Forget Denver and St. Paul, I've found a better spot to find all my Campiagn '08 gear: Mos Eisley spaceport. Check out these funny Star Wars "election" items.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
Preseason Prattle.
A few observations from last night's Redskins-Jags game:
1) Sitting in the second row, in the shadow of the goalpost does not suck. (Thanks Cousin.)
2) The Wave never gets old. Well, as a stadium phenomenon year after year that is. After ten laps around the stadium it certainly gets old.
3) Free hot dogs are the tastiest hotdogs.
4) Overheard in the row in front of us: While referring to Redskins rookie running back Marcus Mason-The future! That's the future! That's like watchin' The Matrix, man!
1) Sitting in the second row, in the shadow of the goalpost does not suck. (Thanks Cousin.)
2) The Wave never gets old. Well, as a stadium phenomenon year after year that is. After ten laps around the stadium it certainly gets old.
3) Free hot dogs are the tastiest hotdogs.
4) Overheard in the row in front of us: While referring to Redskins rookie running back Marcus Mason-The future! That's the future! That's like watchin' The Matrix, man!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Pipe Down, Stranger.
I've previously written that my wife calls me The World's Youngest Curmudgeon and she'll probably reach for that nickname again after reading this post. Today's problem is strangers who find it neccessary to make small talk. The barber, the parents waiting in the school parking lot for their kids, the people in the elevator all feel the need to make awkward stabs at filling dead air. Why? Did I unwittingly sign a social compact requiring me to partake in this mindless chitchat? For some, uncomfortable silences are comfortable. I wear uncomfortable silences like a worn, old sweatshirt that feels so soft as it warms me from the autumn chill of unwanted social interaction.
I don't despise small talk because I'm impolite. In fact, I took a long walk through Downtown Annapolis last week and nodded towards, smiled at or said "Good Morning" to nearly everyone I passed. I despise small talk because I don't care where the lady cutting my hair went to high school and it's none of her business what I do for a living. I despise it because I don't know how to answer the question-"What about that Gustav, huh?" (Well, I hope it swells to a Category 5 and drowns thousands. What do you expect me to say sir? Of course I hope it dissipates before becoming even deadlier.) I despise small talk because I am shy and socially awkward and sometimes don't know what to say (sometimes even with family and friends).
For the record, in this post I am talking about passing strangers who I will see for fleeting moments. When introduced to a new group that will require constant interaction, be it work, a new class, etc, I try to be social and have been fortunate to make lifelong friends along the way.
I'm sure that shunning interaction with strangers will lead to me missing out on something. Maybe the barber lady has season tickets to the Washington Caps and is looking to unload some tickets. Maybe one of the dads in the parking lot has a mint condition Hasbro Millenium Falcon and would want to hang out and show me his toy collection. I'll never know. But I'm okay with that because more than likely she'll just say something like "How about this heat?".
I don't despise small talk because I'm impolite. In fact, I took a long walk through Downtown Annapolis last week and nodded towards, smiled at or said "Good Morning" to nearly everyone I passed. I despise small talk because I don't care where the lady cutting my hair went to high school and it's none of her business what I do for a living. I despise it because I don't know how to answer the question-"What about that Gustav, huh?" (Well, I hope it swells to a Category 5 and drowns thousands. What do you expect me to say sir? Of course I hope it dissipates before becoming even deadlier.) I despise small talk because I am shy and socially awkward and sometimes don't know what to say (sometimes even with family and friends).
For the record, in this post I am talking about passing strangers who I will see for fleeting moments. When introduced to a new group that will require constant interaction, be it work, a new class, etc, I try to be social and have been fortunate to make lifelong friends along the way.
I'm sure that shunning interaction with strangers will lead to me missing out on something. Maybe the barber lady has season tickets to the Washington Caps and is looking to unload some tickets. Maybe one of the dads in the parking lot has a mint condition Hasbro Millenium Falcon and would want to hang out and show me his toy collection. I'll never know. But I'm okay with that because more than likely she'll just say something like "How about this heat?".
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The Wussification Of America Continues.
I'm no macho man. In fact, I'm kind of a wimp. As a kid I was a shy, introverted scaredy-cat. I'd like to think, however, that I have enough grit to teach my soon-to-arrive daughter that sometimes you have to face a challenge head-on instead of running away. I will tell her that you won't always be successful, but that sometimes failure helps you learn. I certainly hope I teach her to try. Unlike the league administrators and parents in New Haven, Connecticut who have banned a nine-year-old boy from pitching in his youth baseball league because he throws too hard and his team is too good. Full story from ESPN here.
