I have tried to be mad about March, honest I have. It just never captured my interest the way college bowl season does, or a great many professional sporting events. To me, March is dealing with the sudden void of football, with the attendant discussions of the upcoming draft and free agency. Ultimately this is unfulfilling as it strains to be anything but hypothetical, and it is only useful the following January if you can remember how you were the one who said that this would be Peyton's year after all.
March is also about Spring Training. It's that weird portion of the baseball season that takes place in distant, exotic locales such as Mesa, Arizona and Coral Gables, Florida. I was reminded of the almost absurd intimacy of these contests last night as I watched the Oakland A's battle the San Francisco Giants. Maybe "battle" is a little strong, since most of the stars were absent from the lineup or only played sparingly. But as I watched the local broadcast of the game, what intrigued me was this: you could hear individual voices shouting out from the stands. Not just a periodic outburst from behind the plate, but distant echoing bellows of great concrete slabs of a park designed to hold forty-some sections of die-hard types who make annual, whimsical or annual whimsical pilgrimages to the cactus or grapefruit leagues to see the up and comer, the has been and the never was. It's baseball, and you can see it from the parking lot if you don't feel like lugging your picnic all the way into the stadium. You can sit just off the left field line, ten rows from the field for ten bucks. This leaves plenty of extra cash for the giant foam finger you'll need to buy so that come playoff time, you can say that you had it way back during spring training.
For me, March isn't about endings, it's all about beginnings.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
It's Wet And It's Dry
The passing of Ernest Gallo last week gave me a moment to reflect on the wine that I have consumed before, during and after its time. I certainly had my moments of wine snobbery, and was heard on several occasions to speak of the "woodiness" of a particular chardonnay. The truth is, my palate was never particularly sophisticated. Just as my beer tastes ran to that which was on sale, I was generally more concerned with the buzz than the bouquet.
For this reason, the wines of Ernest and Julio Gallo held a particular fascination for me. I knew that Beringer would be an overall more pleasant ride, but a bottle of Boone's Farm would get me there and back again for a fraction of the price. And if you thought you might fool somebody by showing up with a bottle of wine and passing it off as some modicum of culture, it came with a screw-top cap, not a cork.
Long before Ben and Jerry began filling the freezer section with such outlandish concoctions as Phish Food, Chunky Monkey, and Rainforest Crunch, Boones Farm (lovingly bottled - and capped by Ernest and Julio Gallo) shared their own bizarre array of taste sensations: Country Kwencher, Strawberry Hill, Sun Peak Peach, and Blue Hawaiian. For the lowdown on the relative savoriness of each of these fine wines, be sure to visit the "flavor review" section of Boonesfarm.net, the Internet fan club for what they refer to as "the best selection of drinks in the world." Included is the testimonial of a drinker from Bloomington, Indiana named Liz who raves: “I love Wild Island! It tastes like alcoholic bubble gum!”
And in my mind, Tyrolia is inexorably linked with Otter Pops.
For this reason, the wines of Ernest and Julio Gallo held a particular fascination for me. I knew that Beringer would be an overall more pleasant ride, but a bottle of Boone's Farm would get me there and back again for a fraction of the price. And if you thought you might fool somebody by showing up with a bottle of wine and passing it off as some modicum of culture, it came with a screw-top cap, not a cork.
Long before Ben and Jerry began filling the freezer section with such outlandish concoctions as Phish Food, Chunky Monkey, and Rainforest Crunch, Boones Farm (lovingly bottled - and capped by Ernest and Julio Gallo) shared their own bizarre array of taste sensations: Country Kwencher, Strawberry Hill, Sun Peak Peach, and Blue Hawaiian. For the lowdown on the relative savoriness of each of these fine wines, be sure to visit the "flavor review" section of Boonesfarm.net, the Internet fan club for what they refer to as "the best selection of drinks in the world." Included is the testimonial of a drinker from Bloomington, Indiana named Liz who raves: “I love Wild Island! It tastes like alcoholic bubble gum!”
And in my mind, Tyrolia is inexorably linked with Otter Pops.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Living In The Fourth Dimension
In today's news: Scientists say that time travel is impossible. Well, how about that. Brian Greene, author of the bestseller, “The Elegant Universe” and a physicist at Columbia University says that there are a goodly number of notions about how we might travel into the past, “and almost all of them, if you look at them closely, brush up right at the edge of physics as we understand it. Most of us think that almost all of them can be ruled out.”
