It occurs to me the reason why I don't have more blog posts is that if I think of something moderately amusing, I am more likely to turn it into a facebook status update or something like that. Hey, at least there I know someone's reading it, unlike here. Hello? Anybody out there?
Bowden event went really well today. That is to say, people seemed largely very pleased and the event looked really top-shelf. Events like this are really kind of an odd experience, especially if you're doing media corralling like I do. It ends up being rush rush, wait, wait some more, wait, RUSH, RUSH stuff your face RUSH.. then try to get over the adrenaline high when it all pretty much stops around you. I do have to say I'm a bit disappointed in Coach Fisher's speaking skills. I'm hopeful that as he does more of these sorts of events he'll fine-tune his speaking ability and storytelling. Though you'd think someone who's "powerful suth'n" would know how to spin a yarn...
Lots of really nice time with TLMS these days. Haven't screwed it up yet!
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
best job switch ever?
I just thought this was funny and had to share...
For work, I get e-mails with reporters and editors changing jobs, including this nugget... "May 19, 2008: Dan Smith has been named senior vice president, marketing, digital media at Playboy Enterprises. He had been senior vice president, marketing at Encyclopedia Britannica. (release)"
I'm guessing even in basically the same role, he will find the job somehow different. Just a hunch.
For work, I get e-mails with reporters and editors changing jobs, including this nugget... "May 19, 2008: Dan Smith has been named senior vice president, marketing, digital media at Playboy Enterprises. He had been senior vice president, marketing at Encyclopedia Britannica. (release)"
I'm guessing even in basically the same role, he will find the job somehow different. Just a hunch.
Monday, May 12, 2008
hey mon! It's the 90s!
In Living Color was an underappreciated show for its time... damn clever in its writing and with some really talented comedians in the troupe. Here's a typical great one from the show, "Hey Mon, with the Headleys". If you ever watched the show, you'll remember this bit because there was about a half-dozen of them --- a Caribbean family that each has a dozen jobs.
Can't really get upset with a stereotype if it's basically a positive one. I don't think there were a lot of People for the Advancement of Jamaican-Americans protesting outside the studios saying "Don't you dare call us hard-working families!"
Quite a few funny bits in this clip, but for some reason the one that gets me is referring to a pregnant woman in labor as a "lazy rabbit killer."
Sunday, May 4, 2008
What the Jackson 5 teaches us about ourselves
Was listening to the radio in the office the other day and the Jackson 5 song, "The Love You Save" came on.
Started thinking of the lyrics... it's my understanding that "stop, the love you save might be your own" is a take on the public service announcement popular from before then (and hence before me) that said something like "don't drink and drive, the life you save may be your own."
Which got me to thinking... have we really reached a point where the message has to be made SO in our self-interests that it's not enough to say "Hey you might hurt or kill SOMEBODY"? The message has to be "hey, this is important because the person you could kill might be YOURSELF, then how would you feel, huh? Not very good. It's not just that you could save someone's life but hey you yourself might get hurt in the meantime!"
Besides, in the sagelike words of Michael's buddy, Brooke Shields when discussing how smoking kills, "If you're killed, you've lost a very important part of your life."
Started thinking of the lyrics... it's my understanding that "stop, the love you save might be your own" is a take on the public service announcement popular from before then (and hence before me) that said something like "don't drink and drive, the life you save may be your own."
Which got me to thinking... have we really reached a point where the message has to be made SO in our self-interests that it's not enough to say "Hey you might hurt or kill SOMEBODY"? The message has to be "hey, this is important because the person you could kill might be YOURSELF, then how would you feel, huh? Not very good. It's not just that you could save someone's life but hey you yourself might get hurt in the meantime!"
Besides, in the sagelike words of Michael's buddy, Brooke Shields when discussing how smoking kills, "If you're killed, you've lost a very important part of your life."
Saturday, May 3, 2008
RIP Orange Bowl, 1937-2008
Should have done it last week because more was still up, but anyway thought you might like to see these... Here are some shots I just took of what's left of the Miami Orange Bowl. Interesting that about the only thing left standing is the famous "lite brite" scoreboard that used to be the recognizable open east end zone looking out to downtown.
Super Bowls, national championships, Dolphins perfect season, some monster Canes teams... just a few leftover sections that are set to be demolished, and soon it'll be another big empty field.
And supposedly someday the future home of the Marlins. Don't hold your breath though. Not that I'd ever recommending holding your breath for 5 years or whatever it is.
Super Bowls, national championships, Dolphins perfect season, some monster Canes teams... just a few leftover sections that are set to be demolished, and soon it'll be another big empty field.
And supposedly someday the future home of the Marlins. Don't hold your breath though. Not that I'd ever recommending holding your breath for 5 years or whatever it is.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Have you tried NOT screwing up your life?
Probably not the first person to say this, but...
Preston Parker, dammit, what the hell is wrong with you, kid?
A story that has become way way WAAAAAAAY too common... Seminole wide receiver with a promising future, maybe the most talented offensive player last year... was busted in Palm Beach Gardens with a .45 and a bit of the green devil-weed.
Set aside for a moment what might be the more immediate mystery --- what the hell you need a truck-stopper of a sidearm in Palm Beach freaking Gardens, an area where shooting a birdie still really is a golf term.
I had really hoped, perhaps naively, that FSU players would finally reach the point where they get the very complicated notion that if you try NOT crapping out your life for a few cheap thrills for just three or four years, you stand a good chance of getting VERY LARGE PILES OF MONEY.
Now, I've never tried weed. I've only been in the situation where it was around a few times and never really felt compelled to spark up. However, from what I've heard and seen, I have to imagine that when presented the option of some smokeysmokey NOW or a $10 million signing bonus in two years, I think that'd be one of my easier decisions to come across.
I had hoped that the addition of Terrell Buckley to the FSU staff would help get the "knock that crap off, it's for your own good" message through to some of these kids. I can understand how if you're a 19 year old black elite athlete, it might be easy to dismiss nuggets of wisdom that come in a daggum-coated candy wrapper from the 118 yr old mouth of Bobby Bowden. But I was kinda thinking Buckley could have a special closed-door session that consisted of him saying "Alright, today's lesson is: Knock that Crap Off. See this Super Bowl ring? Good. Knock that crap off! Any questions?"
Preston Parker, dammit, what the hell is wrong with you, kid?
A story that has become way way WAAAAAAAY too common... Seminole wide receiver with a promising future, maybe the most talented offensive player last year... was busted in Palm Beach Gardens with a .45 and a bit of the green devil-weed.
Set aside for a moment what might be the more immediate mystery --- what the hell you need a truck-stopper of a sidearm in Palm Beach freaking Gardens, an area where shooting a birdie still really is a golf term.
I had really hoped, perhaps naively, that FSU players would finally reach the point where they get the very complicated notion that if you try NOT crapping out your life for a few cheap thrills for just three or four years, you stand a good chance of getting VERY LARGE PILES OF MONEY.
Now, I've never tried weed. I've only been in the situation where it was around a few times and never really felt compelled to spark up. However, from what I've heard and seen, I have to imagine that when presented the option of some smokeysmokey NOW or a $10 million signing bonus in two years, I think that'd be one of my easier decisions to come across.
