The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Michael Jackson, "Thriller" from Thriller (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: The King of Pop is dead, not merely a man—admittedly a profoundly strange man—but a huge part of the childhood of anyone who grew up in the 1980s.
"Darkness falls across the land,
The midnight hour is close at hand.
Creatures crawl in search of blood,
To terrorize your neighborhood.
And whomsoever shall be found
Without the soul for getting down,
Must stand and face the hounds of Hell
And rot inside a corpse's shell.
…
The foulest stench is in the air,
The funk of forty thousand years,
And grisly ghouls from every tomb
Are closing in to seal your doom.
And though you fight to stay alive,
Your body starts to shiver.
For no mere mortal can resist
The evil of the Thriller."
I will brook no mockery of the man, not here, not now. I turn thirty in a month, precisely one month, and 'tis no exaggeration to say Jackson towered like a colossus over the popular culture of the '80s, the decade that introduced my fellows and me to the world. We mourn not so much the man he was as the symbol, we mourn one more nail in the coffin at childhood's end. The King of Rock & Roll died before my peers and I were born and now the King of Pop is dead; I fear our culture has become so fragmented, so balkanized that we shall never see another King. It is nice, indeed so much more than nice, to have a pop cultural touchstone we all can share; even I, misanthropic, introverted I, can see we are all diminished by the lack of such a common touchstone. The King is dead. Long live the notion of the King.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
This Week in Motorsport
Hip hip hooray, Formula One isn't going to fall apart just as I was beginning to love it: F1link. Also, thanks to the modern marvel of videotape, I was able to watch Sunday's British Grand Prix even though I was asleep at the actual time the race was being run on the Silverstone Circuit and in the air when it was (delayed) broadcast on American television. Woot! I knew the winner beforehand, but that's my own fault for waking up to the B.B.C. news on the radio.
The bad news is that the telecast of the British Grand Prix was on icky, icky Fox, but the good news is that N.A.S.C.A.R.-obsessed Fox is (and this is just a guess) too cheap to put together their own, almost certainly inferior broadcast crew; so, they use the same folks who call the F1 action on Speed. This includes audio promos for F1 practice and qualifying coverage on Speed, which raises the question of for whom those chaps formally work? There are seventeen races on the 2009 Formula One calendar, eight are now past, three I have watched, and only four—the Turkish, British, German, and Hungarian Grand Prixes*—are broadcast on Fox. I understand why it would not be worth their while to recruit their own individual broadcast crew, but that still means those men could be temporarily employed by Fox; they might be lent to Fox for a fee by Speed and so still technically in the employ of Speed; or they might be employed by the F.I.A., Formula One's governing body, for use on all Formula One broadcasts in these United States. I am speculating with little initiative to ferret out any answers. In any event, given the horror show that is Fox's B.C.S. coverage, I am glad they use outside contractors for F1.
Next up, the German Grand Prix at the Nürburgring, nicknamed by no less an authority than the irrepressible Jackie Stewart as "the Green Hell." I can't wait!
Science!
Before men from the Planet Earth again set foot upon the Moon, we dispatch our plucky robot scouts. Go forth, you magnificent mechanical minions, make your masters proud! L.R.O.link. Because these reconnaissance missions are a prelude to Project Constellation's manned moonshots, I thought about labeling this a "The Stars My Destination" post, but as you can see I chose to prize consistency above flourish. Plus, those feisty automatons really are marvels of science.
Science!
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Murray Gold & the B.B.C. National Orchestra of Wales, "Doctor Who Theme" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
*Grand prix is of course French for "grand prize" and adopted into English as grand prix, denoting a motorsport race. The French for grand prizes is grands prix (or prix grands according to the Babelfish website of murky reliability), but how to render the plural of the English grand prix? It's easy enough aloud, "grahnd pree" becomes "grahnd preez," but how best to write that? Grand Prixs or Grand Prixes? A puzzlement. I wrote Grand Prixes, but I'm not really sold on the idea.
Hip hip hooray, Formula One isn't going to fall apart just as I was beginning to love it: F1link. Also, thanks to the modern marvel of videotape, I was able to watch Sunday's British Grand Prix even though I was asleep at the actual time the race was being run on the Silverstone Circuit and in the air when it was (delayed) broadcast on American television. Woot! I knew the winner beforehand, but that's my own fault for waking up to the B.B.C. news on the radio.
The bad news is that the telecast of the British Grand Prix was on icky, icky Fox, but the good news is that N.A.S.C.A.R.-obsessed Fox is (and this is just a guess) too cheap to put together their own, almost certainly inferior broadcast crew; so, they use the same folks who call the F1 action on Speed. This includes audio promos for F1 practice and qualifying coverage on Speed, which raises the question of for whom those chaps formally work? There are seventeen races on the 2009 Formula One calendar, eight are now past, three I have watched, and only four—the Turkish, British, German, and Hungarian Grand Prixes*—are broadcast on Fox. I understand why it would not be worth their while to recruit their own individual broadcast crew, but that still means those men could be temporarily employed by Fox; they might be lent to Fox for a fee by Speed and so still technically in the employ of Speed; or they might be employed by the F.I.A., Formula One's governing body, for use on all Formula One broadcasts in these United States. I am speculating with little initiative to ferret out any answers. In any event, given the horror show that is Fox's B.C.S. coverage, I am glad they use outside contractors for F1.
Next up, the German Grand Prix at the Nürburgring, nicknamed by no less an authority than the irrepressible Jackie Stewart as "the Green Hell." I can't wait!
Science!
Before men from the Planet Earth again set foot upon the Moon, we dispatch our plucky robot scouts. Go forth, you magnificent mechanical minions, make your masters proud! L.R.O.link. Because these reconnaissance missions are a prelude to Project Constellation's manned moonshots, I thought about labeling this a "The Stars My Destination" post, but as you can see I chose to prize consistency above flourish. Plus, those feisty automatons really are marvels of science.
Science!
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Murray Gold & the B.B.C. National Orchestra of Wales, "Doctor Who Theme" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
*Grand prix is of course French for "grand prize" and adopted into English as grand prix, denoting a motorsport race. The French for grand prizes is grands prix (or prix grands according to the Babelfish website of murky reliability), but how to render the plural of the English grand prix? It's easy enough aloud, "grahnd pree" becomes "grahnd preez," but how best to write that? Grand Prixs or Grand Prixes? A puzzlement. I wrote Grand Prixes, but I'm not really sold on the idea.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
L.A. Story 3: Rock Star Treatment
This past weekend, I was treated to an all-expenses paid trip to Los Angeles to play my part, literally, in completing the follow up to Good or Suck!, the long-in-coming and highly-anticipated sophomore album by Real Can of Yams, CODENAME: Koala. The title was determined around the same time Good or Suck! was finished in 2001, but it's more appropriate to say work began on the album three years ago instead of eight, for 2006 was when K. Steeze began work in earnest. And though R.C.Y. is a five-member band, His Steeziness has put forth eighty to ninety percent of the work himself: writing most of the songs, performing both guitar and bass guitar, and producing and mixing the whole shebang. Blue Tree Whacking is a mutual admiration society, but in this case all the admiration is owed toward he of the blue and orange, our fearless leader, K. Steeze. Wherever you are, at home or at work, alone or in a crowd, give him a round of applause; he more than deserves the hand, it and so much more.
For only the second time in my experience, air travel proved bothersome. Many people have complained about Northwest Airlines over the years, but I always found the service to be highly satisfactory. However, the merger with Delta Air Lines has proven detrimental to service; three of my four flights ran significantly behind schedule, by an average of fifty minutes. I understand that the best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry and I am not unsympathetic to the problems that must face such a major enterprise day-in and day-out, but I am also a judgmental cur who does not take kindly to being inconvenienced. My intention is never again to fly Northwest or Delta, and I have informed them of this intent in writing, or at least electronic writing.
The Dreadful Sick
My condition is much improved from yesterday, though I am not yet back up to snuff. I pretend to neither strength nor stoicism, I detest being sick and whine incessantly when suffering the slightest ailment. My attitude toward illness is a modification of a timeless line by Daffy Duck, "I'm not like other people. I can't stand pain, it hurts me." My throat began burning on Sunday, and I awoke Monday with a headache borne of clogged sinuses, a minor but persistent dizziness owing to the same cause, and an occasional but quite violent cough. I could feel that my lungs were not as they should have been. Most of all, I was seized by a profound lethargy. I turned in very early last night and slept fitfully. I awoke many times in the night and early this morning, which is most unusual for me as I normally sleep like the dead. Nevertheless, the fever of yesterday is significantly reduced if not totally subsided and I feel much more like myself, though still a version of myself with a stuffy nose that is yielding disquieting quantities of snot, and one still plagued by an occasional though far less violent cough. Oh, I hate being sick.
Teddy's baptism into the heretical Lutheran church is this weekend and I must appear to be the picture of good health if I'm to have any chance of holding my infant nephew. Heal, man, heal like the wind!
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "Michael and Heather at the Baggage Claim" from Traffic and Weather (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: As anyone who has ever witnessed my air travels can attest, my luggage is quite distinctive; I never experience the slightest difficulty in identifying my suitcases on the baggage carousel. Hoorah for customization.
Also, alas and alack, this Michael was traveling alone without the delightful accompaniment of a lovely and charming Heather.
This past weekend, I was treated to an all-expenses paid trip to Los Angeles to play my part, literally, in completing the follow up to Good or Suck!, the long-in-coming and highly-anticipated sophomore album by Real Can of Yams, CODENAME: Koala. The title was determined around the same time Good or Suck! was finished in 2001, but it's more appropriate to say work began on the album three years ago instead of eight, for 2006 was when K. Steeze began work in earnest. And though R.C.Y. is a five-member band, His Steeziness has put forth eighty to ninety percent of the work himself: writing most of the songs, performing both guitar and bass guitar, and producing and mixing the whole shebang. Blue Tree Whacking is a mutual admiration society, but in this case all the admiration is owed toward he of the blue and orange, our fearless leader, K. Steeze. Wherever you are, at home or at work, alone or in a crowd, give him a round of applause; he more than deserves the hand, it and so much more.
For only the second time in my experience, air travel proved bothersome. Many people have complained about Northwest Airlines over the years, but I always found the service to be highly satisfactory. However, the merger with Delta Air Lines has proven detrimental to service; three of my four flights ran significantly behind schedule, by an average of fifty minutes. I understand that the best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry and I am not unsympathetic to the problems that must face such a major enterprise day-in and day-out, but I am also a judgmental cur who does not take kindly to being inconvenienced. My intention is never again to fly Northwest or Delta, and I have informed them of this intent in writing, or at least electronic writing.
The Dreadful Sick
My condition is much improved from yesterday, though I am not yet back up to snuff. I pretend to neither strength nor stoicism, I detest being sick and whine incessantly when suffering the slightest ailment. My attitude toward illness is a modification of a timeless line by Daffy Duck, "I'm not like other people. I can't stand pain, it hurts me." My throat began burning on Sunday, and I awoke Monday with a headache borne of clogged sinuses, a minor but persistent dizziness owing to the same cause, and an occasional but quite violent cough. I could feel that my lungs were not as they should have been. Most of all, I was seized by a profound lethargy. I turned in very early last night and slept fitfully. I awoke many times in the night and early this morning, which is most unusual for me as I normally sleep like the dead. Nevertheless, the fever of yesterday is significantly reduced if not totally subsided and I feel much more like myself, though still a version of myself with a stuffy nose that is yielding disquieting quantities of snot, and one still plagued by an occasional though far less violent cough. Oh, I hate being sick.
Teddy's baptism into the heretical Lutheran church is this weekend and I must appear to be the picture of good health if I'm to have any chance of holding my infant nephew. Heal, man, heal like the wind!
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "Michael and Heather at the Baggage Claim" from Traffic and Weather (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: As anyone who has ever witnessed my air travels can attest, my luggage is quite distinctive; I never experience the slightest difficulty in identifying my suitcases on the baggage carousel. Hoorah for customization.
Also, alas and alack, this Michael was traveling alone without the delightful accompaniment of a lovely and charming Heather.
Monday, June 22, 2009
The Queue
Recently
Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express
David M. Friedman, The Immortalists: Charles Lindbergh, Dr. Alexis Carrel, and Their Daring Quest to Live Forever
William Strunk Jr. & E. B. White, The Elements of Style Fourth Edition
Currently
Nick Hornby, Shakespeare Wrote For Money
Presently
G. K. Chesterton, Eugenics and Other Evils: An Argument Against the Scientifically Organized State
Agatha Christie, Three Act Tragedy
G. K. Chesterton, The Man Who Was Thursday: A Nightmare
Agatha Christie, Cards on the Table
Francie Lin, The Foreigner
Agatha Christie, Murder at the Vicarage
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
"Weird Al" Yankovic, "Callin' in Sick" from Bad Hair Day (T.L.A.M.)
Sonntag, 21 Juni
Fountains of Wayne, "Seatbacks and Traytables" from Traffic and Weather (T.L.A.M.)
Samstag, 20 Juni
The Hippos, "Los Angeles" from The Hippos (T.L.A.M.)
Freitag, 19 Juni
Less Than Jake, "Hell Looks a Lot Like L.A." from Borders & Boundaries (T.L.A.M.)
Donnerstag, 18 Juni
Bad Religion, "Los Angeles is Burning" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
Recently
Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express
David M. Friedman, The Immortalists: Charles Lindbergh, Dr. Alexis Carrel, and Their Daring Quest to Live Forever
William Strunk Jr. & E. B. White, The Elements of Style Fourth Edition
Currently
Nick Hornby, Shakespeare Wrote For Money
Presently
G. K. Chesterton, Eugenics and Other Evils: An Argument Against the Scientifically Organized State
Agatha Christie, Three Act Tragedy
G. K. Chesterton, The Man Who Was Thursday: A Nightmare
Agatha Christie, Cards on the Table
Francie Lin, The Foreigner
Agatha Christie, Murder at the Vicarage
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
"Weird Al" Yankovic, "Callin' in Sick" from Bad Hair Day (T.L.A.M.)
Sonntag, 21 Juni
Fountains of Wayne, "Seatbacks and Traytables" from Traffic and Weather (T.L.A.M.)
Samstag, 20 Juni
The Hippos, "Los Angeles" from The Hippos (T.L.A.M.)
Freitag, 19 Juni
Less Than Jake, "Hell Looks a Lot Like L.A." from Borders & Boundaries (T.L.A.M.)
Donnerstag, 18 Juni
Bad Religion, "Los Angeles is Burning" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I suggested to Skeeter last week that after repaying all my debts I might use my as-yet-hypothetical Jeopardy! winnings, assuming they are of sufficient quantity, to purchase either a new Chevrolet Camaro or a Chevrolet Volt. She replied, "Camaro, ye gods, i'll make you a t-shirt that says 'douchebag' and save you $25,000." I laughed and laughed and laughed; man alive, Skeeter's awesome! Of course, though I cannot deny the raw, animal appeal of the Camaro, there is a very practical reason why I would not buy one, even were I flush with cash and willing to declare publicly my status as a douchebag: I do not know how to operate a manual transmission. It is farcical, if not abominable, for any performance vehicle (I've never been clear on the distinction between a muscle car and a pony car) such as the Camaro, the Chevrolet Corvette, the Ford Mustang, or the Dodge Challenger, et al., to be equipped with an automatic transmission; in this I am a purist and have been for as long as I can remember. There is also a quite formidable psychological barrier to my hypothetical purchase of a Camaro, but for now the simple fact that I would not acquire such a motor car without a manual transmission and yet would be unable to drive a motor car so equipped shall suffice as a disincentive.
Unfortunately, I've been researching the Volt and it seems my mind's eye image was of the '06 Volt concept car. The forthcoming production version of the Volt is substantially different in its appearance, and not at all for the better. I admit that Lumi, a '95 Chevrolet Lumina, is hardly the most distinctive of automobiles, but the Volt is the very definition of generic dullness. Petroleum is one of the world's great treasures, and it is indefensible of us to waste is as fuel for motor cars when there are alternatives within reach should we make use of our hard-won scientific acumen. Perhaps the self-satisfaction of no longer squandering precious petroleum as petrol would adequately compensate me for the Volt's blatant aesthetic shortcomings?
