New Year's Resolution Suggestions

Here are just a few ideas for cutting down on waste and becoming less of a "consumer" in the new year. They're small things really, but if everyone did them...



1. Buy some reusable grocery bags. Paula and I bought four bags a few months ago. They are very strong and shaped like the old paper grocery bags but with handles. Gone is that drawer in our kitchen that was filled with plastic bags that we didn't want to just throw away. The reusable bags are relatively inexpensive and a great way to do your part in cutting down on the half trillion plastic bags consumed this year alone.

2. Buy some fluorescent light bulbs. I'm not advocating replacing all of your light bulbs. After all, there are certain applications which require certain kinds of light. But for everyday use in lamps and overhead lights, the new fluorescent lights are really an improvement over the first ones that hit the market years ago. They use a lot less energy which is good for the planet and good for your wallet. One warning: they contain mercury so you need to dispose of them properly or your not really helping the environment at all.

3. Slow down. The government runs a fuel economy website that says, among other things, that for every 5 mph that you speed over 60 mph, it's like paying an additional 20¢ per gallon of gas. For my pick-up that means the following: if I drive the same speed as the others on the expressway filling my tank costs me an additional $13.80. Thas-a-lotta-munee.

4. Recycle. We got into the recycling program with our county sanitation department a little more than a year ago. Since then we have noticed a drastic reduction in the amount of garbage that goes out to the street every Monday and Thursday. If I had to estimate I'd say we have cut our trash output by two thirds. That's substantial and who could say that's a bad thing.

Holiday Tip #1

After years and years of stringing lights on a Christmas tree I finally arrived at the best way to do it: instead of starting at the bottom and encircling the tree as you go up, string the lights from bottom to top and then back to the bottom again until you've gone all the way around the tree. If done correctly you won't be able to tell the difference in how the lights look on the tree and when it comes time to pull them off it will be much easier.

What Would Be Wrong About Being Wrong?

You know, in talking to people about current events I have come to the realization that there are a lot of people out there that don't take the whole Global Warming thing seriously. As mentioned in the Newsweek article on the subject, sceptics don't like the label "deniers" but instead prefer "doubters." That's a subtle difference but I'm going to make it the crux of my argument.

Through the ages one thing in science has remained undisputably true: There is nothing that is impossible, only improbable. Label something beyond the realm of possiblility and you can rest assured that it will be found to be fact. As Tommy Lee Jones' character says in Men In Black, "a thousand years ago everybody knew as a fact, that the earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew that the Earth was flat...imagine what you'll know tomorrow."

Now, for me the really surprising thing about the whole debate is that for the most part it seems to be drawn along liberal/conservative political divisions. I can't quite figure that out. Making the argument political seems to relegate it to a question of economics and maybe I should start thinking of this whole thing in those terms.

There are extremists on both ends and they have done their part to shape the discussion by polarizing the subject. The most common characterizations go that anyone that believes we are affecting our environment is a "treehugger" more concerned with bark beetles than people, and anyone that is a "doubter" would sell their grandmother to make a buck. However, the truth is that for the most part we are all centrist; as one person I know put it: "My wallet says I'm a conservative but my heart says I'm liberal."

Surely there would be economic ramifications to changing how businesses do busisness in a greener world. But haven't we seen some of the same dread before? Didn't the South make the argument that their industry couldn't survive without slave labor? Then the same argument was made at the turn of the century about child labor. With each sucessive change industry and our economy has adapted and we now look back and wonder, from a moral high ground, how those systems ever came to be in place, when we all know that the answer is pure economics.

Now, I'm not demonizing the doubters as proponents of slavery, child labor, or other evils (after all, that's the job of the "treehugger" extremists of this debate.) On the contrary, I take a much less drastic approach to the problem. The fact that the doubters avoid the title "deniers" implies that they are not 100 percent sure of their position; there is room for doubt. So, how can they afford to be wrong? I mean, if there is any hint of merit to the global warming concept, and we might possibly be headed for dire straits, do we dare take the chance to be wrong?

Contradictions Of The Day

1. Frosted Mini-Wheats Big Bite (pictured at right and found on the shelf at my Publix.) Need I say more?

2. I saw a car this morning with a sign on it that read: "Make $8000 a month 10 Persons Needed." The sign was actually some shoe polish on the rear window of a beat to hell Chevy Lumina. $8000 you say? Chevy Lumina held together with bailing wire? Well, anything fancier would be ostentatious now wouldn't it?

Because He Said It Betterer

I am posting an editorial piece from Newsweek in violation of copyright laws. I had thought about composing a post on this very subject but Mr. Ellis Close has beaten me to the punch and hit more efficiently and effectively with the choices he made in composition.

Ignore the Noose Makers
Because of lynching's violent, racist history, the mere invocation of it can make people insanely angry.
by Ellis Cose

In an age when lynching is no longer accepted, what is the meaning of a noose? When a twisted rope, evocative of such a hideous history, hangs so far away from the horrors that defined it, is it still worth getting worked up about? Or when nooses appear on trees, on doors and in well-traveled public places, should we dismiss them as tasteless diversions? Cries for attention from sick, benighted souls? If only the questions were purely hypothetical. In the past few weeks, nooses have appeared in numerous places, spawning an orgy of coverage along with questions about their significance and potential harm.

The catalyst seems to be the brouhaha in Jena, La. Last year six black students there were accused of beating up a white student after three nooses were found hanging from a tree outside a school. The blacks were charged with attempted murder. Though the charges were subsequently reduced, outrage over the students' being charged with such a serious crime culminated in a demonstration last month that drew an estimated 10,000 protesters to the tiny town of 3,000.

Now, it appears, nooses have become the totem of choice for some troubled people. Earlier this month a black professor at Columbia University's Teachers College found a noose hanging from her office door. USA Today recently cataloged an array of such incidents: nooses at the University of Maryland, in a Long Island, N.Y., police locker room and in a bus-maintenance garage in Pittsburgh, to name a few. RACIAL CRISIS? OR JUST ROPE IN THE HANDS OF FOOLS? asked the headline atop a New York Times column.

I'd lay odds on the latter. This is an outbreak of copycat idiocy perpetrated by mean-spirited people who get a thrill out of seeing others riled up. And a lot of people have taken the bait. At Columbia, the noose spawned a rally in support of the targeted professor. In her State of the College address, president Susan H. Fuhrman said the perpetrator had "targeted all of us who believe in diversity."

It's unclear exactly what effect the noose was supposed to have. But it is clear that it stirred emotions out of proportion to its threat. The reason, of course, has to do with the history of the noose—or, to be more precise, the legacy of lynching.

Between 1882 and 1951, more than 5,000 people were lynched in the United States, according to statistics kept by the Tuskegee Institute. Not all were black. Roughly a fourth were white, Mexican or Asian. But lynchings of blacks were different from lynchings of whites. Many were "spectacle" lynchings, public rituals designed to make the point that "black bodies still belonged to white people," writes Cynthia Carr in "Our Town," which explores a 1930 lynching in Marion, Ind. Newspapers and public officials frequently egged on the lynch mobs, plying them with lurid (and often false) details. "Stories of sexual assault, insatiable black rapists, tender white virgins … were the bodice rippers of their day … The cumulative impression was of a world made precarious by Negroes," reports historian Philip Dray in "At the Hands of Persons Unknown."

