
Believe it or not (and if you are my wife, I really need you to believe it), this hotel, where we will stay, is significantly less expensive than almost any other suite or double-room alternative we explored. Sweet!
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Flying in Dramatic Style
Recently, I have had the rare opportunity to travel frequently. In addition to the trip to Virginia we took as a family in April, I made four trips to the Bay Area over the course of three weeks thanks to a case in which I became entangled very late in the game. I had the opportunity to sample an interesting variety of travel options: different airports, airlines, ground transportation and travel times. Of the many conclusions I could draw, here’s the one I confirmed first: for all of its convenience for being our local airport, I detest landing at the Burbank Airport (officially known as the Bob Hope Airport).
I have probably now taken more flights into and out of Burbank than any other airport. I have had more rough landings than anywhere else, as well. Two such landings were hard enough to result in overhead bins flying open; the first of those events caused my daughter to fear flying for several years (she has only now reached the point of tolerating airplane flights). I assumed my odd landing experiences were merely a consequence of the fact that I have taken more flights through there, or because I fly Southwest a lot, but my research suggests that there may be reasons why landing at Burbank really is a white knuckle ride.
The Burbank Airport is not a large place. The terminal is relatively small, and one comes to discover that the airfield itself is not particularly expansive. Jammed into a densely populated urban area, none of the approaches to the runways include empty green space. The typical landing pattern is to approach from the west across the vast expanse of buildings, freeways and roads that is the entire San Fernando Valley. The long, slow approach is often complicated by buffeting winds that come from the north, which on bad days form the famed (and feared) Santa Ana winds. On final approach, the aircraft swoops over a series of low industrial buildings, a street, and suddenly, there is the runway. Just as suddenly, the airplane should be on the ground, reverse thrusters and gear brakes on full. The Southwest pilots will often yank the airplane directly into the gate (perpendicular to and immediately adjacent to the runway) as it is still on rollout from the landing. Whee!
Even worse are the landings from the north, which bring the airplane in very close alongside a hill and over more industrial buildings on a steep glide path. This typically leads to a very hard landing and rollout, particularly for the Southwest pilots, who try to stop their airplanes before they overshoot the taxiway to the terminal to the left, effectively shortening the runway by 1000 feet or so. To put this in perspective, here is an overhead view (north to the top) of the airfield. The Southwest terminal is to the right; the United/American terminal is in the lower part of the image.
Why do I feel increasingly anxious about landing at Burbank? Why is it so often as exciting and bumpy as an amusement park roller coaster? Why are landings at other airports such as Los Angeles and San Francisco, or even small regional airports like Oakland and San Jose, so much more relaxed?
It’s not an illusion: size matters.
Here are some images of LAX, the San Francisco Airport, the San Jose Airport, and the Oakland Airport. All of them are on the same level of magnification as the Burbank image above. Notice a difference? They are all substantially larger than the Burbank airfield. FAA data backs this up. While the main runways at San Francisco and San Jose are each at least 11,000 feet, Oakland's runway is 10,000 feet, and LAX has runways of 13,000, 12,000, 10,000 and 8,900 feet, the Burbank Airport’s main landing runway is only 5,800 feet. The north-south runway is only marginally better at just under 6,900 feet. It is no wonder, then, that a Southwest jet ran off the end of the runway in a heavy rainstorm in March 2000, coming to rest mere feet from a gas station across the street from the airport.
So the next time you fly into our fair region, try not to think about how your pilot has half the distance to bring your airplane out of the sky and to a halt that he would have at almost any other major airport. If they bring the plane down hard, there is a reason.
(Cool site discovered during the composition of this entry: www.airnav.com)
I have probably now taken more flights into and out of Burbank than any other airport. I have had more rough landings than anywhere else, as well. Two such landings were hard enough to result in overhead bins flying open; the first of those events caused my daughter to fear flying for several years (she has only now reached the point of tolerating airplane flights). I assumed my odd landing experiences were merely a consequence of the fact that I have taken more flights through there, or because I fly Southwest a lot, but my research suggests that there may be reasons why landing at Burbank really is a white knuckle ride.
The Burbank Airport is not a large place. The terminal is relatively small, and one comes to discover that the airfield itself is not particularly expansive. Jammed into a densely populated urban area, none of the approaches to the runways include empty green space. The typical landing pattern is to approach from the west across the vast expanse of buildings, freeways and roads that is the entire San Fernando Valley. The long, slow approach is often complicated by buffeting winds that come from the north, which on bad days form the famed (and feared) Santa Ana winds. On final approach, the aircraft swoops over a series of low industrial buildings, a street, and suddenly, there is the runway. Just as suddenly, the airplane should be on the ground, reverse thrusters and gear brakes on full. The Southwest pilots will often yank the airplane directly into the gate (perpendicular to and immediately adjacent to the runway) as it is still on rollout from the landing. Whee!
Even worse are the landings from the north, which bring the airplane in very close alongside a hill and over more industrial buildings on a steep glide path. This typically leads to a very hard landing and rollout, particularly for the Southwest pilots, who try to stop their airplanes before they overshoot the taxiway to the terminal to the left, effectively shortening the runway by 1000 feet or so. To put this in perspective, here is an overhead view (north to the top) of the airfield. The Southwest terminal is to the right; the United/American terminal is in the lower part of the image.
Why do I feel increasingly anxious about landing at Burbank? Why is it so often as exciting and bumpy as an amusement park roller coaster? Why are landings at other airports such as Los Angeles and San Francisco, or even small regional airports like Oakland and San Jose, so much more relaxed?
It’s not an illusion: size matters.
Here are some images of LAX, the San Francisco Airport, the San Jose Airport, and the Oakland Airport. All of them are on the same level of magnification as the Burbank image above. Notice a difference? They are all substantially larger than the Burbank airfield. FAA data backs this up. While the main runways at San Francisco and San Jose are each at least 11,000 feet, Oakland's runway is 10,000 feet, and LAX has runways of 13,000, 12,000, 10,000 and 8,900 feet, the Burbank Airport’s main landing runway is only 5,800 feet. The north-south runway is only marginally better at just under 6,900 feet. It is no wonder, then, that a Southwest jet ran off the end of the runway in a heavy rainstorm in March 2000, coming to rest mere feet from a gas station across the street from the airport.
So the next time you fly into our fair region, try not to think about how your pilot has half the distance to bring your airplane out of the sky and to a halt that he would have at almost any other major airport. If they bring the plane down hard, there is a reason.
(Cool site discovered during the composition of this entry: www.airnav.com)
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
In Honor of a Certain Movie Opening This Week
This one is for my Dad, who never met a substance he couldn't turn into mulch, and Andy, for what should be obvious reasons.
Monday, May 16, 2005
New Hope for Radio
For those of us who have not embraced the monthly fees and parking garage uselessness of satellite radio and are frustrated with the endless radio airtime taken up with advertisements and promotions instead of commentary or music, the solution is here. Known generically as "Jack" radio, KCBS here in Los Angeles has gone to the format, which seems to be characterized as having an unusually large playlist and no DJs. Advertisements still run, but far less than usual, and there is no idle chatter every 11 minutes from the "talent." Plus, the playlist is genuinely broad. One might call it "eclectic," if that term had not come to mean "weird." I've tried "eclectic" a few times, when I wanted to pretend to be sophisticated. Unfortunately, I can only take so much of Ani DiFranco. The "Jack" rotation generally consists of anything that has been on a rock Top-40 list in the past 35 or so years. Like a combination of classic rock and Star stations, you get Guns-N-Roses mixed with Echo and the Bunnymen, Michele Branch and Dire Straits. It sounds a little weird, but oddly enough, it works, if you are no too smug to admit that you like popular rock music. Thankfully, the playlist is large enough to avoid the endless ZZ Top repetitions endemic to classic rock stations or the non-stop Matchbox 20 love-fest of a Star-type station. Everything in moderation; not a bad deal, especially for the price.
A Good Old Warbird
On my way home from work tonight, a B24 Liberator rose up in front of me as it took off from Burbank airport. I pulled off to the side of the road and jumped out on the sidewalk to watch it go by. The takeoff of a four engine WWII bomber is a rare and wonderful sight. Old propeller driven aircraft are not capable of the steep climb angles of jet aircraft, so the departure of a B24 from a crowded airport like Burbank, hemmed in on all sides by civilization, is something to behold. With long, thin wings stretched straight out from the fuselage, engines throbbing, the old bomber was a beautiful, terrible thing to see.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Early Review: Star Wars
For those who care about such things, here is a Variety review of Episode III. There have probably been others, but this is the first I've seen (not that I've been looking, mind you; I still haven't seen Episode II).
Beware: spoilers abound!
Beware: spoilers abound!
Thursday, May 05, 2005
The Lament of an Early Adopter
I feel that I’ve always been on the vanguard of technological innovation, largely by virtue of the careers of my Dad and stepdad, and because (as a result) I grew up in the Silicon Valley. We had a very early VCR, an original Atari 2600 (before they called it that), a TV with infrared remote control at about the same time, a 1200-baud terminal when the concept of a BBS was brand-new ... lots of neat stuff. As an adult, I joined AOL in 1993 and used the buddy list to communicate long before IM became the bane of schoolteachers’ existence. Chris and I signed up for this newfangled “e-mail” thing in college that required us to tromp down to the computer labs and wrestle with UNIX-based terminals, all so we could send messages to Andy like, “wow, isn’t e-mail neat?” In law school, I was one of the first people to lug a laptop to class. We moved to cable modem before broadband was a household word. We upgraded to digital cable, then HDTV, on the leading edge of those burgeoning trends.
We have also been unafraid to use the internet to find and purchase relatively big-ticket items since before that was customary. Among the tools we have used to great effect at times, we started using Travelocity back in about 1993 or so. Booking one’s own flights; what a novel concept! Today, of course, it is de rigueur, but when Travelocity began, self-booking was quite a novelty. Based upon recent evidence, Travelocity has become the General Motors of online businesses: mature, fat and happy, putting out a shoddy product with little or no regard for the people who make use of its services.
One would think that a simple flight from A to B would be simple to arrange, even if it involved a connection or two, when one’s business is to, well, arrange such events. Through the mysterious marvels of technology, Travelocity conjures up dozens of potential flights, even illustrates which seats are available, and leads the user through the process of buying space on the flights. Travelocity will even throw in a discount on fleabag hotels for the mere click of a mouse button; what could be easier?