Of course, the success of Objective ZED ALPHA is yet an unknown; so, perhaps I should focus on training to accrue those "Jeopardy! winnings" before I mentally spend them?
Science!
Fusion confusion: I.T.E.R.link. A tokamak… to contain the very power of a sun! *insert maniacal laughter here*
Science!
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "AKA Driver" from John Henry (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: "AKA Driver" a.k.a. "NyQuil Driver." I once fell asleep while driving. 'Twas a terrifying experience, one I have made determined efforts never to repeat.
Unfortunately, I've been researching the Volt and it seems my mind's eye image was of the '06 Volt concept car. The forthcoming production version of the Volt is substantially different in its appearance, and not at all for the better. I admit that Lumi, a '95 Chevrolet Lumina, is hardly the most distinctive of automobiles, but the Volt is the very definition of generic dullness. Petroleum is one of the world's great treasures, and it is indefensible of us to waste is as fuel for motor cars when there are alternatives within reach should we make use of our hard-won scientific acumen. Perhaps the self-satisfaction of no longer squandering precious petroleum as petrol would adequately compensate me for the Volt's blatant aesthetic shortcomings?
Of course, the success of Objective ZED ALPHA is yet an unknown; so, perhaps I should focus on training to accrue those "Jeopardy! winnings" before I mentally spend them?
Science!
Fusion confusion: I.T.E.R.link. A tokamak… to contain the very power of a sun! *insert maniacal laughter here*
Science!
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "AKA Driver" from John Henry (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: "AKA Driver" a.k.a. "NyQuil Driver." I once fell asleep while driving. 'Twas a terrifying experience, one I have made determined efforts never to repeat.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Welcome to the summer sports doldrums. I actively despise baseball, I've only a casual interest in tennis, and though I like basketball I disdain the N.B.A. (and in any event their season's just wrapped up); so, from where I sit basketball's been through since the end of March Madness in, curiously, April. (Kind of like how very nearly all of Oktoberfest is in September. Lunacy!) The over-long hockey season is at an end, and what a dispiriting end 'twas, and there are yet several months before I can stomach any talk of football. What E.S.P.N. and the No Fun League seem not to grasp is that one of the major draws of football is its scarcity: games are played in only a fraction of the year, whetting the appetite during the lengthy off-season. N.F.L. Live is broadcast all the year 'round, a farce is ever there was one. So, even with my budding fandom of motorsport, specifically Formula One and the sacred 24 Hours of Le Mans, summer is still the least sporting time of the year, after a fashion. There nothing for it, and the annual ritual of complaining does nothing to remedy the shortage, but it is a tradition on its own right, and tradition is important. So, welcome to the summer sports doldrums. Pull up a chair and have a lemonade.
Obamboozled
We can, however, still argue about politics, what with our charlatan president's plan to socialize the health care system and place an empathetic soft-racist on the Supreme Court. Plus, fun and games in exotic Persia. But not tonight, my sleep schedule is still screwed up from Le Mans and I'm tired (and whiny, he added with a wink) from mowing the lawn this late afternoon/evening. Plenty of time to mock our charlatan president later.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
John Linnell, "Montana" from State Songs (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary:
"Now I get it.
I'll tell the person next to me,
And then haul off and die."
Obamboozled
We can, however, still argue about politics, what with our charlatan president's plan to socialize the health care system and place an empathetic soft-racist on the Supreme Court. Plus, fun and games in exotic Persia. But not tonight, my sleep schedule is still screwed up from Le Mans and I'm tired (and whiny, he added with a wink) from mowing the lawn this late afternoon/evening. Plenty of time to mock our charlatan president later.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
John Linnell, "Montana" from State Songs (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary:
"Now I get it.
I'll tell the person next to me,
And then haul off and die."
Sunday, June 14, 2009
24 Heures du Mans - Afterglow
The B.B.C. Sport page is less easily navigable than B.B.C. News, but I found what I was looking for: storylink and photolink. Take the time to peruse the slideshow and you'll see Dr. McDreamy, a gorgeous Gulf Oil liveried Aston Martin, and the type of hardcore spectator I aspire to be.
Baby-in-L.A.W.
I'm going to be an uncle. Again. The L.A.W., who in her teens and twenties vowed repeatedly never to bear any offspring, is preggers and she and Brother-in-L.A.W. are expecting little Nephew-in-L.A.W. or Niece-in-L.A.W. in December. Since The L.A.W.'s own birthday is in the month twixt November and January, I am really hoping the stork arrives on that very day to make it a two-for-one! Sweet Aunt Petunia, it's raining babies.
I spoke to Teddy's Dad after we heard the news and he asked my advice on being an uncle. I had precious little to share with him, because (a) Teddy's yet very wee and my interactions with him were by virtue of his extreme youth quite limited and (b) since Teddy's Mom was loathe to let me either hold the lad or even photograph him, though everyone else around was encouraged to hold him aplenty and take all the snapshots their hearts desired, I harbor serious doubts that I'll ever be allowed to have any manner of substantial relationship with my nephew.
Let the world be forewarned, the Wilsons are breeding.
Believe
Come Monday, let the recriminations begin. Hossa, Stuart, I'm looking in your directions. The 24 Hours of Le Mans was the perfect antidote to Friday's devastating humiliation, but the work to reclaim Lord Stanley's Cup begins tomorrow and the first step is identifying what went so terribly awry.
The B.B.C. Sport page is less easily navigable than B.B.C. News, but I found what I was looking for: storylink and photolink. Take the time to peruse the slideshow and you'll see Dr. McDreamy, a gorgeous Gulf Oil liveried Aston Martin, and the type of hardcore spectator I aspire to be.
Baby-in-L.A.W.
I'm going to be an uncle. Again. The L.A.W., who in her teens and twenties vowed repeatedly never to bear any offspring, is preggers and she and Brother-in-L.A.W. are expecting little Nephew-in-L.A.W. or Niece-in-L.A.W. in December. Since The L.A.W.'s own birthday is in the month twixt November and January, I am really hoping the stork arrives on that very day to make it a two-for-one! Sweet Aunt Petunia, it's raining babies.
I spoke to Teddy's Dad after we heard the news and he asked my advice on being an uncle. I had precious little to share with him, because (a) Teddy's yet very wee and my interactions with him were by virtue of his extreme youth quite limited and (b) since Teddy's Mom was loathe to let me either hold the lad or even photograph him, though everyone else around was encouraged to hold him aplenty and take all the snapshots their hearts desired, I harbor serious doubts that I'll ever be allowed to have any manner of substantial relationship with my nephew.
Let the world be forewarned, the Wilsons are breeding.
Believe
Come Monday, let the recriminations begin. Hossa, Stuart, I'm looking in your directions. The 24 Hours of Le Mans was the perfect antidote to Friday's devastating humiliation, but the work to reclaim Lord Stanley's Cup begins tomorrow and the first step is identifying what went so terribly awry.
24 Heures du Mans - Finale
"The Lion has roared!" Peugeot wins. Really quite dominantly Peugeot finished both first and second, with Audi third and the gorgeous Gulf Oil Aston Martin car numbered 007 in fourth, just off the podium. The third Peugeot 908 finished in, I think, sixth place, which is impressive as this was the Peugeot that received the worst of the pit lane collision described in yesterday's first Le Mans post. I awoke at the same time I did the day before, and as that put me in a position to watch the half-hour leading up to the beginning o the 24 Hours, this afforded me the chance to watch only the last half-hour of the race. By that time, Peugeot had already bested Audi and could only have been undone by a dual disaster, yet this did curiously little to dampen my enjoyment of those last few precious moments. It was quite a sight as the three Peugeots got into formation to finish the "Grand Prix of Endurance" together, a fitting theatrical end to such a monumental undertaking.
Reflections on my first Le Mans: What an amazing spectacle, the 24 Hours of Le Mans is even more thrilling and entrancing than I'd hoped. Next year, with some experience under my belt, I will more effectively schedule my entire weekend around the race, sleeping more beforehand and less during the race so that I might see more of Sunday's racing. Also, during his summation/farewell one of the Speed announcers said simply, "You must come to Le Mans." I agree wholeheartedly, I must go to Le Mans.
Now, whilst I add Le Mans attendance to CADMUS, I must also figure out how I might entice my kith and kin to embrace motorsport as I have, or at least to open their eyes to the majesty of the 24 Hours of Le Mans. You'll be hearing more from me on this, and I suggest capitulation as the preferable alternate to resistance.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Less Than Jake, "24 Hours in Paramus" from Losers, Kings, and Things We Don't Understand (T.L.A.M.)
Saturday, June 13, 2009
The Queue
I finished Murder on the Orient Express this afternoon in the bath, during a lull in the live television coverage of the 24 Hours of Le Mans. I read the first approximately forty pages of The Immortalists last year, but abandoned it so as to devote more fully my attention and mental energies to Project TROIKA. So, does my reading of the book now call into question my focus on Project TRITON? I don't think so, I can feel the ideas churned away and taking shape in the more unconscious part of my mind, but I shall remain watchful and if I seem not to be devoting the proper attention to TRITON, I'll suspend my leisure reading until after the Michaelmas deadline.
Recently
Agatha Christie, And Then There Were None a.k.a. Ten Little Indians a.k.a. Ten Little Niggers
Agatha Christie, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express
Currently
David M. Friedman, The Immortalists: Charles Lindbergh, Dr. Alexis Carrel, and Their Daring Quest to Live Forever
Presently
Nick Hornby, Shakespeare Wrote For Money
Agatha Christie, Three Act Tragedy
Francie Lin, The Foreigner
Agatha Christie, Cards on the Table
Agatha Christie, Murder at the Vicarage
…
Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Michael Giacchino, "Speed Racer" from Speed Racer: Original Motion Picture Score (T.L.A.M.)
I finished Murder on the Orient Express this afternoon in the bath, during a lull in the live television coverage of the 24 Hours of Le Mans. I read the first approximately forty pages of The Immortalists last year, but abandoned it so as to devote more fully my attention and mental energies to Project TROIKA. So, does my reading of the book now call into question my focus on Project TRITON? I don't think so, I can feel the ideas churned away and taking shape in the more unconscious part of my mind, but I shall remain watchful and if I seem not to be devoting the proper attention to TRITON, I'll suspend my leisure reading until after the Michaelmas deadline.
Recently
Agatha Christie, And Then There Were None a.k.a. Ten Little Indians a.k.a. Ten Little Niggers
Agatha Christie, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express
Currently
David M. Friedman, The Immortalists: Charles Lindbergh, Dr. Alexis Carrel, and Their Daring Quest to Live Forever
Presently
Nick Hornby, Shakespeare Wrote For Money
Agatha Christie, Three Act Tragedy
Francie Lin, The Foreigner
Agatha Christie, Cards on the Table
Agatha Christie, Murder at the Vicarage
…
Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Michael Giacchino, "Speed Racer" from Speed Racer: Original Motion Picture Score (T.L.A.M.)
24 Heures du Mans - 12:01:00
They've been racing since this morning and yet there is as much ahead as there is behind. This is the grandest type of madness, men and machines pushed to their breaking point and, in many cases, beyond. The 24 Hours of Le Mans is run at incredible velocities, but it is not at its heart a test of speed, it is a test of endurance. And once endurance is mentioned, it cannot help but call to mind the family motto of Sir Ernest Shackleton, "By endurance we conquer." How apropos to the Circuit de la Sarthe.
Also, this midpoint of the race occurs in the middle of the night on site. 'Tis three o'clock in the morning in France, the dead of night. They begin in the bright sunshine of Saturday afternoon, then plunge into the depths of darkness overnight, emerge into the dawn of Sunday, and finish in the mid-afternoon sunshine. This is so much like a drill we did back on the G.B.H.S. Boys' Swimming & Diving Team, "the descent into darkness." We saw 100s, one hundred yards at a go. 100 after 100 after 100, each on a set interval. And as we pounded away at the yards, Coach Day turned out the overhead lights, set by set. Eventually, all the ceiling lights were dimmed and we swam in an eerie twilight, the entire space aglow, lit aquamarine by the pool lights. I think we hit "bottom" about two-thirds of the way through, and after that the overheads were turned back on in sequence. A test of endurance, replete with a plunge into darkness, from the swim team that furnished so many of the most formative experiences of my life; given the similarities, how could I help but love the 24 Hours of Le Mans?
They've been racing since this morning and yet there is as much ahead as there is behind. This is the grandest type of madness, men and machines pushed to their breaking point and, in many cases, beyond. The 24 Hours of Le Mans is run at incredible velocities, but it is not at its heart a test of speed, it is a test of endurance. And once endurance is mentioned, it cannot help but call to mind the family motto of Sir Ernest Shackleton, "By endurance we conquer." How apropos to the Circuit de la Sarthe.
Also, this midpoint of the race occurs in the middle of the night on site. 'Tis three o'clock in the morning in France, the dead of night. They begin in the bright sunshine of Saturday afternoon, then plunge into the depths of darkness overnight, emerge into the dawn of Sunday, and finish in the mid-afternoon sunshine. This is so much like a drill we did back on the G.B.H.S. Boys' Swimming & Diving Team, "the descent into darkness." We saw 100s, one hundred yards at a go. 100 after 100 after 100, each on a set interval. And as we pounded away at the yards, Coach Day turned out the overhead lights, set by set. Eventually, all the ceiling lights were dimmed and we swam in an eerie twilight, the entire space aglow, lit aquamarine by the pool lights. I think we hit "bottom" about two-thirds of the way through, and after that the overheads were turned back on in sequence. A test of endurance, replete with a plunge into darkness, from the swim team that furnished so many of the most formative experiences of my life; given the similarities, how could I help but love the 24 Hours of Le Mans?
24 Heures du Mans - 15:09:00
It makes perfect sense that now that darkness the television coverage is focusing far more on the pits and far less on the course. It makes perfect sense, but it makes for less than perfect television viewing. Oy, I might have to try and rise at or near ye olde crack of dawn (in America) to catch tomorrow's early afternoon (in France) action. And this is what's so great about Le Mans: they've been racing for almost nine hours, since 9:00 a.m. this morning, and the race isn't even halfway over. So gloriously insane.
It makes perfect sense that now that darkness the television coverage is focusing far more on the pits and far less on the course. It makes perfect sense, but it makes for less than perfect television viewing. Oy, I might have to try and rise at or near ye olde crack of dawn (in America) to catch tomorrow's early afternoon (in France) action. And this is what's so great about Le Mans: they've been racing for almost nine hours, since 9:00 a.m. this morning, and the race isn't even halfway over. So gloriously insane.
24 Heures du Mans - 20:59:00
So ends the first stint of Speed's live coverage of the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Woo hoo! I'm having a heck of a time, nervously watching as the Audis fail to gain any ground on the Peugeots and wondering if the trailing petrol-fueled Aston Martins (and a correction from earlier, there are at least two and possibly three Aston Martins sporting the wicked cool Gulf Oil livery) have a chance against the diesel-fueled French and German leaders.
There's a whole day of racing on offer, ladies and gentlemen, and still plenty of time to get caught up in the excitement. Live coverage resumes at 4:30 p.m. E.D.T., and will continue periodically through to the finish tomorrow morning (mid-afternoon in France). To paraphrase Futurama, "Le Mans Fever - Contract It!"
So ends the first stint of Speed's live coverage of the 24 Hours of Le Mans. Woo hoo! I'm having a heck of a time, nervously watching as the Audis fail to gain any ground on the Peugeots and wondering if the trailing petrol-fueled Aston Martins (and a correction from earlier, there are at least two and possibly three Aston Martins sporting the wicked cool Gulf Oil livery) have a chance against the diesel-fueled French and German leaders.
There's a whole day of racing on offer, ladies and gentlemen, and still plenty of time to get caught up in the excitement. Live coverage resumes at 4:30 p.m. E.D.T., and will continue periodically through to the finish tomorrow morning (mid-afternoon in France). To paraphrase Futurama, "Le Mans Fever - Contract It!"