Because of lynching's violent, racist and sexually charged history, the mere invocation of it can make people insanely angry—or, as Clarence Thomas demonstrated during his Senate confirmation hearings (when he referred to his treatment as a "high-tech lynching"), silence a roomful of normally loquacious politicians. Still, 2007 is different from 1907.

Hate crimes didn't even have a name then. It was reasonable to believe, especially in the South, that "uppity," or even just random blacks, could be lynched with impunity. In 1990, Congress mandated the attorney general to collect data on hate crimes, and the FBI pledged to work with local officials to prosecute such transgressions. More important, lynchings and other hate crimes—be they anti-Semitic, anti-gay or anti-black—no longer have broad public support.

People still engage in hateful behavior: the FBI recorded 7,163 bias incidents in 2005, the last year for which statistics are available, down slightly from the 7,947 recorded a decade earlier. The majority were racial incidents, mostly against blacks. Still, no one really believes a Columbia professor is about to be lynched.

A position paper by the American Psychological Association concluded that most hate crimes were the work of "otherwise law-abiding young people." Their actions were sometimes fueled by alcohol or drugs, "but the main determinant appears to be personal prejudice," which blinds aggressors "to the immorality of what they are doing." Extreme crimes "tend to be committed by people with a history of antisocial behavior."

Maybe it's time to stop getting so upset about these stupid gestures. Use them as occasions to educate—to revisit and extract lessons from history. And in cases where prosecutable crimes are committed, make the fools feel the full impact of the law. But to treat their acts as a serious expression of anything other than cruelty is to grant them an importance that they do not deserve.

The Price Is Wrong, Drew

Recently, Drew Carey took over host duties on The Price Is Right from the retired Bob Barker (pictured at right leaving the stage for the last time.) Bob had hosted for thirty-five years, many of which were filled with some kind of off-screen drama including affairs with the staff and numerous sexual harrassment lawsuits. As a testament to his likability he survived all of them.

Often, when I'm home, I like to eat my lunch while guessing dollar amounts for things that I will never buy. But you know, Ever since Mr. Carey took over hosting duties, I have felt that he's not going to last. It's not a case of him hitting his stride. He's just not right for the job. But if he does plan to stay he's got a few things that he's going to need to address:

1. He won't shut up. Bob didn't feel the need to fill every silence with his voice. Drew Carey can't stand the silence and feels like he should be saying something. His hosting duties most resemble an announcer at the dog track. For instance, when a contestant is called down to contestants' row he calls the action all the way down; "She's getting up...She's getting up...She's running down...Here she comes...Here she comes." And as you can see he has a habit for saying the same thing twice. Even better is his calling out the numbers on the Big Wheel as they come around; "there's 35¢, now 60¢, 20¢, 40¢, here comes 75¢, now 55¢, now 95¢, now 50¢..." Perhaps he feels that a large portion of the viewing audience can't actually "view."

Advice: Shut up and let the show happen. Silence=Confidence. The people will say and do things that are entertaining. You aren't doing stand-up.

2. Mr. Carey often makes fun of the models; Bob merely had fun with the models. Drew is constantly jokingly pointing out that the models are wearing high heels while demostrating the treadmill or exercise bike prizes. Well Mr. Carey, you should know that there are a lot of us that watch the show specifically for the models in high heels. I mean, there's only so many times I can bid on "A New Car!" or the perennial sauna before it loses it's appeal.

Advice: Don't make fun of the show; viewers don't appreciate it because it makes them think you are making fun of them. And let the models do their thing; point and be pretty. They have more fans than you do.

3. The advertisers on the show seem to believe that the same people are watching as before while Mr. Carey, it seeems, is trying to make the show a little younger. All of the ads are still for "HoverRound" Scooters, mail-order diabetes medication, laxatives that "taste good," and Medicare Health Plans. Somebody needs to get the advertisers and producers together so that they can decide what their target demographic is. Something tells me the advertisers will win out.

Advice: Slow down and act more like a distinguished older fellow. Court the blue-hairs and they will immortalize you. Show the program some respect as though it were an elderly person. The viewing audience demands it.

You know, in the end, none of this should surprise me. Drew Carey has a habit of making it all about him. When he ressurected "Whose Line Is It Anyway," contrary to the British version, he made the "Grand Prize" an improvisation with him. And he was easily the worst improviser on the show!

Something's gotta give. I can't watch The View and keep my lunch down.

The Pros And Cons Of Me

I had to take part in a leadership seminar last Friday and Saturday. A portion of the class was devoted to taking a personality profile to determine what kind of person/leader we were. Here are my results, unabridged, beginning with a word index of terms that apply to my personality type according to the answers I provided:

daring
domineering
demanding
forceful
risk-taker
adventuresome
decisive
observing
discriminating
reflective
factual
logical
controlled
retiring
fidgety
impetuous
restless
change-oriented
fault-finding
spontaneous
frustrated by status quo
fact-finder
diplomatic
systematic
conventional
courteous
careful
restrained

Creative Type Profile Pattern:
Emotions: accepts aggression; restrains expression
Goal: dominance; unique accomplishments
Judges others by: personal standards; progressive ideas for accomplishing tasks
Influences others by: ability to pace development of systems and innovative approaches
Value to the organization: initiates or designs changes
Overuses: bluntness; critical or condescending attitude
Under pressure: becomes bored with routine work; sulks when restrained; acts independently
Fears: lack of influence; failure to achieve their standards
Would increase effectiveness through: warmth; tactful communication; effective team cooperation; recognition of existing sanctions

Summary:
Persons with a Creative Pattern display opposing forces in their behavior. Their desire for tangible results is counterbalanced by an equally strong drive for perfection, and their aggressiveness is tempered by sensitivity. Although they think and react quickly, they are restrained by the wish to explore all possible solutions before making a decision.

Creative persons exhibit foresight when focusing on projects, and they bring about change. Since individuals with a Creative Pattern have a drive for perfection and demonstrate considerable planning ability, the changes they make are likely to be sound, but the method they choose may lack attention to interpersonal relationships.

Creative persons want freedom to explore, and they want the authority to examine and retest findings. They can make daily decisions quickly but may be extremely cautious when making bigger decisions: "Should I accept the promotion?" "Should I move to another location?" In their drive for results and perfection, Creative persons may not be concerned about social poise. As a result, they may be cool, aloof, or blunt.


Well, I've got to admit that the whole thing seems to hit the proverbial nail on the frikkin' head. I was really shocked by how accurate this whole assessment was; the good and the bad. I mean the process was pretty simple; you simply looked at 28 groups of four words and chose which one in each group descibes you the most and least. And VOILÀ! It's you in a nutshell.

Why can't they give college kids this kind of an assessment? I could have skipped over that whole period that I thought I was a hippie. Or that period I thought I was a roughneck dock worker. Or that....never mind.

If you know me and feel like it, leave me a comment about how close you think this assessment came to the bullseye. You won't hurt my feelings. Remember, I'm aloof.

Sleeping With Women Other Than My Wife

Well it came around a lot sooner than I had thought it would; I'm going back to Station 2. When all is said and done I will have spent only ten months at Station 6. I had commented earlier in a post that "I shall return" but I never suspected it would be this soon.

