FCC Won't Censor Me

On the radio today: more political ads. On tv the other day: more political ads. It's that time of year and I've seen political ads as much as I've seen the Coug do "Our Country" (which is a political ad in it's own right -- maybe I'll vote for him). Just about every commercial break is laden with them from fade to black to the fade in from black. In fact, my TV station
(where I work) makes up most of its operating budget this time of year. So it's paying the bills.

Did you know that radio is mandated by the FCC to air political ads? How does that make sense? I'm not sure if TV has to follow the same rules, but I'm guessing. So the government orders stations to play these ads for which they charge the politician. Again, how does this make sense? Shouldn't this be free then? And why is THIS a federal mandate?

And why do people give money to candidates? I never understood that. Someone please explain to me why people give money to candidates. The money would better be used by tipping your waitress a little more each time you eat out. Don't get me wrong, I love the American government system. Sometimes. Though we should introduce some type of House of Commons to one of the branches because THAT makes for entertaining television.

Remember to vote Tuesday. The polls are your only solace from campaigns.

Worst. Halloween. Costume. Ever.

It's a couple days late, but I was thinking about this today. When I was six, my dad dressed me up like a bag of leaves. Not like a pirate. Not like a Transformer. Not like Roger Clemens or Larry Bird. Like a bag of leaves.

The costume consisted of a hefty bag with arms and leg holes cut-out. And, of course, leaves, gathered from the front yard by my all too-willing brother. One leaf, I believe, was hairpinned to my head. Another leaf was drawn on my cheek with lipstick -- just to make sure people knew what I was.

20 years later and I am still scarred by this! Thanks Dad!

Thumbs Up Or Down

In lieu of the recent thread, I've decided to postpone my Celtics preview. I know that's disappointing. Let's talk about movies instead...a much more redemptive topic I'm sure, but, whatever. Go Celtics.

So what should determine whether you go see a movie or not? Clearly not the ratings system these days. For instance, MI:3, which, I admit, I watched yesterday, is rated PG-13 for Menace. (I'm not sure what that is and would Menace to Society have been rated R for Menace as well.)The ratings merely tell you what type of "inappropriate" material is in each movie, not whether it's redemptive, not whether it serves a purpose. Look at The Passion of the Christ. Rated R. Though, clearly, the violence was the paragon(GRE word!) of redemption. I argue you almost can't decide to see a movie based on the MPAA ratings because it doesn't, nor can it, take these factors into account. Though, at the same time, the ratings system does do a good job of giving you an idea of the "inappropriate" material. Look at the new film Shortbus, it's called an art film but most reviewers, while it's got a point, admit it's basically soft porn.

If ratings system gives us an idea, I don't think it can be a benchmark(recent buzz word!) for what determines what movies we see. Though it can, and should, lead us to look at whether we should see a movie. Then it seems movie watching becomes a relative experience, something left up the person to decide. This isn't necessarily the case, but where it's certainly heading. And if it is the case, it then puts a lot of pressure on the movie-goer to decide for his/her-self and do some research -- which I thoroughly advocate.

My movie watching decisions fall along these lines. I won't see Shortbus, nor do I have any desire to. I draw the line when sex or nudity is clearly involved. I believe it most often and usually serves very little redeeming purposes within the movie and for me personally (one exception: Schindler's list). And I won't see a movie, that while it may be very good, has sex and/or nudity involved (i.e. Cold Mountain, Monster's Ball). Violence and language don't really bother me all that much and I can deal with that. I grew up in the ghetto afterall.

Am I compromising what I believe and who I am? I try not to. I really do, but realize I may fall short in some way. Some of my readers may think I'm too gray, others may think I'm too much of a prude. Either way, it should be an interesting thread.

Red Bled Green

The Basketball Jesus was my teacher; but Red was painting on the wall that everyone admired.

Here's a good column on him.

And, he'd have been excited about this year's team. We've got a good team. For the first time in a long time.

And God Said: "It's Good!"

Is football the Lord's game? I argue it is not. But I also contend, baseball, is not the Lord's game. Instead, I opine (GRE word) soccer to be the game of the Heavens.

It's called the Beautiful Game for a reason. And a thing of beauty is a joy forever. I take forever to mean eternally and thus, soccer is God's favorite game.

Second on the list: Baseball. To borrow from a friend in college: Baseball is the only game you can fall asleep on the porch to for 20 minutes, wake up and realize you haven't missed a thing. And we all know God rested on the 7th day...probably on a porch somewhere listening to the ball game.

Third on the list: Football. If only because of the title of this post.

The thing of it is: I think God used to like hockey, I really do. He had a thing for walking on water you know. But with the new rules, it's just not the same. And I don't think he like Darts very much either....but cornhole...well, we'll see.

These Hands Are Ambidextrous, I Know

So I'm watching the World Series last night and, though I'm outwardly pulling for the Cards -- and I am Grandpa -- I'm secretly wishing nothing but the best for the Tigers. More so after last night. Turns out starting pitcher Nate Robertson has a very unusual trait (and no, for those of you who watched the game, it doesn't involve flipping a bat off the floor into your hands -- I swear, the way the announcers teased it you would've thought Brandon Inge was about to solve the mystery of Cold Fusion).

Nate Robertson throws left but bats right.

In my life, I've only known of three people to do such a thing. Myself. My father. Rickey Henderson. And my entire life I've always, ALWAYS been asked while playing softball or baseball: "Aren't you going to bat from the left?" or "Don't you throw lefty? Why are you batting righty?"

I'm not saying it's been traumatic or anything -- in fact, I probably have increased dexterity -- more than the average person even. You see I do just about everything with my right hand as the dominate hand, except throw and shoot and dribble a basketball.

The thing of it is: Perhaps the announcers could've have pointed this out. Not so much. Instead, Tim McCarver (who've I've already told you is a drunk version of Captain Obvious) pretty much said the following: "Robertson certainly throws left and bats right, and that's not a baseball in his hand right now, that's a bat, and he's batting from the right side of the plate."

O Felix Culpa

Basically, this means: Fortunate Crime or Fortunate Fall.

For all you non-Red Sox Fans, this week marks the two-year anniversary of the Red Sox winning the World Series. What a joyous, immeasurable moment and month October 2004 was. And this phrase aply describes the feeling of Red Sox Nation, and, really, is the only tenet a true sports fan must accept.

That for the true fan, you must be willing endure some sort of suffering -- some incantation of "The Drive"; of a "Buckner"; or an "Aaron Boone".

Thus, O Felix Culpa: a victory cannot be as momentously sweet if there is no sort of heinous fall -- Fortunate Fall. That the loss of innocence I incurred in '86 and '03 and even '04 was a good thing because of how much greater and sweeter the victory would be.

Without going into the sordid history of the Red Sox, I think my point is clear: I am thankful for Pesky, the Reds, Buckner and Boone. Because without those dark nights of my soul they gave me, the victory would not have been nearly as worth it. And was it ever worth it.

The phrase has import this year with the '06 Tigers and the '03 Tigers. Not that I'm rooting for the Tigers -- Grandpa and me, we're pulling for the Cards.

The thing of it is: hopefully, it also will have import on my Fantasy Football team this year. How else can I explain my 1-6 start.

Just So You Know

This link was sent to me by a good friend. It's called The Church You Know. And I gotta tell you, it's funny. It's a little acerbic...maybe a little too much. Based on the the NBC The More You Know PSA's, it looks at 5 or 6 issues pressing upon the Church in the form of similar, video PSA's.

(It's not on par with The Office spoofs, however)

You might not like it. The Mrs. didn't. The humor's not always clear...or even nice it seems. But it's thought provoking, I think.

I recommend the "Attendance" and "WWJD". Let me know if you give a crap after you watch it.

The Lake House

So when this blog was started, I said I do movie reviews. I've only done one. And I've seen dozens of movies since that one. Well, I watched one yesterday. The Lake House. An excellent film -- based on a Korean movie from 2000.

Without ruining the plot -- and really because it can't quite be explained, nor should it be, it just needs to be accepted as it is -- I won't get into the storyline at all. But it's sci-fi romance. It's Frequency meets Sleepless in Seattle. And it deserves your time.

I will use the movie to stand on a soapbox. It was a lachrymose (GRE word!) movie -- even for me -- a guy. And I'm not usually one for maudlin (another GRE word) entertainment -- and much of today's entertainment is. This wasn't. This was well-written; this was well-acted; this was well-directed. And it reflected what love is.

