Straight to Bargain.

This one is mostly for my bookselling friends. I read a recent column in the Washington Post that reiterates what we already know-there are a lot of crappy books being published. The column, written by somebody in the publishing industry, doesn't break much new ground, but helps explain some of the reasons the shelves are filled with junk.

WALL-E Made Me SLEEP-E.

Today I saw WALL-E ,Pixar's latest sure-to-break-records summer blockbuster. Let me say that generally I enjoy Pixar films(I've seen all but Cars) and that the boys I took thoroughly enjoyed it. The animation, or art really, reached the outstanding level that we expect from Pixar. All that being said, I need to bang on this movie a little. It wasn't bad, but it was no "The Incredibles" either. On many levels this a heavy, dark adult movie. Those who wish to analyze can pluck many a theme from the film. Take your pick: Strong female saves goofy male (certainly hits home for me), underdog succeeds, new technology versus old technology, love conquers all and my personal favorite, robots might just be the end of us.

To see any of these themes, though, you have to dodge the theme Disney is ramming down your throat-you, yes you, are ruining Planet Earth. Big business and overconsumption, to hear Disney tell it, will render Earth uninhabitable and spacebound humans will grow fat and lazy because robots fulfill our every need. I'm not the greenest guy around, but I do understand subtlety and don't need to be hit over the head with the save the environment message. The filmakers lay the guilt/blame on thicker than the layers of garbage WALL-E stacks all day every day. Yet, I'm sure that won't stop Disney from selling tons of plastic WALL-E action figures, toothbrushes, nite lites, and lunch boxes that will clog landfills for the forseeable future.

WALL-E, sort of the Cal Ripken of trash robots, goes to work everyday despite the fact that all other robots on abandoned Earth have long since rusted. The endearing underdog discovers a plant somehow still alive and the adventure really begins when he falls in love with and subsequently follows a space probe back to the ship harboring mankind. WALL-E hits all the right notes that are supposed to pluck your heartstrings and make you love a character, but for me the connection just wasn't there.

I'll wrap it up like this-The animation, especially of the bleak first 30 minutes, was great, there are some laughs, WALL-E himself is likable, but ultimately I think I found the Pixar pre-movie short film more entertaining than the feature. Too bad.

Revenge of the Machines.

I have previously established that I am a technophobe and believe that technology will bring doom to us all. Yep, someday the machines will band together, rise up and destroy us. (I tend to lash out at things I don't understand or with which I have no proficiency). It may be a self-fulfulling prophecy, my pessimism and worry bring about lots of those, but I think the electronic devices in my life are beginning the revolution. Sure, I know that my cell phone has been giving me brain cancer and that standing in front of the microwave is shrinking my balls, however, the recent glitches have me convinced there is an escalation.

In the last couple of days our computer mouse, cable box and internet service have all been on the fritz. Want more evidence? Since we've moved we've had major issues getting phone/internet service set up, the fridge started making an unearthly growl whose decibel count was matched only by the soaring temperature inside and I have broken not one, but two cell phones. Yesterday may have been the icing on the cake. I'm convinced the evil, intelligent Nintendo Wii was actively plotting my demise. First, it blunted my focus with the mind-numbingly boring Speed Racer game. Then when my defenses were down, the Wii attacked my elbow with way too many rounds of Wii bowling. That's right my arm is sore because I played too much VIDEO BOWLING. Thank goodness I bowl right-handed. Had I used my left, formerly bursitic elbow I might be hospitalized right now. Ok, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but heed my warning-Keep an eye on your electronics because they have an optical lens on you.

Movie Review Haiku

GET SMART

Carrell makes me laugh,
99 is smoking hot,
Loved it by that much.

Mallrat.

I used to think God's greatest gift to man, besides life itself, was perhaps forgiveness. Now, I'm convinced it's the shopping mall. That's right, radiant stone and glass monuments to retail gorging and American over-indulgence. I've had some time to kill the last few days so I have popped into the mall for a couple minutes each of the last two days and man, has it been great. I love to people watch and the mall is second to only the boardwalk for pure finger-pointing people watching.

Seriously, what other circus crams so much under one tent? You have your power walkers flailing their way to fitness, kids on leashes and mothers and daughters engaged in a contest to see who can dress hipper (and by that I mean sluttier). And what about the merchandise? Kiosks overflowing with remote control helicopters, NFL car floormats and even hot dogs wrapped in pretzels make you dizzy with the possibilities.

I do, however, have one beef with malls. Every clothing store now seems more like a niteclub than retail establishment. They all have tiny, dark openings, a thumping techno beat and smell like an AXE body spray factory. Is it supposed to be mysterious? What's the mystery about high prices and clothes I can't fit into? I'm surprised there is not a velvet rope and a bouncer crossing me off his clipboard because my waistline is too large. However, being waved on by the opening to Garage or Forever 21 is hardly enough to keep me from being a mall rat every so often.

Administrative Adjustment

Since my friend Bryan now also has a blog (Space Monkey Mafia, see my links) and will sometimes be commenting here, I am changing my post and comment ID to "Bryan H" to eliminate any confusion over who is commenting. Carry on.

Help.

I am happy as hell that we are expecting a little girl, but it has added one item to our "to do" list in preparing for her arrival. We have, for quite some time, had a boy's name picked out. However, since my chromosomes( I guess that's right. I'm no geneticist.) chose female, we need to find a girl's name. This task would be easier if I wasn't The Most Indecisive Man In The World. Amanda has made many suggestions, most of which I have vetoed. She too has vetoed many, but that's usually because I've suggested something like Persephone or Athena. We are searching for something somewhere between common and Celebrity Scientologist Wacky. No Jennifer, yet no Pilot Inspektor. (Damn you, Jason Lee. You used to be cool.)

This is where you come in dear reader. In an informal, NON-BINDING poll I'm asking you to cast a vote for a name from this list we've narrowed. Write-ins are also welcome. For the middle name we have chosen Grace, for Amanda's grandmother. That is, unless we use Grace as the first name. (Told you I was indecisive.)
The List:
Ava Grace, Natalie Grace, Sydney Grace (with a Y, of course), Mallory Grace, Abby Grace, Jessica Grace, Rory Grace, Grace Catherine, Grace Audrey(after both our grandmothers).

My father-in-law has also suggested we settle this with a "Wheel of Fortune"-type wheel to be spun at the baby shower. I'm filing that one under M for Maybe.

Escape From Retail.

Some of you may be wondering how I'm making out in my new position as a Manny/Butler/Pool Boy/Etc. Fear not, I'm doin' alright. I'm very fortunate to have landed in a great situation, For example, today, I helped build a Lego racetrack, played catch, played Wii, went to the movies and went swimming. Not a bad gig if you can get it. Some of my other "duties" thus far: playing tennis, firing Nerf dart guns, painting birdhouses, helping craft a medieval sword and shield and monitoring the Slip 'n Slide. Oh, there is other stuff (driving, learning to maintain the pool, helping with homework), but those responsibilities pale in comparison to the fun I have hanging out with and helping the Z-man. I've also been masquerading as a handyman. I've fixed window hardware, hung stuff, and even repaired the garage door opener. It's almost like I know what I'm doing.