I didn't actively pursue a transfer back to Station 2 because I had been sent to the south side of the county, to a station that had experienced quite a bit of trouble, to make things right. I didn't have specifics on the goings-on, but the department was full of rumors. The fact that I was sent for a reason had always made me feel like I would be sent back when I was done. That's why I was so surprised when I was approached by the same man that had sent me, asking me if I wanted to go back to Station 2. I don't feel like I really accomplished anything but he says I've done an excellent job.

But then, maybe I did do what they wanted me to: the station is handling the county's business as it should. My hesitance in declaring my job done is based in the fact that I don't consider the station a "station." The men and women answer the calls and do a good job but they aren't a close-knit group like I have experienced before at other stations.

And that, I don't know how to accomplish. You see, Station 6 is not like most of the other stations in the county. Literally, the building is different. It was built in the last ten years and changes have come about; changes to accomodate the growing number of women in our department.

You see, the old stations have bedrooms with minimal privacy (if any.) You sleep with someone about five feet to your left and right. Everyone from the rookie to the officer sleeps in the same room. It used to be that the bedroom was full of men, but now you are just as likely to have one or two women in there with you.

A lot of non-firefighters, when they hear of or see this arrangement, ask how it's possible to sleep like that. Well, I'll tell you that I slept a hell of a lot better than I do at the new station. The new station has individual bedrooms for everyone. The officers get whole rooms to themselves with doors and all of the other crew each get a room with a curtain for a door off of a main hallway.

On paper this sounds like a good idea. The only problem is that privacy based in a departmental fear of anything that might be claimed to be harassment doesn't necessarily serve the needs of the people we serve.

For one thing, in an old station, if someone sleeps through a bell everyone else in the bedroom sees that you're not getting up and can kick your bed or maybe even roll you out of bed. But in the new stations, you have to go bedroom to bedroom waking people up. That takes time. Sometimes that's valuable time you're wasting.

The other problem with the new bedrooms is that they are very contradictory to socializing. Everyone disappears into their bedrooms to watch their own televisions or talk on the phone. No one hangs out in the dayroom (television room) and gets to know one another. We don't have to decide as a group what we are going to watch on the one television. There isn't any talking about problems with the kids, things you did this weekend, or discussion of that movie you saw that no one else should waste their money on. No, the only time you see anyone else is when there's work to be done.

That may sound trivial but in terms of getting a station to work well, it's paramount. And here's the thing about privacy; I don't have anything that anyone else hasn't seen. As a matter of fact, I probably have less. And it's not like anyone sleeps in the nude or sexy undies. When you're woken up at 2:53 in the morning from a dead sleep after a hard day of work, you aren't really looking around the room to sneak a peek at someone with less than their uniform on. On the contrary, I have a hard time finding my shoes much less some errant patch of skin. No, picture what the person you sleep next to looks like in the morning after a hard night and multiply that by ten. Nothing titillating about it at all.

And you know what? The new stations that are built to insure privacy do just that. As a mater of fact, there's so much privacy that have felt the need to expose themselves to others in private! And that was part of the trouble from last year that we heard so many ruors about! So, it's really ironic that the...well, you get it.

Whatever. The point is the new stations are designed to fail. So maybe I did as much as I could for Station 6. Maybe I wasn't ever going to get the station to relate on the level that I'm used to in people who spend 24 hours at a time together.

Regardless, I've made my choice and all I'm waiting for now is a piece of paper that show me going home. So, if you're in the Brookhaven area sometime after Halloween, come by and say "hi."

And I'm sorry about the horribly punny and deceptive title to this post.

Photo Caption Contest

Well it's been some time since we did one of these, but good pictures are hard to come by. This one speaks volumes. Yes, that's beer, some soda, a thing of mustard, and some paper towels.

This assignment is reference based: Imagine this picture is in an encyclopedia or a dictionary. For those of you with Brittanica on the brain write a caption worthy of an encyclopedia for it. For those of you who pine for Daniel Webster the picture is an adjunct to an entry; you provide the definition.

Or you can just write whatever.

Also click on the "Photo Caption Contest" label at the bottom of this post to revisit some of the previous contests. You guys are pretty funny.

Everything Only

Help me out here. There's a trash can in the City of Stone Mountain with the little trash can push door on top and on its' side are the words "Trash Only."

I have thought and thought about this one and I can't figure out what that means. Every morning that I drive home from work I have to pass this can. I keep meaning to bring my camera along. What could someone possibly put in the trash that wasn't trash other than maybe some living thing? You may as well have written "Everything Only" on the side. Even if the can used to sit beside a can that said "Recyclables Only" why would you specify "Trash Only." Everything that isn't recyclable must be trash. Right?

I don't know why this bothers me so much. Maybe it's because I can't put my head around it. I mean I can't even chalk it up to laziness. It took more effort to stencil and spray paint the extra line. So there must be meaning in the act, right? Am I the only one to notice? Or does this not bother anyone else? Is this a test? I feel kind of isolated right now.

This might be my par can falling from the sky. When did you know, Truman?

Miss South Carolina vs. Your Answer Here

It was all the rage not too long ago. A fetching young woman representing South Carolina in the MIss Teen USA pageant didn't say, "World Peace" and payed dearly for it. The video of her response has over 16,500,000 million viewings on YouTube alone. As though she were on auto-pilot for this portion of the competition, she rambled an amalgam of answers to other questions; questions she had obviously prepared for.

The comments that YouTube users are leaving are particularly harsh. And for what? The fact that a eighteen year old found herself at a loss for words in front of millions of people? I wonder how well so many of those typing horrible comments as they hide behind their monitors would have done in the same situation. Hell, some of the people we elect to lead the country have done worse in similar situations.

Of course, the laughter is already beginning to fade, and soon no one will really remember the bit. (Does anyone even know her name at this point?) But she's going to be stuck with it for a really long time. It might be something that she doesn't ever get past. And all because she was dancing around the truth of the question: Why can't a fifth of Americans locate the United States on a world map?

What did we expect her to say? "I blame the teachers." Or maybe, "The United States is once again moving toward becoming an isolationist society, as it did at the turn of the last century, partly in response to threats of terrorism, outsourcing, illegal immigration, and our dubious hold on the title of 'Superpower' in light of the tremendous economic expansion in Asia, specifically China. This isolationist tendency coupled with an overinflated concentration on teaching children only what they need to know to pass tests has left our schools and teachers powerless to shape the young minds that this nation will have to rely on to carry it into this new century to think globally." My honest response to the question probably would have been, "Holy crap! You've got to be sh**ing me! One fifth?!"

Anyway, I think we had better lay off this poor girl and maybe turn some of that energy that's been wasted taking pot shots to educating that fifth of us. What else don't they know?

Well, there's the lawsuit filed on behalf of the guy that claims he didn't know his aftershave would still be flammable (as long as it was wet) after he put it on. As reported by 620 WTMJ:

A man from Milwaukee who suffered extensive burns during a Wisconsin Dells camping trip after an accident with his aftershave is filing a lawsuit. Charles Lewitzke was cleaning himself up when he put on some aftershave made by Brut. When he went to start a fire at the campsite Charles, who's 81, struck a match and he started on fire. The fire resulted in second and third degree burns on 30% of his body. He's put a lawsuit into federal court, claiming negligence by the makers of Brut, along with Wal-Mart, the store he bought it from. Lewitzke's attorney says Brut has warning labels that say people shouldn't use it when they're smoking or near flames, but the attorney says he wasn't doing either when he went on fire.