Guys: you can enjoy a chick flick without feeling emasculated. It doesn't infringe upon what makes you a "man". There's more than just beer and football in the world. And if my wife can freely sit (and by free I mean the libertarian definition of human freedom) on a Sunday afternoon and watch football with me without turning into that Dairy Queen commercial, then I have that same right. Not in "you scratch my back I'll scratch yours" stereotypical sort of way, but that things in life don't have to be demographic specific like they want you to believe.

Anyway, the movie was great. I started to cry a little by the end. Maybe that makes me a girl. Maybe it doesn't make me a man.

The thing of it is: I do feel pretty today. Oh, so pretty. Wonder why that is?

A Christian And A Comedian

Watching Studio 60 this past week, heard a particularly engaging quote: "So you became a Christian and a comedian at the same time?" In the context of the show, it was a particulary astute observation.

It got me thinking about another quote: Joy is the gigantic secret of the Christian. I've always maintained that God has a sense of humor (and no, not just because he made the Platypus. But seriously, it is pretty funny looking). And what if, when you become a Christian, you also become a comedian?

Much of the debate of Christianity's rationality revolves around questions like the problem of evil. And those questions are all well and good and have their place in discussion and questions of its validity. But sometimes I think it casts a rather ominous shadow around Christianity. You see humor and joy and laughter is what Christianity's all about. Those characteristics echo deeper in us than any suffering and any pains. They have to.

I've always felt Christ had a sense of humor, a sense of joy. Look at the Road to Emmaeus; look at the Feeding of the 5,000; heck, when Jesus appears in the Upper Room -- he had to know he was going to scare the crap out of the disciples and there's nothing funnier than a scare or fright that turns out to be a good thing.

Maybe this sounds like the last two pages of Orthodoxy. So be it. But in being a Christian you have the supreme responsibility to bring joy to others and I read this as: to make people laugh.

The thing of it is: Whether or not that means you're actually funny is another question entirely.

The BabyMoon

So the wife and I just got back from our weeknight away. We headed up to Amish Country for a night at a castle. Yup. A castle. I've attached some pictures of Landoll's Mohican Castle so you can believe me . Our room was outstanding and just being together was wonderful. It was the first time since our honeymoon 4 1/2 years ago that we took some vacation time where we didn't go see family or friends.

Now the buzz word for this trip is a BabyMoon. Much like a honeymoon, except you take it before the baby comes, so it's not really like a honeymoon. Whatever it is called these days, it will be remembered by us as a lovely weekend.

The thing of it is: The Miller Suite, where we stayed, provided courtesy bathrobes. I tried one on -- because I've been accused of being an anti-robe-ite -- and hated it. I reiterate: they're stupid, useless pieces of fabric that offer us nothing in the way of making our lives better.

On Life Imitating Art

Every now and then you come across horrible stories. Like today's on the shooting in Florida. And this one mirrors a story I've recently read. Not verbatim. But there are enough coincidences.

The story I'm reminded of is by Flannery O'Connor, a 1950s southern writer known for some rather dark tales (of note: the link I've provided classifies O'Connor as Southern Gothic. Is there a Gothic for each of the four cardinal directions? Or does it eventually break into states, like Idaho Gothic? This is why I need an MFA, to answer these questions). If you haven't read her, I recommend the selected readings on the right -- excellent work. She's a bit of a paradox, but very interesting.

Anyway, the story I'm referencing here is: A Good Man is Hard to Find. Rather outstanding, I must say; in light of the news, rather scary.

The thing of it is: does life imitate art or is it the other way around? It's the age-old question pondered by the pre-Socratic, and, alas, has no answer. Also an age-old question with no answer: Where's Waldo?

Bathrobes

Apologies to Jerry Seinfield, but what's the deal with bathrobes? I don't get it. Perhaps for the woman, it is necessary. Modesty is an issue. But for the guy? No excuse.

Not only are they some type of oddly made coat, in that it comes down to your knees, but there are 3/4 sleeves. Seriously, guys, 3/4 sleeves? And, really, how difficult is it in the morning to get out of bed and throw sweatpants on, or yesterday's jeans (you'll be wearing them to work anyway) or a sweatshirt? It takes the same amount the time. You are invariably warmer and it serves the same purpose -- whatever that is. And it's more comfortable. How, you ask? For starters, you don't have 3/4 sleeves. Also, and this is important, you don't look like a fool.

It's about time we did away with bathrobes. It's a stupid, antediluvian (can you tell I'm taking the GRE soon?) concept.

A Piece Of The Problem

So I'm currently taking a graduate class in the problem of evil. Let's just by me electing to fully share these thoughts -- knowing my audience and my incoherent thoughts -- I am keeping you all from experiencing pain and suffering.

However, sparked by a recent post on this blog from an old friend, my memory has been jogged. Seems I've always had a fascination with the subject material I am now paying (or work is paying) to learn more about. About 10 years ago now I wrote a short drama for a church service. Composed on a Saturday afternoon in the fall with nothing else to do (we don't like college football in my family -- it's stupid). The main objective of the script was to startle the Sunday morning congregation. That consisted of my brother standing up and chucking a piece of fruit at my head while I was reading from Galatians, on, well, obviously, the fruits of the spirit.

From there the dialogue and ideas are very rough, but basically, it was the theodicy of a 17-year-old. I'm not tooting my own horn here, but I must admit the insight, as rough as it was, was interesting though sophomoric. Not saying I could write anything as lucid as it these days -- my mind clouded by the likes of John Hick, Alvin Plantinga and others, which would invariably lead to the lack of clarity in the drama should I re-write. Here's the link if you want to read it; scroll to the bottom and note this isn't the original version at all -- it's been adapted many, many times for the good of all. By the way, it's called: Peace of Fruit. You like that don't you.

The thing of it is: We completely scared the Sunday morning congregation. Our church was prone to drunks and the like wandering into the service and yelling. About three men in the brass band behind me leapt to their feet only to see it was the pastor's son doing the yelling. And, also, being the exceptional athlete I am, I caught the fruit.

Questions For Dad

So the little one has past the 17 week mark. The Mrs. has started to feel the baby move. Apparently, our child doesn't like seat belts very much. Also, this means that the baby has the ability to hear the two of us. An idea and realization that is not lost on me. But I wonder if the baby has any questions for us. I suppose the situation is similar to my Questions For God...questions that baby would want answered when it gets here. Of course, I don't expect such questions to be as erudite (there's a GRE word) as mine were. Still, they may have their merit.

Based on the fact that the Mrs. is usually eating a pickle or two during Seinfield re-runs at 11:30, one question could be: What's the deal with the pickles?

Since I watch a lot of baseball -- especially in October -- another question may revolve around why Tim McCarver is such a buffoon. Although, I was really hoping FOX would bring back Scooter this year to explain what a curveball is to my unborn child who may be the only person who doesn't know what it is. But, alas.

Perhaps a third question would allow me to answer a question I have. Since I golf quite a good deal, I would not be surprised if, somewhere in the womb, lies the answer to my slice.

But amending that Questions For God post, I'm sure once the baby gets here those questions would disappear in an instant (and that's too bad because I could really use the golf advice, it's killing me), much like it will when we get to heaven (though I think that BlowPop question might nag me on into eternity). There'll be too much else to take in. Too much else to try and grasp. I know I have a lot of questions for the baby (and there's a pickle question in there). Questions I know will disappear in that instant.

All That Jazz

So I have frequently maintained the existence of God in this blog. And in doing so, frequently asserted His love of music. Now, I am once again going to use a musical analogy to assert the existence of something divine, namely miracles.

Much has been offered both for and against the idea of Miracles in our lives. And, indeed, while my explanation isn't on par with those authors (perhaps even borrowed from someone else seeing as how I don't think this to be an original idea), I do believe it is satisfactory for the everyday man.

God is a jazz musician. That would explain the existence of miracles in a world I claim to be indeterministic. It explains the gist of the argument: how God can seemingly intervene in this world without upsetting the free-will balance. Right?

Well, it does and I think God is a good jazz musician. I particularly enjoyed the guitar riff during the 2004 ALCS. Didn't see that one coming (Yes. That's been replaced by a humbling blues tune this year).