I had hoped that the addition of Terrell Buckley to the FSU staff would help get the "knock that crap off, it's for your own good" message through to some of these kids. I can understand how if you're a 19 year old black elite athlete, it might be easy to dismiss nuggets of wisdom that come in a daggum-coated candy wrapper from the 118 yr old mouth of Bobby Bowden. But I was kinda thinking Buckley could have a special closed-door session that consisted of him saying "Alright, today's lesson is: Knock that Crap Off. See this Super Bowl ring? Good. Knock that crap off! Any questions?"
a great SNL Reagan skit
NBC's gotten pretty militant about pulling down YouTube clips, but at least they post some of the cool old SNL clips on Hulu. Here's one of my faves, a classic from late in the Reagan years.
From some of the stuff I've read, the idea that the fuddy-duddy may have been all an act isn't actually all that far-fetched.
From some of the stuff I've read, the idea that the fuddy-duddy may have been all an act isn't actually all that far-fetched.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
ha ha huh?
This one's especially dedicated to the liberal teachers and admins at a certain private school I know.
So, let me get this straight...
* You think that George Bush is the reason why gas prices go up... and that's what you tell the millionaire children of Saudi princes who have bodyguards at your school, and the growing population of Venezuelan ex-pats.
* You can look at the sentence "Republicans are always making sweeping generalizations about whole groups of people" and not see this as weak logic.
* You've dedicated your professional careers to a place built on the idea that a private business can do a better job of providing an education than the federal government --- so much better that even though parents pay school taxes anyway, they will choose to spend an extra $20,000 a year for what you're selling... and yet you think the same federal government should take over the health care system to fix it.
* You've dedicated your professional careers to a place built on the idea that people who succeed in business should be able to purchase the finest educations that only they can afford, and students should have to pass tests to make sure only the acceptable are allowed at your business.
* Slips of the tongue and misstatements are clear signs of stupidity for the likes of Reagan, Quayle, Bush, etc., and you would know because when you speak several times a day to small groups every day of the week, you NEVER have slip-ups or misstatements.
* You think Bush must be a slack-jawed yokel... and if you had a student graduate from Yale (with higher grades than John Kerry's), then get his MBA from Harvard he'd be the biggest feather in your cap. (http://www.boston.com/news/nation/washington/articles/2005/06/07/yale_grades_portray_kerry_as_a_lackluster_student/)
* When you learn (likely here) that Al Gore said in 1992, "A zebra does not change its spots.", you understand it as being a slip in the tongue. When you hear that Dan Quayle never actually SAID "Being in Latin America makes me wish I knew Latin", you don't correct the next person who claims he did.
* A president is elected under close and possibly suspicious circumstances. He brings almost no experience into the job, got breaks in life from his dad's political connections, has an abrasive vice president, cut taxes for the rich, gets us involved in a war the administration grossly underestimates and fumbles nearly every step along the way... if this is George Bush it's a sign he's to be ridiculed, if it's JFK he was one of the greats.
* You criticize the federal government's record in disaster relief, education, crime prevention, road and bridge work, social security, and just about every other undertaking they've done... and wonder why those silly Republicans are resistant to hand over more of their lives to the federal government in the interests of "fairness".
* Week 1: Make fun of the days when the entire academic community knew the world was flat, the sun revolved around the earth, and maggots are spontaneously generated from old meat. Week 2: "Everyone knows" global warming is a new phenomenon that man's primarily responsible for and that trees and bats and snakes and deer all began as one cell and got their forms based on what was in the air around them. Anyone who ponders otherwise is to be ridiculed and shouted down.
* You think Bill Moyers can come out of the Kennedy administration, Chris Matthews from the Carter administration, and Stephanopolous from the Clinton administration... and that's not a sign of media bias... but Karl Rove being a guest to speak about campaigning on Fox News is a travesty.
* You think polls are a clear indicator of what's right... unless, of course, the polls show most Americans support the death penalty, support gun rights, or believe in God, in which case they're obviously imbeciles.
* You send children to English where they learn that 1000 years ago wine was made readily in England, yet global warming isn't cyclical.
* You send children to Social Studies where they learn that 150 years ago in England you were expected to be working in a factory by age 14 and everyone burned coal for heat, yet somehow we're polluting more now.
... and you say you're teaching kids how to think critically? Really??
So, let me get this straight...
* You think that George Bush is the reason why gas prices go up... and that's what you tell the millionaire children of Saudi princes who have bodyguards at your school, and the growing population of Venezuelan ex-pats.
* You can look at the sentence "Republicans are always making sweeping generalizations about whole groups of people" and not see this as weak logic.
* You've dedicated your professional careers to a place built on the idea that a private business can do a better job of providing an education than the federal government --- so much better that even though parents pay school taxes anyway, they will choose to spend an extra $20,000 a year for what you're selling... and yet you think the same federal government should take over the health care system to fix it.
* You've dedicated your professional careers to a place built on the idea that people who succeed in business should be able to purchase the finest educations that only they can afford, and students should have to pass tests to make sure only the acceptable are allowed at your business.
* Slips of the tongue and misstatements are clear signs of stupidity for the likes of Reagan, Quayle, Bush, etc., and you would know because when you speak several times a day to small groups every day of the week, you NEVER have slip-ups or misstatements.
* You think Bush must be a slack-jawed yokel... and if you had a student graduate from Yale (with higher grades than John Kerry's), then get his MBA from Harvard he'd be the biggest feather in your cap. (http://www.boston.com/news/nation/washington/articles/2005/06/07/yale_grades_portray_kerry_as_a_lackluster_student/)
* When you learn (likely here) that Al Gore said in 1992, "A zebra does not change its spots.", you understand it as being a slip in the tongue. When you hear that Dan Quayle never actually SAID "Being in Latin America makes me wish I knew Latin", you don't correct the next person who claims he did.
* A president is elected under close and possibly suspicious circumstances. He brings almost no experience into the job, got breaks in life from his dad's political connections, has an abrasive vice president, cut taxes for the rich, gets us involved in a war the administration grossly underestimates and fumbles nearly every step along the way... if this is George Bush it's a sign he's to be ridiculed, if it's JFK he was one of the greats.
* You criticize the federal government's record in disaster relief, education, crime prevention, road and bridge work, social security, and just about every other undertaking they've done... and wonder why those silly Republicans are resistant to hand over more of their lives to the federal government in the interests of "fairness".
* Week 1: Make fun of the days when the entire academic community knew the world was flat, the sun revolved around the earth, and maggots are spontaneously generated from old meat. Week 2: "Everyone knows" global warming is a new phenomenon that man's primarily responsible for and that trees and bats and snakes and deer all began as one cell and got their forms based on what was in the air around them. Anyone who ponders otherwise is to be ridiculed and shouted down.
* You think Bill Moyers can come out of the Kennedy administration, Chris Matthews from the Carter administration, and Stephanopolous from the Clinton administration... and that's not a sign of media bias... but Karl Rove being a guest to speak about campaigning on Fox News is a travesty.
* You think polls are a clear indicator of what's right... unless, of course, the polls show most Americans support the death penalty, support gun rights, or believe in God, in which case they're obviously imbeciles.
* You send children to English where they learn that 1000 years ago wine was made readily in England, yet global warming isn't cyclical.
* You send children to Social Studies where they learn that 150 years ago in England you were expected to be working in a factory by age 14 and everyone burned coal for heat, yet somehow we're polluting more now.
... and you say you're teaching kids how to think critically? Really??
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
glad we're addressing all the serious concerns here...
Okay, so I don't want this to turn into another one of those "secular world is chipping away at what it means to be (conservative protestant) America" blogs, because those are mostly boring unless you happen to be really clever and sarcastic (hah!)...
however, couldn't resist sharing this one..
http://www.nbc10.com/news/15897848/detail.html
What the crap... a high school football coach can't even silently participate in a pre-game prayer led by his teammates, and certainly can't guide the young guys in a few words in advance of the game.