Apparently Charles thought it was only flammable in the bottle. And I like the fact that Wal-Mart is, in Mr. Lewitzke's attorney's opinion, liable as well. But why stop there Charles? Surely the match manufacturer should have some kind of warning on the matches that they may cause fire.

Hey, speaking of camping and the great outdoors, our ignorance doesn't start or stop with Brut. As reported by the CDC, 177 people died in 2006 of West Nile Virus. Let's see...300,000,000 people in the United States...divided by 177 deaths...yep...equals EPIDEMIC!

West Nile Virus is not really quite an epidemic as the nightly news might lead us to believe. But one fifth of the country can't find the country?! That's an epidemic. Let's have that on the news every night. No instead, we get a general panic in the population with people dialing 911 because they "were bitten by a mosquito and have West Nile Virus." (If you ask them what their symptoms are they simply reply, "West Nile." They don't know what it is but they're sure they've got it.)

I'm rambling and it's late. Sorry. I guess what I'm trying to say is that if I had one wish for humanity it would be that everyone was genuinely concerned with how their actions affected everything else. Think about how the comments make Miss South Carolina feel. Think about the court's time that you are wasting, Mr. Lewitzke. Think about the fear you put in people by yelling "Epidemic!" Think about the ambulance and fire truck that aren't available for someone who really needs them because you were bitten by a mosquito.

Think about what you might do to change the world. You never know when you might get the chance.

Okami Sushi

Beware of sushi from Brentwood, Illinois. It cost over five dollars for six pieces at Publix. (I know, I know, I took a chance.) It was so bad, I only ate two of the pieces.

Paula Accidentally Creates The Best Adult Film Star Name Ever

You see, Paula was giving me plot synopsis of The Terminal and when she meant to say, "Stanley Tucci" she thoughtlessly said, "Stanley Coochie." (No, it's not a word she uses. I think her tongue just got confused for a second.) But it's so unbelievably funny and it only gets funnier each time I hear it again.

I googled the name expecting someone to have already claimed it for their on-screen persona but no dice. And the real Tucci has been in some movies with titles begging to be porno-fied (the industry act of taking a legitimate movie title and turning it into something porn related. e.g. On Golden Pond becomes On Golden Blonde.)

Here's a short list:
The Public Eye
Big Night
In Too Deep
The Whole Shebang
The Core

Crowded House

Paula and I went to see Crowded House at the Tabernacle Wednesday night and the show was awesome. Jeremy over at the Rockblog has a couple of pictures and a setlist from the show in Nashville.

Anyone that knows anything about my musical tastes knows that Crowded House is my band. If I had to pick one album to listen to for the rest of my life it would be Temple Of Low Men. Hands down. No deliberation.

And I don't know if it plays a part in why I like them so much, but something struck me as particular about this band. You see, probably 99% of the music I listen to was introduced to me by others for the last twenty-five years. There are bands in my collection which are immediately connected in my mind to people that shared their music with me. David I. introduced me to pre-Sledgehammer Peter Gabriel. Paula played Donkey and Cake for me when I wouldn't have listened if given a choice. David L. gave me Nick Drake before Volkswagen did. I can thank Laurie S. for Billy Joel and The B-52's. Brent Cash let me in on the secret of The Kinks. Doob played me the Merry-go-round and Emmitt Rhodes. Keith was instrumental in opening me up to Elvis Costello's genius. And of course, Michael and Jeremy introduced me to a LOT of the music that I cherish to this day: Starlight Mints, Ben Kewller, Fountains of Wayne, etc. The list of people and music could go on and on.

So thank you all, really. But when I said that Crowded House was my band I meant it. I found them on my own. And it shouldn't matter but maybe it does. Maybe it makes it a little more special. Maybe it's the difference between admiring the Hope Diamond and finding it.

Back when I frequented the record store at least four to five hours a week for music and conversation, I couldn't stand to see a Crowded House album in the used bin. The idea that someone didn't want the music was vaguely offensive to me and, I assumed, the band. So I would buy the cd's any time I saw them and then give them to someone I knew that needed to hear this music; a Johnny Appleseed of Crowded House.

So for whatever reason I hold them above all others, I do. Seeing them live is, for me, like paying homage. The Return of the King, and me a loyal subject.

But maybe now I need to be Johnny Appleseed again.

In college, a friend that worked for Capitol Records found a two disc live performance of Crowded House in a box of discs to be thrown away. He knew I liked them and gave it to me. Some of what was on these discs was released years later as extras on singles. But what he gave me was an entire concert, recorded digitally by the record company never intended to be released as a whole. Now, some of you reading this may not realize that most "Live" albums contain stuff that was recorded in a studio afterward to cover up mistakes, missed notes, etc. that come with live performances. This album contains none of those. It's pure live Crowded House.

Here's one of the tracks; in appreciation for her hangin' with me in the heat of the Tabernacle through both encores, I give you Paula's favorite Crowded House song (with band banter), recorded live in London on November 9. 1991.

Enjoy.

The Score

I want to relate two things that happened with the boys just for the sake of telling. There's no life lesson here. There's no "awww" ending. I just wanted to put it down so that I don't forget.

Now, Ben's two upper front teeth have been loose for the last month. The first one was naturally coming out, the second he helped when he dove into the couch and hit the armrest. Either way, it was time for them to come out. But Ben wouldn't pull them. He avoided it like the plague even though he knew it would make him some money, which he loves.

So Saturday night he finally decided that he would let Paula try to pull it. An hour, some screams, and a bucket full of tears later it was still in there but only hanging on by a thread. Paula told him she just wanted to see it but then yanked it good. Ben was beside himself. And there was no way he was going to pull the other one.

Now, once the tooth was out, we could see that the permanent tooth was already showing. He had waited so long that he wasn't going to have to go long without front teeth. (He'll probably have them by Christmas and don't start singing!)

The next day we spent at Paula's brother's house celebrating birthdays. Ben and Luke's cousins were there and they played all afternoon. Well, eventually talk around the table turned to Ben's tooth. Ever the showman, Ben decides that now, in front of everyone, is a good time to let Daddy tie some dental floss around the tooth (like we did, unsuccessfully, the night before.)

Once the floss is on, Ben disappears downstairs. Now, Ben was mad at me the night before even though his Mommy was doing all of the pulling. I'm afraid that the boy has developed a complex about disappointing me (no doubt brought on by my parenting style.) So I just figured he didn't want to do it in front of me and I let him go.

Paula fills me in later on what happened: It seems that Ben and his older cousin decided that the best way to get the tooth out was to tie the other end of the floss to some Nerf suction darts that were loaded in a gun; the idea being that if you fired the gun at the wall the tooth would shoot out of Ben's mouth.

Well I don't have to tell you that the Nerf gun was no where near powerful enough to pull a tooth; even a tooth as unsound as this one was. But they thought it was hilarious. Paula compared it to Jackass (a horrible and wonderful television show) when those guys dare each other to do stupid stuff that's going to hurt them. Apparently, Ben and Jacob took turns upping the ante on what to do with the gun, the floss, and Ben's tooth.

