Bryan Held Hostage:Day 5

Today is my fifth day stuck inside since my successful knee surgery. I am insane with cabin fever, so I hope this list of random thoughts, compiled over five days of recuperation, ice and elevation, makes some sense. At least as much sense as my other posts. So, I present to you- Notes from the Couch:

Daytime TV is awful; there are way too many Judge shows, cable news channels could tape 30 minutes of programming a day and loop it for the other 23 1/2 hours, and Dr. Phil is still a hump.

Lesson to other recovering patients- When ordering a sub delivery, check that the delivering restaurant doesn't charge extra for lettuce, tomato and delivery. Therefore you may not also be stuck paying OVER $15 for a cheesesteak and fries.

The itching of leg hair growing back in is doubly annoying when wearing a compression stocking that runs from toes to ass cheek.

Given all the ad time NBC has poured into it, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip had better be good.

How long have I been laying on the couch? I have a bruise on my arm where it has hung off the front of the couch in the same spot for days.

Funniest thing I saw all weekend (besides me trying to navigate the bathroom on one leg)- Will Ferrell on the inaugural episode of The Megan Mullaly Show (I told you I'm rabid with cabin fever.) He greeted his hostess wearing nothing but blue jockey briefs and tube socks carrying a bouquet of roses. Priceless.

The movie Miracle, the story of the 1980Miracle on Ice hockey team, is a pretty good flick. I should have watched it sooner. I was inspired and had goosebumps even as Al Michaels shouted the expected "Do you believe in miracles?". That will never get old.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think there is such a thing as too much football. After watching triple headers Saturday and Sunday, I'm a little burnt. I might not even watch Monday Night Football tonight.

Finally, I will make this suggestion to my surgeon when I see him for my follow-up : He should sell a DVD copy of his arthoscopic surgeries to his patients. Hell, if people will buy photos of themselves screaming on a roller coaster then surely folks would buy a copy of a camera burrowing inside their knee. At least I would. Of course, that could just be the fever talking.

It's Baaaack!

Don't laugh and don't say I didn't warn you - Dancing With The Stars returns with a new season tonight. I have previously documented how my affection for this show makes me a loser, yet I'll tune in at 8pm tonight on ABC. Jerry Springer, Tucker Carlson, Emmitt Smith(one of my all-time favorite athletes) are among this seasons competitors. What's not to love? This thing will be cheesier than a Rob O. Taco Bell belch. Throw in Tom "I may be the worst game show host ever" Bergeron, great music and some sizzling hot dance instructors and you've got yourself quite a party.

Atlantis Rides Again.

Thanks to the Wolskes for giving me a shout this morning to remind me of the impending shuttle launch. I know I have written about the shuttle and space travel before, but the shuttle launch never ceases to amaze me. I find it fascinating, yet I could never see myself rocketing into orbit. Me riding in the shuttle cockpit would probably look a whole lot like the kid in this video.

Good At Football? Then You've Got No Worries, My Friend.

This story proves what a topsy-turvy world we inhabit; people's priorities are way out of whack. The Washington Post article isn't very long if you want to read it yourself, but I'll give you the short recap:

High school football star helps rob a Smoothie King of $463. (Allegedly.)

Whitman High School sends him home for remainder of last school year. The Whitman principal ( apparently the only sane person in this story) recommended expulsion, but was denied by an arbitrator.

Montgomery County, Md school officials allow him to switch to Wheaton High School in order to play football this season.

Wheaton coaches and players welcome him with open arms, naming him team captain.

Favorite line fom the article:Lazear said his ankle monitor is light enough that he hardly notices it when he plays, and it will not encumber him.

I know he is innocent until proven guilty, but shouldn't being arrested for armed robbery be enough to lose some privileges? How about some parenting? Where are the consequences for behaving badly? And we wonder why college athletes, and kids in general, have no respect for authority.

Image Was Everything.

I am a few days late with this, but I wanted to salute Andre Agassi for his classy farewell at the US Open last week.

Agassi transformed himself from a young punk (He wouldn't play Wimbledon because he would have had to wear tennis whites.) to a hard-training adult in time to salvage his immense talent and become a legend and ambassador for American tennis. Agassi ditched the mullett and Canon Rebel persona and earned respect for his game and his philanthropy. He had fallen as low #141 in the world rankings some years ago, but used his trademark drive to regain the top spot briefly and win eight Grand Slam titles.