People who fight these fights are concentrating their considerable efforts on the wrong freaking battles. Let a high school football coach huddle up his players and ask the Creator to please consider endowing the kids with a little clarity of mind so they don't get crippled out there. If the biggest transgression against your little snot factory is a coach bows his head when some of the players pray together, the kid's got a pretty damned good life.
however, couldn't resist sharing this one..
http://www.nbc10.com/news/15897848/detail.html
Court Rules Against Football Coach In Prayer Case
A New Jersey school board was within its rights to tell a football coach he cannot kneel and bow his head as members of his team have a student-led pre-game prayer, a federal appeals court ruled Tuesday
The judges agreed that the East Brunswick Board of Education's policy barring school staff from joining in student-led prayer was constitutional.
What the crap... a high school football coach can't even silently participate in a pre-game prayer led by his teammates, and certainly can't guide the young guys in a few words in advance of the game.
People who fight these fights are concentrating their considerable efforts on the wrong freaking battles. Let a high school football coach huddle up his players and ask the Creator to please consider endowing the kids with a little clarity of mind so they don't get crippled out there. If the biggest transgression against your little snot factory is a coach bows his head when some of the players pray together, the kid's got a pretty damned good life.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Damned If You Do (pt. 3)
"Marissa, I don't want to have that fight now. I'm having THIS fight now." The frustration of trying to convince her wasn't helped by the traffic that was already accumulating around town for the big game in a few hours time.
She sounded unconvinced.
"Look, I don't know what he's up to, but somehow Bill sent me a message, dated tomorrow, telling me to bet on this long shot underdog. I think he's got some inside information or something, and rich older brother finally decided to throw me a bone here. This isn't coming from me, it's coming from the one who always said you were too good for me. Don't think of it as wiring me $1000, think of it as investing in Bill's insight."
Somehow he had achieved a rare small victory. Either from persuasion or frustration, or equal parts of both, she agreed to add to his savings, all of which was now going to be placed on the underdog CF State, and he was for the first time in a while cautiously optimistic because he thought this mysterious message from his brother might be his way out.
As game time drew near, Coach Cunningham sat in the office next to the locker room and gathered his thoughts on what he might say to rally his team. Though he'd seen quite a bit of challenge in his 19 years calling the shots, when not in front of the boys he admitted to himself that this might have been the most mismatched, most pressure-filled scenario he'd ever had to gameplan for. As he went over a few potential words to the boys in his head, he had one inescapable whim of a thought. He picked up his phone and called an old friend from childhood who had the less than reputable hobby of making sports book.
"Mark, am I still looking at taking lambs to the slaughter here?"
"Funny thing you should ask that now," said the entrepreneur, "no one believed in you until a couple of hours ago. Now we've seen a little money come in from someone out there who really thinks you've got some talent hidden there somewhere."
"Guess I have to tear up my 'It's us against the world' speech now", said Cunningham.
"What's that, #3? Just give them #4, 'people out there are counting on you.' Just promise me no one is going to give 110 percent. That's my job."
Jack settled into his seat in the stadium. Twice during the early part of the game he'd tried to phone his brother to get some explanation as to the cryptic message dated tomorrow, but he was told Bill was busy with some damned new equipment they thought might be malfunctioning.
The game looked dismal early, yet just as UCA would seem to get their feet on their rival's throats, the slightest misstep or lack of concentration proved to keep the game close and Jack's anxiety high. CF State was down by 5 but with scant time left and UCA controlling the ball, it seemed nearly done. The only complication being that UCA wasn't controlling the ball, and CF State recovered with enough time perhaps for one last push. One shot to pull off the seemingly impossible --- maybe even to buck Jack Jenkins's fate.
Dontrell sprung off the line, and within three paces had already shifted into a higher gear and left the young man tasked with covering him hopelessly lost. The end of this play would also be the end of the game, the end of the season, and if he could catch it the end of rival UCA's storied winning streak. Thoughts flashed through Dontrell's mind as he charged towards the end zone with short huffs and long strides.
He thought about his two years of running track in high school, before the coaches explained to him that his frame was filling out to a point where the 100 yards of football held more promise for college scholarship than the 100 meter dash. Still, the training of launching out of the blocks served him well here. He thought of how the play was drawn up to depend on him, and how with the final seconds ticking off the clock, the glory and the pressure that would come with this catch. Finally, his mind rested on the words of his coach.
"People out there are counting on you." Yeah, right. People were probably about to make tons of money off his talent. The college, the boosters, the coach, the networks... they were all counting on him alright, counting their dollars. The reason why football was a better career path for him than track was because they could bleed more green blood out of him as a football player. He was sticking his neck out here for some gambler to make a buck. Dontrell brushed away the negativity, he had a task at hand and had better get to concentrating.
The ball was too damned high, he thought as he saw it spin in the air. He leapt, aiming with one last chance to somehow extend his body and pull it down while still landing in bounds in the back of the end zone. With the defender far enough behind to be an afterthought, he reached out, the ball touched the tips of his fingers, and somehow rolled away as he crashed to earth in the corner of the end zone watching the winning touchdown roll off the plams of his outstretched hands. He was a quarter of a step too slow, and the replay confirmed it, CF State had lost.
Most of the entire stadium's 86,000 temporary residents fell silent, stunned and immobile. It was good camouflage for Jack Jenkins. Jack was dejected. "Just my damned luck," he said. He was out $120,000.
She sounded unconvinced.
"Look, I don't know what he's up to, but somehow Bill sent me a message, dated tomorrow, telling me to bet on this long shot underdog. I think he's got some inside information or something, and rich older brother finally decided to throw me a bone here. This isn't coming from me, it's coming from the one who always said you were too good for me. Don't think of it as wiring me $1000, think of it as investing in Bill's insight."
Somehow he had achieved a rare small victory. Either from persuasion or frustration, or equal parts of both, she agreed to add to his savings, all of which was now going to be placed on the underdog CF State, and he was for the first time in a while cautiously optimistic because he thought this mysterious message from his brother might be his way out.
As game time drew near, Coach Cunningham sat in the office next to the locker room and gathered his thoughts on what he might say to rally his team. Though he'd seen quite a bit of challenge in his 19 years calling the shots, when not in front of the boys he admitted to himself that this might have been the most mismatched, most pressure-filled scenario he'd ever had to gameplan for. As he went over a few potential words to the boys in his head, he had one inescapable whim of a thought. He picked up his phone and called an old friend from childhood who had the less than reputable hobby of making sports book.
"Mark, am I still looking at taking lambs to the slaughter here?"
"Funny thing you should ask that now," said the entrepreneur, "no one believed in you until a couple of hours ago. Now we've seen a little money come in from someone out there who really thinks you've got some talent hidden there somewhere."
"Guess I have to tear up my 'It's us against the world' speech now", said Cunningham.
"What's that, #3? Just give them #4, 'people out there are counting on you.' Just promise me no one is going to give 110 percent. That's my job."
Jack settled into his seat in the stadium. Twice during the early part of the game he'd tried to phone his brother to get some explanation as to the cryptic message dated tomorrow, but he was told Bill was busy with some damned new equipment they thought might be malfunctioning.