They had whipped themselves into such a state of giggling delirium that when Paula suggested Ben stick the suction dart to the sliding glass door and yank his head away, he did it without hesitation and the tooth came out. And Ben was the most surprised of anyone. Score one for Mommy. And we'll go ahead and give one to Ben because accidents count.

Now, the night before I had given Ben a pouch to put his tooth in for the tooth fairy: a little velvet pouch that I had received a rosary in once. I told him that I had found the bag at an antiques store and that the owner said that it used to belong to a King. Ben bought the story and found himself putting his tooth in the same bag that a King's tooth had been in. His worries about the tooth fairy not finding his tooth evaporated. Score one for Daddy.

But Ben came to me the following day to ask if the antiques dealer "had any evidence." I rambled something about it being bad form to question the antiques dealer. Score another one for Ben.

Luke, on the other hand, doesn't have any loose teeth. But he does have a pretty nasty scab on his right knee from running at the pool. He's had a bandaid on it for a few days now and refuses to get down into the water for a bath. He won't let us touch it and it's getting pretty gross looking, old bandaid and all.

So tonight as Luke was getting ready to take a bath I said, "Hey, how about we take that bandaid off?" Luke calmly shot back, "Hey ,No." Score one for Luke.

iEulogy

There are only a handful of things that come into your world, and touch your life in a dramatic fashion. Some of the things are just flickers of light during a long life, while others are consistent glows for years. For me, my iPod was my consistent glow. It was my best friend for close to 4 years.

God works in mysterious ways. My iPod and I were sitting in my truck just six weeks ago. We were listening to songs, which we did every Saturday afternoon together. Songs about sports, politics and our lives. Then a song about death came up.

My iPod did something that will stay in my mind for a long time. During random play, it played Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road twice in a row. Six weeks later, here we are, minus one. My iPod gone from my life because of a damaged hard drive. I still can’t believe it is gone.

I was never really close to the other components of my stereo system. I had a few tape players growing up, but those were mostly childhood playmates. I had an early cd player and one of the first mp3 players. But we were never very close.

I met my iPod on my birthday and we hit it off immediately. We started hanging out with the same group of artists. I remember feeling so comfortable around it. I had never experienced that before with other components. For the first time, there was a consistent portable media player in my life, which I could turn to for friendship and support.

That friendship and support continued for the next 3 years. We both created playlists of our favorite songs. We shared some wonderful times together. I will never forget them.

I can honestly say that there are only a few hand-held electronic devices that have walked into my life and changed it forever. iPod, I love you. I miss you. You have graced my life more than you will ever know. God bless.

My iPod is survived by an iPod Nano and Shuffle.

I Promise To Do My Best...

Guess who's now the Den Leader of Tiger Cub Pack 563?

Ben's really excited. More so than I can remember him being about anything that doesn't come in wrapping paper. And it's kind of infectious, I guess. Sure, I'm a little anxious and eager about the whole thing. I mean, I can command men inside of a burning building but can I lead a group of six year olds?

And, yeah, I'll have yet another uniform shirt hanging in the closet. It's turning into quite a collection. And I'm sure I'll be as proud to wear this one as the others.

Luke: Grow boy and get on up here.

Let's Make A Record

I'm looking to put together a mix-tape of sorts. I'm taking suggestions for GREAT songs that you think no one else has heard. Leave me the name of the song and artist in the comments. I will be creating a playlist on the main post as we go.

When we've got enough songs I'm going to upload the whole thing to one of those download sites that you can access for free. Get suggesting!

The Dark Side Of The Rainbow

For those of you who don't know, if you watch The Wizard Of Oz and listen to Pink Floyd's Dark Side Of The Moon your head will explode.

Okay, now that we've gotten hyperbole out of the way...

In the early nineties, some stoner watching television and listening to Dark Side Of The Moon, too baked to find the television remote control realized that there were certain synchronicities between the music and the movie Wizard of Oz. (You have to start the album when the MGM lion roars for the third time.) Most of them rely on lyrical references that can be twisted to apply to what's going on on-screen. (A complete listing of coincidences are available here.)

However, there is one section of the whole thing that does give me the willies. It's so good that I really can't stand to watch this section of Wizard Of Oz without the music. The movie, with it's original soundrack intact seems lifeless and boring. This point in the synchronicity is the only reason that I still hold a little bit of scepticism as to whether the band planned it when they made the album (they deny it.)

It begins just as Dorothy decides to return home after running away and it coincides with the album at the specific point when things just don't seem to belong. Now, don't get me wrong. I love Great Gig In The Sky. But it has always seemed as though it didn't belong on the album. It originally fell at the end of Side 1 and I suppose it was meant to draw you to Side 2. But the fact that it really is out of the context of the rest of the album, coupled with how well it fits it's particular section in the movie make you wonder if it really wasn't all planned.

The best argument against this is that if it was planned then the whole album would fit as well as this portion does. Anyway, for those of you who haven't seen it before, someone has posted the whole thing to YouTube. And if you want more explanation on the whole synchronicity allegations then check out the Wikipedia article.

Whether you agree on the whole synchronicity or not, this is at least an opportunity to revisit some incredible music and a really fun movie that has some moments of true brilliance (read: the special effects for the tornado and "Surrender Dorothy" skywriting.)

To Be Prepared Or Knot To Be Prepared

My career in the Boy Scouts ended with my Arrow of Light. I got it and bolted because, as a thirteen year old, I felt I didn't have any time in my busy life. Now, I can't wait until my oldest son is old enough to be in Cub Scouts. And Ben seems to share some of my interest. So far he has learned a Square Knot and a Slip Knot. (I fear I'm going to walk into the den and find Luke tied to the sofa.)

And you know, the fire department, at times, is very similar to the Boy Scouts. I mean there's the "Always be prepared" philosophy that both share. They learn to make fire, we learn to put it out. And every once and awhile we both have to tie knots.

It's like anything, some people get it right off, and some don't. I've got a few at my station that don't so I went looking on the internet for some sites that could help people learn their knots. I have some really good books, but I wanted something that was a little more interactive. And I found it.

This website is an excellent source. The owner has provided animations detailing how to tie the knots as well as dividing the knots into groups such as Boating, Search and Rescue, etc. Check it out and "enjoy."

Ben Kweller Is Sweller

We went to see Ben Kweller this tuesday night at the Variety Playhouse. Paula and I had a really good time and Ben was great. He definitely rocked it up, but the high point of the show for me was one of his older, slower songs. Man I love this one.

Listen.

Photo courtesy of Rock Blog.

Is Your Profession Half Empty Or Half Full?

Someone copied me on an e-mail that had a tag at the bottom which read:

To the optimist, the glass is half full. To the pessimist, the glass is half empty. To the engineer, the glass is twice as big as it needs to be.

So I thought, "Why not try that for a few more job titles?" So, write your own joke using your own profession as a starting point. I'll get things rolling in the comments.

Joyce: The Results

Sorry for the delay. We've had AC issues to deal with for the last couple of weeks.

Anyway, my votes have been tabulated and here are the results:



First Place:
Histor the Wise with "Hi, Niece!"