I do, however, miss books. I've been reading a bunch because we went over two weeks without cable. (And I didn't die from lack of TV exposure. Shocking.) But I still miss books. I miss talking about them with customers and co-workers. I even miss ( a little) setting displays of books. I was never a great merchandiser of books, but it was fun to get a little creative when building displays. What I don't miss is selling books. The actual interaction with clueless customers was sometimes enough to make you want to gouge out an eye with a screwdiver if only because it would be less painful than trying to help some asshat find a book. Sample dialogue from the customer service desk:

Asshat Customer (AC): You're gonna hate me, I have a stupid question.
Me: Too late for that. What's you're question?
AC: Well, I saw a book on TV this morning and I'd like to find it, but I was too stupid/lazy to write down the relevant information. Can you help me find it?
Me:You bet. Do you know the title?
AC: No, it was about politics and had a red cover and I think it had The in the title.
Me:Do you know the author?
AC:No, but it was a woman. I think. Wait, it could have been a man. Or a chimpanzee.
Me:You saw this just this morning, not twelve years ago, right? What show was it? I can search it that way.
AC: Oh, you know the one on in the morning. The Early Today America Show. You know, the one with the weatherman.
After ten minutes of fruitless keyword searching...
AC: Oh, there it is on that display there.
Me: Oh that book about religion with the blue cover? The one that is nothing like your description?

I could go on, but who needs that? Certainly not those who have lived it. Instead, I think I'll go for another lap in the pool.

"Start Saving For The Wedding."

Today has been a good day. Wait, let me rephrase because that was a gross understatement. Today has been an awesome, superfantastic, great day. Amanda had her level II ultrasound today which revealed, in glorious 4D imaging, that our daughter appears healthy and on track. That's right, I said daughter. We are having a girl and I am over the moon excited. We didn't care if it was a boy or girl, I was just ecstatic to see fingers, toes, four heart chambers, spinal cord. etc, etc. (Let me stop gushing. Screw that, I just found out we're having a daughter, I'll gush all I want.)

For weeks, Amanda and I have weighed whether we should find out the gender of the baby. We agreed that there are few surprises left in life, yet we are planner people and needed to know. We are also indecisive so sitting in the waiting room this morning we flipped a coin. Heads we'd find out, tails we wouldn't. Heads it was, so we found out. The Doc told me to start saving for the wedding. I asked that he let me get college paid for first. In truth, though, all the future worries can wait a little longer; today I can relax and thank God that we have a baby girl on the way.

Time Flies When...

I can't believe it has been nearly one month since I have posted. Alas, grown-up responsibilities and some major life changes -moving, a new job, Amanda's graduation, pregnancy (her, not me), not to mention still not having an internet connection at the new place have conspired to keep me from writing. All that should change soon, however, so please keep checking back because I do have some good stories pertaining to all these life altering events. Stay tuned.

Tragic? Yes. Enough Coverage? No.

In case you missed it Saturday, the Kentucky Derby was marred by the injury to, and subsequent on-track euthanizing of, Eight Belles, the only filly in the field. The death, tragic to be sure, has once again brought the safety and possible cruelty of horse racing into question. That is a complicated debate and one about which I am too uninformed to discuss intelligently.

I'd rather focus on NBC's decision to not show the injury during its broadcast. The filly pulled up lame after crossing the finish line as NBC's live shot was focused on the winning horse and jockey so the injury was missed live. However, NBC never did show a replay of what happened to Eight Belles. The network briefly showed the horse lying on the track and rapidly reported the information that track doctors relayed including the news that the injuries were so catastrophic that immediate euthanization was required. I, like many people, don't like to see animals in distress. To have shown, if video exists, the horse writhing or being euthanized would have been tasteless, but I do think NBC should have shown the taped video of the injury as it occured; the injury is part of the story of the race. Perhaps warn people to look away if they like or run a disclaimer, however, I think the injury itself is newsworthy enough to show. Many of those watching with me, including one horse owner and lover, were genuinely curious about what actually happened.

Sports networks have routinely shown gruesome replays of human injuries. Joe Theismann's compound leg fracture, Robin Ventura's foot turned unnaturally sideways as he slides across homeplate and Tim Krumrie's leg flopping helplessly through the Super Bowl air are all enough to make you queasy, yet they were replayed and analyzed. I understand that none of these men had to be put down on the playing field and maybe that's the difference. Obviously, the real issue is the sad demise of a beautiful horse on Saturday, I simply think NBC should have shown more of the story.

Keep an Open Mind.

Well, anybody who thought Barack Obama's former pastor Jeremiah Wright was going to stay in the background until November was mistaken. Wright spoke last night at an NAACP conference and today at a National Press Club symposium. I tuned in last night to watch the speech in its entirety because I didn't want to rely on sound bites alone. His message was one of defending the black church, but mostly he pushed the idea that, whether it be churchgoers, students or citizens, that different is not deficient. Different but equal. Watched in total his message resonates, yet as I watched I could pick out the sound bites that the media would likely seize upon this morning. Indeed, headlines and video clips this morning picked the most controversial (though they really weren't) statements that he made. I am often quick to judge and I urge anyone who forms an opinion based solely on the clips to watch or read the speech in full.

There is little doubt that Wright is a blatant self-promoter, a trait that I believe diminishes his message. His points can be lost in his sometimes clownish need to turn heads and drop jaws. He, and I understand he doesn't care because he is a pastor not a politician, didn't do Obama any favors. What impact putting himself in the spotlight has on Obama remains to be seen.

Is it October yet?

Two video clips stand out from the aftermath of last night's heartbreaking Caps OT loss. To see them you have to sift through the fog of disappointment, anger and hatred of the Flyers. To see them you have to stop thinking, "Same old Caps, teasing me just so they can rip my heart out." The first clip was watching Alex Ovechkin in the handshake line. The second clip was of Ovechkin's postgame locker room interview with reporters. The kid gets it. He responded to a bitter defeat with the poise of a veteran. He enumerated the postives, spoke with pride about the team's accomplishments and looked to the future. Any fan of this team must realize that we have a special guy here, on and off the ice. The Caps should be positioned to make many playoff runs in the near future. Maybe learning to crawl before you walk is just the way it has to be. Many a great NHL player-Howe, Gretzky, Lemeuix, LaFleur- failed to win their first playoff series. All went on to win many. Michael Jordan took merciless playoff beatings at the hands of the Detroit Pistons before growing into a six-time champion. It's difficult to be patient, but we fans must. We have a superstar, a leader, a veteran despite his years here that will lead this talented team to more disappointing losses and hopefully a bunch of thrilling victories.

I said I would be happy no matter the outcome in Round 1 simply because the Caps made it in. Maybe proud is the better word because this morning I am certainly not happy. To get that close and lose leaves me so bitter I might have to cling to guns or religion. The Caps had so many chances to put the game away early and late that I had the feeling it was going to end the way it did. They dominated the third period without putting home the game winner. Ovechkin had the series on his stick, but chose to pass to Federov. If it connects we celebrate Ovechkin as an unselfish superstar (which he is), instead we're left to wonder what would have happened if the best goal scorer in the league had shot the puck.

Much has been made of the controversial calls costing the Caps. Every team that wins a playoff series must overcome questionable officiating; it is not the reason the Caps lost that game. The OT power play was justified, in fact, John Erskine should have been called for a tripping minor 30 seconds earlier. As for the Thoreson wipeout of Morrison and Huet that left the easy second goal? The more I watch the replay(and I've watched it a lot) I understand why there was no call. I'm not saying there couldn't have been a call, but I get why there wasn't. The NHL has said that Morrison played the puck and that's why Thoreson was allowed to check him. I don't know that Morrison played the puck, but the puck was certainly close enough that calling interference is dicey. Also remember that Caps fans are watching that play through a prism of their goalie being run all series. Tough no call, after cooling off I get it. I don't love it, but I get it.

There will be many more chances for the Washington Capitals to make pleasant playoff memories. It hurts like hell today, however, this is a team that underachieved before December not one that overachieved after. Better days await.

What Now?