Neurosurgery, apparently. I found the flight I wanted, proceeded all the way through all of the selection screens, only to be brought up short by a screen indicating that an “error” occurred. Either I hit the return button on the browser, or there was an internal error. So sorry, start over. Okay, fine. Try again. All the way through, but no dice again. Fine, use the handy toll-free number to speak to a person. Good news: I’m speaking to a human within moments, who walks me through the very same steps, we pick seats, she takes my credit card info, all is good. She is in the middle of the “thankyouforusingTravelocityforyourtravelneeds” speech when she stops cold. It seems that she has run into a screen that says she cannot complete the transaction. Apparently my outbound flight is full. Gee, that’s odd, since it shows lots of seats available on their clever seat-picking graphic. Well, reservations come in from all over, I’m told. With a vision of the dizzying array of flight options dancing through my brain, I decline her offer to select a different itinerary and hang up.
After running through a number of other scenarios with other flights, none of which is nearly as satisfactory as the one I wanted, I followed a flash of inspiration and went directly to United. Mentally holding my nose at the prospect of dealing directly with United (the reason for which could easily fill another blog entry), I found both legs of the round trip, found seats, and booked the trip. For five dollars less than Travelocity. Simple! And, notably, available! All’s well that ends well.
If only it would end. In addition to a confirmation from United, my e-mail box contained a happy confirmation of my trip … from Travelocity. Calling up the document, it confirms that I’m reserved on the very trip I was told could not be booked because it was full, which I now know was not the case two times over. Great. I’m now overbooked. I’ve been warned thirty times in the last 24 hours that I’ll owe my first child’s lifetime income stream as a penalty for cancellation. A call to Travelocity dumps me into their mysterious voice-activated phone system, then into hold purgatory. Funny, when I wanted to book the flight, I got right through to a chipper young woman with a charming Southern accent. Now that I want to cancel, I cool my heels for twenty minutes before Bangladesh picks up the phone.
I may have been ahead of the curve on many things in the past, but experience with outsourcing is not one of them. Now I am forced to explain a mildly complicated situation to someone whose English skills do not give me any confidence that the outcome will be favorable, seeing as how I can understand only two out of every three words she says as she attempts to confirm what I am saying in a language that she probably barely understands. Fortunately, she cheerfully agrees to refund the amount of the ticket, sans airline penalties. Ah, but there is the matter of Travelocity’s five dollar fee. Ordinarily, I might let that go, but I find something slightly askew about being charged for the privilege of having my reservation screwed up. After ten additional minutes on hold while she tracks down her supervisor, the service fee is refunded as well.
Happy ending! Well, no. I am helpfully informed that every dollar I was charged will be refunded to my credit card … within 30 days. Whoa. Did I hear that right? Ms. Bangladesh concedes that it may not take that long, but it will take at least 10 days for the refund to occur. Slick operation, that. They ping my card while my voice intoning the last numeral of my card still reverberates softly in the air, but they can’t reverse the charge for 10 days. I’m thrilled that they will make pennies, maybe even nickels, off that 10 to 30 day float while I run the risk of being forced to pay for the flight on one statement to avoid finance charges, all the while knowing the refund will show up on my next statement, leaving me with an utterly useless positive balance on my credit card. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
My message to Travelocity is the same as what David Spade used to say to frazzled airline passengers in the SNL skit, “buh-bye.”
We have also been unafraid to use the internet to find and purchase relatively big-ticket items since before that was customary. Among the tools we have used to great effect at times, we started using Travelocity back in about 1993 or so. Booking one’s own flights; what a novel concept! Today, of course, it is de rigueur, but when Travelocity began, self-booking was quite a novelty. Based upon recent evidence, Travelocity has become the General Motors of online businesses: mature, fat and happy, putting out a shoddy product with little or no regard for the people who make use of its services.
One would think that a simple flight from A to B would be simple to arrange, even if it involved a connection or two, when one’s business is to, well, arrange such events. Through the mysterious marvels of technology, Travelocity conjures up dozens of potential flights, even illustrates which seats are available, and leads the user through the process of buying space on the flights. Travelocity will even throw in a discount on fleabag hotels for the mere click of a mouse button; what could be easier?
Neurosurgery, apparently. I found the flight I wanted, proceeded all the way through all of the selection screens, only to be brought up short by a screen indicating that an “error” occurred. Either I hit the return button on the browser, or there was an internal error. So sorry, start over. Okay, fine. Try again. All the way through, but no dice again. Fine, use the handy toll-free number to speak to a person. Good news: I’m speaking to a human within moments, who walks me through the very same steps, we pick seats, she takes my credit card info, all is good. She is in the middle of the “thankyouforusingTravelocityforyourtravelneeds” speech when she stops cold. It seems that she has run into a screen that says she cannot complete the transaction. Apparently my outbound flight is full. Gee, that’s odd, since it shows lots of seats available on their clever seat-picking graphic. Well, reservations come in from all over, I’m told. With a vision of the dizzying array of flight options dancing through my brain, I decline her offer to select a different itinerary and hang up.
After running through a number of other scenarios with other flights, none of which is nearly as satisfactory as the one I wanted, I followed a flash of inspiration and went directly to United. Mentally holding my nose at the prospect of dealing directly with United (the reason for which could easily fill another blog entry), I found both legs of the round trip, found seats, and booked the trip. For five dollars less than Travelocity. Simple! And, notably, available! All’s well that ends well.
If only it would end. In addition to a confirmation from United, my e-mail box contained a happy confirmation of my trip … from Travelocity. Calling up the document, it confirms that I’m reserved on the very trip I was told could not be booked because it was full, which I now know was not the case two times over. Great. I’m now overbooked. I’ve been warned thirty times in the last 24 hours that I’ll owe my first child’s lifetime income stream as a penalty for cancellation. A call to Travelocity dumps me into their mysterious voice-activated phone system, then into hold purgatory. Funny, when I wanted to book the flight, I got right through to a chipper young woman with a charming Southern accent. Now that I want to cancel, I cool my heels for twenty minutes before Bangladesh picks up the phone.
I may have been ahead of the curve on many things in the past, but experience with outsourcing is not one of them. Now I am forced to explain a mildly complicated situation to someone whose English skills do not give me any confidence that the outcome will be favorable, seeing as how I can understand only two out of every three words she says as she attempts to confirm what I am saying in a language that she probably barely understands. Fortunately, she cheerfully agrees to refund the amount of the ticket, sans airline penalties. Ah, but there is the matter of Travelocity’s five dollar fee. Ordinarily, I might let that go, but I find something slightly askew about being charged for the privilege of having my reservation screwed up. After ten additional minutes on hold while she tracks down her supervisor, the service fee is refunded as well.
Happy ending! Well, no. I am helpfully informed that every dollar I was charged will be refunded to my credit card … within 30 days. Whoa. Did I hear that right? Ms. Bangladesh concedes that it may not take that long, but it will take at least 10 days for the refund to occur. Slick operation, that. They ping my card while my voice intoning the last numeral of my card still reverberates softly in the air, but they can’t reverse the charge for 10 days. I’m thrilled that they will make pennies, maybe even nickels, off that 10 to 30 day float while I run the risk of being forced to pay for the flight on one statement to avoid finance charges, all the while knowing the refund will show up on my next statement, leaving me with an utterly useless positive balance on my credit card. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
My message to Travelocity is the same as what David Spade used to say to frazzled airline passengers in the SNL skit, “buh-bye.”
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Movie Micro-Review: The Interpreter
This love letter to the United Nations was a reasonably engaging whodunit (or rather, whosgonnadoit). Nicole Kidman was, well, Nicole Kidman, with a lock of blonde hair fetchingly drawn across one eye through much of the movie, and an accent that can't decide if it's Oxford, Dutch or Africaans. Sean Penn was, well, Sean Penn, charisma-free and grimacing humorlessly throughout as if fighting persistent intestinal cramping. Still, it was a well-paced film with plenty of tense moments and a backstory that unfolds gracefully. And Nicole Kidman. That factor cannot be stressed enough.
That, of course, is the primary weakness of the dozens of films Hollywood spews out every year. As much as we all like to see Nicole Kidman (or George Clooney, or whatever star you care to name who spends as much time on the cover of People magazine as on the big screen), these kind of films never let you forget that you are watching a star, first and formost. The lighting, camera angles, extreme close-ups, flattering makeup and wardrobe; all of these conspire (by the director's design) to keep the thought of "ooh, look at him/her act" at the forefront of the brain. Because it is the star that sells the tickets, not the character. For a star who takes his or her craft seriously, it's as dangerous as typecasting. In this celebrity-addled culture, rather than being stuck in a role, they are stuck in a persona. Actors can "play against type;" stars can never break free of being stars. Tom Cruise, for all of his "Born on the Fourth of July" and "Collateral" efforts, is still "Tom Cruise" when you see him on screen.
It doesn't hurt his ability to put food on the table, but it is ultimately distracting for the viewer, who watches the star act, rather than enter the world of the character played by the actor.
That, of course, is the primary weakness of the dozens of films Hollywood spews out every year. As much as we all like to see Nicole Kidman (or George Clooney, or whatever star you care to name who spends as much time on the cover of People magazine as on the big screen), these kind of films never let you forget that you are watching a star, first and formost. The lighting, camera angles, extreme close-ups, flattering makeup and wardrobe; all of these conspire (by the director's design) to keep the thought of "ooh, look at him/her act" at the forefront of the brain. Because it is the star that sells the tickets, not the character. For a star who takes his or her craft seriously, it's as dangerous as typecasting. In this celebrity-addled culture, rather than being stuck in a role, they are stuck in a persona. Actors can "play against type;" stars can never break free of being stars. Tom Cruise, for all of his "Born on the Fourth of July" and "Collateral" efforts, is still "Tom Cruise" when you see him on screen.
It doesn't hurt his ability to put food on the table, but it is ultimately distracting for the viewer, who watches the star act, rather than enter the world of the character played by the actor.
Lame Rock Lyrics, Take 1
Certainly this isn't the worst offender, but I was reminded on the way home this evening of how much this one bugs me:
"Only time will tell if we stand the test of time."
-- Van Halen, "Why Can't This Be Love"
I'm sure Sammy thought he was plumbing new depths of profundity, but it comes across as simple and silly.
Please feel free to submit your candidates.
"Only time will tell if we stand the test of time."
-- Van Halen, "Why Can't This Be Love"
I'm sure Sammy thought he was plumbing new depths of profundity, but it comes across as simple and silly.