24 Heures du Mans - 22:53:00
The first hour was thrilling. Already, the super fast Peugeots have been plagued by the strategic ineptitude that cost them the '08 Le Mans. (My knowledge of the 2008 running of the 24 Hours of Le Mans comes entirely from the documentary Truth in 24, a behind-the-scenes look at the winning Audi team.) Two Peugeots collided: one emerging from the pits was clipped by another entering, and the struck car then proceeded to disintegrate its left rear quarter, leaving debris strewn all over the course as it struggled to complete the eight and a half mile Circuit de la Sarthe and reenter the pit lane.
Also, one of the Aston Martins is sporting the classic pale blue and orange livery of Gulf Oil. Jumpin' Jack Pratt, it is so beautiful!
The first hour was thrilling. Already, the super fast Peugeots have been plagued by the strategic ineptitude that cost them the '08 Le Mans. (My knowledge of the 2008 running of the 24 Hours of Le Mans comes entirely from the documentary Truth in 24, a behind-the-scenes look at the winning Audi team.) Two Peugeots collided: one emerging from the pits was clipped by another entering, and the struck car then proceeded to disintegrate its left rear quarter, leaving debris strewn all over the course as it struggled to complete the eight and a half mile Circuit de la Sarthe and reenter the pit lane.
Also, one of the Aston Martins is sporting the classic pale blue and orange livery of Gulf Oil. Jumpin' Jack Pratt, it is so beautiful!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Believe: Penguins 2-1 Red Wings
Fifteen down, none to go. Best of seven: Pittsburgh 4-3 Detroit.
My congratulations to the Pittsburgh Penguins, 2009 Stanley Cup Champions. The better team won, the teamed that wanted it more, the team that tried harder and fought smarter. They deserved the win and the glory it brings.
We have no one to blame but ourselves, our own indolence and apathy. But now is not the time for that. Tonight and tomorrow, we mourn. Sunday we honor God Almighty. Come Monday, let the recriminations begin.
Believe that hard work beats talent unless talent works hard.
Fifteen down, none to go. Best of seven: Pittsburgh 4-3 Detroit.
My congratulations to the Pittsburgh Penguins, 2009 Stanley Cup Champions. The better team won, the teamed that wanted it more, the team that tried harder and fought smarter. They deserved the win and the glory it brings.
We have no one to blame but ourselves, our own indolence and apathy. But now is not the time for that. Tonight and tomorrow, we mourn. Sunday we honor God Almighty. Come Monday, let the recriminations begin.
Believe that hard work beats talent unless talent works hard.
Believe
2nd Intermission: Penguins 2-0 Red Wings.
Best of seven: Pittsburgh 3-3 Detroit.
Normally, I'd have typed "Best of seven: Detroit 3-3 Pittsburgh," but since we are doing our damnedest to hand those curs the Stanley Cup, I thought I'd go ahead and acknowledge their inevitable victory with "Best of seven: Pittsburgh 3-3 Detroit." Why is the Penguins' victory inevitable? Because we don't seem to give a damn. We've got no energy, we've got no speed, and we've got no skill. I don't care if this sounds unreasonably harsh, but we're playing like a Dave Lewis-coached team: a bunch of highly-skilled, well-paid nancy boys who don't care a single iota whether we win or lose.
Please pardon my language, but… fuck! Fuuuuuuuck! FUCK!
Believe.
Fuck.
2nd Intermission: Penguins 2-0 Red Wings.
Best of seven: Pittsburgh 3-3 Detroit.
Normally, I'd have typed "Best of seven: Detroit 3-3 Pittsburgh," but since we are doing our damnedest to hand those curs the Stanley Cup, I thought I'd go ahead and acknowledge their inevitable victory with "Best of seven: Pittsburgh 3-3 Detroit." Why is the Penguins' victory inevitable? Because we don't seem to give a damn. We've got no energy, we've got no speed, and we've got no skill. I don't care if this sounds unreasonably harsh, but we're playing like a Dave Lewis-coached team: a bunch of highly-skilled, well-paid nancy boys who don't care a single iota whether we win or lose.
Please pardon my language, but… fuck! Fuuuuuuuck! FUCK!
Believe.
Fuck.
Believe: Game 7
Fifteen down, one to go. Best of seven: Detroit 3-3 Pittsburgh.
One game to decide Lord Stanley's Cup. I do not believe in destiny, but I do believe in the Detroit Red Wings. I believe in home ice. I believe in victory. Go Wings!
Believe.
This Week in Motorsport
Tomorrow begins the 24 Hours of Le Mans, in the language of the host country the 24 Heures du Mans! My budding love of motor car racing traces back to one wellspring of inspiration, Steve McQueen's film Le Mans, the perfect motion picture about racing. I missed the running of Le Mans last year, not thinking that perhaps I'd like to watch some of it until several weeks after it had been run, but not this year! The hour is nearly at hand.
I am going to see the start of the race live from France. The race begins promptly at 3:00 p.m. local time, which is 9:00 a.m. here in the Eastern Time Zone, a beastly hour to be awake on a Saturday, the one day of the week when one may freely sleep in, but the 24 Hours of Le Mans comes but once a year, and as I hope to make this an annual event, I want to get off on the right foot. Woot!
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Jason Alexander, "Believe It or Not (George Isn't at Home)" from the Seinfeld episode "The Susie" (T.L.A.M.)
Donnerstag, 11 Juni
The Puppini Sisters, "It's Not Over (Death or the Toy Piano)" from The Rise and Fall of Ruby Woo (T.L.A.M.)
Mittwoch, 10 Juni
The Skatalites, "Trip to Mars" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
Dienstag, 9 Juni
The Proclaimers, "My Old Friend the Blues" from Sunshine on Leith (T.L.A.M.)
Montag, 8 Juni
The Wombats, "Little Miss Pipedream" from A Guide to Love, Loss & Desperation (T.L.A.M.)
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The National Youth Jazz Orchestra, "The Taking of Pelham One Two Three" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: I am begging each of you not to see the new film The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3. John Travolta stars in a roll originally played by the late Robert Shaw. Please, please do nothing to support this travesty. I will mail my D.V.D. of the 1974 film, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, starring Shaw as "Mr. Blue" and Walter Mathau as Lt. Garber, to anyone who wishes to see it; additionally, I own the novel upon which that film was based and am willing to loan it to anyone wishing to read the source material. Do not see The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3, take a stand against Hollywood's parade of soulless remakes, the remorseless pillaging of our cinematic heritage. I thank you.
The National Youth Jazz Orchestra, "The Taking of Pelham One Two Three" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: I am begging each of you not to see the new film The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3. John Travolta stars in a roll originally played by the late Robert Shaw. Please, please do nothing to support this travesty. I will mail my D.V.D. of the 1974 film, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, starring Shaw as "Mr. Blue" and Walter Mathau as Lt. Garber, to anyone who wishes to see it; additionally, I own the novel upon which that film was based and am willing to loan it to anyone wishing to read the source material. Do not see The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3, take a stand against Hollywood's parade of soulless remakes, the remorseless pillaging of our cinematic heritage. I thank you.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Believe: Red Wings 5-0 Penguins
Fifteen down, one to go! Best of seven: Detroit 3-2 Pittsburgh.
All class, Pittsburgh, all class.
Detroit Alternate Captain Pavel Datsyuk (the A is for alternate, kids, not assistant) is a finalist for the Hart Trophy as M.V.P. of the entire N.H.L.; you can't lack a player of that caliber and expect it not to make a difference. Had Datsyuk been healthy all the way through, this series might well be over. But let's not speculate. For tonight, let's rejoice that sanity has returned to the Stanley Cup Finals (I hate that the N.H.L. is calling it the "Stanley Cup Final." Final? There's more than one game, you twats, making this the Finals, plural!), and toast to the fact that our Russian is better than their Russian. Go Wings!
Believe.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "Cyclops Rock" from Mink Car (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: When you think cyclops, please think of Polyphemus, not Scott Summers. I thank you.
Fifteen down, one to go! Best of seven: Detroit 3-2 Pittsburgh.
All class, Pittsburgh, all class.
Detroit Alternate Captain Pavel Datsyuk (the A is for alternate, kids, not assistant) is a finalist for the Hart Trophy as M.V.P. of the entire N.H.L.; you can't lack a player of that caliber and expect it not to make a difference. Had Datsyuk been healthy all the way through, this series might well be over. But let's not speculate. For tonight, let's rejoice that sanity has returned to the Stanley Cup Finals (I hate that the N.H.L. is calling it the "Stanley Cup Final." Final? There's more than one game, you twats, making this the Finals, plural!), and toast to the fact that our Russian is better than their Russian. Go Wings!
Believe.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might Be Giants, "Cyclops Rock" from Mink Car (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: When you think cyclops, please think of Polyphemus, not Scott Summers. I thank you.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Believe: Penguins 4-2 Red Wings
Fourteen down, two to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-2 Pittsburgh.
It may very well take all seven games, but we are not going to lose this series. We threw away a tremendous opportunity this evening—and have no doubt that we threw away the opportunity, the Penguins did not take it from us—but we are far from bested. The Pens have skill and enthusiasm, but the Red Wings have the fire of champions. After our pathetic, lazy showings in Games 3 & 4 only a fool would insist that things don't looks bleak. They look bleak, they look very, very bleak, but appearances can be deceiving. Mark my words, when all is said and done the captain parading Lord Stanley's Cup around the arena, and that could be either The Joe or the Igloo, will be Nicklas Lidstrom not Sidney Crosby. This I believe.
Believe.
Now to watch tonight's D.V.R.ed season premiere of Burn Notice. We Mike W.s have to stick together.
Fourteen down, two to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-2 Pittsburgh.
It may very well take all seven games, but we are not going to lose this series. We threw away a tremendous opportunity this evening—and have no doubt that we threw away the opportunity, the Penguins did not take it from us—but we are far from bested. The Pens have skill and enthusiasm, but the Red Wings have the fire of champions. After our pathetic, lazy showings in Games 3 & 4 only a fool would insist that things don't looks bleak. They look bleak, they look very, very bleak, but appearances can be deceiving. Mark my words, when all is said and done the captain parading Lord Stanley's Cup around the arena, and that could be either The Joe or the Igloo, will be Nicklas Lidstrom not Sidney Crosby. This I believe.
Believe.
Now to watch tonight's D.V.R.ed season premiere of Burn Notice. We Mike W.s have to stick together.
Believe
2nd Intermission: Penguins 4-2 Red Wings
Best of seven: Detroit 2-1 Pittsburgh
Scheiße! This is the moment to look within and ask yourself: Do I really believe or do I just say I believe?
Kramer: "Who wants to have some fun?"
Jerry: "I do."
George: "I do."
Kramer: "Now, are you just saying you want to have fun or do you really want to have fun?"
Jerry: "I really want to have fun."
George: "I'm just saying I want to have some fun."
Remember when.
Me? I believe.
2nd Intermission: Penguins 4-2 Red Wings
Best of seven: Detroit 2-1 Pittsburgh
Scheiße! This is the moment to look within and ask yourself: Do I really believe or do I just say I believe?
Kramer: "Who wants to have some fun?"
Jerry: "I do."
George: "I do."
Kramer: "Now, are you just saying you want to have fun or do you really want to have fun?"
Jerry: "I really want to have fun."
George: "I'm just saying I want to have some fun."
Remember when.
Me? I believe.
Believe
1st Intermission: Red Wings 1-1 Penguins
Best of seven: Detroit 2-1 Pittsburgh
Bog, this is infuriatingly frustrating. Before the high stick to Stuart's face (*ouch*), I was certain the verdammt Penguins would score on their power play. What in the devil is wrong with us? Where is our sense of urgency? I'm not talking about panic, I'm not talking about desperation, but where's our energy? We're not playing as well as we could, as well as we should. We're better than the Penguins, and it's time they learned that. Go Wings!
Believe.
1st Intermission: Red Wings 1-1 Penguins
Best of seven: Detroit 2-1 Pittsburgh
Bog, this is infuriatingly frustrating. Before the high stick to Stuart's face (*ouch*), I was certain the verdammt Penguins would score on their power play. What in the devil is wrong with us? Where is our sense of urgency? I'm not talking about panic, I'm not talking about desperation, but where's our energy? We're not playing as well as we could, as well as we should. We're better than the Penguins, and it's time they learned that. Go Wings!
Believe.
Operation AXIOM
Twenty years ago to the day, 4 June 1989, months of peaceful demonstrations calling for economic and political reform within the People's Republic of China culminated in the Tiananmen Square massacre. The protests had been sparked by the death of the deposed reformer Hu Yaobang, and resulted in the deposition of his successor and ally Zhao Ziyang and a new ascendancy for Chairman Mao's maxim, "Political power flows from the barrel of a gun." I turned ten the summer of Tiananmen Square, and that horrifying bloodbath continues to be a central pillar of my thinking regarding the P.R.C. and the future of the Chinese.
Remember the Tank Man, a hero for all Mankind.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Potshot, "Freedom" from Rock 'n' Roll (T.L.A.M.)
Mittwoch, 3 Juni
The Ramones, "Chinese Rock" from Mania (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: Pay attention, kids, "Chinese Rock" is a song about heroin, not Chinese mineralogy.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Obamboozled
Yes, that's it! We'll convince the Islamic Republic of Iran to abandon its nuclear ambitions by… being "more transparent"! Brilliant! Ruefully, no one seems to have told the president that the Iranians already can see right through his insipid charm offensive. Blunderlink. Boy howdy, President Obama's plan to put the whole government on ye olde internet is looking sounder and sounder by the minute. After all, nothing bad ever happens on the interweb! I suppose this childish optimism and ham-fisted buffoonery is supposed to be the change we could all believe in?
I've already staked out my spot to sit and watch the parade of horrors.
Yes, that's it! We'll convince the Islamic Republic of Iran to abandon its nuclear ambitions by… being "more transparent"! Brilliant! Ruefully, no one seems to have told the president that the Iranians already can see right through his insipid charm offensive. Blunderlink. Boy howdy, President Obama's plan to put the whole government on ye olde internet is looking sounder and sounder by the minute. After all, nothing bad ever happens on the interweb! I suppose this childish optimism and ham-fisted buffoonery is supposed to be the change we could all believe in?
I've already staked out my spot to sit and watch the parade of horrors.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
The Next Generation
If I may make a suggestion to all of you who, like me, do not yet have children: when your kids are born, it might be advisable to wait a few weeks before inviting all your relatives to come see the baby. Taking care of a newborn is stressful enough without having to welcome guests into your home. Word to the wise.
My nephew Teddy is, well, a monkey. I met him on Saturday, his fourth day of life, and I had never before with my own two eyes seen a baby that young or that small. I've seen newborns on television, both in fictional portrayals and non-fictional documentaries, but never before in real life. He's ridiculously small, his eyes are closed most of the time, and he almost never straightens his limbs, though he moves them all quite regularly, writhing in a way that confirms he is none other than my brother's son, for even unto the present age my brother still loves to lie on the floor and writhe in precisely the same manner. So, between his diminutive size, scrunched posture, and penchant for huddling on his stomach on his reclined mother's chest, the impression Teddy conveys is for all the world simian. He looks like a pink little monkey.
But, being only four and later five days old, Teddy most certainly confirms my previous supposition that babies aren't really people yet. He's human, he's a grand addition to the lethal glory that is Home sapiens sapiens all right, but he's not yet a person. He doesn't yet laugh, he doesn't play, the only thing specifically human he does is explore his surroundings with his mouth; of course, at this stage that means he primarily ends up sucking on his own arm. It's exceedingly curious because I love that little monkey to pieces, but what exactly is it I love? His squished little face? His elongated head? His dark, wispy hair? He's yet to manifest a real personality, he's simply too young to have established any individuality; so, what it is I love about Teddy? I think most of all I love the idea of Teddy, with the details to be filled in as they develop.
I was allowed to hold him only once, and only very briefly, in part because his mother despises me. When her brother, sister, and brother-in-law-to-be arrived late on Sunday, she could not wait to have each of them hold Teddy in turn and at length. I suppose she thought I might infect Teddy with the Wilson cooties; she must live in mortal terror that he will be a Wilson in habit and temperament, not merely in name. Despite this, I was glad to meet Teddy, and however much it pains me to have anything to do with his parents it will be fascinating watching him grow up. I will next see him when he sojourns to Grand Blanc for the celebration of my thirtieth birthday, though we all know that my birthday will play third or fourth fiddle to his family's visit that weekend. Happy birthday, Mike, now get lost.