Also, the upcoming birth of my child will most certainly be a wonderful piano solo (Yes. I know. Childbirth doesn't fit the strict definition of miracle).

Anytime a medical miracle occurs, well, I'd have to say that would be a bass solo. Why? Because bass solos resonate. They shake us. Medical miracles shake us. Fittingly, then, the Great Physician is a wonderful bass player. Probably the upright bass -- you can't perform those miracles sitting down.

And drum solos. Those are the everyday miracles that we don't notice or don't seem like miracles and only later, after everything's settled, we realize how it all worked.

While God is a jazz musician. I also maintain he loves rock music, especially just before lunch time and during the seventh day; obviously classical music, i.e. at the creation of the world; perhaps a good waltz around every sunset.

The thing of it is: God doesn't like opera. Look what happened when God tried to sing opera. Ouch.

NOTE: I know the clip is in Spanish. Fast Forward to about 2:00 minutes into the clip for my point. Sorry. Sometimes you can't find everything on the web.

Sing-A-Long-Songs

So now that everyone knows the Mrs. and I are expecting our first child, I've got a request. We've decided that rather than buy one of those CD's that plays popular tunes sung by someone other than the original artist that are easy to listen to for babies -- we'd like to create our own. Essentially: a lullabye mix tape. Of course, it won't be an actual tape, rather a playlist on my iPod.

So I'm looking for songs. To give you an idea of the type of artist and song you would expect to find on this playlist: Jack Johnson, Billy Joel, James Taylor. Sadly, there won't be any Pearl Jam, CCR, Wilco and the like. It's all got to be music that's easy on the ears, positive lyrics and something the wife and I could listen to over and over again without becoming sick of it (as is the case with children, they love repetition).

Hit me with your best shot. Fire away. I'll let you know the final list.

Studio 60

It's the best new show on T.V.. And there are a number of reasons for that, reasons that come before actually watching the show and reasons that incredibly clear after watching the show. For those of you who have not yet seen it, I will tell you why you need to see it, and for those of you who have, I'll tell you what makes it so great.

REASONS WHY IT WOULD BE GOOD
1. Aaron Sorkin is writing the show. He's created it. And NBC's been plugging that. How often do they plug a show by the creator? And mention him by name (a la: "From the producers of Friends and Mad About You")?
2. There isn't a show like it on T.V. -- in premise that is. Always a good sign for a new show, it's not trying to make a stale formula work, it's its own mixture.
4. Extremely good actors. Always a positive to bring, while not superstars, actors who bring something to the table.
5. Did I mention Sorkin's writing the show?

REASONS WHY IT WILL BE GOOD
1. Aaron Sorkin is writing the show. Having watched it with this in mind I couldn't quite remember what I was missing with him not being around (he left the West Wing which was terrible after he left). Then I watched the show. And remembered.
2. It's intelligent. Sorkin doesn't pull punches with topics, but I feel he gives them a fair treatment, even if he doesn't agree with them. He shows difficult issues the respect they deserve. Not easy to do in 41 minutes of T.V. that has to keep people interested. Actually, it's pretty impressive.
3. All the characters are strong characters. There's no weak character, no comic relief. Each is already quite developed and rounded -- though this does not leave them without their flaws, not easy to write in when dealing with such strong characters. Especially his female characters, all very, very strong -- in every show he's ever done.
4. It challenges you to think. NO SHOW ON TV DOES THIS.
5. Did I mention Sorkin's writing this.

So give it a chance. It's not like anything you know -- not even like the West Wing, it's much different in tone which is good lest it be like the West Wing and not it's own mixture. Let's just say that I stopped watching any and all dramas on TV once Sorkin left the West Wing because all others are formulaic.

Choosy Moms Choose JIF

It's not exactly a crisis of faith, or even my "dark night of the soul", but it's just after 6 AM and I'm blogging. Seems I've been struck with this realization (coming after I realized I shut the alarm off on the Mrs., making her late for work) that I may very well be becoming a determinist. Of course, this thought struck me after I had spent most of the night dreaming about my brother and I swimming underneath a plane traveling along the water getting to land in Washington state and me feeling terrible about losing his Blockbuster card. All that to say I'm not sure how valid this idea is but it was certainly worth me working it out.

I've long struggled with the free will vs. determinism debate. As my dad said long ago, there are times when both are valid and provide comfort. And I like that idea (does that make me a compatibilist?). Most of the time I've fallen alongside the free will-ers. Asserting this point of view better equips me to explain, for instance, the problem of evil - arguably the most difficult problem facing the Christian (outside of homoousis -- an idea I can't even touch in the middle of day with a full night sleep and dreams of sugar plum fairies behind me).

However, the thought struck me that I have become a determinist. For example, there are several rather large decisions facing me in the coming months (work, kid, school, whether to be a Red Sox fan) and my general attitude seems to be one of "well if it's to happen, it will". That's not to say I've not try to take control of any of those decisions, but still, the prevailing belief is not to spend time in such decisions - to assert control (whatever that means) in making them. Four or five years ago I would have prayed long and hard about such decisions (not that I'm not praying about them now) and spent time trying to discern God's will. Now, I'm not sensing that I am doing that well enough; so I fear that has made me a determinist. Such a paradigm shift has allowed me to see how one puts such a belief into action (again, when deciding which side of the debate to come on to originally, the idea of putting such ideas into practice was challenging). Fixing the problem is easier: spend time in prayer, spend time with God, read the Bible, etc. It's the realization that is eye opening (I say that not just because it's after 6 AM and I'm blogging).

The thing of it is: If I hadn't have come to such an awakening, would I be the type of dad that would just choose any type of Peanut Butter? Or would I use my free will and choose JIF? So let's just say I'm glad, for my kids sake, that I've identified this now and rest assured, my kid'll be eating JIF.

Fixed the Problem! Here You Go!

A Thought

I remember where I was five years ago. The world remembers where it was. It is a day, a time, an event we will not forget. Words and even memories can't summon the emotion of that day.

I offer these words to a song by Sandra McCracken:

To the ones left behind who are picking up the pieces
of planes, bombs, and buildings of innocence and evil
‘Cause when the news and noise and flowers die,
and you still wake up alone
There is a God who knows every tear you cry,
And this world is on His shoulders.

Perhaps it may bring you comfort when your memories and thoughts of 9.11.2001 do not.

The Video Montage

Of course I was watching the premiere of the NFL season last night (In Hi-Def too, I might add -- it looks absolutely incredible!). First, you should know I'm riding the Daunte Culpepper Train in Fantasy Football this year. So I might be bitter throughout the season. Perhaps Nick Saban shall be his Virgil and lead him and the Dolphins to Paradisio (of course, like Dante, to get to Heaven you must go through a cold and frozen Inferno that bears an awful likeness to Foxborough in January.)

Second thing of note: Does anyone remember how to make a successful video montage? Pink? That was terrible. Just abominable. And nothing against rap music, I like a good rap song. But rap doesn't work in the video montage. Here's why: the song needs to build. It needs to drive. Rap songs don't do that (except on rare occasions; read: Eminem). You need a classic rock song. How about The Who classic Baba O'Reily (Yes, before it was the theme to Without a Trace, it was an actual song)? How about Rebel Yell by Billy Idol (I'm sure he'd love to be popular again)? Heck, even Styx's Come Sail Away would be better than Pink.

The thing of it is: Is this a lost art? Am I wrong? But I love a good rock song and it seems, like for video montages to start the game, a good rock song from years gone by (when they were making good rock songs) couldn't be a more perfect fit.

Oh No She Didn't!

Perhaps this bothered no one else: Did you notice Katie Couric was wearing white yesterday? After Labor Day?

Show's you how much I care about the news by the fact that this is the one thing that has stuck with me since yesterday.
But, again, Katie was wearing white!!!! After Labor Day!!!!! Barbara Walters wore white today too...apparently in solidarity.
But you can't tell me it wasn't done on purpose with Couric? That no one thought of the old wives tale? Something was up with that choice.

The thing of it is: investigating this idea would've been the most interesting thing on the newscast. Evening news is done. Why wait until 6:30 to get my news (and there was very little of it in the show) when I can get it at 3:30 on-line and it's much more complete. Plus I don't have to sit through the newscast either and hear what I want to. It's worth thinking about.

A Volley For The Ages

Much has been said, and much more will be said about today's final match of Andre Agassi's career. I recommended these two articles to start with. If there are others, please let me know. I enjoy good writing and moments, like today's at Arthur Ashe Stadium, was one that wrote itself. And that's a rare thing.