Please feel free to submit your candidates.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
A Reason to Love Netflix
Sure, Netflix is incredibly convenient, and reasonably priced. That's not what makes it so great, though. No, Netflix's presence in the culture is a net gain for all for this simple reason: it has made the use of the word "queue" commonplace. No longer consigned to usage by the effite or the British, "queue" should soon be bedeviling elementary school children routinely on spelling tests.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Thank You, Virginians!
The week-long pause in posting here was due in large part to the fact that we spent last week visiting an impressively wide array of family and friends in the lovely Commonwealth of Virginia. Many thanks are due to Megan and Jason (and Emma, George and Gracie), and Chris and Cynthia (and Rudy and Scully) for being such gracious hosts. We had a great time, soaked up a bunch of Civil War history, reveled in the fresh blooms of the Virginia springtime, and enjoyed the good company of folks we do not get to see often enough.
I did reach one inescapable conclusion: there really is nothing like a Monkburger prepared by the Master himself.
I did reach one inescapable conclusion: there really is nothing like a Monkburger prepared by the Master himself.
Friday, April 15, 2005
This Is Fantastic News!
. . . if you're a motor racing fan who thinks that the auto racing firmament is missing a critical star without Porsche's factory involvement.
Porsche is back, baby! And with Penske, no less.
This will instantly bring additional interest and credibility to the ALMS series, and, unfortunately, hurt the Grand Am series by further revealing the Daytona Prototypes as the ugly, compromised beasts that they are (great racing action notwithstanding).
For those of you who don't know (and care even less), throughout its history, Porsche has designed and raced the most celebrated sports of every era in which they competed. From the 904s and 908s of the 60s, through the awesome 917s of the early 70s, to the all-conquering 956/962s of the eighties, Porsche racing sports cars have always been iconic, dominant, and the true source of the company's reputation. Porsche, now the world's most profitable car maker (for interesting reasons, but not for today's discussion), has stepped away from official factory involvement in racing since the GT1 of the late 90s. Privateers run hundreds of Porsches in sports car races all over the world, however. Those cars, based upon Porsche's roadgoing 911, typically dominate their fields, in number as well as in performance.
With a return to factory involvement, however, Porsche enthusiasts are celebrating the company's return to its competitive roots (trust me on that one).
Porsche is back, baby! And with Penske, no less.
This will instantly bring additional interest and credibility to the ALMS series, and, unfortunately, hurt the Grand Am series by further revealing the Daytona Prototypes as the ugly, compromised beasts that they are (great racing action notwithstanding).
For those of you who don't know (and care even less), throughout its history, Porsche has designed and raced the most celebrated sports of every era in which they competed. From the 904s and 908s of the 60s, through the awesome 917s of the early 70s, to the all-conquering 956/962s of the eighties, Porsche racing sports cars have always been iconic, dominant, and the true source of the company's reputation. Porsche, now the world's most profitable car maker (for interesting reasons, but not for today's discussion), has stepped away from official factory involvement in racing since the GT1 of the late 90s. Privateers run hundreds of Porsches in sports car races all over the world, however. Those cars, based upon Porsche's roadgoing 911, typically dominate their fields, in number as well as in performance.
With a return to factory involvement, however, Porsche enthusiasts are celebrating the company's return to its competitive roots (trust me on that one).
Thursday, April 14, 2005
The Feelgood Baseball Story of the Year
Finally, the vagabond, orphaned Montreal Expos have found a home. After slogging through Baltimore Orioles owner Peter Angelos' maneuvering to keep the team away from "his" market, the Washington Nationals arrived with great pomp and ceremony. The franchise has been an incubator for great players, such as Vlad Guerrero, Larry Walder, Pedro Martinez, Moises Alou, Gary Carter and many others. They now enjoy the services of Brad Wilkerson and Jose Vidro (the second baseman for my fantasy league team). Even better, the team is now 6-4 after Livan Hernandez' near gem, eight innings of one-hit shutout ball against the Arizona Diamondbacks (6-3 entering the game). This team, managed by legend Frank Robinson, has deserved a better fate than the Quebequois indifference it suffered in recent years, with a crumbling stadium, dwindling crowds and hamstrung ownership by Major League Baseball. They have some work to do to become a contender, but at least they now have some folks to cheer them on.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Check Your Facts, Please
I don't often wade into the political swamp because I don't enjoy it, and on my blog, I'll write about what I enjoy. However, every once in a while, politics swerves into the absurd, which interests me greatly.
It seems that former Presidential candidate John Kerry gave a speech this weekend lamenting the intimidation of voters in the last election. Let me be clear, I do not doubt that thuggish behavior by partisans on both sides took place, and that well-meaning people on both sides made efforts to prevent it. Nevertheless, Kerry's flacks should have looked into these issues more carefully before they allowed him to use this as an example:
And if people really did hand out those leaflets? The world would be far more bizarre than I thought.
Hat tip: Opinion Journal.
It seems that former Presidential candidate John Kerry gave a speech this weekend lamenting the intimidation of voters in the last election. Let me be clear, I do not doubt that thuggish behavior by partisans on both sides took place, and that well-meaning people on both sides made efforts to prevent it. Nevertheless, Kerry's flacks should have looked into these issues more carefully before they allowed him to use this as an example:
Unfortunately, this particular example came from satire publications Scrappleface.com and The Onion. Oops."Leaflets are handed out saying Democrats vote on Wednesday, Republicans vote on Tuesday. ..." he said.
And if people really did hand out those leaflets? The world would be far more bizarre than I thought.
Hat tip: Opinion Journal.
The All-Time Best Career Change
If you were, say, a very successful lawyer in, say, Fresno, and you had a sense of adventure, how might you change the course of your career? Let's say, for the sake of argument, that you thought being a diplomat in the State Department would be just the thing. Now, assuming you survive the testing and vetting process to get into the program, and you become a junior diplomat with no experience, where do you think you might be posted? Tanzania? Chile?Afghanistan?
How about here?
Greg has earned the everlasting enmity of all of his former friends.
(psst, Greg ... you will have a spare bedroom for vistors, right? Just kidding about that "everlasting enmity" thing. It's all good, right? Buddy?)
How about here?
Greg has earned the everlasting enmity of all of his former friends.
(psst, Greg ... you will have a spare bedroom for vistors, right? Just kidding about that "everlasting enmity" thing. It's all good, right? Buddy?)
Monday, April 11, 2005
Dan Neil, My Hero
I've mentioned Dan Neil before. He's the one-time writer for Car and Driver who landed a gig writing about cars for the LA Times, and somehow managed to snag a Pulitzer Prize for his work. Now he is giving lectures at UCLA and causing the Times to lose its $10 million account with GM. GM looks incredibly petty by pulling its advertising over Neil's cutting remarks, which have the unfortunate characteristic of being true. It is not one scribe's fault that GM's market share and consumer satisfaction ratings have shrunk year after year. GM puts out shoddy products, and has for decades now. There are certainly good engineers at GM, but they are buried somewhere under the layers upon layers of middle managers and red tape. No public spat with a media outlet will change that fact, and the celebrated Bob Lutz (who revived Dodge in the last decade) has only had a minor positive influence (see the Solstice).
Fight the Man, Dan!
Fight the Man, Dan!
Woods Emerges From Them
The Masters golf tournament has become one of my favorites, in large part because Kelly was born on Monday the week of the 1997 Masters, which was Tiger's debut as a major champion. I was home that week and was able to see nearly every televised minute. He demolished the field by 12 strokes, and it was utterly compelling to watch. After three U.S. Junior and three U.S. Amateur titles, everyone knew he was going to be a champion someday, but the way he seized control was thrilling, and a harbinger of great things to come.
This year's tournament was equally exciting, but for different reasons. Tiger's 66-65 charge in the middle two rounds felt like the old days of 2000, when all one had to do is wait patiently until he would make what became a customary and decisive charge up the leaderboard. This year, however, was the first time one of his vanquished foes chased him down Chris DeMarco has been hanging around the top of big tournaments for several years now, competing well on Ryder Cup and President's Cup teams, coming in second (albeit a distant second) in this year's Accenture Match Play tournament, and he was in the final group of last year's Masters. He tends to be timid off the tee, but his iron play was at times far better than Woods'. He showed great confidence, pumping his fist to the patrons as he left the 10th green. He saved par, but Woods had just bogeyed his lead down to two strokes. DeMarco showed he believed he was on the charge, and so he was. He birdied 11, while Tiger carelessly settled for par. DeMarco kept the hammer down, competing well through the remainder of the round. Only mediocre putting, failing to sink several birdie putts inside 10 feet in the final round, kept him from winning the tournament.
Woods, on the other hand, is not nearly the automoton he is made out to be. He is easily as susceptible to the pressure of leading as anyone else on Tour. After the emotionally-charged miracle chip on 16 (which is the only thing that could have stopped DeMarco's momentum after a great birdie at 15), Tiger did not bother to regroup for 17. Cold-blooded prudence would have dictated a three-wood or iron off the tee, play to the middle of everything, and collect that fourth green jacket without further incident. Instead, with a two-shot lead to protect over the last two holes, neither of which is considered a birdie hole, Tiger pulled out the driver, put his best spiner-twister swing on it, and blew his tee shot well right, through the pines into the adjoining fairway. A vertical wedge shot over the trees left him twenty yards short of the green, and an inexcusably indifferent chip rolled back off the green, forcing him to get up and in just to save bogey. Same story on 18: pulled driver, poor second shot into the greenside bunker, average sand shot, poor putt, bogey. Tie. Tiger finally played smart and well on the playoff hole, hitting to the middle of the fairway and the correct part of the green, then sinking a longish putt that resembled Mickelson's winner of a year ago.
Tiger still has more ability to make more kinds of shots more often than anyone else, but that is not to say he is immune to pressure. He gets keyed up and makes mistakes, sometimes big ones. He is gifted enough to recover from them most of the time, as he was on Sunday.
Incidentally, that ball hanging on the edge of the hole on 16, displaying the Nike swoosh in real-time slow motion, is a ready-made marketing campaign waiting to happen waiting to happen.
This year's tournament was equally exciting, but for different reasons. Tiger's 66-65 charge in the middle two rounds felt like the old days of 2000, when all one had to do is wait patiently until he would make what became a customary and decisive charge up the leaderboard. This year, however, was the first time one of his vanquished foes chased him down Chris DeMarco has been hanging around the top of big tournaments for several years now, competing well on Ryder Cup and President's Cup teams, coming in second (albeit a distant second) in this year's Accenture Match Play tournament, and he was in the final group of last year's Masters. He tends to be timid off the tee, but his iron play was at times far better than Woods'. He showed great confidence, pumping his fist to the patrons as he left the 10th green. He saved par, but Woods had just bogeyed his lead down to two strokes. DeMarco showed he believed he was on the charge, and so he was. He birdied 11, while Tiger carelessly settled for par. DeMarco kept the hammer down, competing well through the remainder of the round. Only mediocre putting, failing to sink several birdie putts inside 10 feet in the final round, kept him from winning the tournament.