That same drive was on display last week at the US Open. Playing in his farewell tournament despite being hobbled by chronic back pain, the 36-year-old Agassi gave the grateful New York crowds something to cheer about. His second round match against 21-year-old Marcos Bagdhatis (sp?) was spectacular. The always exceptionally fit Agassi fought through his back pain and held on to win a five-set classic. Agassi forced the much younger Bagdhatis to run himself into cramps that hampered his play late in the match. It appeared that Agasssi was buoyed by four cortisone shots in five days and the vocal fans, but I know different. I believe his secret weapon was the Wolske-esque pink sports drink that he sipped at every changeover. Worked for Chris on the ice, why not on the hardcourt as well?

Agassi's farewell tour and sappy Hollywood run ran out of steam in the third round, however. Barely able to bend over for low shots, Andre's famous return game was short-circuited. Sometimes it is difficult to watch athletes stuggle when the end is near, but this time was different for me. I liked what Dick Enberg said during his play-by-play, "Greatness reveals itself under pressure and pain." Agassi counterpunched, playing enough defense to stay in the match. He was overwhelmed, yet almost pushed the match to a fifth set. As it was, he bowed out in four and had to settle for a warm eight-minute standing ovation. Now at 36, with millions of dollars, a hot wife, two young kids and a school he has funded from the ground up, he gets to live out the rest of his American dream. Congrats, Andre for choosing substance and greatness over style and flash.

Growler- Futuristic Fighting Machine or Overpriced Golf Cart On Steroids ?

I am not naive enough to think that the US military doesn't spend billions of dollars on research and development. I know this is necessary. I also know that R & D relies on a lot of trial and error. Therefore, I know it costs a ton just to design the equipment our troops will use, let alone produce it in mass quantities. I just wish the projects that are selected for mass production were a little better thought out than the Marines' new off-road vehicle The Growler.

The Growler is basically a reborn jeep designed to capably maneuver in many conditions. It is lighter than a Humvee and therefore can be hauled by the V-22 Osprey. The problem with the Growler, according to several articles I've read, is that it is not really built for soldier protection. It is an open truck with limited armor. From National Defense Magazine:

Jim Mills, an industry expert who helped manage the armored Humvee program, said it would be quite difficult to protect a small vehicle such as the Growler from landmine blasts. You can provide fragment protection but a mine blast would toss the vehicle in the air. You could install Kevlar in the underbody for fragment protection, panels behind the seats. Armoring the cab, he noted, would add too much weight and compromise its transportability.

It seems the Growler can be outfitted with some extra protection, but not too much because that would erase its benefits. Hmmm. Well thought out, gents. And, of course, while this vehicle would be a bargain at any price, our friends in the five-sided building are paying $127,00 apiece or, according to CBS News, $277 million for the fleet.

All this for a vehicle that will be hauled by the troubled Osprey fleet. The Osprey, the Marine tilt-rotor aircraft that flies faster than traditional helicopters, has been plagued by numerous crashes during testing. A Marine told me years ago that they call it "the widowmaker". So, to recap- overgrown, unprotective jeep with cheesy name hauled around by cool, if impractical, flyng jalopy. I'd sure love to see my tax $ spent on more productive military equipment.

Dear Ernesto...

Dear Ernesto,

How about being a pal, okay? Why not cut the Gulf region some slack? You can just make a little u-turn or dissapate completely if you like. I mean do you really need to power up and wreak havoc on land? The poor people of Florida and the Gulf Coast just aren't ready for another hit.

I saw Mayor Nagin and FEMA Director Paulison on Meet the Press this morning; despite their brave talk, they didn't look real confident. Even the engineers say it's "unclear" how the levees will react to a Category 3 hitting New Orleans. And don't forget Florida which is still recovering from four wallops in the '04 season.

Now, I know, you'll probably get a bunch of crap from those TV tools like Jim Cantore and Anderson Cooper, who make their bones off destruction and other peoples' misery, but they're not important. After all, look what happened to that bitch Katrina- she packed such a punch that they made her retire. So why don't you just scram and tell the next storm in line-Francis, Fernando, whoever- to take a breather too. We simply haven't had enough tome to erase our hurricane fatigue.

Proponents of Profiling Proudly Propose Preposterous Practices

Sorry about the title-I love alliteration.

I was reluctant to wade too deeply into the great terrorism debate, but it's time to hop off the sidelines. The profiling aspect, specifically, has me a little wound up. Things I've read in our blogosphere and elsewhere, in additon to things I've heard from TV "news" yappers have pushed me to action.

I'm fortunate, with my appearance traits, that I'm not usually a candidate for profiling by law enforcement. Unless, perhaps, the crime is -"Who ate the last donut?". Therefore, I've never had to suffer the indignity of being pulled over for DWB (Driving While Black) or been watched suspiciously for carrying a backpack onto a subway train.