Great. No Time Tunnel. No Terminator (1, 2, or 3). No Twelve Monkeys. Maybe it's only the titles that start with "T". Would "Somewhere in Time" be plausible, if not intensely sappy? What about that episode of Star Trek where Bones gets all whacked out and then Kirk and Spock have to go chasing after him through a time portal and Kirk ends up snogging with Joan Collins? Come to think of it, the only thing that makes snogging with Joan Collins plausible is time travel.
Okay, so brushing up to the edge of physics makes Mister Greene (sorry) Doctor Greene uncomfortable. I can accept that. As long as he can accept the fact that just ten years ago no one would have guessed that we would have parents able to carry on conversations on tiny mobile "phones" that allow them to ignore their children entirely as they squeal and race up and down the aisles of the supermarket. For that matter, who would have predicted the rise of the modern "supermarket" just fifty years ago? That one may not have been quite as big a stretch, but how about The Magic Bullet Blender?
Is there hope? If there is, then it lies in wormholes. To punch a hole into the fabric of space-time, Michio Kaku, author of “Hyperspace” and “Parallel Worlds” and a physicist at the City University of New York explained, would require the energy of a star or negative energy, an exotic entity with an energy of less than nothing. Right. Now we're heading in the right direction (dimensionally speaking). What does our good friend Doctor "Buzzkill" Greene say? “Many people who study the subject doubt that that approach has any chance of working, but the basic idea if you’re very, very optimistic is that if you fiddle with the wormhole openings, you can make it not only a shortcut from a point in space to another point in space, but a shortcut from one moment in time to another moment in time.”
Fair enough, I choose to be very, very, very optimistic. I for one believe in the manipulation of time - I own a Tivo.
Great. No Time Tunnel. No Terminator (1, 2, or 3). No Twelve Monkeys. Maybe it's only the titles that start with "T". Would "Somewhere in Time" be plausible, if not intensely sappy? What about that episode of Star Trek where Bones gets all whacked out and then Kirk and Spock have to go chasing after him through a time portal and Kirk ends up snogging with Joan Collins? Come to think of it, the only thing that makes snogging with Joan Collins plausible is time travel.
Okay, so brushing up to the edge of physics makes Mister Greene (sorry) Doctor Greene uncomfortable. I can accept that. As long as he can accept the fact that just ten years ago no one would have guessed that we would have parents able to carry on conversations on tiny mobile "phones" that allow them to ignore their children entirely as they squeal and race up and down the aisles of the supermarket. For that matter, who would have predicted the rise of the modern "supermarket" just fifty years ago? That one may not have been quite as big a stretch, but how about The Magic Bullet Blender?
Is there hope? If there is, then it lies in wormholes. To punch a hole into the fabric of space-time, Michio Kaku, author of “Hyperspace” and “Parallel Worlds” and a physicist at the City University of New York explained, would require the energy of a star or negative energy, an exotic entity with an energy of less than nothing. Right. Now we're heading in the right direction (dimensionally speaking). What does our good friend Doctor "Buzzkill" Greene say? “Many people who study the subject doubt that that approach has any chance of working, but the basic idea if you’re very, very optimistic is that if you fiddle with the wormhole openings, you can make it not only a shortcut from a point in space to another point in space, but a shortcut from one moment in time to another moment in time.”
Fair enough, I choose to be very, very, very optimistic. I for one believe in the manipulation of time - I own a Tivo.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Elvis, Jim Morrison, Osama bin Laden
On their web site, CNN is reporting that Osama bin Laden turned fifty this Saturday "if he's alive." His most recent public appearance was back in 2004, and that was on videotape. There have been subsequent audio tapes, but those have not been authenticated for date and time. In spite of a twenty-five million dollar reward for information leading to the death or arrest (dead or alive, right Pinhead?) of Public Enemy number one.
After five years of scouring the mountains, caves and deserts of Afghanistan, twelve thousand U.S. troops have discovered exactly bupkiss. How is his possible? A country with an area slightly smaller than Texas is providing safe haven for the world's most wanted man. It can't be that our soldiers aren't doing everything they can to bring Osama to justice, but when you start to consider some of the math, it becomes a little more apparent: Pinhead has requested an additional ten thousand troops be sent to Iraq (with an area twice the size of Idaho) to bring the total to somewhere in the neighborhood of one hundred and fifty thousand. Exact numbers aren't really necessary, but powers of ten are. As we struggle to determine a possible extrication strategy from Iraq, we have a tenth of that force in Afghanistan, alternately battling Taliban and al-Qaida while turning over rocks to find the evil mastermind of September 11.