Woods, on the other hand, is not nearly the automoton he is made out to be. He is easily as susceptible to the pressure of leading as anyone else on Tour. After the emotionally-charged miracle chip on 16 (which is the only thing that could have stopped DeMarco's momentum after a great birdie at 15), Tiger did not bother to regroup for 17. Cold-blooded prudence would have dictated a three-wood or iron off the tee, play to the middle of everything, and collect that fourth green jacket without further incident. Instead, with a two-shot lead to protect over the last two holes, neither of which is considered a birdie hole, Tiger pulled out the driver, put his best spiner-twister swing on it, and blew his tee shot well right, through the pines into the adjoining fairway. A vertical wedge shot over the trees left him twenty yards short of the green, and an inexcusably indifferent chip rolled back off the green, forcing him to get up and in just to save bogey. Same story on 18: pulled driver, poor second shot into the greenside bunker, average sand shot, poor putt, bogey. Tie. Tiger finally played smart and well on the playoff hole, hitting to the middle of the fairway and the correct part of the green, then sinking a longish putt that resembled Mickelson's winner of a year ago.
Tiger still has more ability to make more kinds of shots more often than anyone else, but that is not to say he is immune to pressure. He gets keyed up and makes mistakes, sometimes big ones. He is gifted enough to recover from them most of the time, as he was on Sunday.
Incidentally, that ball hanging on the edge of the hole on 16, displaying the Nike swoosh in real-time slow motion, is a ready-made marketing campaign waiting to happen waiting to happen.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Happy Birthday, Kelly!
My little baby girl is 8 years old today. She is now well into the years for which I have clear memories of my own childhood. Life is now school, homework, church, piano, gymnastics, soccer, basketball, Barbies and Little House books. It's all good.
Eight years ago, my life changed, irrevocably and at depths of my being that I did not know existed. She did it, and does it still.
Eight years ago, my life changed, irrevocably and at depths of my being that I did not know existed. She did it, and does it still.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
U2, Live at Staples Center
After almost exactly half a lifetime, I've seen U2 live again. It was a very good show (here is the setlist), hampered only by the venue. Staples Center is a vast cavern of a building, constructed to maximize luxury suite space. It has a large lower bowl, above which three stories of suites go straight up. Atop the uppermost level of suites is a fringe of regular seating, no more than 15 rows deep. Other than the lowest seats in the lower bowl, none of the seats anywhere in the arena come close to the action, whether it is a sporting event or concert. The shape is akin to a large metal mixing bowl, and is acoustically just about the same. The effect of the reverberant arena is muddled acoustics, especially vocals. I knew all of the old songs, of course, but my knowledge of the newer songs was not as solid. I couldn't hope to learn the lyrics from the concert, as Bono's voice was overshadowed throughout the show by everything else.
Nevertheless, the show was a lot of fun. It started very strong, with lots of energy from two songs off the new album. My favorite song of the concert, Electric Co., came early. I loved it because of the raw energy, and because they didn't try to reinterpret it. It sounded just as it must have twenty years ago. I loved that they played some songs from Boy ... stuff I never thought I would hear in concert. New Years Day came off the same way. In fact, the old songs played better than the newer ones, perhaps in part to the fact that the older, simpler arrangements suited the space better than the more dense, complicated later songs. On that score, the songs from the last two albums played very well, but the songs from Achtung Baby, particularly Zoo Station, fared poorly. The complex sound layering and crunchy guitar works great on the album, but turned into very loud, energetic mush on this particular stage, and the vocals were totally lost. A bummer, but it didn't detract from the thrill of seeing and hearing the boys play their songs.
Don't think I didn't love the concert, though. There was a ton of energy in the arena, and as much as I enjoyed hearing the old songs, the songs from the last two albums played very, very well. Plus, it was an event. It takes a lot for LA to get excited; this was one of those times.
Cheryl and I turned it into a full evening, starting with a fantastic dinner at the Water Grill, the finest seafood restaurant in LA. The husband of one of my partners is a waiter there, and he set us up with the best private table and excellent menu recommendations. We luxuriated in two hours of wonderful food and atmosphere.
All in all, a great night. I should have my voice back by Thursday.
Nevertheless, the show was a lot of fun. It started very strong, with lots of energy from two songs off the new album. My favorite song of the concert, Electric Co., came early. I loved it because of the raw energy, and because they didn't try to reinterpret it. It sounded just as it must have twenty years ago. I loved that they played some songs from Boy ... stuff I never thought I would hear in concert. New Years Day came off the same way. In fact, the old songs played better than the newer ones, perhaps in part to the fact that the older, simpler arrangements suited the space better than the more dense, complicated later songs. On that score, the songs from the last two albums played very well, but the songs from Achtung Baby, particularly Zoo Station, fared poorly. The complex sound layering and crunchy guitar works great on the album, but turned into very loud, energetic mush on this particular stage, and the vocals were totally lost. A bummer, but it didn't detract from the thrill of seeing and hearing the boys play their songs.
Don't think I didn't love the concert, though. There was a ton of energy in the arena, and as much as I enjoyed hearing the old songs, the songs from the last two albums played very, very well. Plus, it was an event. It takes a lot for LA to get excited; this was one of those times.
Cheryl and I turned it into a full evening, starting with a fantastic dinner at the Water Grill, the finest seafood restaurant in LA. The husband of one of my partners is a waiter there, and he set us up with the best private table and excellent menu recommendations. We luxuriated in two hours of wonderful food and atmosphere.
All in all, a great night. I should have my voice back by Thursday.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
It's Springtime, and You Know What That Means
Baseball, of course!
After a one-year layoff following two championship seasons, I am back in the fantasy baseball world. It's not the old league with my college buddies, which I miss, but life just became too busy for everyone to commit time to the league. This time I'm in a league set up by a guy from church who lives and breathes baseball. It's a quirkier format than I'm used to, with weekly head-to-head matchups between teams, bench players, and additional statistical categories. Another unusual feature was a completely automated draft. I never got around to organizing the stock rankings, so I my team was picked without any input from me. Oddly enough, I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out. I have some positional flexibility problems (too many 1Bs and OFs) and I have too many mediocre starting pitchers, but otherwise it's not a bad lineup. Albert Pujols, Hideki Matsui and David Ortiz are the big boppers, but I have a bunch of scrappy, lesser-known gamers who should put up good numbers, too. And with Jason Schmidt and Roy Oswalt as my lead starters, guys I would have picked on my own, I'll have fun tracking this team. Stay tuned for weekly highlights!
After a one-year layoff following two championship seasons, I am back in the fantasy baseball world. It's not the old league with my college buddies, which I miss, but life just became too busy for everyone to commit time to the league. This time I'm in a league set up by a guy from church who lives and breathes baseball. It's a quirkier format than I'm used to, with weekly head-to-head matchups between teams, bench players, and additional statistical categories. Another unusual feature was a completely automated draft. I never got around to organizing the stock rankings, so I my team was picked without any input from me. Oddly enough, I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out. I have some positional flexibility problems (too many 1Bs and OFs) and I have too many mediocre starting pitchers, but otherwise it's not a bad lineup. Albert Pujols, Hideki Matsui and David Ortiz are the big boppers, but I have a bunch of scrappy, lesser-known gamers who should put up good numbers, too. And with Jason Schmidt and Roy Oswalt as my lead starters, guys I would have picked on my own, I'll have fun tracking this team. Stay tuned for weekly highlights!
Monday, April 04, 2005
Star Wars Geeks, Unite!
We are truly living in a blessed age. Not only can Boba Fett-worshipping fanboys find their soulmates at the speed of light on numerous electronic websites and bulletin boards, they can celebrate their obsession, revel in their anticipation of the not-yet-announced release of the next (and final) Star Wars film, and raise a little money for a good cause. Plus, you can call them yourself.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Smile! You're on Candid Interplanetary Camera!
Astronomers have released what they say is the first photograph of a planet outside our solar system. The planet, circling a sun-like star known as GQ Lupi, is apparently twice the size of Jupiter, with surface temperatures above 2,000 degrees Kelvin, is approximately three times farther from its star than Neptune is from the sun, and has an orbit of approximately 1,200 years. It's also about 400 light years from here.
In related news, Richard Branson will be announcing daily service to the GQ Lupi system aboard Virgin Galactic.
In related news, Richard Branson will be announcing daily service to the GQ Lupi system aboard Virgin Galactic.
You may have heard that there are a lot of dramatic events occurring in the world these days. Our emotions are tugged all sorts of ways: earthquakes in Indonesia, a family tragedy in Florida, the (impending) death of a beloved Pope, a steroid crisis in American sports. Okay, maybe that last one doesn't grab you as much as me, but baseball season is about to start and I'm feeling very fragile right now.
With all of these deeply affecting issues swirling around us, it's nice to know that some folks in Wisconsin have the laser-like focus on what really matters: getting angry at someone with the temerity to rise from her wheelchair. Sit down and stay there -- you're a symbol, so act like one!
With all of these deeply affecting issues swirling around us, it's nice to know that some folks in Wisconsin have the laser-like focus on what really matters: getting angry at someone with the temerity to rise from her wheelchair. Sit down and stay there -- you're a symbol, so act like one!
Monday, March 28, 2005
I Think I've Found Shakespeare's Monkeys
It is said that, given an infinite number of monkeys pounding on an infinite number of typewriters (okay, it was said some time ago) for an infinite amount of time, the monkeys could produce the works of Shakespeare. It seems that rather than engage in that lengthy and ultimately useless task, the monkeys have taken up paying work writing spam.
I'm not sure what it all means, but the spam that gets through the filters at the office is relatively benign and thoroughly bizarre. Sent by such luminaries as Eloquent M. Rainwater and Lynch E. Proprietor, I am usually cheerfully saluted with something along the lines of "Greetings, white man! :)" I then am provided with some wisdom of the ages: "Nothing is poetical if plain daylight is not poetical and no monster should amaze us if the normal man does not amaze.Count not him among your friends who will retail your privacies to the world."