The game looked dismal early, yet just as UCA would seem to get their feet on their rival's throats, the slightest misstep or lack of concentration proved to keep the game close and Jack's anxiety high. CF State was down by 5 but with scant time left and UCA controlling the ball, it seemed nearly done. The only complication being that UCA wasn't controlling the ball, and CF State recovered with enough time perhaps for one last push. One shot to pull off the seemingly impossible --- maybe even to buck Jack Jenkins's fate.
Dontrell sprung off the line, and within three paces had already shifted into a higher gear and left the young man tasked with covering him hopelessly lost. The end of this play would also be the end of the game, the end of the season, and if he could catch it the end of rival UCA's storied winning streak. Thoughts flashed through Dontrell's mind as he charged towards the end zone with short huffs and long strides.
He thought about his two years of running track in high school, before the coaches explained to him that his frame was filling out to a point where the 100 yards of football held more promise for college scholarship than the 100 meter dash. Still, the training of launching out of the blocks served him well here. He thought of how the play was drawn up to depend on him, and how with the final seconds ticking off the clock, the glory and the pressure that would come with this catch. Finally, his mind rested on the words of his coach.
"People out there are counting on you." Yeah, right. People were probably about to make tons of money off his talent. The college, the boosters, the coach, the networks... they were all counting on him alright, counting their dollars. The reason why football was a better career path for him than track was because they could bleed more green blood out of him as a football player. He was sticking his neck out here for some gambler to make a buck. Dontrell brushed away the negativity, he had a task at hand and had better get to concentrating.
The ball was too damned high, he thought as he saw it spin in the air. He leapt, aiming with one last chance to somehow extend his body and pull it down while still landing in bounds in the back of the end zone. With the defender far enough behind to be an afterthought, he reached out, the ball touched the tips of his fingers, and somehow rolled away as he crashed to earth in the corner of the end zone watching the winning touchdown roll off the plams of his outstretched hands. He was a quarter of a step too slow, and the replay confirmed it, CF State had lost.
Most of the entire stadium's 86,000 temporary residents fell silent, stunned and immobile. It was good camouflage for Jack Jenkins. Jack was dejected. "Just my damned luck," he said. He was out $120,000.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Damned If You Do (pt. 2)
Jack turned into the entrance to the parking garage for PERSPECTIVES, his brother Bill's corporate headquarters. The overnight security guard shuffled momentarily, more out of surprise of seeing anyone come in at this hour as opposed to any particular interest in Jack's old ride. Jack mentally scrolled through a couple of responses, finally only half-seriously intoning "BILL wants me." The guard made a quick call up to the boss's office, and then wordlessly reached over to hit a button, the effects of which included letting him in and only temporarily distorting the signal beaming Two and a Half Men to his portable rabbit-eared television.
Jack knew his way around the office building. Though he'd only been there a couple of times, it was the kind of office laid out in such a way that you knew when you were headed in the general direction of the confines of the distinguished CEO and proprietor. It was only because their relationship had continued to be reasonably civil that Jack didn't completely bristle at the glossy displays on the wall heralding the journalistic documentation of his brother's success.
"Jackie, I want to show you something... come on back here to our development area. You want a drink or something? You look like you've been run over."
"Well it is after midnight, I was getting my beauty sleep, don't you know, Mr. Chairman", Jack responded.
Bill walked along quickly, quarter-turned towards Jack, who followed a few paces behind. "So, has Marissa gotten around to dumping you yet?" There wasn't much that could cause Jack to miss a beat but that had done it. He blinked a bit and stared at his brother. "Ahhh. Oops, sorry 'bout that. Fish in the sea, so forth. Anyway this will get your mind off figuring out who to blow your dinner money on."
With that he pushed open the door to a moderate-sized work area. Pristine white computer equipment filled the back third of the room, it looked rather like a medical device hotwired into an auto garage's diagnostics display, with a few random sets of wires thrown in for good measure. One section hadn't even had its cover replaced, and various green and black circuit boards were stacked vertically inside.
"Nice equipment," said Jack, "but I bet it still can't pick the winner of the third race at Pimlico."
Bill smiled. "No, probably not. That's not exactly what we had in mind for her, though. Actually to be frank, even I don't really know all the applications for what we've managed to put together here. You see..." Bill was about ready to launch into his speech when Jack's phone chimed indicating he'd received a text message. He pulled it out and took a quick glance.
"What's it say?" his brother asked.
"It just says 'PROOF'. It's from your office. Did you send this note to me?"
Bill half-grinned. "Not yet."
"What we've... what we've stumbled across here," Bill said, as if confessing a certain degree of success through sheer chance, "is a system that can send a text message to any capable receiver, not only anywhere in the world but at any TIME... present, future, or even past."
"Here... take a look at that message on your phone. What time was it sent?"
Jack said, "Supposedly about two minutes from now. Though I can't figure that out. Must be set wrong or something."
"Nothing's wrong with your phone," said Bill with a smile as he walked over to the operator's chair in front of the system's screen. "It's working just fine. And here... is... your.... PROOF." With that he typed the word in, put in some information, and sent the note to Jack's phone in the past.
Bill went onto explain to Jack that they originally set out to design a new system by which you could write a text message and send it at a later date instead of immediately. So when someone tells you their birthday is July 18th, you can program in to send them a text message of HAPPY BDAY at any time, and set it to send on that day rather than having to remember. He acknowledged it was an admittedly small idea, but then it was a string of those small ideas that had made him a small fortune in patents and product offerings.
Earlier that day, one of his newer engineers was "re-jiggering" the system when she noticed something odd... She mis-entered the date and mistakenly instructed the computer to send a note to the day before rather than 5 minutes later on the test phone by her side. He said she was even more confused when she looked at the test phone and saw it seemed to have received the message successfully the day before.
"I don't understand it entirely myself," said Bill, "but the best as I can figure... the entire computer network, all transmission of data is binary...."
"Ones and zeroes, ones and zeroes..." Jack interrupted.
"Yeah. Well, coordinates in time in the future are all ones and zeroes too, tomorrow's just another date to a machine. Somehow, it seems... in the entire continuum of things, yesterday was too."
"You tried to build a way to save messages to send them to the future, and accidentally stumbled across a way to send them to the past too." Jack summarized. Bill nodded once and smiled.
Jack took a moment to ponder the admittedly weighty idea. He was understandably skeptical. "I have to voice the obvious questions, of course..."
"You mean why don't we send a message back and prevent 9/11, or Pearl Harbor. Yeah. Well, first you need to have the target number you're going to send it to. You don't have the President's cell number on you, do you?" Jack turned up his palms in mock apology to acknowledge the joke. "There's also the pesky little notion of what you would say. 'Hi I'm from the future and I'm contacting you to tell you what evil's about to befall you.' Hmmph. Oh, and you have to do all that, believably, in 8 letters or less. It seems that's about all we can get through. I guess after that you're technically on to the next instant."
"If you're on the precipice of... a new era of unlocking access to the fourth dimension..." Jack began, choosing his words carefully.
"...then where is all the information from the future back in our history..." finished Bill. "I don't know. But then, who would? Edison had more than a thousand patents and no formal education to speak of. Shakespeare used thousands of words no one had ever seen or heard before. They told Edwin Drake he was crazy for drilling in the ground to find oil."
Jack smiled. "You've been rehearsing that last little bit, haven't you?"
"Well," his brother smirked, "I have to have my Nobel Prize speech ready. Anyway, I know whenever I'm standing on the precipice of et cetera et cetera blah blah, I could use a good stiff slug in me. Scotch?"
"Oh hell yes. Yes, yes, yes. Capital idea old chum." Jack responded.