Still there is much to be said because there was much to this man. I grew up watching Agassi play. Not the Agassi we saw today, a much different Agassi. I watched him struggle, fall out of the Top 100. Then I watched a glorious return to his career. I don't think many people understand how tough it is to be a 36-year-old tennis star and be successful. It's unheard of.

Today there was plenty to hear and see. But there was much more to remember. And I'll still take it in for a few days. Let it out at moments, years from now, when some sports show is showing highlights. I'll remember this moment. I'll remember the epic battles with Sampras. My god, was there ever a better individual rivalry than those two, one that NEVER let you down.

There are few moments like these, this perhaps the greatest of 2006. When a man, with a career like Agassi's, with a huge heart and love and passion for life and flair for a simple game, is overcome. Overcome by the end.

You don't get past moments like today on center court. They cannot and shall not be overcome. Not by time, not by other moments, not by words.

Unalaska, Alaska

So apparently the rapture is happening right now in Alaska:

AP-Alaska Earthquake
Quake shakes Alaskan islands
ANCHORAGE, Alaska (AP) - A strong earthquake has jolted Alaska's central Aleutian Islands. The U.S. Geological Survey says the magnitude six quake iscentered about 12 miles northeast of Unalaska Island. There are no reports yet of injuries or damage. And scientistssay there was no risk of a tsunami. It's the second big Pacific rim earthquake within a matter of hours.

And that's a shame really, I'd really liked to have traveled there with the Northern Lights and all. But really... the "Unalaska Islands"? I mapquested it and all (google maps is the best, I know. Double True.) Turns out it actually is a place in Alaska, except it's unalaska. I am reminded of the Seinfield episode where Kramer is dating that girl who lives downtown. Anyway, Unalaska, Alaska must be the nexus of the universe.

The thing of it is: Is this like Unamerican? Is it because a bunch of non-alaskans live there? Probably some ticked off Canadiens. Actually, here's the real reason. But it's not as funny. Sometimes I'm better off not knowing the truth behind things because then it can be anything I want it to be.

Some Thoughts On Pluto

So Pluto is no longer a planet. That's sad. I feel for it really. It's not its fault. Now relegated to moniker "dwarf planet", pluto, still orbiting the sun, now has nothing to shoot for...it's not even a star! For 70+ years the tiny celestial body had held out hope an explorer would navigate its virgin soils. But now, who wants to visit a dwarf planet?

And what's with the title "dwarf planet"? Seems highly unoriginal. But then again, the same people who came up with Pluto as a planet, also have the same task of making Pluto something else. (And does this mean we no longer have to capitalize pluto? Is it still a proper noun? I'm confused). Why not Planooneroidock? I like that...seems to embody what Pluto does. But dwarf planet? We have dwarf humans, but they're still human. But Pluto isn't a planet. Again, I'm confused.

The thing of it is: I always loved pluto. It wasn't my favorite planet, but it is now, certainly, my favorite dwarf planet/planooneroidock/non-planet. Maybe one day it'll be Xena...Warrior Princess...I hear she can sing.

I'll Alaska

Been working a lot this past week. Serves me right for taking a rather splendid vacation, in, of all places, Delaware. That's right, Delaware. It's like a larger (or smaller?) version of Cape Cod. Not too bad at all. Top that off with some great QT with by sister, bro-in-law, and two nephews.

Of course work, these past few days (I've put in some 42 hours in three days), has all but made that a distant memory.

But not to worry, I've not given up on this blog, or the Red Sox for those of you who were wondering if I even survived this past weekend.

The thing of it is: I had to watch those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad games with a smug, ridiculously annoying Yankee fan of the worst kind (if only there were a picture of him holding something while wearing something else that I could link to here...then...maybe...justice would be served). Yes, that's right, before there was Daniel Powter, there was Alexander and I felt his pain.

A Sense Of The Common

I was watching a show I usually don't watch last night: Medical Mysteries on ABC. I tend not to watch it because: a) I'm married to a doctor and it's no fun to guess cause she's always right and b) it's really a terrible show, to overly dramatic for my taste. As for a), case in point is to watch the show House with her. Apparently, that's not how doctors are supposed to talk to and treat patients and that there are some things on the show that you would "never do". I suppose I ruin shows for her too, so I'm cool with it.

Anyway, while stumbling across it last night I caught the tail end of a segment on something called "synesthesia" (I've linked to it on Wikipedia, and it explains it a little). In short, the "disorder" involves the cross-performance of certain parts of the brain, like those related to sense like sight and sound and taste. And it's something a lot of people have in some degree...of course some more than others, thus the reason for the special segment on Medical Mysteries.

The way it was explained on the show, it seemed to me this is just a glorified way of explaining common sense, or probably more accurately, intuition. For instance, I'm very good at trivia, in fact, I'm incredible at it. And it's not because I'm smart, though I am. I think it has a lot to do with intuition and being able to think spatially, or dimensionally, about questions. To see the question in all it's parts in all it's contexts from all it's angles through the lense of what I do know. Part process of elimination, part guessing, part knowledge.

Anyway, I think synesthesia explains common sense and how some people just get things quicker than others. It's because they're able, if you ask me, to see things through other senses and other ways instead of staring at a problem or task head-on. Remember, Medusa wasn't defeated in a staring contest.

The thing of it is: I know I ruin T.V. shows for the Mrs. But I can't think of any. Except for the news. The news is stupid.

Run For Your Life Nana!

Maine is one of the most beautiful places in the country to "getaway" to. Now, not so much. Apparently the Pine Tree State is turning into the Fire Swamp. And, if you had to ask me, it seems these things are R.O.U.S's...and they don't exist.

The thing of it is: the creature's last words were: "To Blathe!" Which, as we all know, means to bluff. And, that it probably was a Sicilian that killed him.

Over There

Today, my brother leaves for Iraq. He's a member of the Coast Guard and will help train Iraqi's to form their own Coast Guard. My brother's been wanting to go over there for awhile and is quite excited to get his 3-month-tour under way.

Of course, this journey's got all of us a little worried. Naturally. Now he won't be close to the major combat. And, honestly, my brother's been on much more dangerous missions than this one during his three year tour in the Coast Guard. But it doesn't matter how close you are to the exits in a burning building, you're still in a burning building.

All this being said, and regardless of how you may feel about the war in Iraq, keep Steve in your thoughts and prayers. Me, personally, I couldn't be more proud of my brother. He's a character, he's a great friend, he's a great guy. And, he's my little brother.

Getting There From Here

Sparing you all another epic entry...I've decided to refrain from a minute by minute blogging of my Miami trip and also from the descriptives of said trip. Of note though: Miami is hot, naked old men on a beach are just that, and an ocean view is worth every penny.

But whenever you travel, perhaps you notice the other people, there, along for the ride, who are not, in the same sense, traveling, but are still a part of your journey. I'm talking about pilots and flight attendants; the people who work in airports. Along with cab drivers and train conductors.

Seems like I could do those jobs too. But not for an extended period of time. In fact, I think I could do every job for one day. Some perhaps even a week. For there are perks to any position as well as the negatives.

Here's a list of jobs I could do for said period of time and why:

1 Day
McDonald's: Because I still want to like their hamburgers.
Cab/Bus Driver: Driving around in circles, is, well, circular and makes for bad logic.
Pet Washer: Not sure if that's what the official title is, but that's what you're doing.

1 Week
Construction: Because eventually what you're building gets tall, and I'm afraid of heights.
Flight Attendant: Only because I'd be the one who'd help someone else with their oxygen masks before securing my own...me, trying to be the hero.
Valet: Even a Beamer feels like a Taurus after awhile.

1 Month
Cook: I'd be out of shape after week one, however I think I'd be good at it.
Woman: While I have nice legs and eyes, peeing standing up has its advantages.
Priest: Because I'd spill the communion plates one too many times.

The thing of it is: without any of these jobs we'd all be skinny men living in grass huts walking ourselves to hell with our smelly pets. So thank you to all of you who do these jobs. Except for the valet, your life is a waste.

Some Excuses

It's been awhile since my last post. I apologize. But in my defense I was in Miami for three days. When I got back, every piece of electronic equipment in my house crapped out. I had no iPod, no digital camera, no internet and no television. Plus, my pets' heads are falling off.