Clean. Dirty. Trapping. Wide open. It seems no matter which style the Philadelphia Flyers employ, the Washington Capitals can't find a way to beat them. Last night's 2OT loss was prbably the final nail in the coffin that buries Alex Ovechkin's first playoff experience. Throughout the series, even when playing well, the Caps just seemed a smidge short of really making me believe they could win the series. Let's be real, if not for a stunning comeback in Game 1 this series would literally be over. The Flyers have played great, bottling up OV and riding the hot goaltending of the usually average Martin Biron. I wish the Caps had lost last night's game in regulation on the bogus power play awarded to Philly when Viktor Kozlov was checked into Biron. It would have saved me a teeth-gnashing 30 minutes of overtime. Plus, I could have gone ape shit and had something to shout at my TV about. As it was, the Caps played well enough to come up just short. No penalty injustice, no dirty play; they lost because they were outworked at the goal mouth at a really bad time.

Really, what was there to complain about as the game wore on last night? I, with my meager pro hockey knowledge, had made a pregame list of things that the Caps needed to do to win Game 4 and make it a series. The bitch of it is that they made every single adjustment( and I'm sure many others that I didn't think of) and they still lost. A quick rundown of my mental list:

Help Backstrom: Of all the Caps youngsters he has looked the most uncomfortable with rough-and-tumble playoff hockey. Boudreau moved him off the first line, alleviating some pressure, and Backstrom responded with a goal and assist. Yet, it wasn't enough.

Put the power back in the power play: For most of the series Philly has been dirtier than my boxer shorts on Taco Tuesday. (For the record, the last part of that sentence is fiction. I eat my tacos on Wednesday.) The Caps needed to heat up the PP to discourage the Flyers from taking lots of penalties. After the Caps cashed in on a 5 on 3 created when dirtbags Briere and Hatcher delivered wicked slashes, the Flyers began to play smarter. The Caps potted two PP goals doubling their output for the series, yet it wasn't enough.

Spectacular goaltending: In the playoffs your goalie has to be your best player, making saves that he probably shouldn't-in effect stealing a goal. Cristobal Huet did that during his hot push for the playoffs, but hadn't in this series. Until tonight. He made several acrobatic diving saves keeping the Caps in the game. Yet, it wasn't enough.

Washington also cut down on their turnovers, boneheaded mistakes and poor passes. They delivered hits instead of being pushed around. Yet, it still wasn't enough.

I had said before the Caps qualified for the playoffs that I wouldn't care if they got swept in Round 1 as long as they made it in the tournament. I feel getting in has been a milestone for the franchise's comeback and this experience, however bitter, will serve them well in the future. I predicted the Flyers in six, so the Caps can throw me a bone by winning Saturday to prolong the agony. Of course, there is still a little piece of me (the stupid, I should have been a Cubs fan, glutton for punishment piece) that believes the Cardiac Caps have the Flyers right where they want them.
As CapsChick correctly points out, there is a precedent.

This Never Gets Old.

Just a reminder of a rivalry renewed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6rg2EiSBZ6Y

Let The Beards Begin.

Whew! So the Caps are in the postseason for the first time since '03. (Yes, Jagr actually got them there once.) The hottest team in hockey ran off 10 wins in 11 games to sneak past Carolina to win the Southeast Division title on the second-to-last day of the season. For fans the last two weeks have been nerve-wracking, anxious, exciting and, above all, fun. The Caps have essentially been in the playoffs for nearly a month as they were on the outside looking in for most of the season. The games lately have had a (cliche alert!) playoff intensity and the fans in the stands and in my living room have been hanging on every loose puck. My pacing (I haven't actually sat down during a third period in like six games), jumping, cursing, contorting and hoping proved so entertaining to Amanda last Thursday that she felt compelled to take these pictures.

The Capitals have a feel about them that they haven't had in many moons. Alex Ovechkin and his merry band of youngsters has inspired a city to "rock the red" and support this team. Diehard fans finally have something to cheer about again after the dark period of lockouts, fire sales and bad, bad hockey. On one hand this team is exactly on pace to fulfill Ted Leonsis's plan to rebuild their way to prominence. The young players acquired by selling off veteran fixtures four years ago are beginning to pay dividends. On the other hand, this team seems as unlikely as any to reach the postseason. Sure, they have a superstar talent in Ovechkin, but beyond that they are still a whole that is far better than its separate parts. Although, I suppose that is the makeup of many championship teams. A rumpled minor league coach, a goalie dumped way too early by his former club, a savvy veteran center with a Stanley Cup pedigree and a dozen guys that will outwork you every night- oh, and the current greatest player on the planet; this sounds like a club that could make a run.

I do, however, urge caution. The Caps could make a great playoff run, but if they will remains to be seen. Ovie, as great as he is, will be on the big stage for the first time. The kid seems unflappable and ready for anything, yet you never know. The team has been so hot that you figure they have to cool at some point, right? Having five days off won't help in that regard. Finally, they are renewing a playoff rivalry with the wretched Philadelphia Flyers who are trying to recast themselves as the Broad Street Bullies again. I've said all month that if the Caps could get in the tournament I wouldn't care how they performed because just getting in is a milestone on the journey back to success. I'll be dissapointed if they get housed by the Flyers, but it won't erase the strides this team has made. Simply tasting playoff hockey will benefit the Caps in the future. Optimism rightly abounds in DC and I hope they make one long, exciting, pace-inducing run.

Merry Opening Day!

Forget MLB in Japan. Forget the opener of Nationals Park last night. Today is the real opening day. Hope springs eternal on one of the great sports days on the calendar. Even the Orioles, for a few more hours at least, are undefeated.

In honor of the O's opener I've posted this link to a YouTube video of former O's Superfan Wild Bill Hagy (RIP Wild Bill, RIP). If you were an O's fan in the 80's you know that Wild Bill was the scraggily-bearded cabby that led the crowd in cheers-most notably spelling out O-R-I-O-L-E-S from the upper deck. The video is kinda long (about 7 minutes), but I promise it is entertaining from start to finish. A Baltimore news magazine follows Wild Bill through a typical gameday experience. From cab, to bar, to game and beyond. You'll laugh and be wistful for those days when the O's were actually competitive.

Today also marks my first foray into fantasy baseball. I'm hoping for some beginner's luck this summer, but I'm afraid I'm off to a foreboding start. My starting second baseman has been placed on the disabled list to heal from an anal fissure. That can't be good; hopefully that doesn't mean my fantasy team is in for a similar fate.

So Convoluted, I Had To Root For The Bleeping Rangers.

Leave it to playoff hockey to get me off my ass to write again. I say playoff hockey because, even though the regular season isn't over, the race for the last spots in the Eastern Conference is essentially do-or-die each night. The Caps, after tonight's shootout win in Carolina are 2 points out of eighth place and 4 points out of the division lead. It couldn't be much tighter and my heart couldn't be beating much faster. With the Caps stinking in recent years I had forgotten how fun/difficult/gut wrenching that it can be to watch these games. I lean in to every shot, wince at every pinged post and generally dance around like a dope. Tonight, I didn't sit for the entire third period. I'm not sure I'll make it if the Caps actually reach the postseason.

Tonight's Caps game had all the disheartening elements of previous Washington playoff disappointments. As a Caps fan you almost expect the fluky deflection from 40 feet out and a goal that should have been waved off because Erik Cole plowed into the goalie's head before the puck scooted across the line. (I know the defenseman pushed Cole into Huet, but that was only after Cole initiated contact with the goalie.) The dubious refereeing was also disappointing. By dubious, I don't mean bias or favoritism against Washington; if anything I think the NHL would want Ovechkin and the Caps in the playoffs. I just think the officiating is as poor as it is inconsistent. Numerous hooks, holds, trips and cross-checks went uncalled while both teams were nailed for silly, ticky-tack infractions. Make up your mind zebras-call them all or none.