Objective ZED ALPHA
First things first, don't ask me how I did at the Jeopardy! audition because I do not know. I have an inkling, but objectively I do not know. There are three possible outcomes of this past Friday's audition: (a) I did not pass. (b) I passed and will be entered into the contestant pool, but I will not be invited to appear on the show. (c) I passed and will be invited to appear on the show. In the cases of both (a) and (b), I will hear nothing from the Jeopardy! contestant wranglers in the next eighteen months; in the case of (c), I will receive a telephone call several weeks before I am to report to Los Angeles "to test my intellect" in the immortal words of Alfred Yankovic.
In the case of (c), I will almost certainly impose upon the hospitality of K. Steeze and The Professor and board at B.T.WesTwo (pronounced "Bee-Tee-Double-U West 2"). In the cases of (a) and (b), I will suffer some degree of anxiety as to whether I failed (a) or passed and was simply conspired against by cruel fate (b), but in either event if eighteen months pass without word from the contestant wranglers, I will screw up my courage and watch for the next opportunity to take the online examination that would signal the beginning of Objective ZED BRAVO.
But for the nonce there is naught to do but keep my agile mind agile, hone my already sharpened skill for trivia to a razor's edge, and await the call. I could be summoned to Hollywood anytime in the next eighteen months. Filming resumes again in July and will continue through February; so, at the earliest I will not receive any word for at least several weeks yet. They are seeking four hundred contestants for the new series of episodes, and the good news, as the wranglers told us repeatedly, is that at this point no contestants have yet been selected; there are still four hundred slots available. And, I add editorially, one of them will be mine.
Next time: the curious adventure of Friday, 29 May 2009.
Believe: Penguins 4-2 Red Wings
Fourteen down, two to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-1 Pittsburgh.
Our play was rubbish in the first period, our play was rubbish in the third period, and we were outhustled and outworked all night. Rest, refocus, and if we play at all like the Detroit Red Wings we'll prevail in Game 4 and put these little punks on the ropes. Prediction for Thursday: Marian Hossa will score two goals. Red Wings in five.
Believe.
Sunday
Believe: Red Wings 3-1 Penguins
Fourteen down, two to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Pittsburgh.
I left suburban Columbus far later than I'd intended, but drove within range of 97.1 in time to listen via Lumi's radio to the second half of the third period and a good deal of the post game interviews and analysis. Good times. Driving in excess of two hundred miles a day for four consecutive days takes a lot of you, but quite paradoxically I love, absolutely love, a long, solitary drive. I remember the first time I drove up to the Sleeping Bear Dunes for The Guy and The Gal's Memorial Day Camping Bonanza; it was going to be the farthest I'd even driven by myself and I was quite apprehensive about the journey, but once I hit the road all that fear evaporated, and I arrived in Traverse City all too soon. I'd love to have driven in the grand old days of 50,000 watt A.M. radio, when you could listen to the same station from coast to coast, including to the third coast of the Great Lakes.
But I digress.
Playing back-to-back games on Saturday and Sunday was hogwash, a cheap and cynical move by the N.H.L. and N.B.C. to try and guarantee Sidney Crosby Lord Stanley's Cup, the theory being that the young, hungry Penguins would get the better of the old, tired Red Wings. Even for that scum-sucking shyster Gary Bettman this was a crooked move. Fortunately, craven knavish guile was no match for the determination of the reigning Stanley Cup champions. Take that, foul blackguards!
Saturday
Believe: Red Wings 3-1 Penguins
Thirteen down, three to go. Best of seven: Detroit 1-0 Pittsburgh.
My dad asked me if I wanted to watch the game, but I told him that I didn't, that'd I'd be unsociable and prone to loud and very likely profane verbal ejaculations were I to watch the game, not at all suitable company for a guest in a house with a brand-new baby. Nevertheless, after Primeval he tuned the television to N.B.C. and I watched the third period in tense and strictly contained excitement. I thrust both fists into the air upon Abdelkader's goal, but I emitted no sound, and wee Teddy kept snoozing a few feet from me, nuzzled on his mother's chest.
If I may make a suggestion to all of you who, like me, do not yet have children: when your kids are born, it might be advisable to wait a few weeks before inviting all your relatives to come see the baby. Taking care of a newborn is stressful enough without having to welcome guests into your home. Word to the wise.
My nephew Teddy is, well, a monkey. I met him on Saturday, his fourth day of life, and I had never before with my own two eyes seen a baby that young or that small. I've seen newborns on television, both in fictional portrayals and non-fictional documentaries, but never before in real life. He's ridiculously small, his eyes are closed most of the time, and he almost never straightens his limbs, though he moves them all quite regularly, writhing in a way that confirms he is none other than my brother's son, for even unto the present age my brother still loves to lie on the floor and writhe in precisely the same manner. So, between his diminutive size, scrunched posture, and penchant for huddling on his stomach on his reclined mother's chest, the impression Teddy conveys is for all the world simian. He looks like a pink little monkey.
But, being only four and later five days old, Teddy most certainly confirms my previous supposition that babies aren't really people yet. He's human, he's a grand addition to the lethal glory that is Home sapiens sapiens all right, but he's not yet a person. He doesn't yet laugh, he doesn't play, the only thing specifically human he does is explore his surroundings with his mouth; of course, at this stage that means he primarily ends up sucking on his own arm. It's exceedingly curious because I love that little monkey to pieces, but what exactly is it I love? His squished little face? His elongated head? His dark, wispy hair? He's yet to manifest a real personality, he's simply too young to have established any individuality; so, what it is I love about Teddy? I think most of all I love the idea of Teddy, with the details to be filled in as they develop.
I was allowed to hold him only once, and only very briefly, in part because his mother despises me. When her brother, sister, and brother-in-law-to-be arrived late on Sunday, she could not wait to have each of them hold Teddy in turn and at length. I suppose she thought I might infect Teddy with the Wilson cooties; she must live in mortal terror that he will be a Wilson in habit and temperament, not merely in name. Despite this, I was glad to meet Teddy, and however much it pains me to have anything to do with his parents it will be fascinating watching him grow up. I will next see him when he sojourns to Grand Blanc for the celebration of my thirtieth birthday, though we all know that my birthday will play third or fourth fiddle to his family's visit that weekend. Happy birthday, Mike, now get lost.
Objective ZED ALPHA
First things first, don't ask me how I did at the Jeopardy! audition because I do not know. I have an inkling, but objectively I do not know. There are three possible outcomes of this past Friday's audition: (a) I did not pass. (b) I passed and will be entered into the contestant pool, but I will not be invited to appear on the show. (c) I passed and will be invited to appear on the show. In the cases of both (a) and (b), I will hear nothing from the Jeopardy! contestant wranglers in the next eighteen months; in the case of (c), I will receive a telephone call several weeks before I am to report to Los Angeles "to test my intellect" in the immortal words of Alfred Yankovic.
In the case of (c), I will almost certainly impose upon the hospitality of K. Steeze and The Professor and board at B.T.WesTwo (pronounced "Bee-Tee-Double-U West 2"). In the cases of (a) and (b), I will suffer some degree of anxiety as to whether I failed (a) or passed and was simply conspired against by cruel fate (b), but in either event if eighteen months pass without word from the contestant wranglers, I will screw up my courage and watch for the next opportunity to take the online examination that would signal the beginning of Objective ZED BRAVO.
But for the nonce there is naught to do but keep my agile mind agile, hone my already sharpened skill for trivia to a razor's edge, and await the call. I could be summoned to Hollywood anytime in the next eighteen months. Filming resumes again in July and will continue through February; so, at the earliest I will not receive any word for at least several weeks yet. They are seeking four hundred contestants for the new series of episodes, and the good news, as the wranglers told us repeatedly, is that at this point no contestants have yet been selected; there are still four hundred slots available. And, I add editorially, one of them will be mine.
Next time: the curious adventure of Friday, 29 May 2009.
Believe: Penguins 4-2 Red Wings
Fourteen down, two to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-1 Pittsburgh.
Our play was rubbish in the first period, our play was rubbish in the third period, and we were outhustled and outworked all night. Rest, refocus, and if we play at all like the Detroit Red Wings we'll prevail in Game 4 and put these little punks on the ropes. Prediction for Thursday: Marian Hossa will score two goals. Red Wings in five.
Believe.
Sunday
Believe: Red Wings 3-1 Penguins
Fourteen down, two to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Pittsburgh.
I left suburban Columbus far later than I'd intended, but drove within range of 97.1 in time to listen via Lumi's radio to the second half of the third period and a good deal of the post game interviews and analysis. Good times. Driving in excess of two hundred miles a day for four consecutive days takes a lot of you, but quite paradoxically I love, absolutely love, a long, solitary drive. I remember the first time I drove up to the Sleeping Bear Dunes for The Guy and The Gal's Memorial Day Camping Bonanza; it was going to be the farthest I'd even driven by myself and I was quite apprehensive about the journey, but once I hit the road all that fear evaporated, and I arrived in Traverse City all too soon. I'd love to have driven in the grand old days of 50,000 watt A.M. radio, when you could listen to the same station from coast to coast, including to the third coast of the Great Lakes.
But I digress.
Playing back-to-back games on Saturday and Sunday was hogwash, a cheap and cynical move by the N.H.L. and N.B.C. to try and guarantee Sidney Crosby Lord Stanley's Cup, the theory being that the young, hungry Penguins would get the better of the old, tired Red Wings. Even for that scum-sucking shyster Gary Bettman this was a crooked move. Fortunately, craven knavish guile was no match for the determination of the reigning Stanley Cup champions. Take that, foul blackguards!
Saturday
Believe: Red Wings 3-1 Penguins
Thirteen down, three to go. Best of seven: Detroit 1-0 Pittsburgh.
My dad asked me if I wanted to watch the game, but I told him that I didn't, that'd I'd be unsociable and prone to loud and very likely profane verbal ejaculations were I to watch the game, not at all suitable company for a guest in a house with a brand-new baby. Nevertheless, after Primeval he tuned the television to N.B.C. and I watched the third period in tense and strictly contained excitement. I thrust both fists into the air upon Abdelkader's goal, but I emitted no sound, and wee Teddy kept snoozing a few feet from me, nuzzled on his mother's chest.
The Queue
There is sure to be more Agatha Christie after Murder on the Orient Express, but next I am determined to read Hornby's columns, recommended ardently by Ki-El and endorsed previously by The Guy, and The Immortalists. Real life super science beyond anything dreamed up in a science fiction B-movie, and I've put it off too long already. Science!
Recently
Agatha Christie, And Then There Were None a.k.a. Ten Little Indians a.k.a. Ten Little Niggers
Agatha Christie, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
Currently
Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express
Presently
Nick Hornby, Shakespeare Wrote For Money
David M. Friedman, The Immortalists: Charles Lindbergh, Dr. Alexis Carrel, and Their Daring Quest to Live Forever
Francie Lin, The Foreigner
…
Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life
Believe
2nd Intermission: Red Wings 2-2 Penguins
Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Pittsburgh
If our passes were crisp this evening, the game would be well in hand. Alas, our passes have been sloppy and the Penguins have been consistently faster in races for the puck; not significantly faster, just a step or two, but enough to deny us any advantage. The current goals notwithstanding, I think the on-ice action affirms my faith that the Red Wings are the superior team, a reality that will be eventually and inevitably reflected in the box score.
If only Rafalski hadn't half-fanned on that one-timer during our last power play. Rats and drat, but fear not, we'll get 'em next time.
Believe.
There is sure to be more Agatha Christie after Murder on the Orient Express, but next I am determined to read Hornby's columns, recommended ardently by Ki-El and endorsed previously by The Guy, and The Immortalists. Real life super science beyond anything dreamed up in a science fiction B-movie, and I've put it off too long already. Science!
Recently
Agatha Christie, And Then There Were None a.k.a. Ten Little Indians a.k.a. Ten Little Niggers
Agatha Christie, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
Currently
Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express
Presently
Nick Hornby, Shakespeare Wrote For Money
David M. Friedman, The Immortalists: Charles Lindbergh, Dr. Alexis Carrel, and Their Daring Quest to Live Forever
Francie Lin, The Foreigner
…
Steve Martin, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life
Believe
2nd Intermission: Red Wings 2-2 Penguins
Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Pittsburgh
If our passes were crisp this evening, the game would be well in hand. Alas, our passes have been sloppy and the Penguins have been consistently faster in races for the puck; not significantly faster, just a step or two, but enough to deny us any advantage. The current goals notwithstanding, I think the on-ice action affirms my faith that the Red Wings are the superior team, a reality that will be eventually and inevitably reflected in the box score.
If only Rafalski hadn't half-fanned on that one-timer during our last power play. Rats and drat, but fear not, we'll get 'em next time.
Believe.
Believe
1st Intermission: Red Wings 2-2 Penguins
Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Pittsburgh
Fiddlesticks! My mothered arrived home from her grandmothering stint and I missed Pittsburgh's second goal in all the hubbub. A word, though, about the great Sidney Crosby: how in Bog's name can anyone who calls himself a hockey player leave a sniper of Henrik Zetterberg's caliber undefended that close to the goal? Chump. Go Wings!
Believe.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
William Shatner & Brad Paisley, "Real" from Has Been (T.L.A.M.)
Montag, 1 Juni
They Might Be Giants, "Lazyhead and Sleepybones" from No! (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: I did not bloggy blog yesterday because I was dead tired. I drove from Grand Blanc to (beyond) Chicago on Thursday, from beyond Chicago to Grand Blanc on Friday, from Grand Blanc to Columbus on Saturday, and from Columbus to Grand Blanc on Sunday. So, I hope you'll forgive the delay and rightly attribute it to exhaustion, not a lack of enthusiasm for The Secret Base or appreciation for you as a audience.
Sonntag, 31 Mai
R.F. Modulator, "Ashtray Romance" from The Pink Tape (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: R.F. Modulator is a new band in Chicago with guitars by Paul Doerr and vocals by the one and only Ki-El! Beyond that details are sketchy, but The Pink Tape is just what it says: not a compact disc, not an online release, it is a bright pink cassette tape. You can't put a price on that kind of style.
You can also hear their music through the marvel of the internets: R.F. Modulatorlink.
Samstag, 30 Mai
The Sandfleas, "My Baby's Got a Poopy Diaper" from Rice Capades (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: Not my baby, mind you, my nephew.
Freitag, 29 Mai
"Weird Al" Yankovic, "I Lost on Jeopardy!" from In 3-D (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: I didn't actually lose on Jeopardy!, this is just the only song I know about Jeopardy! Nothing else establishes nerd cred quite as well as a "Weird Al" song that directly addresses your life experience.
Donnerstag, 28 Mai
The Blues Brothers, "Sweet Home Chicago" from The Blues Brothers Original Soundtrack Recording (T.L.A.M.)
Mittwoch, 27 Mai
The Puppini Sisters, "Walk Like An Egyptian" from The Rise and Fall of Ruby Woo (T.L.A.M.)
1st Intermission: Red Wings 2-2 Penguins
Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Pittsburgh
Fiddlesticks! My mothered arrived home from her grandmothering stint and I missed Pittsburgh's second goal in all the hubbub. A word, though, about the great Sidney Crosby: how in Bog's name can anyone who calls himself a hockey player leave a sniper of Henrik Zetterberg's caliber undefended that close to the goal? Chump. Go Wings!
Believe.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
William Shatner & Brad Paisley, "Real" from Has Been (T.L.A.M.)
Montag, 1 Juni
They Might Be Giants, "Lazyhead and Sleepybones" from No! (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: I did not bloggy blog yesterday because I was dead tired. I drove from Grand Blanc to (beyond) Chicago on Thursday, from beyond Chicago to Grand Blanc on Friday, from Grand Blanc to Columbus on Saturday, and from Columbus to Grand Blanc on Sunday. So, I hope you'll forgive the delay and rightly attribute it to exhaustion, not a lack of enthusiasm for The Secret Base or appreciation for you as a audience.