Throws too hard? To me it's as simple as this- if he is of an eligible age (and he is, the league is 8-10) then he should be allowed to play. Baseball, at any level, can be dangerous. A flung bat, crashing outfielders, and a hit back through the box can bruise, maim and even kill. That is why players are equipped with helmets, catching gear and, at this age level, softer balls that cause less damage than traditional baseballs. If parents are so afraid for their child's safety then they should keep them on the sidelines.
My real beef with this ruling is that it appears, according to other reports I've read and heard, to be driven by parental complaints that Jericho Scott pitching too hard is not fair to their kids. Scott hits 40mph on the radar gun. I don't know what that equates to for an adult and I don't care because it is irrelevant. If your kid can't hit Scott's fastball help him practice to be a better hitter. Don't tell him that we'll eliminate the tough challenge so you don't have to face it. Not everything will come easy.
As a seven-year-old ball player I struck out a lot and was hit by the ball far more often than I hit it. (Seriously, I sucked.) There was a dominant pitcher who nobody wanted to face because he was so good and it hurt so bad when he unintentionally drilled you in the back. Yet nobody suggested he play second base instead of pitch. Should Michael Jordan have been forced to play with one hand tied behind his back because, gosh, with two hands he is so much better than everyone else? Of course not.
These are the same parents who would come into Barnes and Noble and request the shortest book on their kid's summer reading list because, "My kid will never read anything that thick." Yeah, To Kill A Mockingbird will be so taxing. Wouldn't want it to get in the way of all the X Box playing. Are you going to write the paper for them too? I have worked with teens and college students that evidently have parents who heap the praise by the bucketload. I'm all for being supportive and building self-esteem. However,I shouldn't, as a manager, have to pat you on the head and give you a cookie everytime you complete the most mundane and routine of tasks that, oh by the way, we are paying you to complete.
I have a news flash for these parents: Some kids are smarter than yours. Some kids are better singers than yours. And some kids can hit the fastball better than yours. You know what? That's okay. Instead of crying about it, or worse yet not believing it, help your child learn, grow, improve in whatever they do. Support them without coddling them. Teach them without knocking down every hurdle before they reach it. Because in real life people keep score.
Throws too hard? To me it's as simple as this- if he is of an eligible age (and he is, the league is 8-10) then he should be allowed to play. Baseball, at any level, can be dangerous. A flung bat, crashing outfielders, and a hit back through the box can bruise, maim and even kill. That is why players are equipped with helmets, catching gear and, at this age level, softer balls that cause less damage than traditional baseballs. If parents are so afraid for their child's safety then they should keep them on the sidelines.
My real beef with this ruling is that it appears, according to other reports I've read and heard, to be driven by parental complaints that Jericho Scott pitching too hard is not fair to their kids. Scott hits 40mph on the radar gun. I don't know what that equates to for an adult and I don't care because it is irrelevant. If your kid can't hit Scott's fastball help him practice to be a better hitter. Don't tell him that we'll eliminate the tough challenge so you don't have to face it. Not everything will come easy.
As a seven-year-old ball player I struck out a lot and was hit by the ball far more often than I hit it. (Seriously, I sucked.) There was a dominant pitcher who nobody wanted to face because he was so good and it hurt so bad when he unintentionally drilled you in the back. Yet nobody suggested he play second base instead of pitch. Should Michael Jordan have been forced to play with one hand tied behind his back because, gosh, with two hands he is so much better than everyone else? Of course not.
These are the same parents who would come into Barnes and Noble and request the shortest book on their kid's summer reading list because, "My kid will never read anything that thick." Yeah, To Kill A Mockingbird will be so taxing. Wouldn't want it to get in the way of all the X Box playing. Are you going to write the paper for them too? I have worked with teens and college students that evidently have parents who heap the praise by the bucketload. I'm all for being supportive and building self-esteem. However,I shouldn't, as a manager, have to pat you on the head and give you a cookie everytime you complete the most mundane and routine of tasks that, oh by the way, we are paying you to complete.