Also, at work I'm producing this 30 minute special in record time. We'll see how that goes, but it's pretty time consuming. And I'm trying to apply for a new job here at work. We'll see how that goes.

Now, everything's up and running and I've settled back into life from my vacation in the sun. And to boot, I've got a new T.V. Welcome to the world of High-Definition Aaron!

Of course, as you can expect, these life events have been nothing short of inspiring. And, for now, I have this question: what, exactly, is short of inspiring? Perspiring? Seems like we sweat for that inspiration (some of us even physically), so that seems to work.

The thing of it is: 10 hours in an airport with no iPod makes you think strange things.

See No Evil, Hear No Evil

This is what I'm listening to and reading at the moment. People like my book recommendations, usually, so if you would like some, let me know. Otherwise, may this information serve to help you understand me a little more. And perhaps where my ideas come from.

MUSIC
Neil Young, Prairie Wind -- I really've enjoyed this CD. Not his best I'm sure, but I know nothing else.
Live, Awake, The Best of Live -- reminds how great an album Throwing Copper was.
Wallflowers, Bringing Down the Horse -- while a Rebel, Sweetheart song inspired a post, this album is incredible.
Paul McCartney, Chaos and Creation in the Backyard -- and Calico Skies off of Flaming Pie
Wilco, Kicking Television -- this band is MUCH better live than on CD as this CD shows.

BOOKS:
Flannery O'Connor, Complete Short Stories -- interesting juxtapositions of grace and evil.
Flannery O'Connor, The Habit of Being -- surprises me how a woman like her, as evidenced by this book and her letters, could write of such gruesome and difficult subjects with such peace and simplicity.
Quoting God: How Media Shape Ideas About Religion And Culture -- because every now and then it's good to know I'm not the only one seeing what I see.

Define The Vote

Colbert Analyzes Wikipedia

Bringing democracy to knowledge. It's an interesting idea. But first I must bring you the context. For that see the embedded video.

Now that you've watched that, you understand the reference that is interestingly (?) post-modern. Sure it's a dangerous idea; a very dangerous idea. But it doesn't have to be, at least not if we say it doesn't have to be. Now I'm not for revisionism in history. Paraphrasing Plato,"just because they are the majority, does not make them right." And truth be told, I'm not the biggest fan of democracy; the U.S. is not a perfect government. And while democracy is the best form of government, it isn't the bestest (?); unfortunately, there's nothing better.

Bringing democracy to knowledge is dangerous. Too dangerous. It undermines knowledge and even more so, truth. But it's fascinating idea.

The thing of it is: For those regular visitors to this site, you've noticed a provide quite a few links to Wikipedia for explanation. I do this because while a dictionary may be the most verifiable and undeniable source for explanation, Wikipedia provides you with context. And when you have context, understanding the truth becomes easier.

So Not Clutch

In lieu of Big Papi's performance today, yet another example of why he is the best player in the game of baseball right now, I think the topic of "clutch" deserves some space here. And while the baseball statisticians haven't come up with a way to measure performances readily referred to as "clutch", it does have a quantifiable quality in my mind. And since I dabble in philosophy, I must define that term.

Clutch: With the game on the line (read: a chance to win or tie for your team), and you come through.

Of course, not doing that would be defined as not-clutch. And to accomplish that feat, you have to, obviously, do the opposite. I present to you the three not-clutch performances of my life:

1. Soccer. I was 12. The playoff game went into penalty kicks. The other team was up one goal in PK's. I was the 5th and final kicker. I needed to score to put the pressure on them. I set the ball. And always one for literary moments, offered these words to the referee (mind you I was 12): "This is where dreams are made." I kicked. It was my best Panenka kick ever. Only the ball trickled right down the center, skipping along, never leaving the ground. The goalie even dove to his right, got up and picked the ball up. We lose. They win.

2. Basketball. For four years I had tried to win an intramural championship. Now it was spring semester of my senior year and I finally got on a team that went to the championship. Center court. The ladies' was watchin'. We score with 13 seconds left, take a one point lead. I figure they're going to call a T.O.. Instead, they inbound the ball quickly to this super quick biology major who hasn't scored all game. It's my guy. I figure then they'll call timeout at half-court. Instead he keeps dribbling. I pick him up, force him to his left (he had no left). He drives down. 5 seconds left. He gets by me. He twirls in the lane, gets fouled by three people and hits the shot. And the foul shot. 1 second left. We lose.

3. Softball. I step up. They're playing me shallow in right field. I crush the ball all the way to the fence. I'm fast, so I'm thinking three. I get to second and they haven't gotten the ball yet. So I'm thinking homerun. I get around third and look-up. The ball's still in the outfield. I coast into the plate. With my last step before I score, I decide to hop up and slam my left foot emphatically on home plate. Mind you, I'm not a proud man. As my foot lands on the plate, my knee locks and pops. I roll all the way to the backstop. I'm in serious pain. But, I manage to hear the crowd go from cheering to silence to laughter. And I tore my MCL.

The thing of it is: I've been clutch quite often in my life. Even recently. But, like I said, I'm not a proud man.

This Sounds Familiar

(For those of you are regular patrons at The Bird and Baby, I apologize for the repetition, but enjoy the added video links! For everyone else, you can figure out what that last sentence means by taking 10 minutes to read this entry and the subsequent comments.)

Don't know how much any of you know about string theory. Can't say I know a whole lot myself. In fact, most of what I know is third-hand information. It's not like I'm reading material on the subject, though Stephen Hawking's "A Brief History of Time" is sitting on the shelf just above my head. A must read, by the way.

In short, beneath all the atoms and quarks of the known universe there exist strings. Strings which vibrate and give rise to said quarks and atoms and then, me. Now this is highly theoretical science, and as the suggested link points out quite accurately, it's considered philosophy. Without delving into the pros and cons, let's just accept it as fact. This leads me to my idea:

I think string theory proves God likes music. If at life's most basic level, there are vibrating strings, then God's a musician. Probably a guitarist. (I think the cello might be too big for God.) And along those lines, the big bang makes sense. The only question that remains is if it was a G chord, or an D minor that ignited the world into being. I'm going with G because "D minor is the saddest of all keys, I find. People weep instantly when they hear it" and I can't see God weeping at the creation of the world.

The thing of it is: I wonder what would've happened if God turned up the volume just a little bit, like, say, to 11?

Q To 12

There might not be a bigger fan of Calvin and Hobbes on the planet. Well...other than Watterson himself. I'll post more on that in the time to come. You see, I'm back on my Calvin and Hobbes kick. So much so that I actually like the name Calvin for a boy's name for when I have kids. Even though that name embodies a deterministic philosophy, to some extent. But hey, it's not like the kid will have a choice!

Anyway, I've found this game that embodies three of my more recent examinations on this blog. Calvinball.

1. Postmodernism. Maybe I haven't out and out embraced this philosophy yet, but I feel like I'm close. Calvinball on the surface looks more like the most associated and attacked form of the philosophy. The one that comes out of a few French philosophers on the fringe of the movement. Most of the game appears relative. But I refer to you to the rules that govern the lack of rules. Not that they make any sense, though.

2. Inventing Games. I've already told you about Awesome Catches. And I've got a few more games that I've remembered in recent weeks that I haven't posted about. As I'm sure you do. Including one a co-worker and I invented for those long saturdays at the network.

3. Childhood Imagination. This idea has always been with me and will always be with me. I've already mentioned what my favorite author says on the subject. And I think sometimes as adults we like to have everything explained. Our boundaries defined. And so what if the game makes absolutely no sense...if it's outside the edges of reason. Just because you can explain something, you can understand a given thing, doesn't make it fun.

The absurd is what makes life fun, even if it makes no sense. Even if there's no Santa Claus, it's fun to think there might be. My faith is founded on an absurd premise: that God became man and dwelt among us. You might think that sacrilegious. To you, it might be a cut and dry idea. But to me it is filled with mystery. And where there is mystery, there is awe. And where there is awe, there is imagination. And where there is imagination, there is a child.

The thing of it is: How about Calvin Wesley Guest? Would that balance it out?