This is what happens when academics leave the ivory tower; so sad.
I'm not sure what it all means, but the spam that gets through the filters at the office is relatively benign and thoroughly bizarre. Sent by such luminaries as Eloquent M. Rainwater and Lynch E. Proprietor, I am usually cheerfully saluted with something along the lines of "Greetings, white man! :)" I then am provided with some wisdom of the ages: "Nothing is poetical if plain daylight is not poetical and no monster should amaze us if the normal man does not amaze.Count not him among your friends who will retail your privacies to the world."
This is what happens when academics leave the ivory tower; so sad.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
It's a Hard Knock Life
You Read It Here First
You recall that witty little post below about the new Mercedes and the remarkable aural similarity between its model name and a certain libido-enabling pharmaceutical? Your humble scribe was not the only one to pick up on the connection.
In today's L.A. Times, Dan Neil (that's Car and Driver contributor and Pulitzer Prize-winning Dan Neil, mind you) derives the thematic metaphor for his entire review of the car from this link. The first three paragraphs concern the effort of carmakers to come up with names that will provide the desired market presence, and the liguistic pitfalls that occasionally result. Mr. Neil didn't draw all of the comparisons between the car and the pill (or rather, their owners) that I did, but he did observe, "the Mercedes-Benz CLS500 will forever be known as the "Cialis" 500 — which sounds like a NASCAR event and, come to think of it, probably is."
Well done, Dan. Feel free to call me anytime for more story ideas.
In today's L.A. Times, Dan Neil (that's Car and Driver contributor and Pulitzer Prize-winning Dan Neil, mind you) derives the thematic metaphor for his entire review of the car from this link. The first three paragraphs concern the effort of carmakers to come up with names that will provide the desired market presence, and the liguistic pitfalls that occasionally result. Mr. Neil didn't draw all of the comparisons between the car and the pill (or rather, their owners) that I did, but he did observe, "the Mercedes-Benz CLS500 will forever be known as the "Cialis" 500 — which sounds like a NASCAR event and, come to think of it, probably is."
Well done, Dan. Feel free to call me anytime for more story ideas.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
File Under "Another Addictive Little Internet Game"
Brush up on physics and medieval warfare, all at the same time!
Let me know if you get onto the leader board.
Let me know if you get onto the leader board.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Match Wits with JPL, If You Dare
Here is the latest installment of one of the internet's more challenging puzzle series. Once you've figured this one out, try a few of the older ones. Fun for the whole family! Or at least the one who knows how to use Google.
UPDATE: this is by far the easiest quiz in the series, although it is easy to be misled. Try some of the older ones for more internet-searching fun.
UPDATE: this is by far the easiest quiz in the series, although it is easy to be misled. Try some of the older ones for more internet-searching fun.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
What's the Nurburgring, You Ask?
Here, let me show you.
Keep in mind, this course, all 20 km of it, is open to the public. Not just to see it. To drive it.
Keep in mind, this course, all 20 km of it, is open to the public. Not just to see it. To drive it.
Links Lefty Liked?
We build up our heroes so we can tear them down again, then enjoy their redemptive return to glory. It appears that Phil Mickelson may be entering into the tear-down phase now.
Sunday's final round battle between Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson was great theater and a rare display of two superstars playing at their best, with the winner prevailing because of superior play rather than a mistake by the opponent. It is interesting to note, however, that a backlash is beginning to develop against Smilin' Phil. First, there is this AP article AP article that compares Tiger's rivalry with Phil to his rivalry with Ernie Els. The article mentions the even better final round between Tiger and Els in the 2000 Mercedes Championship and how much the two players appeared to enjoy the match, in comparison to the grinding, joyless approach Tiger and Phil took last weekend. (I have to agree that the Tiger-Els matchup, which kicked off Tigers historic 2000 season, was even more fun to watch, in part because both players seemed to be having fun, and marveled at each others' shots.) More intriguing is this quote:
The author doesn't elaborate.
Then there's Skip Bayless's hack job against Phil this week. Bayless clearly doesn't like Mickelson for some reason, and spares no opportunity to smear him as insincere and not well-liked inside the ropes. While I detest this sort of broadside attack that does not include any evidence and is secondary to the thesis in any event, I suspect that Bayless and others in the know (assuming Bayless is in the know; as he a studio talking head now, I doubt it) have seen things that the public doesn't know about. Stopping short of speculating about really detestable, Kobe-level behavior, it would not surprise me if it turned out that Phil annoys his fellow professionals. He's talented, been at the top of the game since he was a kid (before he was a successful pro, he was USGA Junior champ, USGA Amateur champ, 3-time NCAA champ and a winner on Tour while an amateur), he's good looking and, most importantly, he's a gambler. He's known for his gambling proclivities, especially his longshot Super Bowl bets (the Ravens paid off big). I take all of this to mean that Phil is ruthlessly competitive, and probably arrogant about it (Michael Jordan, who never met a circumstance he wouldn't wager on, was brutal to his betting partners, teammates or not).
A small moment at the end of the tournament led me to think there may be more steel in Phil's psyche than would appear by his plodding, aw-shucks-grinning exterior. Final hole, Tiger up by one, Phil just off the green behind the hole needing to drop the putt to birdie and tie after Tiger ran his 60 foot birdie putt 6 feet by the hole. Phil nearly holes it out (leading to the unintentionally hilarious photo shown in the first linked article above), leaving his ball a couple of feet out. Technically, Tiger is away, and should putt next. However, Tiger now has a lead and can only fail to seal the victory he screws up the putt; Phil can no longer do anything about it. Ordinarily, when a player is about to putt for the championship, his playing partners will putt out, regardless of the usual etiquette, to give that player his moment of glory with the crowd. However, on Sunday, Tiger putted his fourth and final shot before Phil had finished, which led to the somewhat awkward circumstance that Tiger had just won the tournament, the crowd is trying to show its enthusiastic approval for the day of golf they just witnessed, but thay all have to be shushed immediately so that Phil can proceed with his meaningless tap-in.
Because the tournament would be over if Tiger made the putt, it seemed to me that he should have gone last. Gamesmanship? Did Phil insist that Tiger putt first, with the inevitable result that any celebration would be muted? It would have made more sense, and followed tour custom, to allow Tiger to play last, which would have created additional pressure: on the last shot, either he wins the tournament (but gets the unrestrained adulation), or he misses and they play extra holes. If a little gamesmanship took place, it seems that it would be consistent with Phil's competitiveness, as well as his rarely-seen irritation at losing. It may also lend some credence to the veiled suggestions that Phil is admired far more outside the ropes than inside them.
In the interest of full disclosure, I have always admired Phil. We're the same age, so he was one of the first people of my generation to make a splash in the world. I got to see him play up close at his first professional tournament at the 1992 US Open the week after we both graduated from college. He seemed to be a good guy back then (and he definitely had the attention of every 16 to 30 year old woman within a 100 yard radius; he could hardly take a step without some PYT saying "Hi, Phil!"). He's done well for himself, and I was very happy to see him win the Masters last year. He and Tiger are going to be fighting it out for the rest of their golfing lives, and they probably will never really like each other. Their play, though, is magnificent to watch.
Sunday's final round battle between Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson was great theater and a rare display of two superstars playing at their best, with the winner prevailing because of superior play rather than a mistake by the opponent. It is interesting to note, however, that a backlash is beginning to develop against Smilin' Phil. First, there is this AP article AP article that compares Tiger's rivalry with Phil to his rivalry with Ernie Els. The article mentions the even better final round between Tiger and Els in the 2000 Mercedes Championship and how much the two players appeared to enjoy the match, in comparison to the grinding, joyless approach Tiger and Phil took last weekend. (I have to agree that the Tiger-Els matchup, which kicked off Tigers historic 2000 season, was even more fun to watch, in part because both players seemed to be having fun, and marveled at each others' shots.) More intriguing is this quote:
"Ernie Els and Woods make the most natural rivalry. The Big Easy has finished second to Woods six times, more than any other player, and eight of his 15 victories on the PGA Tour have come with Woods in the field. But it is difficult for Woods to work up any animosity inside the ropes because Els is universally liked and respected.
That's not the case with Mickelson. "
The author doesn't elaborate.
Then there's Skip Bayless's hack job against Phil this week. Bayless clearly doesn't like Mickelson for some reason, and spares no opportunity to smear him as insincere and not well-liked inside the ropes. While I detest this sort of broadside attack that does not include any evidence and is secondary to the thesis in any event, I suspect that Bayless and others in the know (assuming Bayless is in the know; as he a studio talking head now, I doubt it) have seen things that the public doesn't know about. Stopping short of speculating about really detestable, Kobe-level behavior, it would not surprise me if it turned out that Phil annoys his fellow professionals. He's talented, been at the top of the game since he was a kid (before he was a successful pro, he was USGA Junior champ, USGA Amateur champ, 3-time NCAA champ and a winner on Tour while an amateur), he's good looking and, most importantly, he's a gambler. He's known for his gambling proclivities, especially his longshot Super Bowl bets (the Ravens paid off big). I take all of this to mean that Phil is ruthlessly competitive, and probably arrogant about it (Michael Jordan, who never met a circumstance he wouldn't wager on, was brutal to his betting partners, teammates or not).
A small moment at the end of the tournament led me to think there may be more steel in Phil's psyche than would appear by his plodding, aw-shucks-grinning exterior. Final hole, Tiger up by one, Phil just off the green behind the hole needing to drop the putt to birdie and tie after Tiger ran his 60 foot birdie putt 6 feet by the hole. Phil nearly holes it out (leading to the unintentionally hilarious photo shown in the first linked article above), leaving his ball a couple of feet out. Technically, Tiger is away, and should putt next. However, Tiger now has a lead and can only fail to seal the victory he screws up the putt; Phil can no longer do anything about it. Ordinarily, when a player is about to putt for the championship, his playing partners will putt out, regardless of the usual etiquette, to give that player his moment of glory with the crowd. However, on Sunday, Tiger putted his fourth and final shot before Phil had finished, which led to the somewhat awkward circumstance that Tiger had just won the tournament, the crowd is trying to show its enthusiastic approval for the day of golf they just witnessed, but thay all have to be shushed immediately so that Phil can proceed with his meaningless tap-in.