Totally innocuous. Possibly the worst title for a song ever. And as it happens the funniest, least obvious, most original entry of the bunch. The exclamation point at first disappointed me; like it was trying to hard. But now I think that Joyce uses exclamation points the way she dots a letter "i" with a heart; there just isn't anything behind it.

Flawless. Score = 100

Second Place:
Jeremy Frye with "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Joyce.

The beauty here is that the "Joyce" in the title gets a bump from "Rosemary" which, contrary to it's original context, takes the form of another woman's name. Two women's names that are equally out of popularity right now. All that could change with a well-timed supermodel or pornstar: Nikki Joyce anyone? (I couldn't help myself and I searched for women named Joyce that like to take their clothes off. A Joyce De Troch took her clothes off for the Belgian version of Playboy in 1997. What's that? You haven't heard of her? Still asking 'What's in a name'?)

Minus ten points for making my idea of "Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Joyce Ltd." look stupid. Score = 90

Third Place:
chosen©er with "Tootsie 2: It Might Be You (REMIX)"

I didn't find this one as funny as true. One of my suggestions called to mind Gabe Kaplan, but Joyce really does look like Dustin Hoffman in drag. Sorry, Joyce. There's no denying the truth. And as long as we're being honest...who decided to put her on the cover? Did they think that picture would sell records?

Minus fifteen points for being so mean to Joyce. Score: 85

Honorable Mention:
Helen the Greek with "Dark Side of the Moon"

As I noted in the comments, I had considered this one as well. I don't know why it struck me as so funny. Maybe it's that I imagined Joyce doing her version of Dark Side and me listening to it while I synced it with The Wizard Of Oz. And all of that sans medicine. You don't need it when you have Joyce singing, "the lunatic is on the grass."

Minus seventeen points for being on my wavelength. Score = 83

Honorable Mention:
Boom Boom Becca with "Come And Knock At My Door"

I like having Boom Boom in the room. She's funny and she knows how to put up with crap from me and chosen©er. So here goes.

Minus twenty points because it's "Come And Knock ON My Door." Who's knocking at the door to a first, second, or third place finish? Don't answer it. We're leaving her on the porch with an honorable mention. Score = 80

Honorable Mention:
Mr. Doob with "A Night At The Opera"

I would pay serious money to hear her version of Death On Two Legs.

Score = 76.5

Here's what I thought the cover might have looked like. (Album and song titles don't reflect actual winners of competition. Some settlement during shipping may have occured as product is packaged by weight.)

Let The Voting Begin

Well, it seems there are no more suggestions flowing in. I didn't want to shut this down until Jeremy chimed in and I'm glad I waited.

There were a lot of funny submissions...but only one can win. So let me formally close the contest and start the voting. Voting will be open until the one I like gets the most votes.

Joyce: Photo-Caption Contest Update

So I tried to find out more about Joyce. That's when I stumbled across this list of the 100 worst album covers of all time. The comments are great. Our girl Joyce only manages to rate a measely 36 but fear not! There are some real winners on this list. The albums in the nineties wouldn't load the thumbnail of the album cover for me, but if you click on the broken link (the question mark) you can see the cover. Unfortunately, I like a couple of these records.

Joyce: Photo-Caption Contest Update

I've been thinking about it and I don't want to determine the winner myself this time. It's always been fun to award points and, of course, take points away, but I want this to be a little more democratic.

So after the entrys slow to a trickle I will formally close the contest and invite everyone to vote. The rules for voting will be simple: Everyone only gets one vote and you can't vote for yourself. (People without submissions and complete strangers are allowed as well. Buying votes is encouraged.) Got it?

Or should I just judge like I always have?

P.S. Those of you that have missed previous contests can click on the label "Photo Caption Contest" at the bottom of this post and see all of the other contests and awards.

Joyce: Photo-Caption Contest

I was laughing at some of the past photo-caption contest submissions when I came across a suggestion from Jeremy to limit the captions to song lyrics. It's a good idea, but I'm going to limit a little more in the spirit of limiting things.

Good pictures are hard to find. I was going to limit the captions to song or album titles. Then I thought, "why not take a really bad actual album cover and get suggested titles for it?"

So here goes. This is the eponymous release by an artist named Joyce. I think it deserves a real title (although "Joyce" says it all, doesn't it?) You can make one up, or give it the title of another real album or song. Whatever, just make sure it's deserving of Joyce.

Motherboard! How Frikkin' Hard Can This Be?!!!

Over the years I have collected old computers and electronics in the basement. I'm not a pack rat by any means. I didn't keep it for the sake of keeping it; I always intended to fix or reuse the items. It's just that I really have a hard time throwing things away that I think can be used again. But after so many years it has become obvious that there isn't anything to do with them.

That's when I heard about an electronics recycling drive. The county had held a collection but it apparently was only for a certain period. When I called the sanitation department, the woman I spoke with gave me a 1-800 number to call. So I went home and started looking on the internet for opportunities to recycle in the area.

I gave this one company a call and found out the they charged $10 an item to recycle. $10 to recycle a VCR that cost me $30! It would cost me $120 to recycle everything that I wanted to! What's wrong with the world? When I asked the guy why so much he said there were costs involved. I told him that for that much I was inclined to just put it in the landfill like everyone else. He "reminded" me that they were considered hazardous waste. I reminded him that $120 was a lot of money.

So then I find on the internet that Staples accepts electronics for recycling. Cool! I drive all the stuff up there only to find out that they too charge $10 per item. That was conveniently left off of the website.

Reluctantly, my conscience convinces me to hold onto this stuff for a little while longer until I can find someone collecting the stuff for free again. I call the county landfill to find out when and where and they tell me that there is a permanent collection site at the landfill. That's nowhere on the website and the first woman I spoke to at the beginning of this whole mess apparently didn't know about it either.

I ended up taking the stuff down there. At the gate, I asked the woman who signed me out if I could collect from the elderly in my neighborhood, who don't have the means to get down to the landfill. She said that I would have to pay to bring that stuff down for recycling "because it isn't from your own house." I told her that was absurd and ridiculous. I mean, wouldn't the Sanitation Department love to get a little help? Aren't they making some money on the recycling? The more the better? The less in the landfill?

What the hell is going on?!!!

Now I only tell you all of this to illustrate how hard it was to dispose of this stuff properly. It took a lot of time and almost took a lot of money. Recycling should be easy. Knowing that it's the right thing to do often isn't enough (a typical computer can have up to 8 lbs of lead in it.) There's a point when it just doesn't make sense anymore.

So if you've got computers, televisions, electronics of any kind check for an opportunity to re-use or recycle in your area. And if you can't find any I'll take it to the landfill for you.

Projection Not Reflection

I posed a question while in Florida with friends recently and it has occured to me that it might prove interesting to hear the responses from a wider pool. So here goes.

If you could pick one actor or actress to be, based on the parts they have played, who would it be? I'm not talking about who would best play you in a movie about your life. No, this is who you want to be. Think projection, not reflection.

My pick would be Paul Newman. He has aged gracefully (see Robert Redford) and can still hold his own on screen (see Road To Perdition.) He's played some real sons-of-bitches (see Hud) but you find yourself liking him anyway. Besides that, you just don't get any cooler than Cool Hand Luke.

Father's Day

As many of you know, Randy Newman holds a very special place in my heart. His second studio album, Sail Away includes a song called Memo To My Son, which unlike many of his other songs, is apparently sung from his own point of view.