With God On Our Side

(All apologies to Dylan for the title)

Turns out one of the candidates for governor here in Ohio graduated from the same seminary I am now attending. Does this mean I'll vote for him? He being a democrat and all! I'm not sure yet. (Or does this mean I'm going to a liberal seminary?) I did like his answers when it comes to Religion and God in politics more than his opponent. And though I am pretty much disillusioned by politics and thereby usually avoid the topic, it's come up enough recently that I've got some thoughts on it.

You see, I'm not a huge fan of invoking the whole God thing. In politics. In sports. At breakfast. I'm tired of hearing that this nation is founded on the basis of Christianity. Our founding fathers were Deists. T.J. even had his own bible. Read a history book.

All that I said it's not that I think Christians, Jews or Muslims shouldn't be involved in politics if they were to be "true" to their religion. Actually, I've got some respect for those that are involved. Politics are compromising. It can be very difficult on anyone's faith. A Christian Republican who says, "It's God's will that I be elected" doesn't have any more pull with God than a Christian Democrat. And I tire of hearing otherwise.

Let's not even get into the fact how I think religion is the catchphrase for politicians these days.

So how should faith and religion "govern" a politician? I don't know. I have enough trouble with faith and religion governing me.

The thing of it is: If you were God, who's side would you be on: Tom Brady or Peyton Manning?

Wish That I Knew What I Know Now

This weekend I hope you all enjoy the British Open. And with Tiger's 65 today, it's always fun to watch someone crush the field. So it should provide hours of entertainment in the wee hours of Saturday and Sunday mornings.

And while you're watching, you'll see this, Tiger's new Nike ad. This new ad highlights the beauty of the sport. The beauty of the swing. The serenity of it. Note the violins.

It's not up there with last year's Faces song that featured a young Tiger playing the British open. It illustrated the idea of child-like joy. It still makes me ferklempt. Even just thinking about it.

The way Tiger consistently performs on tour, I think that child-like joy describes it. Reminds me of Chesterton's view of God in Orthodoxy. The persistent tendency to "do it again". Like children who never tire of watching The Wiggles video, over and over and over again. G.K. poses the idea that God never tires of creating. And does it anew each morning. From each blade of grass to each sunrise to each drop of dew. It's a persistency we only see mirrored in kids. We, in our old age, have grown weary.

I don't enjoy that ad because it reminds me of God in anyway. I enjoy the ad because it's fun.

The thing of it is: I'm not sure I could watch it over and over and over again. But I'm just an old-fuddy-duddy.

The Beautiful Side Of Somewhere

Recently, I've been meditating on the idea of the extraordinary. That it exists on the "far side of the ordinary" (Letters to a Young Catholic, by George Weigel). I think this is an important distinction. I've noticed, in such meditations, that something of greater value tends to reflect the lesser in someway.

We are moved by the grandeur of a nature scene not because it is something new to our eyes or even our imagination. But because it encompasses more of what we expected than what we expected.

I do not know where the ordinary and extraordinary change hands. Only that they do. And I am convinced it lies on the beautiful side of somewhere. Somewhere just beyond our grasp, and yet, a place we know quite well. A place we need to "know again, for the first time".

The Dilemma

So I've seen a lot of those "Hit it Here" signs at baseball games recently. Here's my question for you: Say he does "hit it [there]"?

You have two options:

1. Drop the sign and make an effort to catch the ball. Say you do catch it, then you've got a souvenir.

2. Keep the sign up, perhaps even angling it a little to coax the ball into the target.

I'd go with the latter. Then, you could say he actually "Hit it here". Yeah, you wouldn't have a ball. But why'd you bring the sign to the game then? What does that sign represent then? Is it just a tease for the hitter? Is it a metaphor for something larger? Just a way to veil your greed? A way to get around the old "I'm over 15 so I can't bring my glove to the park and still look cool" rule?

The thing of it is: If I'm a hitter, and I work my best to hit the target (no small feat, mind you) and you drop the sign to catch the ball, I'd be pretty ticked.

On Being And Manny

So Manny didn't play. He didn't even show for the All-Star Game. Also, Jimmy cracked corn. Turns out today Bud Selig's ripped Manny a new one for not showing up despite being the leading vote getter. Putting aside the "knee injury" and Manny's history of being, well, himself, let's look at why I don't care about the game, or about Manny not being there.

The All-Star game used to be the opportunity for the stars to come out (Note: For further information on this I refer you to FOX's abhorrent opening montage before last night's game). It used to be the one time all year you got to see all the stars play on the same field.

But with all the saturation in the media of baseball games: MLB.tv, Extra Innings, Sunday/Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday/Leap Year Night Baseball, and FOX Saturday games, plus Interleague play, I can watch the "stars" play all the time. In the 60s, 70s and 80s, you maybe saw two games a week!

Look at the original fan voting, the AL "stars" were all Yankees and Red Sox. They play 19 times a year.

Remember, these are the same fans that voted in A.J. Pierzyinskimackovichjerkface. And not Travis Hafner. Or Francisco Liriano. Or Chris Capuano. Clearly, then, fan voting is a popularity contest. Not a true measure of the "stars" (despite, once again, that great opening montage by FOX).

And what does Manny's being at the game prove? That he's the most popular kid in the majors? Oh my gosh, no way! I so voted for him. He did not dis me like that. I cannot believe, he, like, isn't here.

Bud's an idiot. The game's stupid. And Manny's somewhere in the Amazon I believe.

The thing of it is: Do you think that in the next 7 years, FOX can get Zalasko and Kennedy some headsets? It's the 21st century. Can't we at least pay someone to hold their mic's for them? It's ridiculous.

Get In My Belly

Perhaps I am a day late and a dollar short on this whole Zinedine Zidane fiasco at the World Cup. Regardless, here's a $1.02 for you.

Aside from the obvious way this sullied the final game of an otherwise exciting tournament (ratings were up 180% in the finals from '02). Aside from the irresponsible and reckless behavior, I think there are two things that have been lost in all the analysis.

1. The Italians are pansies! Someone cold-cocks you with his head, into your chest, and you fall down, writhing in pain. Your teammates, meanwhile, complain to the official. If you'd've been my teammate, I'd zizou'ed the dude and started a brawl. But, alas, the Italians, try to milk it and eventually get ZZ red carded (I'd argue no ref saw it till they showed the replay). Look at it from this perspective:

Marco Materazzi is lying on the scorer's table, meanwhile the refs are trying to sort out fouls on both the Piston's and Pacers. All of sudden, a plastic cup of water hits Materazzi. Materazzi rolls off the scorers table, sinking to the floor, clutching his chest, writhing in pain.

2. These types of things are bound to happen when you have two people with that many Z's in their names.

The thing of it is: I stopped caring after the incident. It sucked the life out of the beautiful game.

Texas Sized Superlatives

The Republic of Texas Reminds of This:

Song: Not Dark Yet, Bob Dylan. I only listened to this after I left Texas, but when I did hear it, it felt like I was driving back through the state. Great song. Great state.

Movie: U-Turn. If you've been to Texas, you know what I mean.

Actor: Eddie Murphy. He's had some hits. And they've been very entertaining. But in those long spaces of time between hits, his movies have only been sadly entertaining. Well. That's what it's like to drive through Texas. Occasionally, you come across a major stop on the road and it's entertaining. But in the intervening hours between them, only sad entertainment.

Actress: Reese Witherspoon. With her films, you know what you're going to get, no surprises. Texas is much the same way. You know what you're in for when you drive through it. Still, it doesn't fail in the end.

Drink: Dr. Thunder. It tastes the same as Dr. Pepper, but it's cheaper and comes minus the ad campaign. Texas, also, isn't a name brand. It's not California, or New York, or Florida.

Slogan: Drivers Wanted. If Texas had or does employ this slogan, say in the form of "People Wanted" to pump up the state...chances are... I'll end up moving to Texas.

Life Event: Quitting your job. Because you have to have a reason for doing that. People, also, don't just up and go to Texas. They have to have a reason. You have to have a reason.

Poem: The Wasteland, T.S. Eliot. Not read all of it, but seems like it would remind me of Texas.

Book: Any textbook you get at the beginning of a class. You think, man, I'm going to have to read this whole book! It's a little overwhelming. Same feeling after you've driven through Texas.

Band: Hootie and the Blowfish. Because they were pretty cool at first. But did you know 12 years later, they're still here. When you first get into Texas, it's like: "Cool, I'm in Texas". But after hours upon hours of driving, it's like: "I'm still here?".

Smell: Like someone farted on a rotten egg. I apologize for being crass. You have Texarkana to thank.