"I'll get some, hang tight here." Bill said, and left the room.
Jack sat by himself in the room in the quiet office, alone with the hum of the machine and the glow from its display screen. Then it occurred to him what he had to do.
He walked over to the terminal, sat down, and promptly sent a message to himself a day before. It said, simply, "BET CFST".
END OF PART 2
Jack knew his way around the office building. Though he'd only been there a couple of times, it was the kind of office laid out in such a way that you knew when you were headed in the general direction of the confines of the distinguished CEO and proprietor. It was only because their relationship had continued to be reasonably civil that Jack didn't completely bristle at the glossy displays on the wall heralding the journalistic documentation of his brother's success.
"Jackie, I want to show you something... come on back here to our development area. You want a drink or something? You look like you've been run over."
"Well it is after midnight, I was getting my beauty sleep, don't you know, Mr. Chairman", Jack responded.
Bill walked along quickly, quarter-turned towards Jack, who followed a few paces behind. "So, has Marissa gotten around to dumping you yet?" There wasn't much that could cause Jack to miss a beat but that had done it. He blinked a bit and stared at his brother. "Ahhh. Oops, sorry 'bout that. Fish in the sea, so forth. Anyway this will get your mind off figuring out who to blow your dinner money on."
With that he pushed open the door to a moderate-sized work area. Pristine white computer equipment filled the back third of the room, it looked rather like a medical device hotwired into an auto garage's diagnostics display, with a few random sets of wires thrown in for good measure. One section hadn't even had its cover replaced, and various green and black circuit boards were stacked vertically inside.
"Nice equipment," said Jack, "but I bet it still can't pick the winner of the third race at Pimlico."
Bill smiled. "No, probably not. That's not exactly what we had in mind for her, though. Actually to be frank, even I don't really know all the applications for what we've managed to put together here. You see..." Bill was about ready to launch into his speech when Jack's phone chimed indicating he'd received a text message. He pulled it out and took a quick glance.
"What's it say?" his brother asked.
"It just says 'PROOF'. It's from your office. Did you send this note to me?"
Bill half-grinned. "Not yet."
"What we've... what we've stumbled across here," Bill said, as if confessing a certain degree of success through sheer chance, "is a system that can send a text message to any capable receiver, not only anywhere in the world but at any TIME... present, future, or even past."
"Here... take a look at that message on your phone. What time was it sent?"
Jack said, "Supposedly about two minutes from now. Though I can't figure that out. Must be set wrong or something."
"Nothing's wrong with your phone," said Bill with a smile as he walked over to the operator's chair in front of the system's screen. "It's working just fine. And here... is... your.... PROOF." With that he typed the word in, put in some information, and sent the note to Jack's phone in the past.
Bill went onto explain to Jack that they originally set out to design a new system by which you could write a text message and send it at a later date instead of immediately. So when someone tells you their birthday is July 18th, you can program in to send them a text message of HAPPY BDAY at any time, and set it to send on that day rather than having to remember. He acknowledged it was an admittedly small idea, but then it was a string of those small ideas that had made him a small fortune in patents and product offerings.
Earlier that day, one of his newer engineers was "re-jiggering" the system when she noticed something odd... She mis-entered the date and mistakenly instructed the computer to send a note to the day before rather than 5 minutes later on the test phone by her side. He said she was even more confused when she looked at the test phone and saw it seemed to have received the message successfully the day before.
"I don't understand it entirely myself," said Bill, "but the best as I can figure... the entire computer network, all transmission of data is binary...."
"Ones and zeroes, ones and zeroes..." Jack interrupted.
"Yeah. Well, coordinates in time in the future are all ones and zeroes too, tomorrow's just another date to a machine. Somehow, it seems... in the entire continuum of things, yesterday was too."
"You tried to build a way to save messages to send them to the future, and accidentally stumbled across a way to send them to the past too." Jack summarized. Bill nodded once and smiled.
Jack took a moment to ponder the admittedly weighty idea. He was understandably skeptical. "I have to voice the obvious questions, of course..."
"You mean why don't we send a message back and prevent 9/11, or Pearl Harbor. Yeah. Well, first you need to have the target number you're going to send it to. You don't have the President's cell number on you, do you?" Jack turned up his palms in mock apology to acknowledge the joke. "There's also the pesky little notion of what you would say. 'Hi I'm from the future and I'm contacting you to tell you what evil's about to befall you.' Hmmph. Oh, and you have to do all that, believably, in 8 letters or less. It seems that's about all we can get through. I guess after that you're technically on to the next instant."
"If you're on the precipice of... a new era of unlocking access to the fourth dimension..." Jack began, choosing his words carefully.
"...then where is all the information from the future back in our history..." finished Bill. "I don't know. But then, who would? Edison had more than a thousand patents and no formal education to speak of. Shakespeare used thousands of words no one had ever seen or heard before. They told Edwin Drake he was crazy for drilling in the ground to find oil."
Jack smiled. "You've been rehearsing that last little bit, haven't you?"
"Well," his brother smirked, "I have to have my Nobel Prize speech ready. Anyway, I know whenever I'm standing on the precipice of et cetera et cetera blah blah, I could use a good stiff slug in me. Scotch?"
"Oh hell yes. Yes, yes, yes. Capital idea old chum." Jack responded.
"I'll get some, hang tight here." Bill said, and left the room.
Jack sat by himself in the room in the quiet office, alone with the hum of the machine and the glow from its display screen. Then it occurred to him what he had to do.
He walked over to the terminal, sat down, and promptly sent a message to himself a day before. It said, simply, "BET CFST".
END OF PART 2
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Damned If You Do
Dontrell sprung off the line, and within three paces had already shifted into a higher gear and left the young man tasked with covering him hopelessly lost. The end of this play would also be the end of the game, the end of the season, and if he could catch it the end of rival UCA's storied winning streak. Thoughts flashed through Dontrell's mind as he charged towards the end zone with short huffs and long strides.
He thought about his two years of running track in high school, before the coaches explained to him that his frame was filling out to a point where the 100 yards of football held more promise for college scholarship than the 100 meter dash. Still, the training of launching out of the blocks served him well here. He thought of how the play was drawn up to depend on him, and how with the final seconds ticking off the clock, the glory and the pressure that would come with this catch. Finally, his mind rested on the words of his coach. No one believed in them. No one thought they would even make it this far, and certainly didn't think they belonged in this championship game. No one thought they were as good as UCA. No one except Dontrell and his coach. It was the extra push he needed in his step.
The ball was too damned high, he thought as he saw it spin in the air. He leapt, aiming with one last chance to somehow extend his body and pull it down while still landing in bounds in the back of the end zone. With the defender far enough behind to be an afterthought, he reached out, the ball stuck to the tips of his fingers, and he crashed to earth in the corner of the end zone cradling the winning touchdown in the palms of his outstretched hands. The replay confirmed it, CF State had won.
Most of the entire stadium's 86,000 temporary residents roared, jumped, and hugged. Among the few not particularly celebratory was Jack Jenkins. Jack was dejected. "Just my damned luck", he said, speaking only to his left palm, which was covering his face while his head shook in disbelief and disgust. One 20 year old young man's catch had just cost Jack $119,000, his home, his old car, and perhaps all of his very few remaining favors from family and friends. Perhaps as importantly, the improbable win had cost Jack the last vestige of hope to somehow dust off what had become an unmistakeably crappy life. Had Jack been honest with himself, he would have acknowledged that it was largely his own choices along the way that led to him being The Great Bill Jenkins's screw-up little brother. But admitting that would be like admitting that relying on a shady way out of a shady situation often yields only the shadiest of results. Jack had spent enough time biting the slim remains of his fingernails and employing every conceivable use of the F word, the stadium had mostly emptied. Jack slunk out and back to spend what might be the last night in what until just now had been his house.