I remember listening to the song a year after my first son was born and thinking about how simple and true the lyrics struck me.

What have you done to the mirror?
What have you done to the floor?
Can't I go nowhere without you?
Can't I leave you alone any more?

I know you don't think much of me
But someday you'll understand
Wait'll you learn how to talk baby
I'll show you how smart I am

A quitter never wins
A winner never quits
When the going gets tough
The tough get going

Maybe you don't know how to walk baby
Maybe you can't talk none either
Maybe you never will, baby
But I'll always love you
I'll always love you

The song seemed especially seasonable at the time. But today when I hear it it seems to belong to this moment, even now that my sons are a little older. I expect that the song will always apply, which is part of its charm for me. Sons will always be getting into things. They will always need advice. And their fathers will always seek their approval.

The line, "Wait'll you learn how to talk baby, I'll show you how smart I am" used to strike me as funny. Now it's a little sad as I realize so much of what I do as a father, so much of what I want everyone around me to see me doing for my sons, I'm actually doing for myself.

That's becuase no matter how much we all realize that it isn't fair, the world tends to judge a father by his children's actions. I fear that all too often I act as though this were true. But it isn't and I shouldn't. There are a lot of bad people in the world that had good parents. So this is one of the rare times when intention trumps results.

My hope as a father, is that my sons will recognize, perhaps when they too have children, that I only intended the best for them. I want to give them everything I have and hope only for their love in return.

Some suggested Father's Day viewing:

The Royal Tenenbaums - There's a moment in the movie, around the scene at the ice cream parlor when Royal finally gets it. It's a magical moment.

Big Fish - A movie about sons understanding their fathers and why they do the things they do.

Finding Nemo - How is it that a cartoon can make me cry? When Nigel the pelican consoles Nemo's father who thinks his son is dead with, "I'm sorry. Truly I am," my heart breaks. How is that possible?

Superman - "All that I have, all that I've learned, everything I feel... all this, and more... I bequeath you, my son. You will carry me inside you all the days of your life. You will make my strength your own, and see my life through your own eyes, as your life will be seen through mine. The son becomes the father, and the father the son. This is all I can send you, Kal-El." You really can't top that.

Road To Perdition - A young boy's discovery of the world that his father lives in and desperately wants to protect his son from. The moment when he tells his son that he fears he is too much like himself...or the scene where Tom Hanks and Paul Newman play piano together; the surrogate father and son. It doesn't get much better than this one. Easily on my top ten of all time.

Field Of Dreams - A movie that pretends it's about baseball.

A Window, Heroism, and A Helicopter Pilot

Common Sense vs. A Window

So here’s what I’m up against. A couple of weeks ago we had a little house fire at four o’clock in the morning. It was pretty far from our station and by the time we got there most of the fire was put out. I and the firefighter with me were assigned to do a primary search of the house looking for victims.

After completing the search and reporting our findings back to command we started to help overhaul the inside of the house. This is the point where we start removing sheetrock around the fire area looking for the places that fire likes to hide.

So my rookie and I (he’s been with the department for about two years but I think you still qualify as a rookie with so little time) are in a little bathroom down the hall from where the fire was. It’s not very likely that there is any fire spread to this area but we have to check anyway. The technique is quite simple; you remove sheetrock and examine the wood behind it. Any sign of smoke or charring and you pull more. You pull sheetrock off of the walls and ceiling until you get to “clean” wood. It’s completely destructive and we often end up doing more damage than the fire while making sure that it’s out. After all, you don’t want to have to come back a second time. That’s a bad feeling, trust me.

So like I said, the fire was out before we got there. We’re pulling ceiling in this bathroom and there is still a lot of smoke in the air. I tell my rookie, “how about opening that window and getting some of this smoke out of here.”

At this point I turn and go back to pulling sheetrock, when CRASH! There goes the window. I turn quickly and see my rook putting his puller through the glass. Once he has broken most of the glass he takes the tool and rakes it around the sides cleaning out all of the glass. Then, as if that wasn’t enough damage, he takes the tool and knocks the entire window out of the wall into the back yard.

I would remind you, THE FIRE IS OUT! There are no exigent circumstances that demand quick and decisive action. I assumed (and we all know what that makes me yet again) that he would simply open the window.

It’s common sense, right? But that’s what I’m up against. For all too many of the younger guys, the mere idea that fire is somewhere in their vicinity is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. A crazy bull that’s got something to prove.

Intentions vs. Results

Perhaps you’re thinking that, like my previous post, I should consider rewarding intentions. And they do have good intentions. They sincerely want to help, but intentions aren’t going to save anyone.

Yes there is something admirable about the intention. But good intentions don’t get the job done. There are a few calls that I will always remember; that I play over and over in my head thinking about what I would have done differently. Calls where intentions fell horribly short.

I hear people labeling firefighters “heroes” all of the time, and my reflex is to cringe somewhere in my head, out of sight. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment or understand how they feel. After all, firefighters have heroes, too. It's just that I don't necessarily agree. But it has caused me to examine what, in my opinion, a hero is.

I recently read John McCain’s book Why Courage Matters where he discusses people who have displayed unbelievable courage, many in the face of death. He argues that our society today carelessly applies the word lessening its impact. The labeling of someone as courageous, because they lost a lot of weight, cheapens the word where it applies to what he considers real courage.

At first I wholly agreed with him. He definitely presented examples of people who have shown immeasurable courage; people who have done things I can’t imagine myself doing. And that’s when I realized what I define as courageous; what I think makes a hero.

Your Hero vs. My Hero

For me, a hero is simply someone who’s willing to do something I am not.

That’s it plain and simple. It could be losing weight if I wasn't willing to do it. So I don’t see firefighting as heroic because it’s something I do. As a firefighter I don’t strive to be a hero. I realized a long time ago that what I want from my career instead is the opportunity to just once make a real difference.

(You see most firefighters are trained to do the same things in similar situations. What I long for is that moment when I can be the difference. A moment when my perspective, my experiences, etc, help me to see a scene differently and dramatically change the outcome for the better. (I know someone who I have witnessed do this twice. It fills me with admiration and, to be perfectly honest, a little envy.) That won’t make me a hero, though. I don’t want that. I don’t even want recognition for making the difference.)

Brave vs. Stupid

An old man at a campground latrine (it’s a long story) once told me that “brave and stupid” where two sides of the same coin. I knew then that he was right. The only difference in the two is how things end up.

And it’s doubly true for heroes. If all they can claim is good intentions then their actions, the chances they take, are more often than not viewed as mere stupidity. And if they succeed? Well then, we consider them brave enough to do something we might not have.

You know years ago, there was a shooting in the food court of Perimeter Mall. If I remember correctly, the man who did the shooting said that he heard voices that told him to do it. He was disarmed by a man who simply walked up to him and got him to put down the gun. This man saved an unknown number of people through his simple action. Afterwards he refused to speak to the news and disappeared back into his life. I’ve often wondered, working and living in the area for a period, whether I unknowingly met him. How amazing would that be? This guy made the difference and was a hero at the same time.