Despite all the disheartening stuff I still believe, if they get in (which is a huge if), that this Caps team can slay the Ghost of Playoffs Past. Alex Ovechkin and the other youngsters have a determination and resillency that past teams have lacked. They will certainly make things exciting. Like eight years as President prematurely ages a man, I think eight weeks of playoff hockey might speed my calendar. Oh well, I'd gladly wash that gray right outta my hair (which I need to do anyway) in exchange for attending a Stanley Cup parade.

"Get on your bikes and ride!"

Figuring that I need to do more to raise my heart rate than put more salt on my fries, I've been riding my bicycle lately in an effort to get more fit. I have a simple coaster-brake, beach cruiser that is a blast to ride. I rarely have a destination; the fun is in the journey. Besides, most destination trips would be problematic. For instance, I can't carry shopping bags and I wouldn't want to show up at work pouring sweat. Riding my bike makes me feel young again, racing across the town the same way my friends and I did in the pre-driver's license days. I know that I don't look young, however, and I think that explains the funny looks I get from passing drivers.

In auto-centric America people seem genuinely perplexed as to why I would ride a bike when I could drive. I get looks that say, "Oh look, that poor dear is too stupid to know that someone invented a machine made of steel, rubber and glass that allows you to travel without manually propelling yourself."

The second look I get is a mix of disdain and pity. "A bike? Well that guy must not have a car or worse yet, is homeless because otherwise he wouldn't be on a bike." Granted, I'm dressed neither for fashion nor obvious fitness cycling. (No spandex here, thank you.) A beat-up sweatshirt, ragged shorts, backpack and tobogan possess a tiny whiff of poverty. (Or coach of the New England Patriots.) On cold days I may even be forced to don that symbol of giving up on life-the sweatpant. I feel like showing the passing motorists that my bag is not loaded with all my belongings, but only some keys, a water bottle and a wallet that sometimes even has money in it.

If passing motorists think I ride because I must, there is another group that thinks my cycling is completely contrived. I sometimes cut across campus at off peak hours because it is one of the few places in town to ride without worrying about traffic. The students cast glances that say, "Nice try, buddy, but we know you're old. No luck fitting in here." I feel like a pervert suspected of riding across campus for the sole purpose of stealing glances at co-eds. Really, it's just becuase I prefer to not be hit by cars. (The exception-The first warm day of spring when every red-blooded man in town wishes he had a justifiable excuse to be on campus.)

The only demographic that gets me and my riding habit is the shabbily dressed walkers I pass on the road. A nod or wave welcomes me to their club of car-free travelers. Maybe they too are out for fitness or possibly to save some gas money. Nah, they are probably just homeless.

Caps Go Deadline Dealing.

Well, well, well. Caps GM George McPhee didn't exactly stand pat at the NHL trading deadline, did he? Adding some parts without mortaging the future, McPhee made it known that the Caps are serious about making the playoffs this year. Let's tackle the moves in order of interest. Matt Cooke, a gritty veteran winger, was added for depth with a price of Matt Pettinger. Pettinger, a once promising youngster and two-time 20 goal scorer, needed a change of scenery. He played a role on this current Caps club that is being filled, and better frankly, by other young players.

Next comes the addition of Sergei Federov. If it were 1994 I'd be doing backflips and the Caps would have had to give up much more than a defenseman drafted last year. That being said, I am excited to see Fedorov in Washington. While not nearly the dominant two-way player he once was, Federov, at age 38, is a playoff tested veteran who adds buckets of experience to a team searching for an identity as it makes its playoff push. Also, don't discount Federov's ability to mentor young Ovechkin and Semin, Russian stars who likely worshipped Federov as kids.

The most interesting move is the trade for goalie Cristobal Huet. At nearly 33, Huet gives the Caps some goaltending options for the future. As for this season, coach Bruce Boudreau now has his hands full. Boudreau and no. 1 goalie Olie Kolzig haven't seen eye to eye and clearly this move is a signal that McPhee and Boudreau have lost some faith in Kolzig's ability to close out games. This is tough for me as a fan. Kolzig is the unquestioned locker room leader, fan favorite and happens to be the only Caps goalie who has had real success in the playoffs. However, his save percentage has slipped below .900 and it has appeared at times this season that Kolzig feels every one of his 37 years. Huet may be the answer, but I'm sure installing him in the top spot would be met with resistance. It would be hard for me to envision the Caps making a playoff run without Kolzig in net. Something just wouldn't feel right. He has given the organization the last three years while the team in front of him has stunk. This bears serious watching.

Then again, seeing the Caps make a playoff run with any goalie is still more pipe dream than certainty. i am excited by today's trades and optomistic they'll work, but this team has a lot of work to do with 18 games remaining. The good news is that the boys and I have tickets to Saturday's game, so we can get an up close look at mad scientist McPhee's latest experiment. He acquired a lot for a little. Let's see if the pieces fit in time to make the top 8 and beyond.

When Good Food Goes Bad.

So, I'm on Hypochondria High Alert. Dying of a food borne illness is on my list of top five greatest fears. It seems lately the gods of food prep are teasing me, causing my worry gene to work overtime. Usually I take extreme care to make sure food is cooked properly, my hands are clean, etc. For instance, on Tuesday I purchased a plastic bottle of iced tea from a convenience store. When the lid popped off way too easily, not even breaking the plastic ring I knew I had wasted 99 cents because there was no way I was drinking that tea. I had outsmarted whatever devious factory worker had messed with my tea. Nice try, tea tainter.

In the last 24 hours, however, I have tempted fate. First, I was convinced I would be taken out by some contaminated supermarket chowder. We pulled two empty cups off the stack but only needed one. When I went to put the extra back I noticed the third cup on the stack was covered in some sort of clear, perhaps industrial, liquid. Amanda convinced me that the cup she had subsequently filled with corn chowder was not the one that had touched the greasy, petroleum-covered third cup. I was dubious, yet my lust for tasty food won out and I ate the chowder anyway.

Then, when we got home, I made chicken soft tacos with all the fixings, including sour cream. Only after enjoying the tacos did I realize that the seam on the bottom of the plastic sour cream container was split ever so slightly. With my head suddenly swimming I tried to convince myself that the container ruptured in our fridge and not six weeks ago in the warehouse. Because if it had ruptured anytime earlier than in my fridge I know that Bryan-killing bacteria has rushed in waiting to unleash its destructive evil on an unsuspecting Bryan.

For now, I am showing no outward signs of my food attacking me. But I know my insides are being slowly turned to goo as the bacteria vanquishes my white blood cells. Pray for me.

The Rocket and the Rat.

Even though my work schedule allowed for it, I didn't plan to watch the entire Congressional hearing held yesterday to further investigate steroid use in baseball. It only took a short while for me to be sucked in, however. Like the cliched car wreck that you can't take your eyes off of, once I tuned in I couldn't tune out until it was over. An argument could be made that the Committee for Government Oversight should be meddling in baseball's business because baseball has an anti-trust exemption. I tend to disagree and believe yesterday's circus was silly and unnecessary. Of course, that doesn't mean it didn't provide plenty of entertainment.

One thing that struck me immediately was the way the questions/accusations from the committee members broke along party lines. For the most part, Republicans had Roger Clemens' back and Democrats defended Brian McNamee. My uncle and I, in e-mails back and forth last night, couldn't figure out the partisanship angle. This morning a commentator cleared it up for me. Former Senator George Mitchell, author of the damning Mitchell Report in which McNamee accuses Clemens of HGH and steroid use, is a Democrat. So, the Dems on the committee wanted to support Mitchell and his report. Like yesterday's entire circus, this is a little sad, but makes sense.