Because the tournament would be over if Tiger made the putt, it seemed to me that he should have gone last. Gamesmanship? Did Phil insist that Tiger putt first, with the inevitable result that any celebration would be muted? It would have made more sense, and followed tour custom, to allow Tiger to play last, which would have created additional pressure: on the last shot, either he wins the tournament (but gets the unrestrained adulation), or he misses and they play extra holes. If a little gamesmanship took place, it seems that it would be consistent with Phil's competitiveness, as well as his rarely-seen irritation at losing. It may also lend some credence to the veiled suggestions that Phil is admired far more outside the ropes than inside them.
In the interest of full disclosure, I have always admired Phil. We're the same age, so he was one of the first people of my generation to make a splash in the world. I got to see him play up close at his first professional tournament at the 1992 US Open the week after we both graduated from college. He seemed to be a good guy back then (and he definitely had the attention of every 16 to 30 year old woman within a 100 yard radius; he could hardly take a step without some PYT saying "Hi, Phil!"). He's done well for himself, and I was very happy to see him win the Masters last year. He and Tiger are going to be fighting it out for the rest of their golfing lives, and they probably will never really like each other. Their play, though, is magnificent to watch.
Video Game Review: Gran Turismo 4
This is the Holy Grail, the game all gearhead geeks were waiting for. I sat on a Best Buy certificate for more than two months to use to purchase this game, which I then picked up on its first day of release.
Is it worth the hype? It depends on what you're looking for, and whether you are willing to accept its particular culture.
First, the biggest flaw is the lack of a damage model of any kind. Bang over curbs, sideswipe your competitors, run straight into a wall ... you might lose some time, but the car will be undamaged. This is a huge void in a game billed as a "simulator." However, the Gran Turismo series has always operated on this basis, and within its world, the lack of damage makes some sense, because the simulation is aimed at something else.
Gran Turismo has always been about driving real cars on real tracks, and modifying those cars in realistic ways to simply make them go faster. It's about a competition of speed, rather than a fully realistic and ultimately frustrating battle with fragility. This is part of the GT "culture" that the gamer must buy into. Races then become a series of lessons in getting around the track faster rather than repeated trips to the garage to repair the banged-up car.
The GT physics engine makes up for the lack of a damage model (again, if you buy into the concept of speed for speed's sake). The game drives extremely well, with very accurate and lifelike response to controller input and game environment conditions. The game is also brutal in its punishment of sloppy driving, which for me excuses its lack of damage. If you are not on the racing line, or you carry too much speed into a corner, you will not do well. Learning takes place through losing races, one corner at a time, rather than busting up the car.
Another "culture" issue with the GT series is its heavy concentration on Japanese cars. Although the game includes numerous European cars you would never see in the US, and a variety of US cars as well, the heart of the game (not unexpectedly) is Japanese, with a dizzying array of Japanese models available. Not that there is anything wrong with that, as Seinfeld might say, but considering all the interesting products made in other parts of the world, the balance seems a bit off. However, if you simply accept this as part of the local culture, it's not a hinderance to having a good time. The lack of Porsche and Ferrari, though, is a major blemish (those manufacturers have licensed their images and trademarks to other games; GT makes do with Porsche-based RUF).
GT4 is not the leap forward in visual landscape that GT3 was. However, the visuals are improved, and tremendous. Playback still looks a little wonky, but the environments are rich, detailed and, often, beautiful, with a variety of weather conditions and sun angles (which can be very difficult at times).
Gameplay is essentially the same as in GT3, although it has been enlarged with more tracks and significantly more cars. The player still must pass licence tests, compete in beginner race series in a variety of cars, and collect enough prize money to win or buy cars to compete in higher level races. A notable addition to the gameplay is the B-spec mode, in which you direct an AI driver in your car. I was unsure about this feature ... until I used it. Far from an uninvolving cheat mode, as I expected, B-spec is actually extremely handy for progressing through the game. B-spec can be used to rapidly progress through a race series to gain prize money and reward cars (which can often be sold for more cash), which is the process necessary to proceed early in the game. Frankly, it's pretty boring to keep running the same races over and over just to gain enough money to get away from the beginning races. B-spec both automates and accelerates the process (up to 3X real speed); the gamer directs the driver to go slow, steady, fast or push, with appropriate consequences. If the car is not up to snuff, it will not win. The driver will sometimes make mistakes, especially if it is inexperienced (yes, that matters) or it is being asked to push too much. B-spec is a great time saver, a good way to collect the money needed to try new areas of the game, and even engrossing competition. To preserve my own sense of fair play, though, I won't go to B-spec until I have run and won the race on my own.
So far, I have made it through 3% of the game, so I've go some work to do. I've finished three of the beginning level race series and one Miata-only championship. I'm now working up the courage (and cash) to tackle one of the world's great tracks: the Nurburgring Nordschleife.
I'll be sure to keep all of you (that is, all five of you) closely updated on my progress. I know you can't wait.
Is it worth the hype? It depends on what you're looking for, and whether you are willing to accept its particular culture.
First, the biggest flaw is the lack of a damage model of any kind. Bang over curbs, sideswipe your competitors, run straight into a wall ... you might lose some time, but the car will be undamaged. This is a huge void in a game billed as a "simulator." However, the Gran Turismo series has always operated on this basis, and within its world, the lack of damage makes some sense, because the simulation is aimed at something else.
Gran Turismo has always been about driving real cars on real tracks, and modifying those cars in realistic ways to simply make them go faster. It's about a competition of speed, rather than a fully realistic and ultimately frustrating battle with fragility. This is part of the GT "culture" that the gamer must buy into. Races then become a series of lessons in getting around the track faster rather than repeated trips to the garage to repair the banged-up car.
The GT physics engine makes up for the lack of a damage model (again, if you buy into the concept of speed for speed's sake). The game drives extremely well, with very accurate and lifelike response to controller input and game environment conditions. The game is also brutal in its punishment of sloppy driving, which for me excuses its lack of damage. If you are not on the racing line, or you carry too much speed into a corner, you will not do well. Learning takes place through losing races, one corner at a time, rather than busting up the car.
Another "culture" issue with the GT series is its heavy concentration on Japanese cars. Although the game includes numerous European cars you would never see in the US, and a variety of US cars as well, the heart of the game (not unexpectedly) is Japanese, with a dizzying array of Japanese models available. Not that there is anything wrong with that, as Seinfeld might say, but considering all the interesting products made in other parts of the world, the balance seems a bit off. However, if you simply accept this as part of the local culture, it's not a hinderance to having a good time. The lack of Porsche and Ferrari, though, is a major blemish (those manufacturers have licensed their images and trademarks to other games; GT makes do with Porsche-based RUF).
GT4 is not the leap forward in visual landscape that GT3 was. However, the visuals are improved, and tremendous. Playback still looks a little wonky, but the environments are rich, detailed and, often, beautiful, with a variety of weather conditions and sun angles (which can be very difficult at times).
Gameplay is essentially the same as in GT3, although it has been enlarged with more tracks and significantly more cars. The player still must pass licence tests, compete in beginner race series in a variety of cars, and collect enough prize money to win or buy cars to compete in higher level races. A notable addition to the gameplay is the B-spec mode, in which you direct an AI driver in your car. I was unsure about this feature ... until I used it. Far from an uninvolving cheat mode, as I expected, B-spec is actually extremely handy for progressing through the game. B-spec can be used to rapidly progress through a race series to gain prize money and reward cars (which can often be sold for more cash), which is the process necessary to proceed early in the game. Frankly, it's pretty boring to keep running the same races over and over just to gain enough money to get away from the beginning races. B-spec both automates and accelerates the process (up to 3X real speed); the gamer directs the driver to go slow, steady, fast or push, with appropriate consequences. If the car is not up to snuff, it will not win. The driver will sometimes make mistakes, especially if it is inexperienced (yes, that matters) or it is being asked to push too much. B-spec is a great time saver, a good way to collect the money needed to try new areas of the game, and even engrossing competition. To preserve my own sense of fair play, though, I won't go to B-spec until I have run and won the race on my own.
So far, I have made it through 3% of the game, so I've go some work to do. I've finished three of the beginning level race series and one Miata-only championship. I'm now working up the courage (and cash) to tackle one of the world's great tracks: the Nurburgring Nordschleife.
I'll be sure to keep all of you (that is, all five of you) closely updated on my progress. I know you can't wait.
New Possibilities
As Chris noted in a comment to the clock post below, my birthday was last week. Not just any birthday, though. It is perhaps the second most significant birthday of my life, after gaining the vote at age 18. What could possibly be so momentous?
Marketing.
I have dropped out of the coveted 18-to-34 demographic upon which networks build their schlocky schedules and to which manufacturers of everything from soup to cell phones direct their advertising efforts. MTV will now have nothing to do with me (although that became a mutual decision several years ago). Nothing but ads for Buicks and Propecia from now on, I guess.
Well, there is one other little consequence of my birthday that has some significance: I can now be President of the United States.
Don't hold your breath waiting for my campaign contribution letters to arrive in your mailbox.
Marketing.
I have dropped out of the coveted 18-to-34 demographic upon which networks build their schlocky schedules and to which manufacturers of everything from soup to cell phones direct their advertising efforts. MTV will now have nothing to do with me (although that became a mutual decision several years ago). Nothing but ads for Buicks and Propecia from now on, I guess.
Well, there is one other little consequence of my birthday that has some significance: I can now be President of the United States.
Don't hold your breath waiting for my campaign contribution letters to arrive in your mailbox.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Video Game Review: NASCAR Chase for the Cup 2005
Yep, I'm swappin' paint with the good ol' boys now. I picked this up because of the gameplay progression: start in the minor leagues and work your way up to the Cup cars. I have found the game to be very fun, and more enjoyable in some ways than Gran Tourismo (heresy!). The driving physics are good, the damage models are solid without being either too inconsequential or too punitive, and the extras like the agent calling on the phone delight the kids. There is something enriching about having someone call you and say, hey, you've done a great job, why don't you come test this other car in the next class up? Satisfaction in a job well done.
The game also works emotion into the racing. If you work with other drivers, help draft and generally behave yourselve, you will make allies. However, if you bounce other guys out of the way, you make enemies and get a bad reputation. You can use that to your advantage, as your "intimidation" powers go up (yes, there's a button for that), but I've learned the hard way that when the other guys don't like you, they will engage in some pretty anti-social behavior to keep you from succeeding. In my first Craftsman Truck race, with an underpowered racecar, I was passing for the lead when the car I was passing bumped me, sending me into the wall. I ended up finishing last, a lap down, because the whole field streamed by while I tried to back away from the barrier. I'll be looking for that guy in the future. In the same race, though, I worked carefully with another driver, drafting a little, eventually passing cleanly. After the race was over, I discovered that I had made an ally -- my first! (My villain quotient is pretty high due to ineptness with the controller in the first couple of events.)