It has been suggested that we must profile "Arab-looking" or "Muslim-looking" men. Let's break that idea down-

First, I'm not exactly sure what "Arab-looking" means. Not every Muslim looks like an extra from Lawrence of Arabia. And not every "Arab-looking" person is Muslim. I have one buddy who has dark skin and a full beard, but his ancestry makes him "whiter" than I am. I'm really not sure how you make the distinction between "Arab-looking" and "Not Arab-looking".

Secondly, once the distinction is made, how is the more thorough investigation carried out? It certainly can't be done discreetly in a crowded airport. Are we going to pull each suspect out of line? Will we have separate lines for Arab-looking suspects? I think specific targeting like this is tantamount to a return to segregation in some ways. Better not let any "Arab-looking" men sit at the lunch counter in the airport cafe, either.

Supporters of profiling peg political correctness as the reason we don't use it. While I do think we've gotten too PC as a nation, political correctness is not the issue here. Human decency is. I am dubious of those who say they would happily agree to be profiled or endure extra searching, scrutiny, etc. if they fit a particular suspicious profile. Who really wants to suffer the humiliation of being pulled aside because you look a certain way, even though you know you are completely innocent? I have a feeling when push comes to shove these folks would upset.

Finally, suppose we strip search every single "Arab-looking" guy to prove they are clean before boarding. Johnny Terrorist will just change gears and recruit redheaded teenage girls to carry out their plots. Terrorism is not an easy beat and I offer no better solution. But I know targeting a group of people based on the way they look is downright shameful.

Coming Soon: Samuel L. Jackson in LIQUIDS ON A PLANE

I have been considering posting about the recent foiled terror plot and ensuing media carnival, but I don't think I can say it much better than Mr. Wolske has on his site. With rapid-fire posts the last few days he is hotter than a Dell Notebook battery. He also has linked to some interesting commentaries, so check out his site.

On the terror issue, to put it simply, we all need to calm down. It is imperative that we sift through the muck that the fear-cultivating media pours out to find the real info. Stay informed, take serious what needs to be taken seriously and above all, step away from the panic button.

On a related note: Keith Olberman ran an interesting story on last night's Countdown. It tries to make the case that since 9/11 the feds have repeatedly used terror threats and ensuing warnings to obscure or distract from Administration problems or bad news. Olberman makes clear that it is all circumstantial evidence, but the video is compelling. In these days of spin and obfuscation (by politicians, governments, athletes etc.) nothing should surprise us. On the Countdown page, click on Nexus of Politics and Terror. Draw your own conclusions.

I wish my name was...

Every once in a while I'll hear a person's name that sounds funny or weird or cool or so weird that it's cool. I'll say to my wife or co-worker "Man, I wish my name was _____." Well, tonight I heard a new one that I like. If it didn't already belong to a Redskins player I'd wish my name was - Buck Ortega.

Eat this, Weed Eater.

I thought I was facing a common problem and judging by the volume of traffic on internet message boards, I am. My gas powered weed trimmer is a piece of crap that is driving me batty. Quite simply, I can't get the thing started. The weeds near the house are about to take over and I might have to resort to grazing like a cow to chop them down.

I always feel a little inadequate and less manly when I can't solve some sort of household trouble like this. I know little about engines and I'm neither mechanical, nor handy. (Which is kind of funny considering that I work in a construction trade.) I have spent the past couple of weeks fooling with this trimmer. Despite my best efforts, which obviously fall woefully short, the trimmer taunts me. Coughing enough to make me think it will start, it quits with a ratttle that sounds an awful lot like a teasing chuckle. Even the label on the engine- Homelite. Simply Reliable.- winks at me sarcastically.

Fortunately, I have a life preserver when it comes to household repairs, mechanical malfunctions, etc. I hauled the beast over to Dr. Dad's house so he could look it over. He cleaned the sparkplug and checked the air filter(Which, to my credit, I had done previously.) Still unable to start it, he decided that the gas-to-oil fuel mix ratio may be out of balance. Fair enough, I can handle it from there. All I have to do is look up the mix ratio for my trimmer on Homelite's website. Simple, right? Wrong.

My trimmer's model number is not among the two dozen that Homelite posts on their website. It's as if my trimmer is in a Witness Protection program for garden tools- "Don't look for me, I don't exist." Upon deeper analysis I realize that every model I click on uses the same mix ratio. Surely mine requires the same ratio, right? Of course not. Cough, cough. Sputter, sputter. Hahaha.