Sonntag, 31 Mai
R.F. Modulator, "Ashtray Romance" from The Pink Tape (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: R.F. Modulator is a new band in Chicago with guitars by Paul Doerr and vocals by the one and only Ki-El! Beyond that details are sketchy, but The Pink Tape is just what it says: not a compact disc, not an online release, it is a bright pink cassette tape. You can't put a price on that kind of style.
You can also hear their music through the marvel of the internets: R.F. Modulatorlink.
Samstag, 30 Mai
The Sandfleas, "My Baby's Got a Poopy Diaper" from Rice Capades (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: Not my baby, mind you, my nephew.
Freitag, 29 Mai
"Weird Al" Yankovic, "I Lost on Jeopardy!" from In 3-D (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: I didn't actually lose on Jeopardy!, this is just the only song I know about Jeopardy! Nothing else establishes nerd cred quite as well as a "Weird Al" song that directly addresses your life experience.
Donnerstag, 28 Mai
The Blues Brothers, "Sweet Home Chicago" from The Blues Brothers Original Soundtrack Recording (T.L.A.M.)
Mittwoch, 27 Mai
The Puppini Sisters, "Walk Like An Egyptian" from The Rise and Fall of Ruby Woo (T.L.A.M.)
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Believe: Going to Overtime Time
End of regulation: Red Wings 1-1 Blackhawks
Best of seven: Detroit 3-1 Chicago
Well, this is a nerve-raking experience I could have done without. Yes, a nice blowout (by Detroit, preferably) would have suited me just fine, especially considering I'll be in the Windy City for Objective ZED ALPHA.
End of regulation: Red Wings 1-1 Blackhawks
Best of seven: Detroit 3-1 Chicago
Well, this is a nerve-raking experience I could have done without. Yes, a nice blowout (by Detroit, preferably) would have suited me just fine, especially considering I'll be in the Windy City for Objective ZED ALPHA.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Dan Potthast, "Where's Teddy?" from Eyeballs (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: There he is. He'll get to meet his Uncle Mike on Saturday, if all goes to plan.
Believe
Victory in Game 5? Aye, laddies, aye. The Blackhawks will be desperate, like a cornered animal, but I believe their desperation will avail them little against the determination of the Red Wings. Nothing is decided yet, but the Detroit Red Wings against the Pittsburgh Penguins for Lord Stanley's Cup? It's déjà vu all over again.
Believe.
The 38th Parallel
And exactly what "tough measures" will the D.P.R.K. face for its recent atomic detonation and rocket launches? They will suffer the wrath of (dramatic pause) a mildly worded scolding! Eventually… someday… maybe… after "some time." U.N.link. The world's paper tiger response isn't President Obama's fault, though, events are following the post-Cold War pattern established under President Clinton and repeated under President Bush. Step one: the D.P.R.K. rattles its saber and throws a temper tantrum to garner the world's attention. Step two: we bribe them to come back to the negotiating table. Step three: they agree to (once again) suspend their nuclear program in exchange for massive additional bribes. Step four: the West grows suspicious because even though the bribes have been supplied, keeping the North Korean state afloat, there seems to be precious little action being taken to deliver on the North's promises. Step five: the North Koreans become incensed that the world dares to doubt their honorable intentions. Step six: Pyongyang breaks off negotiations. Rinse and repeat.
Change we can believe in? Sorry, Mr. President, it'll take more than your considerable charisma to change this sorry and all too predictable sequence of events, a vicious circle that leaves the people of the D.P.R.K. suffering under a dictatorship that would have to be dismissed as too absurd to exist were it not so horribly, horribly real. Geopolitics is fun!
Dan Potthast, "Where's Teddy?" from Eyeballs (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: There he is. He'll get to meet his Uncle Mike on Saturday, if all goes to plan.
Believe
Victory in Game 5? Aye, laddies, aye. The Blackhawks will be desperate, like a cornered animal, but I believe their desperation will avail them little against the determination of the Red Wings. Nothing is decided yet, but the Detroit Red Wings against the Pittsburgh Penguins for Lord Stanley's Cup? It's déjà vu all over again.
Believe.
The 38th Parallel
And exactly what "tough measures" will the D.P.R.K. face for its recent atomic detonation and rocket launches? They will suffer the wrath of (dramatic pause) a mildly worded scolding! Eventually… someday… maybe… after "some time." U.N.link. The world's paper tiger response isn't President Obama's fault, though, events are following the post-Cold War pattern established under President Clinton and repeated under President Bush. Step one: the D.P.R.K. rattles its saber and throws a temper tantrum to garner the world's attention. Step two: we bribe them to come back to the negotiating table. Step three: they agree to (once again) suspend their nuclear program in exchange for massive additional bribes. Step four: the West grows suspicious because even though the bribes have been supplied, keeping the North Korean state afloat, there seems to be precious little action being taken to deliver on the North's promises. Step five: the North Koreans become incensed that the world dares to doubt their honorable intentions. Step six: Pyongyang breaks off negotiations. Rinse and repeat.
Change we can believe in? Sorry, Mr. President, it'll take more than your considerable charisma to change this sorry and all too predictable sequence of events, a vicious circle that leaves the people of the D.P.R.K. suffering under a dictatorship that would have to be dismissed as too absurd to exist were it not so horribly, horribly real. Geopolitics is fun!
Monday, May 25, 2009
Scroll down to Saturday for complete coverage of Narwhal Day!
'Tis Memorial Day, the day we honor our glorious dead, those who died fighting for liberty against tyranny, those who made the ultimate sacrifice for these United States of America. Though I thank all of our living veterans, all those who survived the wars and returned to find home and hearth waiting for them, this day is not for them; we honor them on the 11th of November, Veterans Day/Armistice Day. This is day to remember their comrades who never came home. And this day does not commemorate, has never commemorated, those who died fighting to destroy this Great Republic, those traitors who served the hideous and sinister purpose of the Confederacy.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of Memorial Day
Jay Ungar, et al., "Ashokan Farewell" from The Civil War: Original Soundtrack Recording (T.L.A.M.)
'Tis Memorial Day, the day we honor our glorious dead, those who died fighting for liberty against tyranny, those who made the ultimate sacrifice for these United States of America. Though I thank all of our living veterans, all those who survived the wars and returned to find home and hearth waiting for them, this day is not for them; we honor them on the 11th of November, Veterans Day/Armistice Day. This is day to remember their comrades who never came home. And this day does not commemorate, has never commemorated, those who died fighting to destroy this Great Republic, those traitors who served the hideous and sinister purpose of the Confederacy.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of Memorial Day
Jay Ungar, et al., "Ashokan Farewell" from The Civil War: Original Soundtrack Recording (T.L.A.M.)
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Believe: Red Wings 6-1 Blackhawks
Eleven down, five to go. Best of seven: Detroit 3-1 Chicago.
To paraphrase Abraham Lincoln, right makes might.
Believe.
This Week in Motorsport
The Grand Prix of Monaco was incredible. I cannot wait until I see it in person, it is hoped as part of a glorious European tour in which I also take in the 24 Hours of Le Mans. In a fortnight, the Turkish Grand Prix; in a month, the British Grand Prix… from Silverstone!
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Elvis Costello, "Veronica" from Spike (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: Why is it I wish to perish at sixty years of age? Because I refuse to suffer the titular Veronica's fate.
Eleven down, five to go. Best of seven: Detroit 3-1 Chicago.
To paraphrase Abraham Lincoln, right makes might.
Believe.
This Week in Motorsport
The Grand Prix of Monaco was incredible. I cannot wait until I see it in person, it is hoped as part of a glorious European tour in which I also take in the 24 Hours of Le Mans. In a fortnight, the Turkish Grand Prix; in a month, the British Grand Prix… from Silverstone!
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Elvis Costello, "Veronica" from Spike (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: Why is it I wish to perish at sixty years of age? Because I refuse to suffer the titular Veronica's fate.
Believe
1st Intermission: Red Wings 2-0 Blackhawks
Best of seven: Detroit 2-1 Chicago
It's game four, which means it's time for Marian Hossa to score two goals. He scored twice in the fourth game against the Columbus Blue Jackets and twice in the fourth game against the no-longer-mighty Anaheim Ducks. The fourth game against the Chicago Blackhawks? One down, one to go. Shorthanded = awesome.
No Lidstrom? But… the captain's like a Terminator, albeit Swedish instead of Austrian-American: he doesn't tire, he doesn't rest, he doesn't stop. All he does is wear down opposing forwards and score goals by the bunch on the power play. Can we still contain the feisty young 'Hawks without the best defenseman in the N.H.L.? I believe we can. Go Wings!
Believe.
This Week in Motorsport
The Indianapolis 500 is turning out to be a bust. "The Greatest Spectacle in Motorsport"? It's nothing but caution after caution after caution, interspersed with radio transmissions of Danica Patrick's whining from way back in the field. So far, IndyCar can't hold a candle to the excitement of Formula One. Later this afternoon: a replay of the Grand Prix of Monaco. Woot!
The Stars My Destination
Welcome home, Atlantis, a grateful world thanks you for preserving and repairing the Hubble Space Telescope. California dreamin': N.A.S.A.link and B.B.C.link.
1st Intermission: Red Wings 2-0 Blackhawks
Best of seven: Detroit 2-1 Chicago
It's game four, which means it's time for Marian Hossa to score two goals. He scored twice in the fourth game against the Columbus Blue Jackets and twice in the fourth game against the no-longer-mighty Anaheim Ducks. The fourth game against the Chicago Blackhawks? One down, one to go. Shorthanded = awesome.
No Lidstrom? But… the captain's like a Terminator, albeit Swedish instead of Austrian-American: he doesn't tire, he doesn't rest, he doesn't stop. All he does is wear down opposing forwards and score goals by the bunch on the power play. Can we still contain the feisty young 'Hawks without the best defenseman in the N.H.L.? I believe we can. Go Wings!
Believe.
This Week in Motorsport
The Indianapolis 500 is turning out to be a bust. "The Greatest Spectacle in Motorsport"? It's nothing but caution after caution after caution, interspersed with radio transmissions of Danica Patrick's whining from way back in the field. So far, IndyCar can't hold a candle to the excitement of Formula One. Later this afternoon: a replay of the Grand Prix of Monaco. Woot!
The Stars My Destination
Welcome home, Atlantis, a grateful world thanks you for preserving and repairing the Hubble Space Telescope. California dreamin': N.A.S.A.link and B.B.C.link.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
narwhal (Monodon monoceros)
NARWHAL DAY!
Happy Narwhal Day! Though the heat of the day marks this as truly the beginning of summer and seems very far removed from the frigid Arctic haunts of the narwhal, I know that on this day of days all our hearts are fairly bursting with sympathy for this bizarre behemoth of the deep. And on such a day who wouldn't want to make the very most of this Narwhal Day by celebrating in boisterous narwhal style? There are three components to the proper observance of Narwhal Day.
Protocol the first: wear an article of clothing gray in color. This need not to an observable piece of outerwear, unmentionables suffice, but in the true spirit of the day the displayed gray should be as public as possible.
Protocol the second: listen to "Sympathy for the Narwhal" by D.J. Seaghost, friend and ally of The Aquabats!
Protocol the third: recite "The Oath of Narwhal Day." This is the gravest of the rigors of Narwhal Day, for the tenets of the Oath are not to be entered into lightly, nor in jest. The Oath is an absurd and sacred trust, and those whose hearts are false will surely fall afoul of the ire of the narwhal.
The Oath of Narwhal Day
The narwhal is a noble, pitiable creature,
A magnificent, monstrous visage.
An asymmetrical tooth for a horn,
Or sometimes two, or sometimes none,
Half again as long as the beast.
I swear my sympathy for the narwhal.
I will not lie and convince it all is well,
But I will be a friend to the narwhal.
The mocking dolphins and snobby manatees
Will get their well-earned comeuppance,
And the narwhal will frolic all day.
I dream this dream of the narwhal
And celebrate it in all its improbably, oddball glory,
On this the ninth Narwhal Day.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of Narwhal Day
D.J. Seaghost, "Sympathy for the Narwhal" from Rice Capades (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: "All I can get is static… variations on a central musical rhythm."
I presently have the white seal impaled upon my Avenging Narwhal action figure, outfitted with the red tusk to suggest the presence of blood.
The Wayback Machinelink Tour of Narwhal Day
And now a tradition that dates back to the eighth Narwhal Day.
Narwhal Day '08
Narwhal Day '07
Narwhal Day '06
Narwhal Day '05
Narwhal Day '04
Narwhal Day '03
Happy Narwhal Day!
Friday, May 22, 2009
Believe: Corruption & Shenanigans
1st Period: Blackhawks 2-0 Red Wings
Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Chicago
This is an outrage! For what possible reason was Kronwall given a game misconduct? For those of you not familiar with the rules of the game, a game misconduct penalty "involves the suspension of a player for the balance of the game," i.e., the player is ejected. The hit Detroit's Niklas Kronwall laid on Chicago's Martin Havlat was brutal, but completely clean and well within the N.H.L.'s rules. There is no justification for the zebras' decision to give Kronwall a game misconduct. If Gary Bettman had an ounce of integrity, he'd see to it that this officiating crew is barred from overseeing any other games in this year's Stanley Cup Playoffs, i.e., denied the chance to throw any other games in favor of one or another side. Of course, we all know that Gary Bettman doesn't have an ounce of integrity.
I cannot be a party to this farce and I refuse to watch anymore. I'll try again on Sunday, and I'll monitor the interweb to see if the league takes any disciplinary action against tonight's referees, though I sincerely doubt anything of the sort will happen. If this naked corruption of the game persists, I will be unable to continue as a fan of professional ice hockey, no matter much much affection I have now and will always have for the Detroit Red Wings. This is a disgrace. For shame!
1st Period: Blackhawks 2-0 Red Wings
Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Chicago
This is an outrage! For what possible reason was Kronwall given a game misconduct? For those of you not familiar with the rules of the game, a game misconduct penalty "involves the suspension of a player for the balance of the game," i.e., the player is ejected. The hit Detroit's Niklas Kronwall laid on Chicago's Martin Havlat was brutal, but completely clean and well within the N.H.L.'s rules. There is no justification for the zebras' decision to give Kronwall a game misconduct. If Gary Bettman had an ounce of integrity, he'd see to it that this officiating crew is barred from overseeing any other games in this year's Stanley Cup Playoffs, i.e., denied the chance to throw any other games in favor of one or another side. Of course, we all know that Gary Bettman doesn't have an ounce of integrity.
I cannot be a party to this farce and I refuse to watch anymore. I'll try again on Sunday, and I'll monitor the interweb to see if the league takes any disciplinary action against tonight's referees, though I sincerely doubt anything of the sort will happen. If this naked corruption of the game persists, I will be unable to continue as a fan of professional ice hockey, no matter much much affection I have now and will always have for the Detroit Red Wings. This is a disgrace. For shame!
Narwhal's Eve
Make haste! Make haste! Tomorrow is Narwhal Day! Today, I'm wearing my gray T-shirt bearing the image of a gargantuan narwhal with an Inuit, a polar bear, and a seal impaled upon its mighty tusk; tomorrow, I'll wear the original gray "NARWHAL" T-shirt; and then Sunday the blue T-shirt with the image of a large narwhal silhouette composed of lots of smaller narwhal silhouettes. Narwhal!
Can you feel the sympathy?
Objective ZED ALPHA
I looked at my watch this morning at 11:30 a.m. and the thought flashed through my mind, "In exactly one week's time, I'll be at my tripartite Jeopardy! audition." Bog, I hope next Friday finds me at my best.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Haberdashery, "The Narwhal Suite" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
Donnerstag, 21 Mai
MxPx, "Top of the Charts" from Secret Weapon (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary:
"They said we need to kick it harder,
They said, 'Rewrite the lyrics smarter,
'We can't quite smell platinum yet.'
…
From the bottom of our hearts
To the top of the charts."
Make haste! Make haste! Tomorrow is Narwhal Day! Today, I'm wearing my gray T-shirt bearing the image of a gargantuan narwhal with an Inuit, a polar bear, and a seal impaled upon its mighty tusk; tomorrow, I'll wear the original gray "NARWHAL" T-shirt; and then Sunday the blue T-shirt with the image of a large narwhal silhouette composed of lots of smaller narwhal silhouettes. Narwhal!