I see this as a tremendous opportunity missed. One hundred thousand men, equipped with night vision goggles and heat seeking weapons could easily have tracked down one man with fifty candles on his birthday cake. Alas.
After five years of scouring the mountains, caves and deserts of Afghanistan, twelve thousand U.S. troops have discovered exactly bupkiss. How is his possible? A country with an area slightly smaller than Texas is providing safe haven for the world's most wanted man. It can't be that our soldiers aren't doing everything they can to bring Osama to justice, but when you start to consider some of the math, it becomes a little more apparent: Pinhead has requested an additional ten thousand troops be sent to Iraq (with an area twice the size of Idaho) to bring the total to somewhere in the neighborhood of one hundred and fifty thousand. Exact numbers aren't really necessary, but powers of ten are. As we struggle to determine a possible extrication strategy from Iraq, we have a tenth of that force in Afghanistan, alternately battling Taliban and al-Qaida while turning over rocks to find the evil mastermind of September 11.
I see this as a tremendous opportunity missed. One hundred thousand men, equipped with night vision goggles and heat seeking weapons could easily have tracked down one man with fifty candles on his birthday cake. Alas.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Battlezone
I went to bed last night feeling somewhat a loss for "kids these days." Imagine my delight, upon awakening this morning, to find a group of fresh-faced youngsters grinning off the screen telling about their powerful experiences with Battlecry. The youth of America can be saved from a future of back of the shop class sex and enraged peer conflicts sponsored by parents. According to one of the youths, they planned to "worship their brains out" this weekend here in the Bay Area.
More to the point, they plan to "worship their brains out" in the heart of what is considered by many (including those who choose to live there) as a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah. The kickoff this morning hit a snag because the San Francisco authorities would not allow them to crank up their Public Address system before ten o'clock in the morning. These young warriors would not be hindered. They used portable radios to hear the Word. And they raised their voices - aided by an Internet broadcast, and the Lord's gift of double A batteries. Though it does occur to me the the Sermon on the Mount was given sans amplification.
Battlecry is the product of Christian brainchild Ron Luce, founder and CEO of TeenMania Ministries. If it sounds a little confrontational compared to other ministries, consider these words from the founder: "This is war. And Jesus invites us to get into the action, telling us that the violent—the ‘forceful’ ones—will lay hold of the kingdom." Can I have an amen and pass the ammunition? Their web site includes banners announcing, "This is the generation without morality," and "This is a generation without truth." It makes me sad because as a parent and a teacher I have the same reactions to the things I see on the news and read on the Internet. I wish there was a place for young people, all people, to get morality and truth free of an agenda. Just like Jimmys Swaggart and Bakker, you can hear the hypocrisy stopwatch ticking from the moment that they open their mouths. It would be a beautiful thing if there was a place to go for salvation that didn't come without a price.
And the sign says "Everybody welcome Come in Kneel down and pray"
But then they passed around a plate at the end of it all
And I didn't have a penny to pay
So I got me a pen and paper And I made up my own little sign
I said Thank you Lord for thinking about me I'm alive and doing fine
- Five Man Electrical Band
More to the point, they plan to "worship their brains out" in the heart of what is considered by many (including those who choose to live there) as a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah. The kickoff this morning hit a snag because the San Francisco authorities would not allow them to crank up their Public Address system before ten o'clock in the morning. These young warriors would not be hindered. They used portable radios to hear the Word. And they raised their voices - aided by an Internet broadcast, and the Lord's gift of double A batteries. Though it does occur to me the the Sermon on the Mount was given sans amplification.
Battlecry is the product of Christian brainchild Ron Luce, founder and CEO of TeenMania Ministries. If it sounds a little confrontational compared to other ministries, consider these words from the founder: "This is war. And Jesus invites us to get into the action, telling us that the violent—the ‘forceful’ ones—will lay hold of the kingdom." Can I have an amen and pass the ammunition? Their web site includes banners announcing, "This is the generation without morality," and "This is a generation without truth." It makes me sad because as a parent and a teacher I have the same reactions to the things I see on the news and read on the Internet. I wish there was a place for young people, all people, to get morality and truth free of an agenda. Just like Jimmys Swaggart and Bakker, you can hear the hypocrisy stopwatch ticking from the moment that they open their mouths. It would be a beautiful thing if there was a place to go for salvation that didn't come without a price.