President: Ronald Reagan. Because he was so recent and so much larger than life, everyone thinks they know about Reagan. But they don't know. Texas is also quite large, and people think they know Texas based on popular opinions of Texas. I assure you then, you don't know Texas.

Philosopher: Immanuel Kant. He wrote a lot but if you've read all of what he wrote, I guarantee you, you won't be quite sure of what he's said in the end. Texas is quite large, but you're not sure what to make of it. It could go either way.

Game: Awesome Catches. Because Texas is something that was made up as developers went along. And it doesn't quite make sense in the end. If we had further developed Awesome Catches would've involved stat keeping that amounted to: catches made while leaping to one's left, catching the ball 9 inches over the fence and landing with two feet. With less than two outs. On grass. At night.

Sport: Soccer. Because everyone thinks they know about Texas. And everyone thinks it's stupid. But there's a lot more to it.

Two other points to note:

The most consistent thing you'll see in Texas is the random walker. Usually, the person is walking down the middle of the street, by themself, at a random time. I call them R-Dubs. If you've ever been to Texas, you know what I mean. Very bizarre.

Also, Texas Roadhouse isn't called just Roadhouse in Texas. Texans still call it Texas Roadhouse.

The Language Of Ark

My recent Texas excursion took me through the state of Arkansas:

Does it bother anyone else that Arkansas is merely Kansas with an ark? Well. It bothers me. There are also several cities in that state that employ the same etymological method: adding ark to names of already existing places.

Take for example Dalark, Arkansas. Formed by part of Dallas and part of Arkansas.

Or my favorite: Arkadelphia, Arkansas. Formed by adding Ark to a part of Philadelphia.

Arkadelphia was once known as the "City of Rainbows", perhaps because it receives more than its fair share of annual rainfall. Arc- (or Ark-) in the city's name may derive from the French for rainbow. The latter half of the name may be derived from adelphia (used to mean "brother" or "brotherhood" although it literally means "from the same womb").

Nice try. Really, I feel it was just laziness. And do Arkadelphians feel that they share something in common with Philadelphians? And notice how only the ark- part of Arkansas is being used. They're not using the -kansas part. Obviously, Philakansas doesn't sound good.

So I think I might starting adding ark to words. Hope you enjoy this arklog entry. Or, I love arkball and arkcer. Hey, do you see the new Arkman! Is it arknight yet?

The thing of it is: My family hails from Arkansas. Paragould, that is. There, that's a shout out to you arkpa.

Some Reading Material

For those avid readers of this blog, I apologize. I've just returned from a four day journey to Texas and haven't made a blog entry in awhile. Don't worry. There's plenty more to come. Though that doesn't mean you can expect a similar entry to my Boston excursion; a minute by minute blogging of a 20+ hr, 2-day roadtrip in a Budget van towing a trailer doesn't translate well on the internet. Still. No worries, I know you'll enjoy the entry.

In the meantime, I give you some reading material that, seem to me at least, to be timeless entries:

1. Questions In Heaven: Because I no longer believe in the rapture (thanks Eric!), I fear these questions may go unanswered. Also, in honor of my trip to Waco, I don't think this guy ever got them answered.

2. A Score To Settle: Though, after Sunday, I don't think I'll make many more soccer entries.

3. What This Word Means Ever: Because no one has used this correctly. Yet!

4. Friday. May 12. 2006: So you know what not to expect in my next entry.

5. To the Mrs.: Because she started work this week. Her first day as a Doctor. And I wasn't here.

Who is Karim Garcia?

In case you don't get the title reference, I refer you to the infamous SportsCenter interview following the 2003 season. But, more importantly, Game 3 of the ALCS that year when Pedro hit Garcia, which led to a brawl, which led to Zimmer getting tossed...down that is, which led to those comments.

Anyway, all those references because tonight Pedro's back at Fenway. In a Mets uniform no less. And that moment was one of my favorite Pedro moments during his Sox tenure. Unfortunately, nobody at work or in my family knows what I am talking about. And it doesn't help that I couldn't, oddly enough, find any video of the interview on YouTube.

Let me, however, take a moment to tell you who Pedro Martinez is. Pedro was one of the best pitchers in MLB history. From the late 90s to the early part of this decade, there was no one greater. No. Not one.

Yr W L IP SO ERA WHIP
1998 19 7 233.7 251 2.89 1.091
1999 23 4 213.3 313 2.07 0.923
2000 18 6 217.0 284 1.74 0.737

Just look at those stats. But what the stats don't quite tell you was what it was like to watch him pitch back then. Or how I could watch all those games over again. Every one.

The thing of it is: He may or may not be great tonight. I wouldn't put it past him to unlock the magic, though. Not Pedro.

An A Posteriori Argument For Soccer

I came across this only after I posted the last time. And this, once again, proves the philosophical superiority of soccer. And even more so the superiority of not scoring versus scoring (see previous, a priori, argument).

The deduction from this: that sports are a game of wits.

ENJOY THIS LINK!

The thing of it is: I'm a little upset that Kierkegaard didn't make the roster. The Germans could've used his emotional edge.

A Score To Settle

I've failed to understand this argument against soccer: They don't score enough (immortalized in this clip).

First of all, it assumes that scoring is a good thing. And that's where I begin my defense. With the premise that not scoring is as good as scoring, if not better. What does scoring signify? Let's say an offensive success and defensive failure. And not scoring would be the opposite. But not really. A team can succeed offensively and not score, whereas a team cannot succeed defensively and allow a score. For example: a base hit in baseball is an offensive success (getting on base) while at the same time a defensive success (the hitter was not allowed to score).

Too much scoring is inherently a bad thing. Both teams, become, in a sense, fed up with scoring. It becomes too easy and the plot of the game is weakened. Much like a movie with too much action. It just gets old.

But in a low scoring affair, be it in soccer or in baseball, there exists and epic struggle between two sides. Both desperately wanting to score and not wanting the other side to at the same time. And thus the story exists, the characters move about and the plot is twisted and revealed at the final whistle.

As an American, stop placing such an impetus on scoring. Place it on the struggle. Place it on the effort to score. Because it is not simple. It is not easy. And when you see that, you see something truly exciting to watch.

The thing of it is: You can watch ESPN360 live throughout the rest of the World Cup. That means all the games. As long as you have internet access.

Need To Change Everything

There's not much to say following the U.S.'s loss to Ghana and subsequent elimination from the World Cup. I remember playing soccer better than when I was in U12's. In fact, my sisters could tell you about videotape that exists of yours truly in U8's. Apparently, I was running all over the field, slide tackling, stealing the ball and scoring multiple times. I was 7. But it was more inspired soccer than what the U.S. showed up with. How do you NOT get up for a game this big?

Anyway, as is the case every 4 years, I have to find a new team to root for. It won't be Togo, though, that I know. I can't convince myself to pull for a team that makes me feel like I need to conjugate a verb.

I'm going to have to pull for France or England. And I'm only pulling for France because of Thierry Henry. He's impressive. England's a more logical pick, though, because they're at least into the knock-out round. But I can't stand the tall guy up front. All he knows how to do is be tall. And do the robot. Kind of.

The thing of it is: If any of the remaining countries were a pallindrome, I'd pull for them. I love pallindromes.

A Different World

So I don't think that after Dwayne Wade's NBA title, too many people will mistake him for this guy.

Honestly though, I'm having a difficult time not describing Dwayne Wade as the second coming of Michael Jordan. His Finals performance made me a better basketball player just by watching him (Case in Point: I calmly knocked down a clutch, basketball winning free throw Monday at a Kings Island Carnival Basketball Shot Game. And what basketball did I win? Miami Heat. Which I might just sell on eBay under the auspices of: "Dwayne Wade inspired").

Constantly, though, I need to remind myself of what I call my presidential excuse: That we have no perspective in the present, save what is directly in front of us and directly behind us. That history is the judge.

The thing of it is: History is written by the victors. And to the victors go the spoils: DWAYNE WADE IS THE SECOND COMING OF MICHAEL JORDAN. Neither of whom hold a candle to the Basketball Jesus (Phew! Dodged that lightning bolt!).

Greatest U.S. Performance Since 1812

Got done watching the U.S. take it to Italy this afternoon. Sure, I was supposed to be working...and I was...but this is the World Cup. It happens once every four years. I work 5 times a week.