I have a news flash for these parents: Some kids are smarter than yours. Some kids are better singers than yours. And some kids can hit the fastball better than yours. You know what? That's okay. Instead of crying about it, or worse yet not believing it, help your child learn, grow, improve in whatever they do. Support them without coddling them. Teach them without knocking down every hurdle before they reach it. Because in real life people keep score.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Blessed Be The Speechwriters.
I'm not a Democrat, I'm not sure where my vote will be cast in November, and I'm certainly no fan of the Clintons. But I am a fan of great speechwriting and I enjoyed Hilary's speech tonight. Inspirational, unifying and filled with some great lines, that was one helluva a performance. In fact, if Hilary had given more speeches like that during the primaries she would likely be addressing the convention Thursday night instead of tonight. A mighty tip of the cap to whoever wrote this one.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
A Few Photos
I try not to take for granted the fact that I live so close to Washington DC. Many people never get to see our nation's capital or make it a once in a lifetime trip. I'm an American history buff that still doesn't take full advantage of the proximity. Here's a few photos form our trip a couple weeks ago.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Not Long Ago In Theater Near, Near To Me.
I finally made it see the Star Wars:Clone Wars cartoon today. (I was surprised when it was sold out Friday.) Prior to seeing it I had jumbled thoughts about the flick. I wanted to love it, but assumed it would dissapoint the fan in me. I worried that this was a movie that would be better served existing solely as an idea or two minute trailer.
The low expectations I carried into the theater were not exactly exceeded as the movie started. I already knew that with Warner Bros., not Twentieth Century Fox, distributing the movie there would be no Fox drumbeat and fanfare that usually brings goosebumps as it signals the start of a Star Wars flick. I was dissapointed, however, when there was no golden, exposition-setting crawl fading off into outer space. Instead, we got a quick voiceover setup from an announcer with a gameshow style, "Johnny, tell him what he's won..." voice. That and a remixed(?) theme song had me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Thank goodness it got better from there.
This movie itself is by no measure great, but it did exceed my tamped down expectations. Like in the prequels, the story is thin and the dialouge is brutal. There are other lesser dissapointments that threatened to sink the pic. The human characters look pretty cheesy. Although, the cartoon Anakin may be less wooden than Hayden Christiansen's portrayal. There is not nearly enough Mace Windu (considering the awesomeness of his previous two minute Clone Wars cartoon short and that they actually had Sam Jackson doing the voice). And there is a Hutt character that not only is a waste of a plot point that really isn't neccesary to advance the story, but is also a pretty bad stereotype. I know there is a better comparison that is currently eluding me so, for now, think Rerun from "What's Happening".
I did say I actually liked the movie, right? Here's why. Besides the poorly animated human faces, which are great for Madden '08 but bad for a cartoon that has as touchstones six movies starring real humans, the movie looks fantastic. There is a particularly visually stunning laser battle that unfolds vertically on a sheer cliff face. The machines, aliens, and especially the clone troopers, all look excellent. The space battles are cool, as are the lightsaber duels. This movie may dissapoint hard core fans, but it will join the other six movies on my DVD shelf. That's because it contains enough to remind me why I love Star Wars- it stirs the imagination and, for two hours, transports me to a galaxy far, far away.
The low expectations I carried into the theater were not exactly exceeded as the movie started. I already knew that with Warner Bros., not Twentieth Century Fox, distributing the movie there would be no Fox drumbeat and fanfare that usually brings goosebumps as it signals the start of a Star Wars flick. I was dissapointed, however, when there was no golden, exposition-setting crawl fading off into outer space. Instead, we got a quick voiceover setup from an announcer with a gameshow style, "Johnny, tell him what he's won..." voice. That and a remixed(?) theme song had me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Thank goodness it got better from there.
This movie itself is by no measure great, but it did exceed my tamped down expectations. Like in the prequels, the story is thin and the dialouge is brutal. There are other lesser dissapointments that threatened to sink the pic. The human characters look pretty cheesy. Although, the cartoon Anakin may be less wooden than Hayden Christiansen's portrayal. There is not nearly enough Mace Windu (considering the awesomeness of his previous two minute Clone Wars cartoon short and that they actually had Sam Jackson doing the voice). And there is a Hutt character that not only is a waste of a plot point that really isn't neccesary to advance the story, but is also a pretty bad stereotype. I know there is a better comparison that is currently eluding me so, for now, think Rerun from "What's Happening".