Marissa having finally left him the week before, Jack sat in a torn folding chair with his two remaining friends on the kitchen table --- a black revolver and a bottle of Early Times whiskey. His thoughts continued to come back to an even darker way to break his seemingly unbreakable spiral. His silence was interrupted by a song.
"Happy Days are Here Again". He'd chosen it as the tone on his cellphone, not because of any optimism, more out of a sense of sarcasm and irony. It was his brother, Bill, calling.
"Jack, I want you to come by my office. I've got something to show you. It's pretty, well... I can't quite explain it but I think I've really got something here. And, well, since you're the only guy I know who's probably up at this hour... anyway just get on over here when you can."
END OF PART 1
He thought about his two years of running track in high school, before the coaches explained to him that his frame was filling out to a point where the 100 yards of football held more promise for college scholarship than the 100 meter dash. Still, the training of launching out of the blocks served him well here. He thought of how the play was drawn up to depend on him, and how with the final seconds ticking off the clock, the glory and the pressure that would come with this catch. Finally, his mind rested on the words of his coach. No one believed in them. No one thought they would even make it this far, and certainly didn't think they belonged in this championship game. No one thought they were as good as UCA. No one except Dontrell and his coach. It was the extra push he needed in his step.
The ball was too damned high, he thought as he saw it spin in the air. He leapt, aiming with one last chance to somehow extend his body and pull it down while still landing in bounds in the back of the end zone. With the defender far enough behind to be an afterthought, he reached out, the ball stuck to the tips of his fingers, and he crashed to earth in the corner of the end zone cradling the winning touchdown in the palms of his outstretched hands. The replay confirmed it, CF State had won.
Most of the entire stadium's 86,000 temporary residents roared, jumped, and hugged. Among the few not particularly celebratory was Jack Jenkins. Jack was dejected. "Just my damned luck", he said, speaking only to his left palm, which was covering his face while his head shook in disbelief and disgust. One 20 year old young man's catch had just cost Jack $119,000, his home, his old car, and perhaps all of his very few remaining favors from family and friends. Perhaps as importantly, the improbable win had cost Jack the last vestige of hope to somehow dust off what had become an unmistakeably crappy life. Had Jack been honest with himself, he would have acknowledged that it was largely his own choices along the way that led to him being The Great Bill Jenkins's screw-up little brother. But admitting that would be like admitting that relying on a shady way out of a shady situation often yields only the shadiest of results. Jack had spent enough time biting the slim remains of his fingernails and employing every conceivable use of the F word, the stadium had mostly emptied. Jack slunk out and back to spend what might be the last night in what until just now had been his house.
Marissa having finally left him the week before, Jack sat in a torn folding chair with his two remaining friends on the kitchen table --- a black revolver and a bottle of Early Times whiskey. His thoughts continued to come back to an even darker way to break his seemingly unbreakable spiral. His silence was interrupted by a song.
"Happy Days are Here Again". He'd chosen it as the tone on his cellphone, not because of any optimism, more out of a sense of sarcasm and irony. It was his brother, Bill, calling.
"Jack, I want you to come by my office. I've got something to show you. It's pretty, well... I can't quite explain it but I think I've really got something here. And, well, since you're the only guy I know who's probably up at this hour... anyway just get on over here when you can."
END OF PART 1
Friday, April 4, 2008
stay tuned...
I've been rolling an idea around in my head, and as a result I've got about 2/3 of an idea for a short story "done". Hope I can get it to work...
Friday, March 21, 2008
and how bout that airline food?
I once knew a guy who was allergic to cotton.
Yeah, was sad... he had medicine for it but couldn't get it out of the bottle.
Yeah, was sad... he had medicine for it but couldn't get it out of the bottle.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
this message brought to you by...
This message is gonna sound like a plant, but anyway it'll be easier to write than "The Shoulder Geography Theory of Relative Queeritude", which I tried to post last night... stay tuned for that one I guess...
Have you seen www.hulu.com?? It's pretty cool. Earlier today I picked from a whole bunch of episodes of Alfred Hitchcock, then I watched some SNL clips. They even have full length movies. Not public domain crap, but Usual Suspects and stuff. Right now I'm watching Firefly. Which sorta defeats the purpose of me ordering it from Netflix, but anyway they get my money at the end of the month regardless. Hulu's free though :)
Just the occasional ad while you're watching. Give it a shot. Or don't, that's fine too.
Drawing to the end-ish of a pretty nice and mostly relaxing weekend. Yesterday I got churched up some with my mom and TLMS. Today was taking it easy, and despite some very minor aggravations (couldn't seem to get an errand run right somehow), all told things are pretty good :)
Have you seen www.hulu.com?? It's pretty cool. Earlier today I picked from a whole bunch of episodes of Alfred Hitchcock, then I watched some SNL clips. They even have full length movies. Not public domain crap, but Usual Suspects and stuff. Right now I'm watching Firefly. Which sorta defeats the purpose of me ordering it from Netflix, but anyway they get my money at the end of the month regardless. Hulu's free though :)
Just the occasional ad while you're watching. Give it a shot. Or don't, that's fine too.
Drawing to the end-ish of a pretty nice and mostly relaxing weekend. Yesterday I got churched up some with my mom and TLMS. Today was taking it easy, and despite some very minor aggravations (couldn't seem to get an errand run right somehow), all told things are pretty good :)
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
I just... I can't even...
http://wii.ign.com/articles/856/856016p1.html
A Wii game that is virtual competitive eating.
Damn. I think there was a mistranslation, and this might be one of the 7 signs.
I think back to those news stories about people throwing the Wiimote through the TV when it slips loose. How ironic would it be if someone was playing virtual Major League Eating and accientally choked on the controller?
Videogame publisher Mastiff on Friday revealed that it is developing an exclusive new WiiWare title called Major League Eating: The Game. The effort will debut with the launch of Nintendo's WiiWare service on May 12, but the company has not yet set a Wii Point value.
According to Mastiff, the project will make extensive use of the Wii remote to "simulate the fast and furious action of a professional eating contest."
A Wii game that is virtual competitive eating.
Damn. I think there was a mistranslation, and this might be one of the 7 signs.
I think back to those news stories about people throwing the Wiimote through the TV when it slips loose. How ironic would it be if someone was playing virtual Major League Eating and accientally choked on the controller?
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Ask yourself... WWPD
I feel silly even broaching this subject because Presidents Day has become so pervasive in our culture, but let me be among the many today to ponder "What Would Polk Do?"
Yes, we've taken one day and used it to combine the nearly four dozen men who have served as President of the United States. Well, that and celebrate 10 percent off furniture.
How will you mark the day? We're doing the usual... a party where you come dressed as your favorite period from the early career of Chester A. Arthur! But please, when hanging decorations that commemorate the achievements of the William Henry Harrison administration. Wheee!
Of course, as you're listening to James Buchanan songs on your local radio station, try to remember some guys like Lincoln and Washington too, they used to have holidays some time around now.
PS, James Buchanan was queer. It's true, look it up.
Yes, we've taken one day and used it to combine the nearly four dozen men who have served as President of the United States. Well, that and celebrate 10 percent off furniture.