The biggest problem I had with the hearing is that I now have no better idea of who is lying than I did before the hearing. Neither Clemens, nor McNamee backed an inch off their stories. It seems obvious to say that because their stories are completely opposite that one of them has to be lying, but they were both so discredited that I have come to believe that the hearing took place in some alternate dimension where they are both simultaneously lying and telling the truth. Neither party looked good. McNamee admitted to lying about lots of stuff just not about Clemens. Clemens stumbled through answers and changed the subject any chance he could get. In fact, it was similar to watching politicians answer debate questions so maybe the Congressmen felt right at home. There were too many great moments to pick a favorite, but the one I wanted to see never fully materialized. At one point Clemens was on the ropes with questions that he wasn't handling very well. He was getting frustrated, his voice was rising and his face was getting red. I was rooting for him to go Colonel Nathan Jessup from a A Few Good Men-


Congressman (gulping down water):Did you take steroids and HGH?
Clemens:I did what I had to do.
Congressman:Did you take steroids and HGH?
Clemens: YOU'RE GOD DAMN RIGHT I DID!


Alas, Clemens kept his composure and we were left without our "aha" moment. Another thing now missing is my faith in our legislators. Even if I stipulate that this hearing was necessary, I am still dissappointed in the committee members. A few words to describe that lot: starstruck, clueless, inattentive, uninformed, confused, out of touch, pompous, self-righteous and out to play "gotcha". They should be playing Perry Mason on their own time, not the taxpayers'.

Finally, I want to share a few of the phrases that came from the testimony that may not have made the evening news.

Clemens repeatedly used the word "misremember" which I had never heard used before and sent people scrambling for their dictionaries (it's in there).
There was testimony about Clemens "bleeding through his dress pants".
And my personal favorite-There was much discussion of and considerable speculation about "a palpable mass on his right buttocks".

I can't top that.

1990's No Longer.

It's apparent, at least from the public drubbings two 90's icons are taking today, that the 1990's are over. The spotlight is shining awfully bright on both Hillary Clinton and Roger Clemens as they struggle to repair reputations and wage different, yet similar campaigns to win public favor.

Clinton has run her losing streak to eight straight primary/caucus defeats to Barack Obama. Uncle Mo' is clearly in Obama's corner as his call for change may just be catching on with voters. For a while Clinton's camp could dismiss Obama's support because the groundswell of attention wasn't translating into actual votes, but that may have changed. He is gaining traction and Clinton's arrogance about being the presumptive nominee may be her undoing. All of her staff changes may be too little, too late. The "Oh well, we'll wait for Texas and Ohio" has a whiff of Guiliani's misguided "wait for Florida" strategy.

Clemens can also blame his arrogance for the pile he's standing in right now. The evidence, with Andy Petitte's testimony being the most damning to date, is heavily stacked against him. Clemens has boxed himself in with angry denials and his tasteless glad-handing of members of the congressional committee. (And shame on the congressmen who got Clemens' autograph and picture as he went door to door on Capitol Hill.) I don't care if Clemens is guilty of perjury; I really don't think any of this should be played out in Congress. Surely the greatest law-making body in the land has more important things to do than monitor grown men playing a child's game. (Oh yeah, some of them do, they are shirking their duties to run for President.) I do, however, want to see the truth about Clemens revealed. My day would be made today if he had the cajones to stop the proceedings this morning and admit on national tv that he took steroids and HGH. I would respect Clemens so much more for that, rather than carrying on what appears to be this sloppy charade. I would know he was a cheat and wouldn't want him in the Hall of Fame, but at least he and his blowhard attorney could skulk off to the shadows.

The thing that most unifies Clinton and Clemens, though, is the fact that their demises may be predicted too early. The pundits could be completely mistaken in both cases. Clinton is essentially tied with Obama in the delegate count and she could easily make up ground if she decides to get nasty. As for Clemens, as unlikely as I think this is, he could be the one that looks honorable and trustworthy after today's hearing. And here's a crazy idea:maybe he's actually telling the truth about not taking performance enhancing drugs. But I'll believe that when I see the grunge-rocking pigs fly by.

Copycaps?

I have mentioned previously that I love the fact that the Washington Caps returned to red, white and blue uniform colors but that I wasn't sold on either of the new logos. I like the secondary logo even less now. After seeing the Whataburger (and really it should probably be Kindaokayaburger) sign all over Texas I am convinced the Caps ripped the logo from this burger joint. Did "marketing genius" Ted L. scan some graphic design encyclopedia for ideas? You be the judge.

Thank You, Peter Angelos

Thank you Mr. Angelos, by trading Erik Bedard you saved me 25 dollars this spring. No, not on a ticket; I'll likely still go to a game because I'm a sucker and there are few things better than a sunny afternoon at Camden Yards. You saved me 25 dollars because instead of the the new O's cap I needed to buy I'll be wearing a paper bag over my head. That's right, by trading away one of the last quality pieces of your team, you've reduced O's fans to feel like Saints' or Jets' fans of old-too embarassed to show our faces at the park.

I understand the trade and, truthfully, have mixed feelings about it. Bedard was to be the only reason to get excited about the team every five days. Now, there is little to look forward to this season. On the other hand, I understand the need to raze the team, taking it to street level before building it back up. Andy McPhail, by trading Tejada, Bedard and likely Brian Roberts, has stockpiled some arms and, to an extent, replenished the minor league system. McPhail's track record suggests he should be trusted and this may be a sign that Angelos is finally letting his baseball people make the baseball decisions.

I also take some hope from the example the Capitals have set. They sold off many of their expensive parts, stunk for two years, but now are competeing for a playoff spot with a younger, retooled model. The discouraging difference with the Orioles, however, is that , while they have some very good young prospects, I don't think they have a marquee centerpiece like Alex Ovechkin. Asking more patience of Orioles fans is a tricky proposition considering it's been ten seasons since they've had a winning season and haven't won the World Series since 1983. Ah, well, at least I can sew my 25th anniversary World Series patch to my paper bag.

Texas Travelogue:Part Three

Texas Travelogue:Part Two

So, after a couple days in San Antonio we headed north to complete the main mission of our journey, to visit Rob T and his awesome family. Here are some highlights of that portion of the trip. Bear in mind that Austin's city motto is "Keep Austin Weird".
*The best part was hanging with the T family, cutting up, reminiscing, goofing off and, of course, meeting their daughter for the first time. As a side note-If you want a good laugh search YouTube for some clips of Dr. Steve Brule. Stupid funny. Thanks Rob.
*We played tourist one day, visiting the state capitol building. I sat at the Governor's desk where every bill has been signed into Texas law. While sitting in the chair I stifled the urge to mispronounce nuclear and order someone's execution.
*One of the first things you notice about Austin as you leave the airport is the highways. They have highways built over highways; giant overpasses that remind me of toy slot race tracks that loop over themselves. Think Route 1 in Delaware being built above Rt 13 instead of around Dover.
*The scenery is beautiful. From Lake Travis, a filled former quarry, to numerous parks and open spaces there is a ton of outdoor activities available. We can't wait to go back in the warmer months to enjoy the outdoors more because we just scratched the surface.
*We had the best BBQ beef brisket I've ever tasted at a place called Rudy's. At Rudy's they don't even give you plates; they slap a pound of brisket on wax paper on a tray. Then they rip open a loaf of bread throw a handful of slices on the tray and send you on your way. I had the delicious regular cut only because I was afraid that if I had eaten the "extra moist" marbled fat cut my heart would have stopped before I pushed away from the table. But I must say the sinful sample bite I had of the extra moist may be the single best thing I have ever tasted. Seriously.
*Combining two of my favorite things, the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema serves dinner during the movie. Given that one of my biggest pet peeves is people who talk during movies I was a bit dubious that this was a good concept. I am happy to report that they have a system that works flawlessly and I enjoyed my Royale with Cheese and Five Dollar Shake as we laughed our asses off watching Juno. They also have really cool theme nights and crazy activites. I think in the weeks after we left they were hosting a regional final for the World Air Guitar Championships and Will Ferrell was coming to pimp his new basketball movie.
*When we travel I like to photograph signs and marquees that are funny, strange or unique. Austin was full of signs like this and that sort of symbolizes what we liked about the city. It has an offbeat, artistic, creative feel that just feels good. From the neon sign for the brothel-turned-motel that is shaped like genitalia to world famous grafitti art, this town indeed keeps it weird. Austin is also the cleanest city I've ever visited. Of course, it's competition in that category mostly consists of Baltimore, Washington, Philadelphia and New Orleans.
*Thanks T family, we can't wait to come back.