Can you feel the sympathy?
Objective ZED ALPHA
I looked at my watch this morning at 11:30 a.m. and the thought flashed through my mind, "In exactly one week's time, I'll be at my tripartite Jeopardy! audition." Bog, I hope next Friday finds me at my best.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Haberdashery, "The Narwhal Suite" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
Donnerstag, 21 Mai
MxPx, "Top of the Charts" from Secret Weapon (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary:
"They said we need to kick it harder,
They said, 'Rewrite the lyrics smarter,
'We can't quite smell platinum yet.'
…
From the bottom of our hearts
To the top of the charts."
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Believe: Red Wings 3-2 Blackhawks (O.T.)
Ten down, six to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Chicago.
Alas, an examination today precluded my watching last night's game beyond the first period, but I kept abreast of things through the marvel of ye olde interweb. I was mightily pleased by the result, but I must sound a note of caution: the jackals seem to have gone overboard in their declarations that the series is all but over. Excuse me, what in Bog's name are you talking about? The Wings defeated the 'Hawks by a single goal in overtime time. Overtime time! Overtime time scares the pants off me, anything can happen in overtime time. Had a single puck bounced differently, the series might easily be tied up heading into games 3 & 4 in the Windy City, a powerful moral victory for the callow Blackhawks. Now, make no mistake, I title posts about the Red Wings "Believe" not just in tribute to Konstantinov and Mnatsakanov, but because I believe in the Wings, in the way they handle themselves, in the way they go about things. I believe they will repeat as Stanley Cup Champions. But the home team, by nature the higher seed, is supposed to win the first two games! It's a coup for the visitors if they can earn a split, and astonishing if they can win both on the road. We court disaster if we begin to take the Blackhawks lightly, if we take Detroit's eventual triumph for granted.
That said, boy howdy, I'd enjoy a sweep, both on its own merits and because a rest would be nice before facing either Pittsburgh or Carolina for the Cup. Go Wings!
Believe.
Obamboozled
Another terrifying example of how then-Senator Obama clearly didn't think through the real world consequences of the many extravagant promises he was making to weasel his way into the Oval Office: Gitmolink. Bog, it's frightening when the Congress has to step in as the adult in the room. I suppose closing Camp Delta without any plan to deal with the remaining jihadist prisoners is change we can believe in?
Also, President Obama's desire to abandon our purely defensive missile shield program is looking wiser by the day: missilelink. Yessiree, the Iranians sure are harmless. Nosiree, they wouldn't hurt a fly. I hope you're all enjoying the parade of horrors.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
John Lee Hooker, "Crawlin' Kingsnake Blues" from "Boom Boom" and Other Classics (T.L.A.M.)
Ten down, six to go. Best of seven: Detroit 2-0 Chicago.
Alas, an examination today precluded my watching last night's game beyond the first period, but I kept abreast of things through the marvel of ye olde interweb. I was mightily pleased by the result, but I must sound a note of caution: the jackals seem to have gone overboard in their declarations that the series is all but over. Excuse me, what in Bog's name are you talking about? The Wings defeated the 'Hawks by a single goal in overtime time. Overtime time! Overtime time scares the pants off me, anything can happen in overtime time. Had a single puck bounced differently, the series might easily be tied up heading into games 3 & 4 in the Windy City, a powerful moral victory for the callow Blackhawks. Now, make no mistake, I title posts about the Red Wings "Believe" not just in tribute to Konstantinov and Mnatsakanov, but because I believe in the Wings, in the way they handle themselves, in the way they go about things. I believe they will repeat as Stanley Cup Champions. But the home team, by nature the higher seed, is supposed to win the first two games! It's a coup for the visitors if they can earn a split, and astonishing if they can win both on the road. We court disaster if we begin to take the Blackhawks lightly, if we take Detroit's eventual triumph for granted.
That said, boy howdy, I'd enjoy a sweep, both on its own merits and because a rest would be nice before facing either Pittsburgh or Carolina for the Cup. Go Wings!
Believe.
Obamboozled
Another terrifying example of how then-Senator Obama clearly didn't think through the real world consequences of the many extravagant promises he was making to weasel his way into the Oval Office: Gitmolink. Bog, it's frightening when the Congress has to step in as the adult in the room. I suppose closing Camp Delta without any plan to deal with the remaining jihadist prisoners is change we can believe in?
Also, President Obama's desire to abandon our purely defensive missile shield program is looking wiser by the day: missilelink. Yessiree, the Iranians sure are harmless. Nosiree, they wouldn't hurt a fly. I hope you're all enjoying the parade of horrors.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
John Lee Hooker, "Crawlin' Kingsnake Blues" from "Boom Boom" and Other Classics (T.L.A.M.)
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Operation AXIOM
A decade hence: Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace. Those were glorious days, days my chums and I had the good fortune to experience and the good sense to relish even as they were happening. I'll never forget the excitement, the joy, the overwhelming power of that night, of that perfect moment in time. Thank you, Mr. Lucas.
May the Force be with you, one and all.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
John Williams & the London Symphony Orchestra, "Duel of the Fates" from Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)
Montag, 18 Mai
The Wombats, "Kill the Director" from A Guide to Love, Loss & Desperation (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: "Here's another song about a gender I'll never understand."
A decade hence: Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace. Those were glorious days, days my chums and I had the good fortune to experience and the good sense to relish even as they were happening. I'll never forget the excitement, the joy, the overwhelming power of that night, of that perfect moment in time. Thank you, Mr. Lucas.
May the Force be with you, one and all.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
John Williams & the London Symphony Orchestra, "Duel of the Fates" from Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)
Montag, 18 Mai
The Wombats, "Kill the Director" from A Guide to Love, Loss & Desperation (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: "Here's another song about a gender I'll never understand."
Sunday, May 17, 2009
The Explorers Club
No. CXXX - The Falkirk Wheel.
Believe: Red Wings 5-2 Blackhawks
Nine down, seven to go. Best of seven: Detroit 1-0 Chicago.
Not that I habitually wear a hat—in fact, rare indeed are the occasions on which you'd find my head covered—but the phrase still conveys the intended sentiment: my hat's off to Chicago goaltender Nikolai Khabibulin, because he was dynamite during a flurry of shots by the Red Wings in the second period. Had he not stood on his head, the score might easily have been 7-2, even without Zetterberg's empty net goal. That said, therein lies the Blackhawks' doom, because for all his dynamism Khabibulin still gave up four goals, and the Wings' attack will remain relentless. You cannot hope to stop Detroit's offense, you can hope only to contain it; Chicago will need a new strategy in order to contain the multifaceted potency of the Red Wings.
Take a minute to let it sink in, kids: the Red Wings need fewer victories ahead than they have behind to repeat as Stanley Cup champions, the first team to do so since these selfsame Detroit Red Wings in 1996-97 & '97-98. History is calling. Will you accept the charges? Go Wings!
Believe.
The Queue
Recently
C. S. Harris, Why Mermaids Sing
Agatha Christie, Death on the Nile
C. S. Harris, Where Serpents Sleep
Currently
Agatha Christie, And Then There Were None a.k.a. Ten Little Indians a.k.a. Ten Little Niggers
Presently
Agatha Christie, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express
David M. Friedman, The Immortalists: Charles Lindbergh, Dr. Alexis Carrel, and Their Daring Quest to Live Forever
Francie Lin, The Foreigner
Saki, When William Came: A Story of London Under the Hohenzollerns (from The Complete Saki)
Jacques-Yves Cousteau, "Exploring a New World Undersea," Great Adventures with National Geographic
Ernest Shackleton, South
John Toland, The Great Dirigibles: Their Triumphs and Disasters
Sloane Crosley, I Was Told There'd be Cake
John Hodgman, The Areas of My Expertise
Kim Newman, Dracula Cha Cha Cha
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Paul Butterfield Blues Band, "Born in Chicago" from Blues Brothers 2000: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)
No. CXXX - The Falkirk Wheel.
Believe: Red Wings 5-2 Blackhawks
Nine down, seven to go. Best of seven: Detroit 1-0 Chicago.
Not that I habitually wear a hat—in fact, rare indeed are the occasions on which you'd find my head covered—but the phrase still conveys the intended sentiment: my hat's off to Chicago goaltender Nikolai Khabibulin, because he was dynamite during a flurry of shots by the Red Wings in the second period. Had he not stood on his head, the score might easily have been 7-2, even without Zetterberg's empty net goal. That said, therein lies the Blackhawks' doom, because for all his dynamism Khabibulin still gave up four goals, and the Wings' attack will remain relentless. You cannot hope to stop Detroit's offense, you can hope only to contain it; Chicago will need a new strategy in order to contain the multifaceted potency of the Red Wings.
Take a minute to let it sink in, kids: the Red Wings need fewer victories ahead than they have behind to repeat as Stanley Cup champions, the first team to do so since these selfsame Detroit Red Wings in 1996-97 & '97-98. History is calling. Will you accept the charges? Go Wings!
Believe.
The Queue
Recently
C. S. Harris, Why Mermaids Sing
Agatha Christie, Death on the Nile
C. S. Harris, Where Serpents Sleep
Currently
Agatha Christie, And Then There Were None a.k.a. Ten Little Indians a.k.a. Ten Little Niggers
Presently
Agatha Christie, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express
David M. Friedman, The Immortalists: Charles Lindbergh, Dr. Alexis Carrel, and Their Daring Quest to Live Forever
Francie Lin, The Foreigner
Saki, When William Came: A Story of London Under the Hohenzollerns (from The Complete Saki)
Jacques-Yves Cousteau, "Exploring a New World Undersea," Great Adventures with National Geographic
Ernest Shackleton, South
John Toland, The Great Dirigibles: Their Triumphs and Disasters
Sloane Crosley, I Was Told There'd be Cake
John Hodgman, The Areas of My Expertise
Kim Newman, Dracula Cha Cha Cha
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Paul Butterfield Blues Band, "Born in Chicago" from Blues Brothers 2000: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Operation AXIOM - One Week to Narwhal Day!
One week until Narwhal Day, people, one week. One week to gather the three ingredients necessary for the proper celebration, one week to summon up the appropriate level of sympathy for the narwhal. Narwhal!
Objective ZED ALPHA
A fortnight less one day until I face the tripartite examination that is the second of three steps to becoming a contestant on Jeopardy! How do I accumulate in the next two weeks all the trivial knowledge I have failed to acquire in the preceding twenty-nine and three quarters years? Fiddlesticks!
Operation ÖSTERREICH
As Sunday is the day of rest (and there's both hockey and motorsport to watch), Monday shall see a renewal of Operation ÖSTERREICH after a slothful, gluttonous late winter and spring. What have we learned so far? Breaking the bad habits of a lifetime is difficult, even with full conscious acknowledgment of their deleterious impact. No one ever said CADMUS would be easy, Mike; it would be quite useless if it was. Remember that words that were spoken by that other Michael W., "If you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always got." Come Monday, bring on the ÖSTERREICH!
Believe
One octopus down, one octopus to go. Best of seven: Detroit 0-0 Chicago.
The only Blackhawks I saw game during the season just past was the Winter Classic at Wrigley Field, a 6-4 Red Wings victory under extremely unusual circumstances. So, what do I expect from this series? Why, victory, of course. I couldn't claim to believe if I thought less, now could I? I think not. There is slight concern that our boys may be a bit winded after the long, grueling series against the cursed Ducks, but despite the speed and enthusiasm of the young Blackhawks, I am convinced (by reasoned analysis, not just belief) that the depth and vastly superior experience of the Red Wings will carry the day.
Red Wings in five seems a little too cocksure; so, I'll say Detroit in six. The Campbell Bowl will be ours! Go Wings!
Believe.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Ten Foot Pole, "I Don't Mind" from Short Music for Short People (T.L.A.M.)
Freitag, 15 Mai
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "She Just Happened" from Pay Attention (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: Most appropriately, "She Just Happened" just happened to spring to mind throughout the afternoon.
One week until Narwhal Day, people, one week. One week to gather the three ingredients necessary for the proper celebration, one week to summon up the appropriate level of sympathy for the narwhal. Narwhal!
Objective ZED ALPHA
A fortnight less one day until I face the tripartite examination that is the second of three steps to becoming a contestant on Jeopardy! How do I accumulate in the next two weeks all the trivial knowledge I have failed to acquire in the preceding twenty-nine and three quarters years? Fiddlesticks!
Operation ÖSTERREICH
As Sunday is the day of rest (and there's both hockey and motorsport to watch), Monday shall see a renewal of Operation ÖSTERREICH after a slothful, gluttonous late winter and spring. What have we learned so far? Breaking the bad habits of a lifetime is difficult, even with full conscious acknowledgment of their deleterious impact. No one ever said CADMUS would be easy, Mike; it would be quite useless if it was. Remember that words that were spoken by that other Michael W., "If you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always got." Come Monday, bring on the ÖSTERREICH!
Believe
One octopus down, one octopus to go. Best of seven: Detroit 0-0 Chicago.
The only Blackhawks I saw game during the season just past was the Winter Classic at Wrigley Field, a 6-4 Red Wings victory under extremely unusual circumstances. So, what do I expect from this series? Why, victory, of course. I couldn't claim to believe if I thought less, now could I? I think not. There is slight concern that our boys may be a bit winded after the long, grueling series against the cursed Ducks, but despite the speed and enthusiasm of the young Blackhawks, I am convinced (by reasoned analysis, not just belief) that the depth and vastly superior experience of the Red Wings will carry the day.
Red Wings in five seems a little too cocksure; so, I'll say Detroit in six. The Campbell Bowl will be ours! Go Wings!
Believe.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Ten Foot Pole, "I Don't Mind" from Short Music for Short People (T.L.A.M.)
Freitag, 15 Mai
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "She Just Happened" from Pay Attention (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: Most appropriately, "She Just Happened" just happened to spring to mind throughout the afternoon.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Believe: Red Wings 4-3 Ducks
One octopus down, one octopus to go. Best of seven: Detroit 4-3 Anaheim.
Man alive, that was more exciting than it needed to be! Bog's wounds, I'm emotionally exhausted. I was so very scared for so much of the game. The Red Wings are, to my eyes, the demonstrably superior club, yet there is nothing else in sport so fraught with peril as a superior club allowing a scrappy, rough-and-tumble inferior club to hang around. If you don't put a club like that away definitively, they all too often find a way to gut out a win in the end. And let's not fool ourselves: with so few bounces going our way, the Ducks were perilously close to advancing to the Campbell Conference Finals in our stead. And yet it stands as a tribute to the drive and character of the Red Wings that they held the nefarious Ducks at bay, despite the all-too-clear intentions of the officiating crew. So, raise your class, and let's have three cheers for the Detroit Red Wings, now halfway to retaining possession of Lord Stanley's Cup:
Hip hip! Hooray! Hip hip! Hooray! Hip hip! Hooray!
Believe.
The Stars My Destination
The work continues apace, despite a stubborn bolt: Hubblelink.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Sufjan Stevens, "Romulus" from Michigan (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: I considered choosing a more celebratory song, and it's not as if I've been particularly ashamed of my parents today, but, somehow, the R.B.D.S.O.T.D. just had to be "Romulus."
One octopus down, one octopus to go. Best of seven: Detroit 4-3 Anaheim.
Man alive, that was more exciting than it needed to be! Bog's wounds, I'm emotionally exhausted. I was so very scared for so much of the game. The Red Wings are, to my eyes, the demonstrably superior club, yet there is nothing else in sport so fraught with peril as a superior club allowing a scrappy, rough-and-tumble inferior club to hang around. If you don't put a club like that away definitively, they all too often find a way to gut out a win in the end. And let's not fool ourselves: with so few bounces going our way, the Ducks were perilously close to advancing to the Campbell Conference Finals in our stead. And yet it stands as a tribute to the drive and character of the Red Wings that they held the nefarious Ducks at bay, despite the all-too-clear intentions of the officiating crew. So, raise your class, and let's have three cheers for the Detroit Red Wings, now halfway to retaining possession of Lord Stanley's Cup:
Hip hip! Hooray! Hip hip! Hooray! Hip hip! Hooray!
Believe.