I did say I actually liked the movie, right? Here's why. Besides the poorly animated human faces, which are great for Madden '08 but bad for a cartoon that has as touchstones six movies starring real humans, the movie looks fantastic. There is a particularly visually stunning laser battle that unfolds vertically on a sheer cliff face. The machines, aliens, and especially the clone troopers, all look excellent. The space battles are cool, as are the lightsaber duels. This movie may dissapoint hard core fans, but it will join the other six movies on my DVD shelf. That's because it contains enough to remind me why I love Star Wars- it stirs the imagination and, for two hours, transports me to a galaxy far, far away.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Pain(t) In The Butt.
I suppose there are many milestones as new parents await the arrival of their child including the first sonogram, assembling the crib, the baby shower,etc. I am genuinely excited about all of them, save one-painting the baby's room. You see, on my Scale of Unpleasant Things painting ranks somewhere between single-ply toilet paper (senseless!) and people who refer to themselves in the third person (insufferable!). And equal to people who carelessly overuse exclamation marks while blogging (annoying!!!). So with my negative build-up it is little wonder that I have had a rough time completing this important task. My mom even volunteered to help me because she enjoys painting. Seriously. I'm convinced she was afraid I would half-ass the job.
We are going with a jungle theme in the nursery and have purchased a cute set bedding set that includes a wallpaper border. We decided to place the border at chair rail height and paint the walls below it a green to match the green in the border. Trouble is, the manufacturer of the border apparently invented a new color green for this particular border. Because I can't find a green paint to match. ANYWHERE. I have multiple sample cards from several paint stores. Granny Smith? Too light. Pepper Grass? Too dark. Green Grapes? Too grapey.
Actually, let me backtrack. On my first attempt I actually bought a gallon of paint. Under the flourescent lights of the hardware store Riverview looked like a winner. On the walls of the nursery, however, Riverview looks, perhaps ironically, but not amusingly, like babyshit green. Amanda and my mom thought this was pretty funny because a blind man could have picked a better match for the border. I protested about the flourescent lights, but they weren't buying it. Mom and I then selected samples from a different store. None matched perfectly, but appeared to be in the right neighborhood. Until we got outside in the sunshine. Out of the flourescent light they weren't even close to matching. My mom said she wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't been there herself. It was some vindication for my earlier miscue, but little consolation because I still don't have any paint. Tomorrow Amanda and I will venture out to try again. Given my recent paint history, I'm betting tomorrow will be a doozy.
We are going with a jungle theme in the nursery and have purchased a cute set bedding set that includes a wallpaper border. We decided to place the border at chair rail height and paint the walls below it a green to match the green in the border. Trouble is, the manufacturer of the border apparently invented a new color green for this particular border. Because I can't find a green paint to match. ANYWHERE. I have multiple sample cards from several paint stores. Granny Smith? Too light. Pepper Grass? Too dark. Green Grapes? Too grapey.
Actually, let me backtrack. On my first attempt I actually bought a gallon of paint. Under the flourescent lights of the hardware store Riverview looked like a winner. On the walls of the nursery, however, Riverview looks, perhaps ironically, but not amusingly, like babyshit green. Amanda and my mom thought this was pretty funny because a blind man could have picked a better match for the border. I protested about the flourescent lights, but they weren't buying it. Mom and I then selected samples from a different store. None matched perfectly, but appeared to be in the right neighborhood. Until we got outside in the sunshine. Out of the flourescent light they weren't even close to matching. My mom said she wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't been there herself. It was some vindication for my earlier miscue, but little consolation because I still don't have any paint. Tomorrow Amanda and I will venture out to try again. Given my recent paint history, I'm betting tomorrow will be a doozy.
$200 of Crap Is Still Crap.
While flipping channels I passed an infomercial for the amazing Slendertone Belt that effortlessly contracts your flabby tummy to six-pack sexiness. Who buys this stuff? Wait, I answered my own question. It's the same gullible dopes who think those Bigfoot guys in Georgia are for real and who think they are going to pay for their kid's college education with their mass-produced action figure collection and twelve Albert Pujols rookie cards.
Memo to these lazy exercisophobes: There are no shortcuts. Even if the "Electro Muscle Stimulation" does work as advertised (the technology is used successfully in physical rehab centers) your best case scenario is harder abs hidden under your belly fat. I imagine buried somewhere amidst the testimonials and discount prices you can find the truth-telling fine print about varying results and best results accompanying a balanced diet and steady exercise. Duh. Now if you'll excuse me it's time for my Thighmaster workout.