Well, you can't comment on the game without offering an opinion on the referring. Let's just say Will Ferrell's got the idea. Can't say I didn't want to kick the ref and leave him screaming. But, somehow, despite ALL that, (And by ALL that for those that didn't watch the game: I mean two red cards against the U.S. leaving them down a man) the U.S. still showed up. They rallied. They attacked. They pressured. And they played beside themselves (read: The Divine Madness). They took it to a world power in Italy, and took it to them with one man down. It was a glorious day for U.S. soccer. And it did more for the sport than Ferrell did.

Now, many people, like a co-worker, believe that anything that ends in a tie is not a sport. I don't counter very well to that. It's obvious that those in the U.S. who fail to see the significance of this sport, world-wide, drastically underestimate it's pull. And they seem to forget that patriotism can be a very positive idea. One that can be respected by other patriots in other countries. And in soccer, in the World Cup, there is nothing purer in form or in substance, than patriotism.

Except a 1-1 tie with Italy.

The thing of it is: Yes. I'll say it: I'm proud to be an American! Great job U.S.

Those Michigan Fans

I dutifully ask you to check out this link. It's, by far, one of the funnier stories I've come across. Clearly, this is the reason you don't propose unless you are sure that she is going to say yes. But love makes you do some crazy stuff.

The thing of it is: I proposed the morning after a snow-storm. And it was already cold enough.

It's All Relative For Sports Fans

It's good to be a sports fan. We've evolved...at least I hope we have. For instance: last night I watched an epic game between the Twins and Red Sox. Sure it didn't end well, but man what a game. Then after the game, I flipped on the sound to the Heat/Mavs game. Again: Man what a game!

So here's how sports fans have evolved: before, we would spend endless hours today debating which sport was better based on these two case studies. But to do so, we would appeal to some objective truth that would classify one sport as being better. But there really isn't any objective truth, at least, no objective standard of truth that we can appeal to. Here's my point: the new sports fan is a post-modernist. He realizes that you really can't compare basketball to baseball, so he's left to enjoy both sports. And that's what I did last night. I enjoyed the Sox game, even though they lost and then watched an awesome Heat comeback. I implore you to to become post-modernist sports fans. Stop trying to tell me one game was better than the other because in doing that, you must tear down both games, and you no longer have the focus on what was good about them. Just enjoy the games.

The thing of it is: I won't recap the games for you because I don't think I could do justice to the narrative character of each one. And that's what else is great about sports. Each game is a story, with characters, struggles, plots and plot twists that no great writer, no matter how great, could ever pen.

One Game Changes Everything

The World Cup. Once every 4 years it's played. This time around: It's in Germany. It starts today.

Now I realize, for most of us, soccer is not a validated sport here in America. And I know everyone realizes that. But this event is huge. The competition, the pride, the skill on display is unlike any other event in the world. If you even remotely like sports, then watching the World Cup will make you more than a casual enthusiast. When you realize more's at stake than money. When countries are involved, when wars are halted, when a world unites, if that doesn't fire some type of adrenaline rush in you to watch this thing, then you're this guy (and by that I mean dead, not a terrorist. Geez.)

And I know I sound like an ESPN ad (which by the way ESPN.com has a sweet Flash Player set-up for every team you need to check out along with those much heralded ads).

The thing of it is: By far, this is the U.S.'s best shot at the Cup. Ever. I'm not saying they'll win, I'm just saying there's a chance. And that's my pitch for you to watch the World Cup.

So You're Saying There's A Chance

So I'm trying to look forward to this year's NBA Draft. The Celtics have the 7th pick overall. Seems pretty good right? Then I find stuff like this on the internet.

And, to top it off, I'm reading about rumblings the Celtics want to take JJ Redick with the pick. Redick? Really? Playing in Boston? As a Celtic? I thought Dan Dickau was supposed to be the next Bird.

Question: Will JJ change his name like former teammate Jason Williams? And if so, would JJ become his pseudonym?

But Redick could succeed in the NBA. IF a team would run a specialized offense around him to get him free for his killer shot. Just look at what the Pistons did with Rip Hamilton. He couldn't find an open shot with a GPS system. But the system he's in makes him an All-Star.

Now, check that earlier link. Click on the 7th pick on the chart that breaks all the MVPs and All Stars per pick down. One of the eventual All-Stars taken with the 7th Overall Pick: Rip Hamilton.

The thing of it is: I think the C's trade up and get Morrison at #3. Please.....Pretty, Pretty Please.

Games I Used To Play

An addendum to this previous post. I was reminded last night while watching some guy name Melky get jiggy on a homerun ball by Manny in the Sox-Yanks game. As a result, we ended up losing the game. But it's plays like that you've just got to tip your hat. You gave it your best shot and so did they, and they just ended up on top. Still, I hate the Yankees.

Anyway, so back to that addendum. My brother and I used to play a game as kids; one we invented. We called it: Awesome Catches! Essentially it involved throwing a tennis ball so it would just clear the fence in our backyard. And then it became the responsibility of the fielder to "rob" the ball from going over. Much the same as what that guy named Melky did last night. And like any good game... it evolved into not only "robbing homeruns" but also throwing the ball in such a way as to force the fielder to dive for it. We felt by doing that as well, we were still being true to the title of the game.

The thing of it is: We stopped playing after Hurricane Bob destroyed our neighbors fence. But I'd still call in sick to play it any day.

Driver Found.

I am the victim of 10 years of successful advertising by Volkswagen. Below is a reasonable facsimile of our (read: my) new, used car. It's an '03 Jetta. Surprisingly, it was priced exactly the same as a comparable Honda Civic and Toyota Corolla. And, it's just a little more fun.

Three things I don't like:

1. The Candy Apple Red color. Reminds me of my first Fender Stratocaster Guitar.
2. The Interior Light Colors: Lilac. Lilac? A shade of purple and blue, complementing the Candy Apple Red interior lights.
3. The cup holder. When it slides out, it covers the radio.

As you can see, these are all cosmetic things. I can be petty. And, I'm over it. Overall, the car runs very smoothly, and very quietly and is in very good condition.

The thing of it is: We really liked the Corolla. It's just the salesman was WAY too pushy.

Games People Play

Along with a friend, I recently invented a new game. And then, we invented a new game on top of that. It wasn't much, but kept us busy for hours. You'd be amazed at what you can do with bubble guns. Like, for instance, create the world's largest bubble.

But that gets me thinking how much fun it is to create. Though, in the true definition of the word, what we did, and what we normally do, isn't exactly ex nihilo (because I stand atop the shoulders of giants). I do think, though, it's a lost art. Whether it be from creating games to play on porch at a birthday party to coming up with that innovative and new idea, we need to be doing more of it.

The thing of it is: I'm not sure that new and innovative idea is out there. I think creating the world's largest bubble might have been the last of them.

What This Word Means Ever!

Hoped you checked out the Spelling Bee last night. I happened to catch the end of it, but I'm told it didn't have any moments like this.

And what's more interesting to me is not the talent (?) of the contestants, but the definitions of the words they're spelling. Take for example tmesis, used in the final round (and spelled correctly!):

Tmesis. Separation of the parts of a compound word by one or more intervening words. Tmesis.

Does this ever happen? I mean, you're writing a sentence, and you're thinking, hey, I need to employ tmesis here. That happens? Really?

The thing of it is: I noticed they stopped allowing kids to ask to have the word used in a sentence. Probably using words like icteritious and heiligenschein in sentences creates to much of a weltschmerz among the contestants.

You Probably Think This Post Is About You

So I'm now in the market for a new car. I like these two models the best (used of course). But last time I went shopping for a car, we ended up with this. Not a bad little car at all. And named after the dolphin (It's no longer produced anymore :( ). One thing that will not be a part of my car are vanity plates. Sure it's fun to try and figure out what they're saying on a long road trip, but is it necessary?

In countries, like South Africa, license plates are simple. Numbers and letter represent what region of the country the vehicle and owner are from. Here in the U.S., "MY Z3" tells me, what, I guess, I took for granted when I saw the Z3 -- that it was yours. I'm glad that vanity has a role over here. Otherwise, I'd think things like: "Hey, that's not your Z3 you're driving!" or "Wait. Isn't that my Z3!"

The thing of it is: when I was a kid, after November 20, 1993, I wanted my first license plate on my car to say 41-39 BC.