Upcoming in Part Three:Vacation pictures that you are not forced to sit through.

Texas Travelogue:Part One

In mid-January Amanda and I scooted down to Texas to visit Rob, Tara and family. We had a blast visiting them, of course. We also, despite bringing Maryland winter temps south, were able to enjoy some of the great Texas outdoors. Before heading to Rob's in Austin we buzzed south to spend a couple days in San Antonio. We had heard great things about the city and figured if we were that close we better check it out. Upon arriving in San Antonio, however, I was quite sure we had made the wrong decision.

When we left the expressway to hit downtown San Antonio we were surprised to find it was a ghosttown. Granted it was Sunday night and the Cowboys had just lost to the Giants, but we saw only one other car for blocks. I half expected a tumbleweed to blow past. We arrived at the hotel which was eerily quiet. The hotel was very nice, but it was literally on the wrong side of the tracks. It was surrounded by vacant lots and the buildings across the street, the ones that weren't burned out that is, had iron bars on the doors and windows.

This is always the danger of booking over the internet in a city to which you've never traveled. Even though the hotel was in the shadows of the Alamodome and a mere five blocks from downtown's world famous Riverwalk, the neighborhood looked like the part of Detroit that Robocop cleaned up. I could probably win a war correspondent photo Pulitzer if I had snapped some shots of our immediate surroundings. And I might have had the desk clerk not said straight faced, " If you are going to walk at night, don't go that way.", as she pointed up the street. Awesome. For those of you familiar with Baltimore, it was like booking a hotel in the "inner harbor" and the hotel ends up being under the overpass behind the Raven's stadium.

Surely the light of day would reveal a new view giving me a new outlook. Not so much. The sunshine revealed that across the vacant lots stood more grafitti covered buildings with boarded windows. This, however, is the last of the negatives regarding our brief stay in San Antonio. We really played tourist-eating fantastic food, being serenaded by mariachis, walking the neat Riverwalk and, of course, investigating the Alamo.

I found the Alamo fascinating. From years of hearing how small it is in person I carried low expectations. Covering a city block or so, the Alamo sits squarely in the middle of downtown. The curators and museums on site provide excellent info for a history buff like myself and reminded me of just how boastful, I mean proud, Texans are of their heritage.

San Antonio also has an entertaining homeless population. Within minutes we passed one gentleman 3 or 4 times, yet he hit us up every time we passed. I'm not saying he should catalogue every target, but, damn man, remember a face for a few minutes. Then there was the guy who, upon seeing us taking photos with our digital camera, asked us which tv show we were with. After a short, confusing conversation he finally decided we were not tv producers and began to walk away. After a few steps he turned back to us and announced, "Just so you know, I'm a cop." I choked back laughter as he turned and purposely strode away. So, FYI, next time you are in San Antonio and see a man in flip flops and deperately in need of a comb, beware-he's the fuzz.

Upcoming in Part Two: Good friends and good times in Austin.

Tribute To A Kick-Ass Car.

An ode to my now deceased car:

Little Honda, you were often under appreciated while I owned you, about that there is no doubt. The indignities included, but were not limited to, rarely being washed, spilled coffee, trash collecting, listening to my rants about poor drivers (ironic, huh?) and being choked with confetti. (Though that last one was not my doing.) On the plus side, I did provide routine maintenance and never saddled you with a corny nickname.

Despite all my transgressions, you never gave me mechanical trouble and, more importantly, you protected me when I impatiently piloted you across oncoming traffic and squarely into the path of the giant Dodge Ram pickup that I didn't see. Afterwards, I told people that you were no match for that big truck. Of course, I was absolutely incorrect on that point; in this instance you were the perfect match. You cushioned me so that the collision and resulting 360 degree spin (Well, 340 degrees, but I know we'd have made 360 if that parked car hadn't gotten in our way.) left me with only some nasty bruises and a bucketload of embarassment.

So, my Honda, here is my final message as you are towed off to junkyard heaven: I'm sorry for being stupid. Thanks for safely ferrying me and my passengers for over 100,000 miles. You served me well.

Super Sunday Shocker

Well, that was an unexpected outcome last night. I mean, who could have predicted that? I guess past success doesn't guarantee future results. Seriously, who would have bet money that...the Super Bowl commercials would have stunk so bad?

Oh, there was big game? I feel it pretty much spoke for itself: monumental upset, perfection derailed, legend born, possibly the greatest Super Bowl ever, blah, blah, blah. The bigger upset was that the ads barely made me smile, let alone chuckle or , God forbid, laugh out loud. Now, it might have been that I spent the first quarter lowering my blood pressure after nearly choking the counter jockey that screwed up our pizza order, but I didn't enjoy many of this year's big ads.

The only ad that made me actually laugh was the giant rat that jumped out of the wall to pummel the Doritos guy. Maybe that man in a rat suit was also the cause of the 75 person brawl that broke out in a Chuck E. Cheese restaurant over the weekend. Other than that ad, I was practically stonefaced. A baby threw up on the keyboard after buying stock. Hahahaha. The cavemen don't know how to use the wheel they just invented. That's a real knee slapper. Oh look, giant carrier pigeons are ruining the city. Thanks, but I've seen Cloverfield. Wait, he sneezes fire? Stop it, my sides hurt. It's a good thing that Tom Petty rocked the house and that the game was outstanding.

One note about the game: Do you think Bill Belichik would have passed on a 49-yard field goal attempt in the third quarter if he still had Adam Vinatieri, the greatest clutch kicker of all time? Sometimes you have to pay for peace of mind, Genius.

Dream Seats, Nightmare Game

Thanks to the generosity of Amanda's cousin, Amanda and I scored free tix to yesterday's Redskins-Cowboys game. Her seats, third row in the field club (or as the Redskins call them, "dream seats") were great. How great? The blocked field goal in the first quarter landed ten feet from us and was scooped up by the lady sitting three seats down. How great were the seats? I can tell you which cheerleaders had visible panty lines. (Hint: none.) How great? Santana Moss posed right in front of us after his fourth quarter touchdown.

The tradeoff, however, for being so close to the end zone is, of course, that you forfeit all cover from the elements. And boy did it get elemental in a bad way last night. The only thing falling faster than the rain was the temperature. Even though we were dressed for the weather we still got soaked. Waterproof coats, hats, gloves and blanket were no match for Mother Nature. I thought Amanda was on her way to becoming a human popsicle. Fortunately, the field club tickets afford you access to the posh leather and marble club level where we were able to score hot cocoa and thaw during halftime.

While I was dissapointed, but not surprised by the outcome of the game I was pleased that Amanda was able to see her Skins win. The Cowboys had nothing to play for and looked like it. They were awful. Much credit goes to the Redskins who shut down the run and moved the ball at will. This is not the way I wanted the Cowboys to head into the playoffs. If the Skins pull an upset in Seattle (of which they are totally capable), they would likely head to Dallas for the rubber match. I don't want that to happen.