Memo to these lazy exercisophobes: There are no shortcuts. Even if the "Electro Muscle Stimulation" does work as advertised (the technology is used successfully in physical rehab centers) your best case scenario is harder abs hidden under your belly fat. I imagine buried somewhere amidst the testimonials and discount prices you can find the truth-telling fine print about varying results and best results accompanying a balanced diet and steady exercise. Duh. Now if you'll excuse me it's time for my Thighmaster workout.
We Interrupt This Broadcast...
I'm pretty sure World's Biggest Windbag Joe Thiesmann just had an on-air, in-booth orgasm when Brett Favre took the field for the Jets. It's gonna be a long season.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Sophisticated Kids.
A scary story in yesterday's Washington Post about an 18-year-old Montgomery County, MD resident and his 17-year-old accomplice who have been found to be stashing assault weapons, armor piercing bullets and, oh yeah, a map of presidential retreat Camp David that includes a motorcade route.
"Police investigating a teenager accused of bomb-making and weapons violations found a map of Camp David with a presidential motorcade route in his home, a Montgomery County prosecutor said.
Collin McKenzie-Gude, 18, of Bethesda, also had a document that appears to describe how to kill someone 200 meters away, Montgomery Assistant State's Attorney Peter A. Feeney said.
The teen had two forms of fake identification _ one portraying him as a Central Intelligence Agency employee and another as a federal contractor, Feeney said. The details were revealed Tuesday in a bond hearing in the case, The Washington Post reported...
Authorities said they found 50 pounds of chemicals, assault-style weapons and armor-piercing bullets in his home. The investigation has expanded to include the CIA, FBI and Secret Service. "
I'm not going to turn this into a "What the hell is wrong with people?" rant. I'm not naive enough to think that there are not evil young people smart and devious enough to plot and execute a diabolical plan; Columbine and Virginia Tech hammered these points home long ago. I do, however, wonder what he was actually up to. Was a true home-grown terrorist plot thwarted? Or was he just a punk kid playing a little over his head. And I do wonder about his father who, allegedly, helped his son acquire some of the weapons. Jesus, when I was eighteen, the most complex and diabolical plans my friends and I tried to hatch were scoring beer and toilet papering buddies' cars without getting caught.
"Police investigating a teenager accused of bomb-making and weapons violations found a map of Camp David with a presidential motorcade route in his home, a Montgomery County prosecutor said.
Collin McKenzie-Gude, 18, of Bethesda, also had a document that appears to describe how to kill someone 200 meters away, Montgomery Assistant State's Attorney Peter A. Feeney said.
The teen had two forms of fake identification _ one portraying him as a Central Intelligence Agency employee and another as a federal contractor, Feeney said. The details were revealed Tuesday in a bond hearing in the case, The Washington Post reported...
Authorities said they found 50 pounds of chemicals, assault-style weapons and armor-piercing bullets in his home. The investigation has expanded to include the CIA, FBI and Secret Service. "
I'm not going to turn this into a "What the hell is wrong with people?" rant. I'm not naive enough to think that there are not evil young people smart and devious enough to plot and execute a diabolical plan; Columbine and Virginia Tech hammered these points home long ago. I do, however, wonder what he was actually up to. Was a true home-grown terrorist plot thwarted? Or was he just a punk kid playing a little over his head. And I do wonder about his father who, allegedly, helped his son acquire some of the weapons. Jesus, when I was eighteen, the most complex and diabolical plans my friends and I tried to hatch were scoring beer and toilet papering buddies' cars without getting caught.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
"Deltoids of Compassion"
Big thanks to St4rbux for recommending Dr. Horrible . This web musical stars Neil Patrick Harris and Nathan Fillion (from Firefly) as a not-so-successful supervillian and his hero counterpart. Yeah, its a musical, but you'll be laughing so hard at the lyrics, stupid costumes, and bad character names that you won't care. Funny, funny stuff. It reminds me in a lot of ways of Austin Grossman's novel Soon I Will Be Invincible, which is told from the dual perspectives of an always-thwarted evil supergenius and a superheroine trying to crack into the big leagues of superherodom. It's funny and purposely filled with superhero cliches. I have a feeling anybody that has seen/read one of these will like the other. Thanks St4rbux, because with joining Netflix and discovering the wonder of OnDemand, I really didn't need any more media entertainment options.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)