Good clean fun, y'all.
The game also works emotion into the racing. If you work with other drivers, help draft and generally behave yourselve, you will make allies. However, if you bounce other guys out of the way, you make enemies and get a bad reputation. You can use that to your advantage, as your "intimidation" powers go up (yes, there's a button for that), but I've learned the hard way that when the other guys don't like you, they will engage in some pretty anti-social behavior to keep you from succeeding. In my first Craftsman Truck race, with an underpowered racecar, I was passing for the lead when the car I was passing bumped me, sending me into the wall. I ended up finishing last, a lap down, because the whole field streamed by while I tried to back away from the barrier. I'll be looking for that guy in the future. In the same race, though, I worked carefully with another driver, drafting a little, eventually passing cleanly. After the race was over, I discovered that I had made an ally -- my first! (My villain quotient is pretty high due to ineptness with the controller in the first couple of events.)
Good clean fun, y'all.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Jury Duty Haiku
Defendants, jurors,
A reckoning day for both;
I'll take the box, thanks.
Slumped forms, reading, bored.
Sunlight slants in the windows;
It, at least, is free.
A reckoning day for both;
I'll take the box, thanks.
Slumped forms, reading, bored.
Sunlight slants in the windows;
It, at least, is free.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Be the First Kid On Your Block to Try It
This may be old news to some people, but I just discovered a great new toy today: Google now has a maps feature. It's labeled "Beta," so I'm guessing it hasn't been around for long. The graphical presentation is very attractive, and the "steering" controls are far better than Mapquest or Yahoo! maps, since it does not reload the whole page every time you need to move the image around a little. I haven't asked it to provide a set of directions yet, but I never rely on text directions anyway. I can get lost just fine with the map alone.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Subliminal Midlife Crisis Tie-In?
Consider: the new Mercedes CLS, a swoopy sedan meant to evoke the spirit of a coupe, with all the luxury and sporting accouterments needed to satisfy the desires of the middle-aged man at whom this product is targeted. In other words, a stodgy, grown-up car that's trying to act younger than it is.
Now consider: Cialis (I'm not going to link it; I sure don't need that spam). A product intended to help the middle-aged man at whom this product is targeted satisfy his, um, desires. In other words, it lets a stodgy, grown-up man act younger than he is.
Say it with me, out loud: CLS. Cialis. CLS. Cialis.
Coincidence? I think not.
Now consider: Cialis (I'm not going to link it; I sure don't need that spam). A product intended to help the middle-aged man at whom this product is targeted satisfy his, um, desires. In other words, it lets a stodgy, grown-up man act younger than he is.
Say it with me, out loud: CLS. Cialis. CLS. Cialis.
Coincidence? I think not.
Speak Clearly, You Must
Sign on an apartment managment company:
"Free apt. rental info."
If I stopped in looking for gratis lodgings, would they show me to their stack of brochures, or laugh at me? As much as I love the English language for its daunting breadth of expression, the language is also subject to ambiguity due to the lack of rigid rules of structure. Mathematics can probably make better sense of this:
(free apt. rental) (info)? Nah. It's a possible result based upon the several rules of grammar applicable to the notice, but not reasonable in context. Most likely:
(free) (apt. rental info).
Okay, so it doesn't rank up there with "a farmer outstanding in his field," but these things give me something to think while stuck in traffic.
"Free apt. rental info."
If I stopped in looking for gratis lodgings, would they show me to their stack of brochures, or laugh at me? As much as I love the English language for its daunting breadth of expression, the language is also subject to ambiguity due to the lack of rigid rules of structure. Mathematics can probably make better sense of this:
(free apt. rental) (info)? Nah. It's a possible result based upon the several rules of grammar applicable to the notice, but not reasonable in context. Most likely:
(free) (apt. rental info).
Okay, so it doesn't rank up there with "a farmer outstanding in his field," but these things give me something to think while stuck in traffic.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Tsunami Pictures
What an age in which we live. Satellites of various kinds give us incredible views of our world, and reveal truths about our surroundings that we are ordinarily too close to see ourselves.
Many satellite photos have been released of the areas of devastation created by the tsunami last December, but NASA keeps them coming. The destruction of Aceh is particularly stark. The second set of photos in this collection show how thoroughly the disturbed sea wiped out a small population center. These Landsat photos, also of Aceh, confirm how widespread and cruelly efficient the tsunamis were.
People from places other than California often are heard to say that they fear earthquakes above all other natural phenomena. As a Californian, I usually say I prefer the extremely infrequent and utterly unpredictable large earthquakes to yearly tornados or hurricanes, which are equally as distructive. The stealth of the tsunami's awful power, however, puts it at the top of my personal list of natural disasters I would be happy not to experience personally.
Many satellite photos have been released of the areas of devastation created by the tsunami last December, but NASA keeps them coming. The destruction of Aceh is particularly stark. The second set of photos in this collection show how thoroughly the disturbed sea wiped out a small population center. These Landsat photos, also of Aceh, confirm how widespread and cruelly efficient the tsunamis were.
People from places other than California often are heard to say that they fear earthquakes above all other natural phenomena. As a Californian, I usually say I prefer the extremely infrequent and utterly unpredictable large earthquakes to yearly tornados or hurricanes, which are equally as distructive. The stealth of the tsunami's awful power, however, puts it at the top of my personal list of natural disasters I would be happy not to experience personally.
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Thursday, February 03, 2005
A Cryin' Shame
If this car shows up in the classifieds with a "freshly detailed!" notation, stay away.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
A Day at the Races
Go here to see pictures of some of the fun Cheryl and I had at California Speedway this past weekend.
Note: the thumbnails do not work, for reasons that defy my limited grasp of webpage design principles. However, you should be able to see the pictures by clicking on them. I will accept any and all advice on how to solve the technical problems.
Note: the thumbnails do not work, for reasons that defy my limited grasp of webpage design principles. However, you should be able to see the pictures by clicking on them. I will accept any and all advice on how to solve the technical problems.
Friday, January 28, 2005
Thoughts on a Train Crash
Our little hometown made national news this week due to a train derailment that resulted in the deaths of 11 people. The tragedy is that the crash occurred because someone who was too inept to successfully commit suicide allowed his SUV to remain on the tracks where he had intended to meet his demise by risking the lives of hundreds of commuters. The shame is that under these exact circumstances, there is no reason why anyone had to lose their life but for the Metrolink practice of "push-pull."
I came up with this argument today before I realized that others smarter than I had already reached the same conclusions. As explained in this article from USA Today, it is a fairly common practice for commuter trains to keep the locomotive at one end of the train, regardless of which direction the train is headed. Thus, at one point in the day, the engine "pushes," and on the return trip it "pulls." The problems with this technique are many. There are dynamic issues of stability (imagine pushing a rope across the floor rather than pulling it) that can exacerbate the potential for a train to derail should the leading car encounter an abnormality in the tracks. There are undoubtedly visibility problems associated with the engineer working from the back of the train. It is said that a locomotive is more capable of shunting aside obstacles on the track, both due to the locomotive's strenght and the "pushing the rope" phenomenon.
To me, an equally significant issue is the fact that a railway car leading the train provides absolutely no crash protection. Pictures of the Glendale wreck show that the leading edge of the lead car was largely demolished. Althought the ensuing derailment (thanks in part to the "pushing the rope" principle) led to injuries throughout the train, no other car exhibited the scale of damage suffered by the lead car. I must assume that the majority of the deaths came from that area of the train.
Driving a train with a passenger car as the lead element is akin to riding on the hood of a car. The passengers have no protection at all, and I suspect that railway cars are not construted with any particular "crush zones" in mind, as is the case with automobiles. In any event, there is no room for a crush zone on a train; the front of the car ends with a door for passage to other cars to which it may be attached.
Had the locomotive struck the stranded car, it is likely that the train would have derailed. However, the brunt of the direct impact would have been taken by the locomotive. Unfortunately, in addition to a derailment, the passengers in the leading car were subjected to the direct collision between the 40 mph train and the 4000 lb SUV. Metrolink and other passenger rail carriers should immediately adopt standards of operation that prohibit the "push-pull" technique. It is simply unconscionable to allow passengers to be exposed to the first risk of injury in the event of a collision.
I came up with this argument today before I realized that others smarter than I had already reached the same conclusions. As explained in this article from USA Today, it is a fairly common practice for commuter trains to keep the locomotive at one end of the train, regardless of which direction the train is headed. Thus, at one point in the day, the engine "pushes," and on the return trip it "pulls." The problems with this technique are many. There are dynamic issues of stability (imagine pushing a rope across the floor rather than pulling it) that can exacerbate the potential for a train to derail should the leading car encounter an abnormality in the tracks. There are undoubtedly visibility problems associated with the engineer working from the back of the train. It is said that a locomotive is more capable of shunting aside obstacles on the track, both due to the locomotive's strenght and the "pushing the rope" phenomenon.
To me, an equally significant issue is the fact that a railway car leading the train provides absolutely no crash protection. Pictures of the Glendale wreck show that the leading edge of the lead car was largely demolished. Althought the ensuing derailment (thanks in part to the "pushing the rope" principle) led to injuries throughout the train, no other car exhibited the scale of damage suffered by the lead car. I must assume that the majority of the deaths came from that area of the train.
Driving a train with a passenger car as the lead element is akin to riding on the hood of a car. The passengers have no protection at all, and I suspect that railway cars are not construted with any particular "crush zones" in mind, as is the case with automobiles. In any event, there is no room for a crush zone on a train; the front of the car ends with a door for passage to other cars to which it may be attached.
Had the locomotive struck the stranded car, it is likely that the train would have derailed. However, the brunt of the direct impact would have been taken by the locomotive. Unfortunately, in addition to a derailment, the passengers in the leading car were subjected to the direct collision between the 40 mph train and the 4000 lb SUV. Metrolink and other passenger rail carriers should immediately adopt standards of operation that prohibit the "push-pull" technique. It is simply unconscionable to allow passengers to be exposed to the first risk of injury in the event of a collision.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
It Seems I Have Lived Too Long
Thomas Hayden Church has been nominated for an Academy Award.
Ah, yes, the exquisitely nuanced japery of Lowell, the brooding masculinity of Ned ... these roles were the building blocks of a career. They were the Burma Shave signs on Mr. Church's lonely road to inevitable cinematic greatness.
Wake me when Crystal Bernard stars in a Merchant-Ivory film.