Usually if my Dad can't solve this kind of problem I figure I have no shot. I am happy to report, however, that my weeds are now trimmed and my sidewalks edged. I did what any self-respecting UnHandyman would do: I bought a new trimmer. This time I bought an electric trimmer so the choke, filter, sparkplug and fuel mix ratio can kiss my ass. The new trimmer is quieter, doesn't spew purple smoke and is lighter in weight. If I can keep from tripping over the cord or cutting it half with the string, I think we'll have a happy life together. I imagine someone who does small engine repair could have the old trimmer up and firing in no time, but I'd have as much tied up in parts and labor as I paid for the new trimmer. (I'll probably give it to Dad, who, with a few days tinkering will likely have it up and running.) So, to the friend that I teased for having a girly electric lawnmower, I say-Please forgive me, for I now join your ranks.

But you know the real bitch of it? The weeds are vanquished and my wife is pleased, but to me, the yard doesn't really look any better. Unless you have a well-tended, landscaped yard a few unruly weeds don't amount to a hill of beans.

Fly, Fat Ass, Fly.

Amanda and I took a trip to the Smithsonian's Air and Space Museum annex near Dulles Airport yesterday. Very cool place to visit. Billed as "America's Hangar", the cavernous building houses a myriad of authentic, restored flying machines that the Smithsonian can't fit in their downtown location. The highlights, for me at least, were seeing a retired SR-71 Blackbird (Which for it's last mission set a record by flying from LA to DC in 1hr, 4 min.), the Enola Gay (Which dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. For an incredible account of the plane and its crew read Stephen Walker's Shockwave.) and the Space Shuttle Enterpise (Which never launched into space, but was used for many test landings and is the flagship of the shuttle fleet.)

Toss in an obsevation deck from which you can watch planes landing at Dulles, an Imax theater and an incredibly courteous staff and you've got a fun place to lose yourself for a day. I'd say it's a must-see for anybody who remotely likes aviation or ever thought about being a fighter pilot as a kid.

Maybe I Am Fast And Furious.

The other day, while hanging out at the Inner Harbor, I was approached by a janitor who stopped sweeping long enough to tap me on the shoulder and say, "You know who you look like? Triple XXX." Being the germophobe that I am, my first thought was 'Wonder where that rubber glove-clad hand has been prior to touching my arm?', but that's beside the point.

I stammered out some sort of response like "Thanks, but I'm not as bad ass as he is" or something like that. The janitor just pointed at me and walked on. I'm sure he meant the comment as a compliment, but besides the haircut, what do I have in common with Vin Diesel? He's in a tad better shape than I am and I really hope I don't give off the slow-witted, tough guy vibe. The problem is, he's not the first person to tell me I look likeVin Deisel. Not that long ago, a girl I worked with told me, out of the blue, that I have Vin Deisel lips. What does that even mean and why are you saying this to me? AAAAAAAAAHHHHH.

That's Good Writing, Dickie.

I recently saw two slogans that I like.
One was a bumper sticker: Critical thought...the other national deficit.

The other was a t-shirt. Though I didn't see the front, I assume it was advertising a bar, because the back read: The liver is evil and deserves to be punished.

From Russia, With Love Rocket

What do you get when you mix one smokin' hot female accordion player, a guy wearing a zebra striped suit, a singer who sounds exactly like the 'Berserker' singer in 'Clerks' and one "Bad Ass American Drummer"? Why, you get the Red Elvises, of course. Their Rockenrol show is something like Chuck Berry meets Chernobyl, complete with jammin' music, creative and funny lyrics and just enough cheesy stage antics to border on rock and roll parody. Their broken English (Amanda's uncle was trying to figure out if they are really from Russia or if it is just schtick) just adds to the entertainment.

Their entertaining playlist includes Love Rocket, Telephone Call From Istanbul, Strip Joint Is Closed, I Want To See You Belly Dance and the memorable Sad Cowboy Song which includes a four man drum "solo". I know this all sounds ridiculous and reading the website, which is a little dated, won't change that, but trust me: They kick ass.

We stumbled upon the Red Elvises thanks to Amanda's aunt and uncle inviting us to Bethlehem PA's Musikfest last year. We had such a great time last year that we went back this weekend. For Musikfest, Bethlehem ropes off a huge section of their downtown and sets up tons of musical venues, food vendors and artisans peddling their wares. There is music around every corner as you wander the streets. The performances are free and the food is fantastic. Within a span of a few blocks you can enjoy polkas, reggae, a dixieland jug band, some roasted corn on the cob, hand twisted pretzels, pit beef sandwiches and as many giant mugs of beer as it takes to wash it all down. Musikfest makes the Salisbury Festival look like a kid's birthday party. I highly recommend catching at least a portion of the week's activities. I fully expect us to continue our new summer tradition next year.