One other highlight from a game experience that was pretty sweet despite the Cowboys' loss:

As I'm standing in line in the men's room this fan starts passing everybody in line like he's going to cut in front of everyone. Just as a couple of us are about to speak up he veers left and enters the janitor's closet. Thirty seconds later he exits with a satisfied smile. The guy behind me nodded admiringly and said "Now there's a veteran move". Good stuff, I just wouldn't want to be the next person to use the mop bucket.

Links to the Past

Since a few new readers have discovered my blog (Thanks guys), I have decided to post links to some of my favorite posts so that, if so inclined, new readers can check out some of my older stuff without having to read all the archived stuff. Check out these links to see my thoughts on:profiling potential terrorists, crazy astronauts,
why I despise Coldstone Creamery ,urinal cakes ,my frustrating weed eater ,space travel , how President Bush has lost my respect, the marketing of the human male and flea markets .

Break Glass, Press Panic Button

Watching clips and reading the text of Olie Kolzig's postgame comments after last night's Caps' loss to Florida has to be disheartening for any Caps fan. Kolzig, generally upbeat and optomistic even after losses, looked despondent sitting at his locker answering questions. He knows, as do all fans, that this team should be better than they are playing. Yes, offseason additions and a 3-0 start fueled unrealistic expectations, but there is no legitimate excuse for this team to be last in the NHL with 13 points in 20 games. Hell, the league absurdly gives you a point for losing in overtime and they can't even do that more than once. That 3-0 start provided a glimpse of the success this team is capable of producing. Now, one quarter into the season, hopes for the playoffs are already on life support.

So what's the problem?

First, let's list what isn't wrong:

1- Alex Ovechkin. In his third season this guy just keeps improving. On pace to score 53+ goals, this guy is dominating at both ends of the ice, dramatically improving his defensive coverage and ramping up his hitting. Unfortunately, he has accounted for 30 percent of the Caps' goals and is playing a burnout-beckoning 29+ minutes per game. The fact that the Caps haven't locked this guy up long-term is also a little scary. This should be a no-brainer. Now that Teddy L. has put all his marketing eggs in Ovie's basket he needs to pay the kid before he hits his restricted free agent summer. Somebody will break the bank with an offer too rich for Leonsis's AOL-sapped bottom line. Make no mistake-if Ovechkin leaves no amount of compensatory draft picks will fill the half of Verizon Center that isn't already empty for every game.

2- The Goaltending. While sketchy at times, the goaltending has been pretty solid overall. I don't love Brent Johnson as a backup and Kolzig has slipped a hair, however, in the high flying new NHL any GAA under 3.00 is fairly respectable.

3.- The Defense. It hasn't been great, but has improved markedly from the matadors the team was putting on ice the last few years.

Well, that leaves the problems. I'll keep the first two short: The new aquisitions are not paying off and nobody besides Ovie can find the back of the net. Michel Nylander has more wiggle than Rosie O'Donnell on a trampoline, but his dancing rarely results in shots on goal. I love what I've seen from Viktor Kozlov thus far-except when it comes to shooting the puck. He is a terrific passer, smooth skater, strong on the puck, but when it comes to shooting, pick your favorite sports cliche-"couldn't hit the side of a barn", "couldn't hit water if he fell out of a boat"-you get the idea. Unfortunately, it's not just Kozlov. I've never seen a Caps team have so much trouble getting shots on goal. They zing wristers 6 inches wide of the post, bury snap shots into the goaltender's belly and blast one-time slapshots into skates and shinguards. Maybe the team misread the memo that said the league was considering making the goals wider. Not yet boys, not yet. (By the way, I hope that never happens.)

Finally, I think the Caps' biggest problem is the coach. I have been loathe to call for Glen Hanlon's head because he seems like a nice guy who played shepherd to a less than talented, floundering flock in the dark days following the gutting and fire sale of the Jagr era. However, for whatever reason, Hanlon is unable to push the right buttons now. Constant line juggling has afforded no time to create chemistry. In-game adjustments are one thing. Ovechkin playing at least a shift with every other forward is another altogether. When they were bad the last two years the Caps were known as a hard working team that was difficult to play against. Not anymore. The team's effort level waxes and wanes from period to period. Yet, I still don't think a new motivational voice is the biggest reason to dump Hanlon. After all, as Kolzig said, "How many times do you need to be shocked?".

The main reason for a change is that the Caps lack a dynamic, puck-moving system. Maybe because Hanlon was so adept at making things work with less talent, he is unable to adapt his system to accomodate playmakers. The formula has reversed itself and now he is turning the proverbial chicken salad back into something else.

The power play, which promised to be much better thanks to the aquisitions, has been anemic. There is no creativity as everyone stands around the umbrella waiting for Ovechkin to launch bombs from the point. Tired and predictable will not get the job done. As my friend Killer succinctly put it the other day-"Is Scotty Bowman still alive?" I can't stand Scotty Bowman, but don't forget, he actually raised a Stanley Cup in Verizon Center.

As Yogi Berra once said, "It's getting late early" If Teddy L. doesn't do something soon this season will crash and the Great 8 will walk right out of the red, white and blue leaving an empty shell at the corner of 7th and F streets.

15 Seconds of Fame.

Finally, acting ridiculous has paid off. A few friends and I attended the Caps-Lightning hockey game Saturday night. We had a fun, beer-soaked time, as usual, but this game was a bit sweeter for me thanks to being goofy and having a little good timing.

Because we felt the need to look like jackasses in addition to acting like ones, we decided to wear our hockey helmets to the game. (Safety first!) Little did I know that this decision would pay off literally.

As we were doing some pre-game souvenir shopping our group was approached by Sarah, a member of the Caps promotional staff. She was recruiting people to take part in one of the intermission contests and said she had followed us into the shop because she just new the helmet guys would be the perfect pick. I'm still not sure how, but I was selected from the group to take place in a fan announcer contest to take place after the first period.

Briefly, the contest would work like this: My fellow competitor and I would take turns doing play-by-play announcing for a short Capitals video highlight. We would be seen on the jumbotron scoreboard screen and heard over the PA system. The winner would be determined by audience applause. Reluctantly, I accepted the gig and headed to our seats. Sarah would come get me after the first period to take me down near the ice where the contest would take place.

I nervously spent the first period trying to tamp down the butterflies and deciding how I could be funny on the Jumbotron, oh, and watch part of the game, as well. We tried to find some funny things to work into my brief commentary. Wolske, ever the entrprenuer, jokingly lamented the fact that we had no time to get a sponsorship deal for the front of my helmet. We talked about how cool this was, but I decided that, though I didn't want it to happen, this moment would be even more legendary in our lore if I completely bombed during the contest.

After the period, Sarah escorted me to the lower level and it was time. Next thing I know, my competitor (Patrick, I think) and I are on the giant four-sided scoreboard hanging above center ice. I bet my mug on that screen made Ted Leonsis rethink his decision to put in that new high-definition video system. Fortunately, the other guy went first, so I got to see what I was up against. His performance left a little to be desired( I'm sure he was as nervous as I was) and he got little applause and even a few boos.

I took the mike and did my brief play-by-play, deciding to play it straight and not be real stupid about it. Though in the middle, in the way that your brain can process a thought instantaneously while you are doing something else, I decided to squeeze in a partial line from "Slapshot". I figured by saying that Kozlov "skated up the milky white ice" I would lose the contest, but at least I would have made my buddies laugh. Well, either lots of Slapshot fans thought it was funny or many people felt sorry for the "special" guy in the helmet because I received a fair bit of applause and won the contest. "Bryan Hailey, the pride of Salisbury, Maryland" as the Caps public address annoncer called me, was victorious. My prize? A new Caps jersey (retail price $115) autographed by a bunch of players.