How will you mark the day? We're doing the usual... a party where you come dressed as your favorite period from the early career of Chester A. Arthur! But please, when hanging decorations that commemorate the achievements of the William Henry Harrison administration. Wheee!
Of course, as you're listening to James Buchanan songs on your local radio station, try to remember some guys like Lincoln and Washington too, they used to have holidays some time around now.
PS, James Buchanan was queer. It's true, look it up.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Was the USS Danger Mouse already taken?
So, it appears the Navy announced three new submarines...
http://www.dailypress.com/business/dp-biz_subs_0131jan31,0,3128429.story?track=rss
The Missouri, the California, and the Mississippi.
Great.
So it appears my petitions to name a boat the USS Bring Back Quantum Leap and Max Headroom To the NBC Evening Line-Up continue to go completely ignored.
http://www.dailypress.com/business/dp-biz_subs_0131jan31,0,3128429.story?track=rss
The Missouri, the California, and the Mississippi.
Great.
So it appears my petitions to name a boat the USS Bring Back Quantum Leap and Max Headroom To the NBC Evening Line-Up continue to go completely ignored.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Ramblings from the S.S. Tempurpedic
Geez, I really hope this blog isn't deteriorating into a running update on my internet status... I can't think of much more boring... I swear I'm going to get to something interesting towards the end, I just have to mentally sort of work up to it...anyway I finally had to give in today and get set up with cable internet access in my apartment. Not going to stay what company it is, because I know (onaccounta it's kinda what I do for a living) that companies sweep blogs looking for mentions of their name. Let's just say the greedy bastards rhyme with Schmomcast! ;-)
One of the things that was stopping me was the regular cost, about $60 a month. I signed a promotional rate of $26 or so that lasts for six months... so I guess this entry is also a reminder to myself to cancel 6 months from this date!
I had to go and visit the Arepa Fairy today. I went over to the South Beach Art Deco Festival... I could say it was to just generally look around and see if I wanted to pick up anything for future decorating needs, or to enjoy a nice day out in Miami, but honestly I just go for the fair food. Hey, walking 10 blocks and back burns off a fried arepa, right? Oh umm and a chocolate dipped banana on a stick. There is one exhibit I like seeing, old ads from magazines and postcards and such, old Coke ads and baseball players hawking cigarettes and whatnot. I didn't see anything worth getting there. I did buy a little elephant made from a Coke can, cute lil' fella.
Then there's the subject I've been kind of avoiding... partially because I'm still not really sure how I want to discuss this... we lost a friend this week. In a way that might be best described as being... confusing. I don't suppose someone passing is necessarily always SUPPOSED to "answer any questions", but this is different. When my dad passed a couple of years back, there was time to prepare. Of the few people who actually read these things, nearly everyone will already know what I'm talking about. Otherwise, maybe you can piece it together by my ramblings. Some of us guys got together last night to try to go through it all a bit, and also just to get out. The way guys do --- which is to say with more than a little libations.
Well then. So this blog does get into things besides where I'm connecting from, or wondering aloud where one goes to buy Franken Berry cereal these days, or why Foreigner songs sound like they were written by an 8 year old.
One of the things that was stopping me was the regular cost, about $60 a month. I signed a promotional rate of $26 or so that lasts for six months... so I guess this entry is also a reminder to myself to cancel 6 months from this date!
I had to go and visit the Arepa Fairy today. I went over to the South Beach Art Deco Festival... I could say it was to just generally look around and see if I wanted to pick up anything for future decorating needs, or to enjoy a nice day out in Miami, but honestly I just go for the fair food. Hey, walking 10 blocks and back burns off a fried arepa, right? Oh umm and a chocolate dipped banana on a stick. There is one exhibit I like seeing, old ads from magazines and postcards and such, old Coke ads and baseball players hawking cigarettes and whatnot. I didn't see anything worth getting there. I did buy a little elephant made from a Coke can, cute lil' fella.
Then there's the subject I've been kind of avoiding... partially because I'm still not really sure how I want to discuss this... we lost a friend this week. In a way that might be best described as being... confusing. I don't suppose someone passing is necessarily always SUPPOSED to "answer any questions", but this is different. When my dad passed a couple of years back, there was time to prepare. Of the few people who actually read these things, nearly everyone will already know what I'm talking about. Otherwise, maybe you can piece it together by my ramblings. Some of us guys got together last night to try to go through it all a bit, and also just to get out. The way guys do --- which is to say with more than a little libations.
Well then. So this blog does get into things besides where I'm connecting from, or wondering aloud where one goes to buy Franken Berry cereal these days, or why Foreigner songs sound like they were written by an 8 year old.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Please please PLEASE don't throw me in de briar patch!!!
So, seems my options are pay 60 bucks a month for Internet access, or come sit out by the water and look at downtown while I work in the nice soft breeze.
That's fine, ya know, so long as it's not, umm, raining. Then I'm stuck with just the Wii. Which, by the way, I'm now completely ignoring the little thing that tells you how long you've been playing games for. I think soon a little helpful signal is going to chime up and say "Go the F--- outside, kid. And don't take your laptop."
That's fine, ya know, so long as it's not, umm, raining. Then I'm stuck with just the Wii. Which, by the way, I'm now completely ignoring the little thing that tells you how long you've been playing games for. I think soon a little helpful signal is going to chime up and say "Go the F--- outside, kid. And don't take your laptop."
Some sort of record
I guess this means I've been blogging for three years. Wheee! That puts me ahead of, oh, about 10 million blogs or so, including lots of big corporations. You just know that somewhere out there, a bubble wrap manufacturer thought the world wanted to hear the musings and philosophies of the assistant VP of operations on the dinner menu at BubbCON 2007.
Was tough watching the FSU game last night... by all logical standards, Nole fans should be happy to have finished like we did... figure 30+ players didn't make the trip (mostly because of that whole pesky "not cheating" thing). The game started with an ugly flubbed punt (that actually involved all the frontline players anyway), and an opponent FSU probably wouldn't have been given a chance against even if they HAD been full strength... to take it down to the last play of the game IS respectable. And that's with being on the goal line once and coming away without any points...
Still... hard to argue with the immortal and oft-replayed words of Herm Edwards, then Jets coach when asked whether he would throw an end of the year game to get a better draft pick. "You play to WIN THE GAME!"
As such, losing does in fact still suck. And "moral victories" aren't any better English than "it is what it is."
Was tough watching the FSU game last night... by all logical standards, Nole fans should be happy to have finished like we did... figure 30+ players didn't make the trip (mostly because of that whole pesky "not cheating" thing). The game started with an ugly flubbed punt (that actually involved all the frontline players anyway), and an opponent FSU probably wouldn't have been given a chance against even if they HAD been full strength... to take it down to the last play of the game IS respectable. And that's with being on the goal line once and coming away without any points...
Still... hard to argue with the immortal and oft-replayed words of Herm Edwards, then Jets coach when asked whether he would throw an end of the year game to get a better draft pick. "You play to WIN THE GAME!"
As such, losing does in fact still suck. And "moral victories" aren't any better English than "it is what it is."
Thursday, December 20, 2007
in other news
So, I heard that Michigan finally got their new football head coach, and it's someone they think will really help with experience luring high school athletes. Yeah, apparently they're giving the job to Jamie-Lynn Spears.
Or maybe I shouldn't try reading the news from USA Today over a guy's shoulder in the airport.