Ah, yes, the exquisitely nuanced japery of Lowell, the brooding masculinity of Ned ... these roles were the building blocks of a career. They were the Burma Shave signs on Mr. Church's lonely road to inevitable cinematic greatness.
Wake me when Crystal Bernard stars in a Merchant-Ivory film.
It's Been Nearly Eighteen Years ...
... since I last went to a U2 concert. The wait is now over. I have tickets in hand, four days before they go on sale to the public, for the April 5 show at Staples Center. The presale went out to U2.com subscribers. They talk a big game about subscribers getting great seats, but I have serious doubts. Since I last saw the boys from across an entire football stadium, though, I won't complain about being in an arena that holds at least 50,000 fewer people. We saw Paul McCartney at Staples, and a we certainly enjoyed the show.
Based on the location of our reserved seats, I should be able to provide an in-depth report about the top of Bono's head.
Based on the location of our reserved seats, I should be able to provide an in-depth report about the top of Bono's head.
Friday, January 21, 2005
Christmas in January
As Dylan might sing: Packages, they are arrivin'.
I've finally allowed myself to get a few items for the cars. To go with the new Porter-Cable Porter-Cable orbital polisher, a tasty set of Sonus polishing pads arrived yesterday. Today I received the good news that the hood struts I ordered from the good folks at Pelican Parts arrived early, so I can bloody my knuckles replacing those (to avoid bonking my noggin when the front or rear hoods close on me). Next week I will receive a leather treatment system that has been shown to substantially restore and soften typically hard German leather car seats. Whee!
Up next: hydraulic jack and jack stands. How else can I clean the wheel wells?
I've finally allowed myself to get a few items for the cars. To go with the new Porter-Cable Porter-Cable orbital polisher, a tasty set of Sonus polishing pads arrived yesterday. Today I received the good news that the hood struts I ordered from the good folks at Pelican Parts arrived early, so I can bloody my knuckles replacing those (to avoid bonking my noggin when the front or rear hoods close on me). Next week I will receive a leather treatment system that has been shown to substantially restore and soften typically hard German leather car seats. Whee!
Up next: hydraulic jack and jack stands. How else can I clean the wheel wells?
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Weirdest Exotic Car at the LA Auto Show
There are many candidates for this title, but in person, the SLR Mercedes takes the cake. The proportions on this car are simply bizarre. This is a mid-engine car, but the passenger compartment is behind the engine. The driver and passenger sit nearly atop the the rear axle, which wouldn't be so striking (the same can be said of a BMW Z3 or Z4, or AC Cobra) if it were not for the fact that the front axle is waaaaay out there, fully ahead of the long V-12 engine. It looks awkward in pictures, and just wrong in the flesh. The length of the nose is awkward, and the rear of the car is so forshortened that it gives the appearance that the designers only had a certain amount of length allocated to the car and they mistakenly used most of it up on the front, requiring them to smash a little tail on the end to fit the car into the shipping box. A mildly shortened top-fuel dragster would have the same layout and proportions.
And possibly the same performance (even with a slushbox -- shame, Mercedes!).
And possibly the same performance (even with a slushbox -- shame, Mercedes!).
Let's Perpetuate Some Stereotypes, Shall We?
I have no idea why CNN thinks this is a news story (and I mean that in a completely un-ironic way). Amusing, maybe, but only in the sense of we-all-know-those-people-are-trash-and-here's-proof, and there is no actual story. It must be tough, Tennessee, when another Southern outfit (Atlanta-based CNN) cracks back on you for being, well, the embodiment of what coast-dwellers believe is the true South.
Yeah, they probably all voted for Bush, too. Typical. Where's my apple martini?
Yeah, they probably all voted for Bush, too. Typical. Where's my apple martini?
Friday, January 14, 2005
Stay in School!
I have no particular affection for USC (for those of you on the East Coast and may be misguided, that's the University of Southern California; locally, it's University of South Central). However, every once in a while a normal person ventures forth from that fine institution. Defying the double whammy money-grubbing image of both USC students/grads and big-time athletes, Matt Leinert, quarterback of the national champion football team, has elected to stay in school to complete his degree and his final year of athletic eligibility.
Leinert, by all accounts, is a good guy. He even has admitted on local radio show that he doesn't feel he is mentally or physically ready yet for the NFL -- he's right, and he's almost alone among his peers in being honest enough to say so. The NFL money will be there even if he suffers a severe injury (see Willis McGahee). QBs who stay in school also tend to be more complete, successful NFL players (see Ben Roethlisberger).
Plus, he's the QB for the two-time defending national champs of college football on a team that will be well positioned to go for a third title, in a glamorous city. Big Man on Campus doesn't get much bigger than that. Good decision, Matt.
Leinert, by all accounts, is a good guy. He even has admitted on local radio show that he doesn't feel he is mentally or physically ready yet for the NFL -- he's right, and he's almost alone among his peers in being honest enough to say so. The NFL money will be there even if he suffers a severe injury (see Willis McGahee). QBs who stay in school also tend to be more complete, successful NFL players (see Ben Roethlisberger).
Plus, he's the QB for the two-time defending national champs of college football on a team that will be well positioned to go for a third title, in a glamorous city. Big Man on Campus doesn't get much bigger than that. Good decision, Matt.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Least Favorite Car at the LA Auto Show
Based on a highly scientific polling procedure (eavesdropping on the people around me), it seems that the big loser of the LA Auto Show was the VW Phaeton. While people seemed to like the car, I saw more rolled eyes and open scoffing there than anywhere else. Why? $105,000, that's why. The price tag reduced people to laughter. While that number might bring a shrug of the shoulders over in the Mercedes exhibit, show visitors openly mocked VW's attempt to go up market. Unfortunately, it's not because the car is lousy (in fact, it is feature-laden, luxurious and powerful, and the lines around it were as packed as any other car at the show). It is because VW made its reputation on inexpensive transportation, and the car-buying world will not accept anything else.
You want a lesson on depreciating assets? Look on Autotrader.com in a couple of years for used Phaetons. They will be the steal of the luxury class.
You want a lesson on depreciating assets? Look on Autotrader.com in a couple of years for used Phaetons. They will be the steal of the luxury class.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
A Long Season in the Making
Let's see, the Dodgers just signed a big, blond righthander. Decent power, good sinker. Laconic termperament, given to disappearing for long stretches of the season, but can pull out a dazzler just when you've given up on him. The Dodgers already have Darren Dreifort; why do they need Derek Lowe?
Even if Perez, Lowe and Penny play up to their capabilities, this is going to be a replay of 2003: solid pitching, absolutely no offense. Jeff Kent is the only capable bat in the lineup now, and he's useless without a Bonds, Bagwell, Berkman or Beltran hitting around him in the lineup. The best "B" the Dodgers have is Bradley. 'Nuff said.
As a Giants fan, I'm shedding no tears. Unfortunately, I'll have to live with endless moaning from the local radio shows and newspaper columnists. I think Depodesta has a workable plan, and that the Dodgers will be better for it in the next couple of years (if McCourt will pony up the $$). I'm not sure I'll be able to take the local media chicken littles for that long, though.
Even if Perez, Lowe and Penny play up to their capabilities, this is going to be a replay of 2003: solid pitching, absolutely no offense. Jeff Kent is the only capable bat in the lineup now, and he's useless without a Bonds, Bagwell, Berkman or Beltran hitting around him in the lineup. The best "B" the Dodgers have is Bradley. 'Nuff said.
As a Giants fan, I'm shedding no tears. Unfortunately, I'll have to live with endless moaning from the local radio shows and newspaper columnists. I think Depodesta has a workable plan, and that the Dodgers will be better for it in the next couple of years (if McCourt will pony up the $$). I'm not sure I'll be able to take the local media chicken littles for that long, though.
Rainblogging
After 90+ hours of continuous rain, blue skies have returned to SoCal, at least for a few hours. While the rain was seldom torrential, it was constant. The land just wears out after a while. Anywhere there is a roadside slope between home and the office, there is mud on the road, often resulting in the closure of the lane. Nothing as dramatic as this, though.
The nursery-worth of plants sitting in our back yard awaiting final installation appreciated the drenching, though.
The nursery-worth of plants sitting in our back yard awaiting final installation appreciated the drenching, though.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Falling Off the Wagon
Gimme another hit, doc. Oh, that's good. Ah, I'd forgotten the sweet, sweet sensation, the laser-lock focus, the blissful transportation of the mind . . .
. . . that hits every time I watch "24."
It has been too long since we finished watching the second season. The third season finally showed up on Netflix, and our first dose, er, disk showed up yesterday. I defy you to watch just one episode. I'm powerless to stop.
When we discovered the first season last year, we went through six episodes in one sitting, and four or five episodes in other stretches. The show can push the boundaries of credulity at times, but what a rush.
Plus, I can just nail Keifer Sutherland's gravelly opening ("the following takes place . . ."), especially in the evening, when I have cold.
. . . that hits every time I watch "24."
It has been too long since we finished watching the second season. The third season finally showed up on Netflix, and our first dose, er, disk showed up yesterday. I defy you to watch just one episode. I'm powerless to stop.
When we discovered the first season last year, we went through six episodes in one sitting, and four or five episodes in other stretches. The show can push the boundaries of credulity at times, but what a rush.
Plus, I can just nail Keifer Sutherland's gravelly opening ("the following takes place . . ."), especially in the evening, when I have cold.
Monday, December 13, 2004
There Is No Joy in Mudville
The surprisingly powerful UCSB men's soccer team took Indiana, the defending NCAA champs, through overtime, eventually losing on penalty kicks. The Gauchos summarily dismissed Duke 5-0 in the semifinal, and had beaten Indiana earlier in the season. Gaucho fans were in fine form, flinging tortillas to the field at the Home Depot Center during the Duke game, and chanting "Let 'em score" during the blowout.
Congratulations to the Gauchos on a great season. Next up: the rise of UCSB football ... oh wait, my era voted the football team out of existence. Oops.
Congratulations to the Gauchos on a great season. Next up: the rise of UCSB football ... oh wait, my era voted the football team out of existence. Oops.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Go Gauchos!
The UC Santa Barbara men's soccer team has become a national power. They merited a mention in Sports Illustrated recently, and are now in the NCAA final four tournament.
The value of my degree grows and grows.
The value of my degree grows and grows.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
"... 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.
Monday, November 29, 2004
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?
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?
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
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 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.
Monday, November 15, 2004
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.
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 . . .
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
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 . . .
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 . . .
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