The funniest part, however, was that I was recognized around the arena for the rest of the night. As I walked back to my seat I was greeted with lots of pointing and shouting.

"Hey, I voted for you man!"

"Weren't you the guy up on the screen?"

"Aren't you that guy ?"

I even got cheered by my section when I got back to my seats. It was all so stupid and silly that it was hilarious.

Because the Caps got waxed 5-2 and I have funny memories from lots of games we've attended, this was not the Best Game Ever, but it sure ranks up there. And, of course, we've decided that helmets are now mandatory game day attire.

While I failed to get a picture of me in my helmet, I did include some other pics from the evening.

Happy Halloween !

For those of you who always thought there was something a little "funny" about my brother-in-law.

Caps Practice Pics.

I spent Friday in the DC area with my dad and Killer. Among other things, we visited the Caps new practice facility in Arlington. Talk about sweet- two full size rinks, offices and a pro shop. It is super fan-friendly, as well. There are plenty of comfortable bleachers and, as it was at Piney Orchard, you can stand right next to the glass to observe the players and coaches. It always amazes me to watch these skilled players up close from a vantage point that I would have to pay top dollar for at a game. I got some great pics-here are a few.

Thumbs way up for "The Kingdom"

What is it about religion and lines drawn on a map that strips us of our humanity?

Today Amanda and I saw The Kingdom starring Jamie Foxx, Jennifer Garner and the always great Chris Cooper. Obviously, it is fictional, but it paints a chilling portrait of the evils of terrorism and the devastating toll incurred by its victims, opponents and even the families of its perpertrators. The film never portrays terrorists in even a gray area-the bad guys are the bad guys. It does, however, show the cost the investigators pay to track down the terrorist villians.

The film looks unflinchingly at the collateral damage and sheer death and destruction wrought by the terrorists and those seeking to avenge their handiwork. Please don't misuderstand, I am in no way saying that terrorists shouldn't be tracked, caught and punished. I simply can't understand what drives people to do these things to each other. The price paid should be too high for intelligent human beings to treat each other this way. This tear-inducing film serves as an artistic representation of the sad facts that are all too real.

Cornucopia of Crap

Is there a broader, more representative snapshot of today's America than the Saturday morning open air flea market? Part time machine, part smelly armpit, the flea market is the great melting pot of class, culture and cleanliness. You have folks who peddle their junk every week trying to eke out a living. Next to them you have suburbanites trying to unload part of their gluttonous accumulation of stuff they really don't need. Toothless country boys and soccer moms, who would never associate in any other circumstance, chat away sitting on the tailgates of overstuffed SUVs and El Caminos. During a twenty minute walk-thru you can hear four or five different languages spoken. Haggling, arguing, laughing-it's a beautiful thing.



And don't get me wrong, not all the crap is really crap. There are valuable collectibles and teriffic hand-crafted jewelry items. Then there is my level of crap- beer signs, Smurf glasses, baseball cards. For the most part I just window shop because we already fall into that earlier category of gluttonous overcollectors. But when it comes down to it, most of the crap is Crap with a capital C. I found tables of ashtrays, old shoes, books for every fad diet of the last twenty years and VHS tapes for bad Pauly Shore movies. (I suppose that last item was redundant.) And Knives! It was like Ninjas-R-Us with all the knives, swords and throwing stars. Since I have given up my career as a carnival knife-thower I pushed past these tables and wandered about buying nothing, simply enjoying the sounds and smells of diversity.

"Don't Taze Me, Bro"

How do you feel about the college kid tossed from the Kerry speech for "protesting" too passionately? Some feel he was a free voice unjustly brutalized by overzealous campus cops. Some feel he was a publicity seeking punk who should have buttoned his lip when enough was enough. I tend to split the middle-He was a little disruptive, but I really don't think they needed to blast him with 50,000 volts.


I think most can agree, however, that there is a good chance that "Don't Taze Me, Bro" will be the latest catchphrase sensation to sweep the nation. i think the only hiccup for the burgeoning "Don't Taze Me, Bro" t-shirt and bumper sticker business may be deciding how to spell Taze. I like using the "z". It sounds strong, hinting at danger and action. But I could get on board with using the "s". All I really know for sure is that the video is pretty humorous and seeing it made my Tuesday. See part of the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCBcOQkUNjI

Dear President Bush...

Mr Bush,

My regret for casting a vote for you seven years ago is exceeded only by the disappointment I feel knowing that my uncast vote three years ago was not the one that prevented you from retaining your position. Not that you care, but let me tell you why I no longer support you. I have watched wire taps and an absent-minded attorney general. I've listened to a man named Scooter and I've carried my shampoo in a clear plastic bag. I didn't say much because those weren't "big deals" . However, enough is enough. You've crossed an offensive line with me.

You are building a legacy on the strong but overworked backs of our armed forces. I find this as distasteful as it is unfathomable. This volunteer army is not a life preserver for you to cling to as you tread water through the rest of your term. With benchmarks unmet and goals ever-shifting, when will "more time" be "enough time"? Buying time with American blood until you can wash your hands of a failed policy is surely conduct unbecoming the Commander-In -Chief.

Both a general and ambassador came to Washington this week to provide you cover by half-heartedly defending the current policy. They, despite their colorful charts and reams of statistics, were unable to say whether Americans are safer for having prosecuted this war. If that one fundamental question can not be answered in the affirmative then riddle me this-For what has America spilled her blood and why should she continue to do so?

You have the power to stop this. Oh, sure, you addressed the nation Thursday, peddling your plan to have some troops return home. You let us know that your plan allows those who view victory in Iraq as essential and those who want the troops home to be on the same side. I almost forgot, you are a uniter not a divider. Too bad your idea to bring troops home falls woefully short. And never mind that you do not clearly define victory.

Now before you hastily judge me, know this: I am not a Democrat nor an unpatriotic hippie or any other condascending label you may wish to apply. I will not be made to feel weaker, smaller or less intelligent simply because I do not support this war. I am a reasonably smart citizen who understands that freedom isn't free and that sacrifices are necessary to defend America. I also know that it is possible to both support our troops and disdain this war. Leaving Iraq now does not dishonor those who have lost their lives there; continuing to push forward in uncertainty does.

Putting the Fun in Dysfunctional

Reminder: "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia" begins in its new season Thursday night at 10pm. This is one wacky show that consistently makes me laugh. FX is on quite a roll; NIp/Tuck has slipped a bit, but Sunny and Rescue Me are strong. Enjoy.

THe Sadness Remains.

When I read a few weeks ago that MSNBC would be airing NBC's actual coverage of the events of 9-11-2001 on the sixth anniversary, I was unsure how I felt about that decision. Is it indeed "living history" as they billed it or unjustified sensationalism? Will it it be any more painful than watching the myriad memorials that are sure to air anyway? After watching the 3+ hours of unedited footage, I still don't know if it was necessary, helpful or hurtful, but it certainly was fascinating.

Being a bit of a news junkee and having been at work when the events unfolded six years ago I wanted to check out some of the coverage. Obviously, I have seen the unspeakable images many times since they occured, yet I found it morbidly spellbinding. I was pinned to my couch for the entire three hours. It was interesting to watch journalists, some caught in the middle of the news itself, struggle to process the information as it flooded in and to comprehend the images they were seeing. I am often critical of the overdramatic nature of news coverage, but this was an instance when there was no hyperbole. I believe it impossible to overstate the drama that was all too real. Watching the attacks progress, the information trickle in and the confusion reign gave me the uneasy goosebumps that six years have failed to dispel. The wound is still raw and watching the horrific images and frightening realization of the magnitude of the story unfold did nothing to salve that wound. Right or wrong that was likely MSNBC's intent all along.