And the sign says "Everybody welcome Come in Kneel down and pray"
But then they passed around a plate at the end of it all
And I didn't have a penny to pay
So I got me a pen and paper And I made up my own little sign
I said Thank you Lord for thinking about me I'm alive and doing fine
- Five Man Electrical Band
Friday, March 09, 2007
It's Armageddon Time Again
Here's one version:
"...during school hours in a classroom with an experienced teacher present, two sixth graders completed the act of intercourse...at least ten students were witnesses. No disciplinary actions were taken against the teacher... All teachers were told to keep quiet."
Here's another:
"Two students were involved in inappropriate conduct in a lab class last semester. We have investigated the matter and taken appropriate action. The school corporation considers the matter closed and will have no further comment."
Guess which one is the official statement, and which is the account of a "disturbed resident". Okay, I'm not even a resident of Warren Township, Indiana and I'm feeling a little disturbed by this. Still, I know that the notion of this kind of thing happening without any disciplinary action is extremely unlikely. The problem is getting through the layers of reality to get to the crunchy center that has thirteen year-olds having sex anywhere, let alone in the back of their shop class. A certain first move by a compassionate school district would be to restrict males to shop classes and females to home economics.
Moving from the midwest to the far west, we find news of a Folsom, California mother who drove her son to a fight with another boy, then cheered him on as he struck his smaller opponent. Police say the mother shouted down another woman who tried to break up the fight across from Sutter Middle School on Monday. A student caught the scene on video. Thus far, we have no video of the Indiana incident, but keep your browser pointed at Youtube - it's only a matter of time.
I have a standard line I use when people ask me why I don't teach middle school. I say that the kids in elementary school can shoot pretty straight, but they have trouble reloading. This gives me time to look for cover. After this pair of stories, I think I'll just hang on to these clippings as reason enough.
"...during school hours in a classroom with an experienced teacher present, two sixth graders completed the act of intercourse...at least ten students were witnesses. No disciplinary actions were taken against the teacher... All teachers were told to keep quiet."
Here's another:
"Two students were involved in inappropriate conduct in a lab class last semester. We have investigated the matter and taken appropriate action. The school corporation considers the matter closed and will have no further comment."
Guess which one is the official statement, and which is the account of a "disturbed resident". Okay, I'm not even a resident of Warren Township, Indiana and I'm feeling a little disturbed by this. Still, I know that the notion of this kind of thing happening without any disciplinary action is extremely unlikely. The problem is getting through the layers of reality to get to the crunchy center that has thirteen year-olds having sex anywhere, let alone in the back of their shop class. A certain first move by a compassionate school district would be to restrict males to shop classes and females to home economics.
Moving from the midwest to the far west, we find news of a Folsom, California mother who drove her son to a fight with another boy, then cheered him on as he struck his smaller opponent. Police say the mother shouted down another woman who tried to break up the fight across from Sutter Middle School on Monday. A student caught the scene on video. Thus far, we have no video of the Indiana incident, but keep your browser pointed at Youtube - it's only a matter of time.
I have a standard line I use when people ask me why I don't teach middle school. I say that the kids in elementary school can shoot pretty straight, but they have trouble reloading. This gives me time to look for cover. After this pair of stories, I think I'll just hang on to these clippings as reason enough.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
We Got Live If You Want It
A couple days ago, the morning radio people were dismissing live albums, for the most part, out of hand. I can understand this attitude, since I have been known to do the very same thing as part of a clever little bit where I pretend to be every live album recorded in the 1970's. I begin by making a low, rumbling noise like surf crashing on the shore, then a few lobbed whistles from the back, and a "whoo" here and there. It's funnier in person, trust me.
Here's the deal though: Live albums are not intended to be any sort of groundbreaking artistic endeavor, they're merely historical artifacts. Listening to any of the the three CDs of Bruce Springsteen's "Live 1975-1985" will not help you understand the Boss any better as a songwriter, nor will it properly convey his charisma as a performer. What it will do is give you a good set of Cliff''s Notes to the performances as recorded. After years of resistance, Bruce put this collection out at the end of his watershed "Born in the USA" tour, to capitalize on the rabid enthusiasm he had generated after a decade on the road. Since then, he has released a number of different live recordings, and a goodly number of DVDs - all documenting Springsteen "Live".