You Da Man!

While flipping channels the other day, I came across a news program hailing the dawn of a new era in manhood: Meet the Retrosexual. The retrosexual man is active, rugged, and not trying to be pretty. Oh, you mean he's a man. Warning: He may also be sloppy, smell, belch and laugh out loud when he farts. Apparently, the Retrosexual Male is replacing the Metrosexual. I suppose if you believe in this trendy marketing bullshit then it is now okay for a man to be a man. Gee, thanks. I guess I can call the salon and cancel that appointment I had for getting waxed "down there". (By the way, I was reading an article in which a guy magazine editor actually volunteered for a little below the belt waxing in the spirit of journalism. I guess this has become all the rage for dudes. I'm sorry, you won't catch me waxing anywhere, especially there. You can have your dead squirrel and your flying squirrel, but there is no need for the bald squirrel.)

You Play Hockey? On Ice?

Somewhere in the divide between roller hockey and ice hockey there is KwikRink. KwikRink is a synthetic ice surface that feels and acts a lot like ice. It is also the skating surface in the newly opened rink at the Crown Sports Center in Fruitland. I have yet to skate on it but, I have watched some of the skating and talked to some folks who have been on it. Apparently, it reacts a lot like ice. In regular hockey skates you can turn, cut, and even hockey-stop. Each stride takes a little more effort and you don't get as much glide, although I've been assured that when the surface breaks in it will get faster. Even with the "slower" surface the guys I watched were getting up and down the "ice" pretty quick. The puck didn't move great, but the ball was humming. The surface is similar to plexiglas and is covered with a light layer of oil. I know it sounds weird, but it looks pretty neat. Seriously. Anyway, the owner hopes to have ice installed in January and then fall into a regular schedule of ice in Fall/Winter, fake ice in Spring/Summer. The only big drawback is that the rink is much shorter and a little narrower than a regulation rink. It will hopefully still be a fun place to skate and practice, however. I'm hoping to skate on it this week. I'll post an update after that. A side note that some of you might get a kick out of : The name of the rink is Ice Magic.

Be Careful Condi......

Cracked up tonight when I heard a newscaster use the phrase- Condeleeza Rice "is on a diplomatic mission to Lebanon." Well, Madam Secretary, if this is a consular ship then WHERE IS THE AMBASSADOR? I really cracked up thinking about Dubya and VP Dick donning Stormtrooper uniforms to rescue Condi from the detention block.

You Are Not Fooling Anybody.

I crack up everytime I hear a PR guy or press secretary for a government agency or business try to soften the blow of bad news by spinning it like crazy or using hokey euphemisms. I know there are countless examples; I heard my new favorite today. It was reported today that the US government does not want to call the exodus of US citizens from Lebanon an "evacuation". Instead, they are calling it an "assisted departure". What kind of silly BS is that? We are not stupid. I think we can call helmeted 4-year-olds running for Army helicopters an "evacuation". An assisted departure is when the limo driver puts your luggage in the trunk for you. An assisted departure is when the doorman hails you a cab. Normal people looking scared shitless while riding in a helicopter or while boarding a cruise ship turned escape pod is not an assisted departure. Mr. G-Man genius who coined this term-Relax, it's okay to call it what it is. Some US citizens got caught in a bad situation and you're doing the best (?) you can to help them. Just be truthful, you are not fooling anyone, nor do you have to.

BREAKING NEWS: THE EARTH IS NOT FLAT!

Is anybody else fed up with cable news and their incredible hype machine mentality?. Lately I've tuned in on my lunch hour to see what's going on in the Middle East and to maybe catch some of the White House press briefing, which I really enjoy. (I know, I'm a nerd.) It seems now that every time I turn on FoxMSHardball360HeadlineWolfBlitzerHappyHour I'm greeted with the ubiquitous BREAKING NEWS graphic splashed across the screen. Let's get this straight: Israel and Hezbollah blowing exploding kisses at each other for the eighth straight day is not breaking news, it's just news. How about saving the BREAKING NEWS banner for when new, important, situation altering info is acquired. You are not "breaking news" if you tell your viewers something they already know or have been watching for hours.

BREAKING NEWS: Tucker Carlson is still a dope even without the bowtie. Duh.

BREAKING NEWS: Angelina Jolie is hot. Duh.

BREAKING NEWS: This post has run on quite long enough. Double Duh.