The Stars My Destination
The work continues apace, despite a stubborn bolt: Hubblelink.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Sufjan Stevens, "Romulus" from Michigan (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: I considered choosing a more celebratory song, and it's not as if I've been particularly ashamed of my parents today, but, somehow, the R.B.D.S.O.T.D. just had to be "Romulus."
Science!
We're feeling very European today. First, a pair of brand-new telescopes to help us look to infinity… and beyond! Herschel and Plancklink. And then a survey of the European Space Agency's ambitions for '09: satellitelink. Our European friends still spend on the E.S.A. and their individual national space agencies a fraction of what we spend on N.A.S.A., but every little bit is appreciated, and we're going to have to lean on them more and more until the Project Constellation hardware—the Orion crew vehicle and the Ares family of rockets—become operational in roughly 2014-15 (assuming President Obama breaks his campaign promise to cancel all funding for American manned space flight. Oh, I really hope he was lying). Congratulations on the successful launches of Herschel and Planck, fellows.
Science!
We're feeling very European today. First, a pair of brand-new telescopes to help us look to infinity… and beyond! Herschel and Plancklink. And then a survey of the European Space Agency's ambitions for '09: satellitelink. Our European friends still spend on the E.S.A. and their individual national space agencies a fraction of what we spend on N.A.S.A., but every little bit is appreciated, and we're going to have to lean on them more and more until the Project Constellation hardware—the Orion crew vehicle and the Ares family of rockets—become operational in roughly 2014-15 (assuming President Obama breaks his campaign promise to cancel all funding for American manned space flight. Oh, I really hope he was lying). Congratulations on the successful launches of Herschel and Planck, fellows.
Science!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
The Explorers Club
No. CXXIX - The life and infamous career of Matthew Hopkins (c. 1620-47), self-proclaimed "Witch-finder General" of England.
This seems as good a time as any to admit to a possibly controversial personal belief: of those accused of witchcraft over the ages, especially in Europe and its colonies during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and put to death, I am certain a dreadful percentage were innocents, but, by the same token, I am equally certain some percentage were guilty of actual witchcraft and trafficking with fiends. Angels and devils are as real as the Risen Christ, and devils live to ensnare mortal souls by enticing them into heresy and sin. So, why not witchcraft? I'm not talking about magic or somesuch superstitious nonsense, I am talking about the select use of the profane power still present in devils from their time as angels before the Rebellion and War in Heaven. Old Scratch is real, his legions of devils are real, and I find no reason to believe that there are not sons of Adam and daughters of Eve so debased as to have surrendered themselves in service to the Archfiend's infernal will, to the peril of their immortal souls.
The Stars My Destination
The Atlantis has grappled the Hubble, paving the way for repairs and renovations to begin: rendezvous in spacelink. My Bog, we live in an age of wonders. (I'll save the opening lines of The Stars My Destination for another time.)
Obamboozled
Hey, look at that, an action of President Obama's with which I agree: photographlink. The only way this presidency won't end in unmitigated disaster for these United States (and the free world that is unwilling to defend itself and yet chafes at our protection) is if Mr. Obama turns out to have been lying about many more of his campaign promises. I decry the bill of goods he sold his pudding-minded supporters, but I am glad he decided, for once, not to play politics (and dice) with our national security. You made the right decision, sir. Good on you.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
James Darren, "That Old Black Magic" from This One's From the Heart (T.L.A.M.)
No. CXXIX - The life and infamous career of Matthew Hopkins (c. 1620-47), self-proclaimed "Witch-finder General" of England.
This seems as good a time as any to admit to a possibly controversial personal belief: of those accused of witchcraft over the ages, especially in Europe and its colonies during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and put to death, I am certain a dreadful percentage were innocents, but, by the same token, I am equally certain some percentage were guilty of actual witchcraft and trafficking with fiends. Angels and devils are as real as the Risen Christ, and devils live to ensnare mortal souls by enticing them into heresy and sin. So, why not witchcraft? I'm not talking about magic or somesuch superstitious nonsense, I am talking about the select use of the profane power still present in devils from their time as angels before the Rebellion and War in Heaven. Old Scratch is real, his legions of devils are real, and I find no reason to believe that there are not sons of Adam and daughters of Eve so debased as to have surrendered themselves in service to the Archfiend's infernal will, to the peril of their immortal souls.
The Stars My Destination
The Atlantis has grappled the Hubble, paving the way for repairs and renovations to begin: rendezvous in spacelink. My Bog, we live in an age of wonders. (I'll save the opening lines of The Stars My Destination for another time.)
Obamboozled
Hey, look at that, an action of President Obama's with which I agree: photographlink. The only way this presidency won't end in unmitigated disaster for these United States (and the free world that is unwilling to defend itself and yet chafes at our protection) is if Mr. Obama turns out to have been lying about many more of his campaign promises. I decry the bill of goods he sold his pudding-minded supporters, but I am glad he decided, for once, not to play politics (and dice) with our national security. You made the right decision, sir. Good on you.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
James Darren, "That Old Black Magic" from This One's From the Heart (T.L.A.M.)
Believe: Ducks 2-1 Red Wings
Seven down, nine to go. Best of seven: Detroit 3-3 Anaheim.
Drat, drat, and double drat! I wrote that the Ducks' goose was cooked, and now I'm eating crow. Nevertheless, Game 7 shall be ours, oh yes, it shall be ours.
Believe.
Eye of the Tiger
Tiger's doing that weird thing cats do where they run around the house at breakneck speed, seemingly without direction or purpose, almost like some kind of fit. Sam did it too. Of course, these late night fits are the only times Tiger ever runs; even when fleeing from danger (really, fleeing in terror, as she's never in actual danger), she waddles away at what in a human I would describe as a fast walk. Waddle, waddle for your lives!
Seven down, nine to go. Best of seven: Detroit 3-3 Anaheim.
Drat, drat, and double drat! I wrote that the Ducks' goose was cooked, and now I'm eating crow. Nevertheless, Game 7 shall be ours, oh yes, it shall be ours.
Believe.
Eye of the Tiger
Tiger's doing that weird thing cats do where they run around the house at breakneck speed, seemingly without direction or purpose, almost like some kind of fit. Sam did it too. Of course, these late night fits are the only times Tiger ever runs; even when fleeing from danger (really, fleeing in terror, as she's never in actual danger), she waddles away at what in a human I would describe as a fast walk. Waddle, waddle for your lives!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Star Trek
At Ki-El's and Dylweed's request, I am going to write a full review of J. J. Abrams's Star Trek. I am going to, as in, I have not yet. It is no exaggeration to say that Star Trek (meaning the franchise that spanned five television series and ten motion pictures between 1966 and 2005) rivals Star Wars in my affection. And so I am not dragging my feet on the review, I am still ruminating upon everything I saw and heard last Saturday. I want to get this right, and to do that I need first to make sense of all I am thinking and feeling. Your patience with this process is greatly appreciated. I thank you.
Believe
Second intermission: Ducks 2-0 Red Wings.
Best of seven: Detroit 3-2 Anaheim.
Confidence! Babcock's a master strategist, he's just lulling the Ducks into a false sense of security. Mark my words, Game 7 shan't be necessary.
Believe, confound ye!
Holy Mother Church
A rather reactionary Catholic emailing list to which I belong is asking that I pray the Rosary this week for the University of Notre Dame, that the ship might be righted and orthodoxy restored. How quaint. If I pray anything for Notre Dame, 'twould surely be for the whole benighted place to burn to the ground.
Elsewhere in Catholicism, Popelink. It's funny how every story the B.B.C. runs about this trip mentions His Holiness's compulsory service in the Nazi war machine during the Second World War, events now seventy years past, yet very few of the pieces they run about Mahmoud Abbas mention his Holocaust denials of the 1980s, only twenty-five years ago. I am not one to argue in favor of relativism, each action should be judged on its own merits, but it is interesting how ready and willing they are to forgive decisions Abbas made in his late forties and early fifties, and yet so unwilling to forgive what the Pope was forced to do as a teenager. Of course, Catholics—as "Papists"—are the only religious group still officially discriminated against by Her Majesty's Government; so, even though nominally independent from H.M.G., I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised that the B.B.C. still looks at events through Titus Oates's eyes.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Guster, "One Man Wreaking Machine" from Ganging Up On the Sun (T.L.A.M.)
At Ki-El's and Dylweed's request, I am going to write a full review of J. J. Abrams's Star Trek. I am going to, as in, I have not yet. It is no exaggeration to say that Star Trek (meaning the franchise that spanned five television series and ten motion pictures between 1966 and 2005) rivals Star Wars in my affection. And so I am not dragging my feet on the review, I am still ruminating upon everything I saw and heard last Saturday. I want to get this right, and to do that I need first to make sense of all I am thinking and feeling. Your patience with this process is greatly appreciated. I thank you.
Believe
Second intermission: Ducks 2-0 Red Wings.
Best of seven: Detroit 3-2 Anaheim.
Confidence! Babcock's a master strategist, he's just lulling the Ducks into a false sense of security. Mark my words, Game 7 shan't be necessary.
Believe, confound ye!
Holy Mother Church
A rather reactionary Catholic emailing list to which I belong is asking that I pray the Rosary this week for the University of Notre Dame, that the ship might be righted and orthodoxy restored. How quaint. If I pray anything for Notre Dame, 'twould surely be for the whole benighted place to burn to the ground.
Elsewhere in Catholicism, Popelink. It's funny how every story the B.B.C. runs about this trip mentions His Holiness's compulsory service in the Nazi war machine during the Second World War, events now seventy years past, yet very few of the pieces they run about Mahmoud Abbas mention his Holocaust denials of the 1980s, only twenty-five years ago. I am not one to argue in favor of relativism, each action should be judged on its own merits, but it is interesting how ready and willing they are to forgive decisions Abbas made in his late forties and early fifties, and yet so unwilling to forgive what the Pope was forced to do as a teenager. Of course, Catholics—as "Papists"—are the only religious group still officially discriminated against by Her Majesty's Government; so, even though nominally independent from H.M.G., I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised that the B.B.C. still looks at events through Titus Oates's eyes.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Guster, "One Man Wreaking Machine" from Ganging Up On the Sun (T.L.A.M.)
Monday, May 11, 2009
The Stars My Destination
To Hubble… and beyond! No, no, wait, that would be bad, that second bit… very, very bad. Hmmm. Rather, to Hubble… and back! N.A.S.A.link and B.B.C.link. Godspeed, Atlantis.
Believe: Red Wings 4-1 Ducks
Seven down, nine to go. Best of seven: Detroit 3-2 Anaheim.
Nothing is written in stone, but the Red Wings are frighteningly good in Games 6 on the road when possessing a 3-2 series lead, a.k.a. with the other team on the brink of elimination. I don't have them right in front of me, but the numbers are staggering. The Ducks' goose is cooked and the secret ingredient is Swede.
Believe.
I am cultivating an interest in motorsport, due almost entirely to Steve McQueen's film Le Mans. I had the Spanish Grand Prix on in the background Sunday when I was vacuuming the house and cleaning the bathrooms (by her request, my Mothers' Day present to my mom). Fascinating stuff. F1link.
Operation AXIOM - Narwhal Day Approaches
Less than a fortnight until Narwhal Day, the narwhaliest day of the year! Act now and you too can feel sympathy for the narwhal. Narwhal Day is 23 May, less than two weeks away! Hip hip hooray, its Narwhal Day! Wear your gray, it's Narwhal Day! Narwhal Day! Narwhal Day! Narwhal Day!
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Green Day, "Jesus of Suburbia / City of the Damned / I Don't Care / Dearly Beloved / Tales of Another Broken Home" from American Idiot (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: "I don't feel any shame, I won't apologize."
Sonntag, 10 Mai
Mu330, "Favorite Show" (live) from Oh Yeah! (T.L.A.M.)
Samstag, 9 Mai
James Horner, "Surprise Attack" from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)
To Hubble… and beyond! No, no, wait, that would be bad, that second bit… very, very bad. Hmmm. Rather, to Hubble… and back! N.A.S.A.link and B.B.C.link. Godspeed, Atlantis.
Believe: Red Wings 4-1 Ducks
Seven down, nine to go. Best of seven: Detroit 3-2 Anaheim.
Nothing is written in stone, but the Red Wings are frighteningly good in Games 6 on the road when possessing a 3-2 series lead, a.k.a. with the other team on the brink of elimination. I don't have them right in front of me, but the numbers are staggering. The Ducks' goose is cooked and the secret ingredient is Swede.
Believe.
I am cultivating an interest in motorsport, due almost entirely to Steve McQueen's film Le Mans. I had the Spanish Grand Prix on in the background Sunday when I was vacuuming the house and cleaning the bathrooms (by her request, my Mothers' Day present to my mom). Fascinating stuff. F1link.
Operation AXIOM - Narwhal Day Approaches
Less than a fortnight until Narwhal Day, the narwhaliest day of the year! Act now and you too can feel sympathy for the narwhal. Narwhal Day is 23 May, less than two weeks away! Hip hip hooray, its Narwhal Day! Wear your gray, it's Narwhal Day! Narwhal Day! Narwhal Day! Narwhal Day!
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
Green Day, "Jesus of Suburbia / City of the Damned / I Don't Care / Dearly Beloved / Tales of Another Broken Home" from American Idiot (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: "I don't feel any shame, I won't apologize."
Sonntag, 10 Mai
Mu330, "Favorite Show" (live) from Oh Yeah! (T.L.A.M.)
Samstag, 9 Mai
James Horner, "Surprise Attack" from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (T.L.A.M.)
Friday, May 8, 2009
Last night, I almost said to a girl I don't love—or at least I don't think I love her—"Goodnight, I love you." The words were right there in my mind and they darn near flowed out through my tongue. I'm trying to figure out what the dickens that might have meant, but I'm long on questions and short on answers.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might be Giants, "Why Does the Sun Shine? (The Sun is a Mass of Incandescent Gas)" (live) from Severe Tire Damage (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: "Why Does the Sun Shine?" was mentioned this afternoon on Science Friday. As this live recording has previously served as the R.B.D.S.O.T.D. I thought about using the original version from the Why Does the Sun Shine? E.P., but, no, it's the faster, more aggressive tone of the live version I needed to sate my jones.
Donnerstag, 7 Mai
Great Big Sea, "The Mermaid" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: The song posits one answer to the question posed by the illustration below, but me, I'd make the other choice.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
They Might be Giants, "Why Does the Sun Shine? (The Sun is a Mass of Incandescent Gas)" (live) from Severe Tire Damage (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: "Why Does the Sun Shine?" was mentioned this afternoon on Science Friday. As this live recording has previously served as the R.B.D.S.O.T.D. I thought about using the original version from the Why Does the Sun Shine? E.P., but, no, it's the faster, more aggressive tone of the live version I needed to sate my jones.
Donnerstag, 7 Mai
Great Big Sea, "The Mermaid" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: The song posits one answer to the question posed by the illustration below, but me, I'd make the other choice.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Believe: Ducks 2-1 Red Wings
Five down, eleven to go. Best of seven: Anaheim 2-1 Detroit.
Drat it all! Nevertheless, hey, the rules are the rules, and if the ref couldn't see the puck, he had to blow the whistle. Were we in their place, we'd be praising the decision. Still, curse the luck. Blast! Okay, well, now it'll take the Red Wings six games to finish off this series. Took six games to put down the Penguins last year, we can do six games. Do you still believe? I do. Go Wings!
Believe.
Operation AXIOM
Four hundred eight-two years ago to the day, the 6th of May Anno Domini 1527, an Imperial army conducted the infamous Sack of Rome, then capital of the Papal States. His Holiness Pope Clement VII made good his escape only because one hundred forty-seven Swiss Guards fought to the death against the marauding Imperials. These men died defending the Successor of Saint Peter, and their service to the Lord God shall never be forgotten.
Martin Luther, always the good Christian, cheered the rape, pillage, and wanton murder of unarmed civilians as God's Will.
Project TRITON
Man alive, I can scarcely believe half my time has already flown by. Tempus fugate is a cruel, mocking understatement. How did I feel at the halfway point of Project TROIKA? Certainly more overwhelmed by the scale of the undertaking, but I was also further along on both plot and background. Schieße! Schieße! Schieße!