Contrastingly, the Grateful Dead were the band that existed primarily as a source for endless hours of live bootleg recordings. Sure, there are a great many bootleg recordings of all your favorite artists (including Mister Springsteen), but the Dead encouraged the practice. It could be argued that their studio work was secondary to their work on stage. Go ahead. Argue. I never really cared for them myself, though I admire their songwriting (isn't that ironic?).
The final category of live album would be the "contractual obligation recording." Throughout history, when acts have run short of material and are finishing up a contract with a label, the "deluxe double live album" appears. This allows the band to play a flurry of shows, then toss the tapes at their label on the way out the door, waving their wads of hundred dollar bills. The most egregious example of this in my mind would be "Boingo Alive." Even I, a rabid Oingo Boingo fan, cringed at the notion of this farewell to MCA. This was a "greatest hits" re-recorded "live" in a studio, then unleashed on the buying public. It's like a tree falling in a forest - if a band makes a live album without an audience, does anybody want to hear it?
I have some favorite moments, like the Kinks' "One For The Road" when Ray Davies starts to noodle around the opening of "Lola", then tells the crowd, "We're not gonna play that one tonight," before acquiescing, "All right, but only if you all sing along." Or maybe when David Byrne strolls out to the middle of an empty stage with a boombox and tells us, "I have a tape I want to play for you," before slamming into an unplugged version of "Psycho Killer". Still, I confess my favorite "live" moment would have to be from the show I saw at Red Rocks. I had no way of knowing that they were taping the show, but you can hear me calling out over the crowd. It wasn't Dave Matthews, or U2, or even The Moody Blues - I was there to hear Steve Martin. You can hear me on track nine of "Wild and Crazy Guy". I'm the one shouting "whoooooo!"
Here's the deal though: Live albums are not intended to be any sort of groundbreaking artistic endeavor, they're merely historical artifacts. Listening to any of the the three CDs of Bruce Springsteen's "Live 1975-1985" will not help you understand the Boss any better as a songwriter, nor will it properly convey his charisma as a performer. What it will do is give you a good set of Cliff''s Notes to the performances as recorded. After years of resistance, Bruce put this collection out at the end of his watershed "Born in the USA" tour, to capitalize on the rabid enthusiasm he had generated after a decade on the road. Since then, he has released a number of different live recordings, and a goodly number of DVDs - all documenting Springsteen "Live".
Contrastingly, the Grateful Dead were the band that existed primarily as a source for endless hours of live bootleg recordings. Sure, there are a great many bootleg recordings of all your favorite artists (including Mister Springsteen), but the Dead encouraged the practice. It could be argued that their studio work was secondary to their work on stage. Go ahead. Argue. I never really cared for them myself, though I admire their songwriting (isn't that ironic?).
The final category of live album would be the "contractual obligation recording." Throughout history, when acts have run short of material and are finishing up a contract with a label, the "deluxe double live album" appears. This allows the band to play a flurry of shows, then toss the tapes at their label on the way out the door, waving their wads of hundred dollar bills. The most egregious example of this in my mind would be "Boingo Alive." Even I, a rabid Oingo Boingo fan, cringed at the notion of this farewell to MCA. This was a "greatest hits" re-recorded "live" in a studio, then unleashed on the buying public. It's like a tree falling in a forest - if a band makes a live album without an audience, does anybody want to hear it?
I have some favorite moments, like the Kinks' "One For The Road" when Ray Davies starts to noodle around the opening of "Lola", then tells the crowd, "We're not gonna play that one tonight," before acquiescing, "All right, but only if you all sing along." Or maybe when David Byrne strolls out to the middle of an empty stage with a boombox and tells us, "I have a tape I want to play for you," before slamming into an unplugged version of "Psycho Killer". Still, I confess my favorite "live" moment would have to be from the show I saw at Red Rocks. I had no way of knowing that they were taping the show, but you can hear me calling out over the crowd. It wasn't Dave Matthews, or U2, or even The Moody Blues - I was there to hear Steve Martin. You can hear me on track nine of "Wild and Crazy Guy". I'm the one shouting "whoooooo!"
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