Or maybe I shouldn't try reading the news from USA Today over a guy's shoulder in the airport.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Travelin' Uncle Matt goes to...
http://johnspartan.blogspot.com/2007/01/laptop-thing-aka-my-own-personal.html
back to the scene of the crime. I'm going to DC for business... actually a client is flying me up and putting me in a hotel pretty much just to take me to lunch. I'm so sexy.
PS since I never concluded that other story --- let's just say that when you have the time you got a cab, the location you got it, the address it dropped you off at, the cab number and the driver's license #, lost possessions sometimes have a tendency to "appear at lost and found". No thanks to the freaking DC po-po, or the cab company, or the cab authority...
Meanwhile I'm STILL getting headaches from the fact that I reported the checks stolen and then told the bank I got them back. Ugh.
Anyway, this trip should be nice. Up and back, I return tomorrow night. And then a Christmas party Friday and a Christmas party Saturday (one of THREE we were invited to... not only am I sexy and 29 I'm a social freaking butterfly 8-))
Can't actually blame TLMS for the fact I haven't been posting much... blame the mystery neighbor who is no longer donating wireless service to me. Fascists!
back to the scene of the crime. I'm going to DC for business... actually a client is flying me up and putting me in a hotel pretty much just to take me to lunch. I'm so sexy.
PS since I never concluded that other story --- let's just say that when you have the time you got a cab, the location you got it, the address it dropped you off at, the cab number and the driver's license #, lost possessions sometimes have a tendency to "appear at lost and found". No thanks to the freaking DC po-po, or the cab company, or the cab authority...
Meanwhile I'm STILL getting headaches from the fact that I reported the checks stolen and then told the bank I got them back. Ugh.
Anyway, this trip should be nice. Up and back, I return tomorrow night. And then a Christmas party Friday and a Christmas party Saturday (one of THREE we were invited to... not only am I sexy and 29 I'm a social freaking butterfly 8-))
Can't actually blame TLMS for the fact I haven't been posting much... blame the mystery neighbor who is no longer donating wireless service to me. Fascists!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
technicalities
Got caught at a Christmas party on what some might see as a small yet critical detail... for reasons I still can't particularly articulate, though if nothing else at least now I have a new story for people who are bored of "Alabama Girl".
Very nice event, at a lovely home on the water, hosted by family friends from back before my days anyway... and I somehow introduced TLMS as "My wif.... errr girlfriend, Sarah".
I can't think of anything better then that's how I've heard people presented at parties over the years... though that doesn't even make sense to me and I said it!
Helpful advice from Carrie, as per usual... the guidance to "don't screw this up." Always a good idea.
Happy 29th birthday Katie Holmes!
Very nice event, at a lovely home on the water, hosted by family friends from back before my days anyway... and I somehow introduced TLMS as "My wif.... errr girlfriend, Sarah".
I can't think of anything better then that's how I've heard people presented at parties over the years... though that doesn't even make sense to me and I said it!
Helpful advice from Carrie, as per usual... the guidance to "don't screw this up." Always a good idea.
Happy 29th birthday Katie Holmes!
Monday, December 10, 2007
In retrospect, maybe "1-800-HEY-BUSH" wasn't the best super-secret phone number...
http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/story?id=3973925&page=1
Seems a 16 year old kid in Iceland (may have) called the private unlisted number of the White House to invite W. to come over and play reindeer games.
Hell, if Ellen can get him, I don't see why Gunther the dialin' Iceberg can't.
Seems a 16 year old kid in Iceland (may have) called the private unlisted number of the White House to invite W. to come over and play reindeer games.
Hell, if Ellen can get him, I don't see why Gunther the dialin' Iceberg can't.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
The Rudy Thing
Among my friends and also in the conservative media, I've heard a lot of people try to make the case for Rudy Giuliani, esp. when it comes to his credentials as a "true conservative".
It seems the conversation generally goes something like this.
"Well, sure he's got a record and tradition of being pro-choice, but he'll change when he's president instead of mayor!"
"Well, sure he has a different position on homosexuality from a lot of the party, but that won't come up when he's president."
"Well, sure he's not strong on gun control, but he's said he'll be different as president."
Well, why should we vote for him, then?"
"Why, because of everything he's done as mayor, of course!"
Hmmm...
There's the whole "he can beat Hillary" thing... and despite the media's desperate desire for a horse race in the lefty scuffle I still say I wouldn't bet against her with money I'd found. And Rudy vs. Hillary doesn't poll considerably better than the other leading candidates on the right against her.
Now, if you want to get into a really nuanced argument, and start looking at states like New Jersey as being possible swings, okay. But I'm not even convinced that those that might vote for Rudy as the GOP candidate outnumber those who would be less than enthused by him being the head of the ticket and stay home.
It seems the conversation generally goes something like this.
"Well, sure he's got a record and tradition of being pro-choice, but he'll change when he's president instead of mayor!"
"Well, sure he has a different position on homosexuality from a lot of the party, but that won't come up when he's president."
"Well, sure he's not strong on gun control, but he's said he'll be different as president."
Well, why should we vote for him, then?"
"Why, because of everything he's done as mayor, of course!"
Hmmm...
There's the whole "he can beat Hillary" thing... and despite the media's desperate desire for a horse race in the lefty scuffle I still say I wouldn't bet against her with money I'd found. And Rudy vs. Hillary doesn't poll considerably better than the other leading candidates on the right against her.
Now, if you want to get into a really nuanced argument, and start looking at states like New Jersey as being possible swings, okay. But I'm not even convinced that those that might vote for Rudy as the GOP candidate outnumber those who would be less than enthused by him being the head of the ticket and stay home.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
how exactly do you raise awareness on something everybody already knew?
http://www.scrappleface.com/?p=2793
More kudos to Al Gore for raising awareness on the delicate nature of the environment, his revelation from the last year that got him a Nobel Peace (PEACE?) Prize and an Oscar and an island in the South Pacific and a free date with Carrie Underwood...
So nice of him to draw attention to this issue that has never been raised before.
Except, ya know, his own book Earth in the Balance 15 years ago before his two terms as Vice President of the United States, Time Magazine naming Earth as the endangered planet man of the year 20 years ago, 35+ years of Boo Production Yay Earth Day hippie festivals...
More kudos to Al Gore for raising awareness on the delicate nature of the environment, his revelation from the last year that got him a Nobel Peace (PEACE?) Prize and an Oscar and an island in the South Pacific and a free date with Carrie Underwood...
So nice of him to draw attention to this issue that has never been raised before.
Except, ya know, his own book Earth in the Balance 15 years ago before his two terms as Vice President of the United States, Time Magazine naming Earth as the endangered planet man of the year 20 years ago, 35+ years of Boo Production Yay Earth Day hippie festivals...
Sunday, November 11, 2007
I can make it there... but why would I want to?
Was asked the other day with incredulity (incredulity is a 10 cent woid) why I don't move to New York City and take an offer there.
Offhand, ummm... one good reason is that this is the view from my apartment building.
Another is that it's 74 degrees out with a 13 mph wind right now.
Being 28 and having to have someone explain to you what the phrase "Wintry Mix" means isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Helps that it's 10 minutes to the office, and I'm NOT paying unreal rent for my place that would be "big" by any NYC standards.
Offhand, ummm... one good reason is that this is the view from my apartment building.
Another is that it's 74 degrees out with a 13 mph wind right now.
Being 28 and having to have someone explain to you what the phrase "Wintry Mix" means isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Helps that it's 10 minutes to the office, and I'm NOT paying unreal rent for my place that would be "big" by any NYC standards.
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