Grow or die, Michaelmas looms.
Fortune found under a Jones Soda bottle cap: "You will soon be proud of someone close to you." So, come on, you lot, time for somebody to step up. Make me proud.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Kelly Sweet, "Dream On" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: Hard to believe that Aerosmith actually wrote one really good song. Then again, even a broken clock is right twice a day.
Five down, eleven to go. Best of seven: Anaheim 2-1 Detroit.
Drat it all! Nevertheless, hey, the rules are the rules, and if the ref couldn't see the puck, he had to blow the whistle. Were we in their place, we'd be praising the decision. Still, curse the luck. Blast! Okay, well, now it'll take the Red Wings six games to finish off this series. Took six games to put down the Penguins last year, we can do six games. Do you still believe? I do. Go Wings!
Believe.
Operation AXIOM
Four hundred eight-two years ago to the day, the 6th of May Anno Domini 1527, an Imperial army conducted the infamous Sack of Rome, then capital of the Papal States. His Holiness Pope Clement VII made good his escape only because one hundred forty-seven Swiss Guards fought to the death against the marauding Imperials. These men died defending the Successor of Saint Peter, and their service to the Lord God shall never be forgotten.
Martin Luther, always the good Christian, cheered the rape, pillage, and wanton murder of unarmed civilians as God's Will.
Project TRITON
Man alive, I can scarcely believe half my time has already flown by. Tempus fugate is a cruel, mocking understatement. How did I feel at the halfway point of Project TROIKA? Certainly more overwhelmed by the scale of the undertaking, but I was also further along on both plot and background. Schieße! Schieße! Schieße!
Grow or die, Michaelmas looms.
Fortune found under a Jones Soda bottle cap: "You will soon be proud of someone close to you." So, come on, you lot, time for somebody to step up. Make me proud.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Kelly Sweet, "Dream On" via iTunes (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: Hard to believe that Aerosmith actually wrote one really good song. Then again, even a broken clock is right twice a day.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Believe
Second period: Ducks 2-1 Red Wings
Best of seven: Detroit 1-1 Anaheim
Stupid late night West Coast games. Feel free to call me an old man, I can't stay up to see the end of the game. I have to get up monstrously early upon the morrow! Alas and alack, woe is me. Go Wings!
Believe.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
MxPx, "Linda Linda (English)" from On the Cover II (T.L.A.M.)
Second period: Ducks 2-1 Red Wings
Best of seven: Detroit 1-1 Anaheim
Stupid late night West Coast games. Feel free to call me an old man, I can't stay up to see the end of the game. I have to get up monstrously early upon the morrow! Alas and alack, woe is me. Go Wings!
Believe.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
MxPx, "Linda Linda (English)" from On the Cover II (T.L.A.M.)
Rule Britannia
I am not endorsing Michael Savage's views. I am, however, gravely concerned about Great Britain. For too long the United Kingdom granted total immunity and complete freedom of action for too many radical jihadist imams inciting terrorism around the globe, and taking steps to stop providing cover to the very people trying to bring down Her Majesty's Government is a good thing. But, in too many cases the laws against promoting hate and fostering extremism are being applied not against those who recruit and exhort suicide bombers, but against those who voice uncouth views objectionable to delicate British sensibilities. Banlink. Freedom as we understand it was first conceptualized on the island of Great Britain, and the world entire will be a poorer place if the subjects of and visitors to the United Kingdom are denied their inalienable right to basic freedom of expression.
Dieu Et Mon Droit.
Operation AXIOM
I take my fair share of potshots at the United Mexican States, but of late Mexico has gotten a raw deal. First, those jackals in the press make asses of themselves by casting baleful assertions about Mexico tottering perilously close to being a failed state over drug cartel violence, and now the Red Chinese are rounding up and quarantining every Mexican they can get their filthy Marxist-Leninist-Maoist hands on in a bid to combat the *ooo scary* swine flu… even if the Mexicans they are rounding up haven't been anywhere near anyone with the swine flu! Mexico's been getting a bum rap, and Cinco de Mayo seems like the perfect opportunity to express solidarity with our friends south of the border. Plus, who doesn't love a holiday that celebrates the thwarting of France's imperial ambitions?
Happy Cinco de Mayo to one and all! If nothing else, it's a fabulous excuse to gratuitously reference the Maximilian Affair, one of our best named affairs. Though, really, is there such a thing as a poorly named affair? Affairs are sublime!
Alcohol
The Official Beer of The Last Angry Man: Guinness
The Official Beer of The Last Angry Man, Memorial Day to Labor Day Subcategory: Red Stripe
The Official Cocktail of The Last Angry Man: gin & tonic
The Official Shot of The Last Angry Man: Dead Nazi
Of course, it has been years and years and years since I had a shot, and I am wondering, sitting here on the cusp of my thirtieth year, if I should decommission the Official Shot. After all, a thirty-year-old man really shouldn't drink shots, it seems terribly juvenile. On the other hand, the raison d'être of the Official Shot has never been the booze, it's always been all about the name. What's better than a Dead Nazi? "The only good Nazi is a dead Nazi," with thanks to Phil Sheridan. On the gripping hand… actually, I'm not sure what the gripping hand position is on this one. Hmmm, a puzzlement. Anyway, I've got almost three months until my birthday, plenty of time to weigh the variables, devise the gripping hand, reweigh the variables, and reach a decision.
Until then, raise your glasses, lads and lasses, and let us toast. To crime!
I am not endorsing Michael Savage's views. I am, however, gravely concerned about Great Britain. For too long the United Kingdom granted total immunity and complete freedom of action for too many radical jihadist imams inciting terrorism around the globe, and taking steps to stop providing cover to the very people trying to bring down Her Majesty's Government is a good thing. But, in too many cases the laws against promoting hate and fostering extremism are being applied not against those who recruit and exhort suicide bombers, but against those who voice uncouth views objectionable to delicate British sensibilities. Banlink. Freedom as we understand it was first conceptualized on the island of Great Britain, and the world entire will be a poorer place if the subjects of and visitors to the United Kingdom are denied their inalienable right to basic freedom of expression.
Dieu Et Mon Droit.
Operation AXIOM
I take my fair share of potshots at the United Mexican States, but of late Mexico has gotten a raw deal. First, those jackals in the press make asses of themselves by casting baleful assertions about Mexico tottering perilously close to being a failed state over drug cartel violence, and now the Red Chinese are rounding up and quarantining every Mexican they can get their filthy Marxist-Leninist-Maoist hands on in a bid to combat the *ooo scary* swine flu… even if the Mexicans they are rounding up haven't been anywhere near anyone with the swine flu! Mexico's been getting a bum rap, and Cinco de Mayo seems like the perfect opportunity to express solidarity with our friends south of the border. Plus, who doesn't love a holiday that celebrates the thwarting of France's imperial ambitions?
Happy Cinco de Mayo to one and all! If nothing else, it's a fabulous excuse to gratuitously reference the Maximilian Affair, one of our best named affairs. Though, really, is there such a thing as a poorly named affair? Affairs are sublime!
Alcohol
The Official Beer of The Last Angry Man: Guinness
The Official Beer of The Last Angry Man, Memorial Day to Labor Day Subcategory: Red Stripe
The Official Cocktail of The Last Angry Man: gin & tonic
The Official Shot of The Last Angry Man: Dead Nazi
Of course, it has been years and years and years since I had a shot, and I am wondering, sitting here on the cusp of my thirtieth year, if I should decommission the Official Shot. After all, a thirty-year-old man really shouldn't drink shots, it seems terribly juvenile. On the other hand, the raison d'être of the Official Shot has never been the booze, it's always been all about the name. What's better than a Dead Nazi? "The only good Nazi is a dead Nazi," with thanks to Phil Sheridan. On the gripping hand… actually, I'm not sure what the gripping hand position is on this one. Hmmm, a puzzlement. Anyway, I've got almost three months until my birthday, plenty of time to weigh the variables, devise the gripping hand, reweigh the variables, and reach a decision.
Until then, raise your glasses, lads and lasses, and let us toast. To crime!
Monday, May 4, 2009
"No man is an island, entire of itself."
—John Donne
And more's the pity. In the last two days, fellowship has been to me nothing but a quarrelsome burden, a millstone 'round my already weary neck. I am at present an unsociable cuss, and when in such a humor I should remove myself from the society of even my cherished friends.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Less Than Jake, "Short Fuse Burning" from Anthem (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: "I'm so close to exploding."
—John Donne
And more's the pity. In the last two days, fellowship has been to me nothing but a quarrelsome burden, a millstone 'round my already weary neck. I am at present an unsociable cuss, and when in such a humor I should remove myself from the society of even my cherished friends.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Less Than Jake, "Short Fuse Burning" from Anthem (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: "I'm so close to exploding."
Sunday, May 3, 2009
The Explorers Club
No. CXXVIII - The Johnstown Flood of 31 May 1889 that claimed the lives of more than 2,200 souls.
Believe: Ducks 4-3 Red Wings (3 O.T.)
Five down, eleven to go. Best of seven: Detroit 1-1 Anaheim
What's worse than watching a hockey game on N.B.C.? Watching a hockey game on N.B.C. that goes into multiple overtime times. What's worse than watching a hockey game on N.B.C. that goes into multiple overtime times? Watching a hockey game on N.B.C. that goes into multiple overtime times, and which your team loses. What a thoroughly rotten ending to the afternoon.
Well, okay, fine, now it will take the Red Wings five games to advance to the Western Conference Finals. We all knew this wouldn't be a cakewalk. Time to dig deep and defeat the "Dicks." (I'm not just insulting them because I can. This past week, there was a photograph on the front page of the sports section of The Flint Journal featuring Anaheim defenseman Chris Pronger, from the series against the Sharks. Pronger's sweater was wrinkled just so, and when I showed the photo to my mother, a kind and generous soul, and asked her what the name of Pronger's team was, she replied, confusion in her voice, "The Dicks?" The U in Ducks was folded so that it looked for all the world like an I. The NAHEIM DICKS, the A in Anaheim also disappearing behind the wrinkling of Pronger's sweater. How tremendously appropriate, the Dicks.)
Do you believe? Down deep, after a loss, do you still believe? Or is it just a word to you? Me, I believe. Maybe not in five, maybe in six, maybe even in seven, but the Red Wings will win this series, and the next, and the next. Sixteen wins to retain Lord Stanley's Cup; five down, eleven to go. Go Wings!
Believe.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
William Shatner, "Common People" from Has Been (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: I thought about getting up early enough to go to ten o'clock Mass, but last night I decided I'd rather sleep in, and instead set my sights on twelve o'clock Mass. Mistake. 'Twas First Communion for the parish's second graders, and the church was packed. Not quite Christmas or Easter packed, but a full house nonetheless. The Christmas-and-Easter-only Catholics irk me, but I do concede it's better they observe only those two holy days than none at all. But the first communion gawkers? I've no use for them. The old man seated to my left showed no sign of having ever attended a Catholic Mass, not reacting to a single one of the cues that we all know by rote. And it may be an unworthy, un-Christian thought, but as I sat through Mass the lyric kept running through my mind, "'Cause everybody hates a tourist."
Samstag, 3 Mai
MxPx, "Major Tom (Coming Home)" from On the Cover II (T.L.A.M.)
No. CXXVIII - The Johnstown Flood of 31 May 1889 that claimed the lives of more than 2,200 souls.
Believe: Ducks 4-3 Red Wings (3 O.T.)
Five down, eleven to go. Best of seven: Detroit 1-1 Anaheim
What's worse than watching a hockey game on N.B.C.? Watching a hockey game on N.B.C. that goes into multiple overtime times. What's worse than watching a hockey game on N.B.C. that goes into multiple overtime times? Watching a hockey game on N.B.C. that goes into multiple overtime times, and which your team loses. What a thoroughly rotten ending to the afternoon.
Well, okay, fine, now it will take the Red Wings five games to advance to the Western Conference Finals. We all knew this wouldn't be a cakewalk. Time to dig deep and defeat the "Dicks." (I'm not just insulting them because I can. This past week, there was a photograph on the front page of the sports section of The Flint Journal featuring Anaheim defenseman Chris Pronger, from the series against the Sharks. Pronger's sweater was wrinkled just so, and when I showed the photo to my mother, a kind and generous soul, and asked her what the name of Pronger's team was, she replied, confusion in her voice, "The Dicks?" The U in Ducks was folded so that it looked for all the world like an I. The NAHEIM DICKS, the A in Anaheim also disappearing behind the wrinkling of Pronger's sweater. How tremendously appropriate, the Dicks.)
Do you believe? Down deep, after a loss, do you still believe? Or is it just a word to you? Me, I believe. Maybe not in five, maybe in six, maybe even in seven, but the Red Wings will win this series, and the next, and the next. Sixteen wins to retain Lord Stanley's Cup; five down, eleven to go. Go Wings!
Believe.
The Rebel Black Dot Songs of the Day
William Shatner, "Common People" from Has Been (T.L.A.M.)
Commentary: I thought about getting up early enough to go to ten o'clock Mass, but last night I decided I'd rather sleep in, and instead set my sights on twelve o'clock Mass. Mistake. 'Twas First Communion for the parish's second graders, and the church was packed. Not quite Christmas or Easter packed, but a full house nonetheless. The Christmas-and-Easter-only Catholics irk me, but I do concede it's better they observe only those two holy days than none at all. But the first communion gawkers? I've no use for them. The old man seated to my left showed no sign of having ever attended a Catholic Mass, not reacting to a single one of the cues that we all know by rote. And it may be an unworthy, un-Christian thought, but as I sat through Mass the lyric kept running through my mind, "'Cause everybody hates a tourist."
Samstag, 3 Mai
MxPx, "Major Tom (Coming Home)" from On the Cover II (T.L.A.M.)
Believe
First intermission: Red Wings 2-2 Ducks
Best of seven: Detroit 1-0 Anaheim
Bog, watching a hockey game on N.B.C. is painful. What's the deal, C.B.C.? I thought hockey was supposed to be your national sport? But the Canadians, predictably, fail, leaving me to suffer the idiocy and naked partisanship of the N.B.C. announcers. Does N.B.C. own the Ducks? Because this afternoon's announcers seem awfully knowledgeable about the Ducks and awfully supportive of their cause. But that's okay, because we played a pretty poor first period and yet the game's still tied; if we play with an degree of intensity, the Ducks* will be toast.
Believe.
*Brought to you by N.B.C. N.B.C. sez, "Go Ducks!"
First intermission: Red Wings 2-2 Ducks
Best of seven: Detroit 1-0 Anaheim
Bog, watching a hockey game on N.B.C. is painful. What's the deal, C.B.C.? I thought hockey was supposed to be your national sport? But the Canadians, predictably, fail, leaving me to suffer the idiocy and naked partisanship of the N.B.C. announcers. Does N.B.C. own the Ducks? Because this afternoon's announcers seem awfully knowledgeable about the Ducks and awfully supportive of their cause. But that's okay, because we played a pretty poor first period and yet the game's still tied; if we play with an degree of intensity, the Ducks* will be toast.
Believe.
*Brought to you by N.B.C. N.B.C. sez, "Go Ducks!"
Friday, May 1, 2009
Believe: Red Wings 3-2 Ducks
Five down, eleven to go. Best of seven: Detroit 1-0 Anaheim.
I did not see the game because I was doing a favor for my father, proving once again that no good deed goes unpunished.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "Devil's Night Out" (live) from Live From the Middle East
Commentary:
"In his favorite club,
In his favorite seat,
I saw the Devil,
Wingtip shoes on his feet,
Porkpie hat on his head,
He's was digging the beat,
And the band ripped like demons
When he screamed, 'Turn up the heat!'"
Five down, eleven to go. Best of seven: Detroit 1-0 Anaheim.
I did not see the game because I was doing a favor for my father, proving once again that no good deed goes unpunished.
The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, "Devil's Night Out" (live) from Live From the Middle East
Commentary:
"In his favorite club,
In his favorite seat,
I saw the Devil,
Wingtip shoes on his feet,
Porkpie hat on his head,
He's was digging the beat,
And the band ripped like demons
When he screamed, 'Turn up the heat!'"
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