Let’s bring it back to firefighting and talk a little about the rescue at the Fulton Cotton Mill fire a few years ago. If you remember, the entire mill, built of heavy timber and in the process of being converted into lofts, went up in flames trapping the crane operator at the top of his crane above the inferno. An Atlanta firefighter tethered himself below a helicopter and was lowered to the crane where he rescued the crane operator. It was very dramatic and was shown live on local television (and on CNN if I’m remembering correctly.)

Months later, I was approached at work by representatives of a church group who wanted to give an award to a “hero.” They asked if they could give it to Matt Mosley, the Atlanta firefighter who had affected the rescue. (Matt Mosley, after the rescue, had been very visible. He was given a vacation to Disney World for his family and was all over the news for a few weeks.) I told them that would be nice but suggested instead that they give the award to the helicopter pilot.

You see, even though it took guts to get on the end of that line I know that there were probably ten other firefighters ready to do it. But what most people don’t know is that they tried to get one of the many news helicopters at the scene to fly over the fire for the rescue and they all refused. It was just too dangerous. But the Department of Natural Resources pilot volunteered. He did what no one else would do. Without him the crane operator was dead. He’s the hero of that story. And I bet you don’t know his name.

W-I-N-N-E-R

I have to say that the one that made me laugh the hardest was from Chosen©er with, "2-4-6-8, let's all go re-caffeinate!"

Thanks to everyone else that contributed.

P-H-O-T-O-C-A-P-T-I-O-N-C-O-N-T-E-S-T

That's right it's photo caption contest time again. And this one comes straight from the pages of Newsweek magazine.

You have to hand it to Newsweek, when China takes over the world, they'll be the ones saying, "We told you so." It seems like every issue ties some aspect of our lives to the Chinese and how they are doing it better or faster or cheaper. Is nothing safe?!!

Perhaps you thought cheerleading was safe. It's pretty all-American isn't it? Don't bet on it. The Chinese have set their sights on it and keep appearing at the annual Cheerleading Worlds which Newsweek describes as "the Super Bowl of spirit competitions."

But are we our own worst enemy? I submit this picture which accompanied the article. Forgive the quality. The only way I could get it here was to take a picture of my computer screen (don't ask.)


That's not what I remember cheerleading being about. As a matter of fact, these people look a little scary to me.

Take this young lady for instance. She looks like she's got someone in her sights that she's about to assualt with her pelvis.









And what about this guy? He's either the "ooh-ooh" portion of the cheer or he just pulled a groin. Strike that...maybe pelvis girl just gave him a fist of fury in the pyramid maker.







And how about her? She looks happy, right? Maybe?








But not as happy as her. I mean, I've seen happy and that's it.











But she's definitely not as happy as he is. Nobody is as happy as he is.









So here's the assignment: Come up with a cheer for this picture. It doesn't have to be a whole cheer. Maybe just the line that they are screaming at this very moment. Try to keep it clean. Well, as clean as this picture so that should give you considerable latitude.

Get your cheer on!

Less Is More Or Less

In the comments to my posting on the movie The Thing, I was asked if there was a genre of film where more is better than less. It's a hard question and one that I have contemplated for the last couple of weeks or so, while I imagined a coat hanger snaking it's way up my nose to relieve the ridiculous pressure inside my very infected ethmoid sinus.

Anyway, I don't know if the question was proposed to make a point or if it was a real question. But my answer, it turns out, is in response to either.

I can't really find an entire genre of film in which "more" is better than "less." Take comedies, for example. I think that the Naked Gun movies are ridiculously funny. The stupider the better. But I think that the television shows like Scrubs, The Office, and 30 Rock are not good because they go too far. They aren't ridiculously funny, just ridiculous. What's the difference? I don't really know. Maybe it's that with the Naked Gun movies the jokes come so fast that you can't see them coming. When I watch 30 Rock and the others I tend to see the jokes coming.

The movie Flash Gordon, which is very dear to my heart, is a very fine example of a "More Is More" approach. I don't know where I could improve on that movie's absolute...well let's just say it: badness (which I love.) Everything in that film is so exaggerated and wrong I wouldn't know where to start. I mean, what can you say about a film where the most subtle performance is by someone in a lizard suit? "Halt LizardMan...EEEEK!" And I love this movie. Wouldn't change a thing.

When I considered all of the other genres of film I came to the same conclusion as with Comedy; examples abound which illustrate both a "Less Is More" and a "More Is More" philosophy of film. So what's the answer?

And then there's the whole problem with the root concept: "Less talking is more" and "More silence is more" are the same idea seemingly contradictory. Confused? Don't be it's all going to get pretty clear in a second.

So, the answer is no, there isn't a genre of film where I think "More Is More" and if the original question was merely a point, I get it. End of discussion? Don't bet on it. While I've got you here let's talk about some of those examples.

Subtlety might be the key to why I like movies all over the spectrum. There isn't anything subtle about the Naked Gun movies from the first frame to the last and that might be why I don't have a problem with them. Maybe it's when subtlety is mixed with a more garish humor that I have a problem (The Office? 30 Rock?)

And the "Less Is More" phrase, I now realize, is hollow. It's the glass half empty or full all over. If anything, this little exercise has convinced me that I won't be using that phrase anymore. What's my new phrase? I don't know. Like Justice Potter Stewart, I don't know what makes a film good for me, "but I know it when I see it." So in the vein of our original question, let's talk about some of what I like and why.

One of my favorite scenes of all time is in the movie Close Encounters of The Third Kind, which begins not surprisingly with a series of "close encounters." The best of the three (screw the special edition!) is a very short scene involving some commercial airliners seeing a UFO. Most of you already know that when you watch the scene you never see the UFO. The whole scene actually takes place miles and miles away from the UFO in the Indianapolis Air Traffic Control Center. There are so many other ways this scene could have gone. So many bad ways. But as it is, it's perfect (and I don't use that term lightly.)

Note: When you watch the clip pay close attention to how the characters are framed (in one shot Speilberg stacks them one at a time four deep in what looks like "Mt. Rushmore from the side." Also listen to how Spielberg uses sound. The characters talk over one another to add to the tension.


(No I can't seem to get it to start without being gray for a second.)

Now that's a real subtle scene. A very effective scene. And it might seem simple and obvious on the surface, but how many movies have we all watched where we would have been placed in the cockpit? In this lesser movie we might not see the UFO but we would probably see the reactions of the crew. What Close Encounters does is incredibly effective. It ratchets your curiosity up a notch and makes you a little anxious at the same time. All done with style, I might add.

I could go on and on: Tremors, Reservoir Dogs, Runaway Train, Jaws, 2001 A Space Odyssey, Seven, etc., but I already feel like I've rambled enough. Plus, revising this entry endlessly hasn't really helped it flow any better. I seem to lack Eegahinc's gift of segue.

I Confess

It's time you all knew something about me...I like the Pussycat Dolls' song Buttons.

No, it's not that the video is like a Victoria Secret runway special on viagra. No, it's not Snoop Dog's rap. As a matter of fact I would like you to pretend it's not there. No, it's not the digital chairs. I could have done without those.

Maybe it's the Middle Eastern riff. Maybe it's the irresistable melody. Maybe it's her sixties girl group growl of a voice. Maybe it's the breathy vocal accents. Maybe it's that the tempo is just right for a woman to do that walk. Or maybe it's just that the video steals from one of my favorite musical movies.

That's right, we've seen parts of this video before in the movie Sweet Charity directed by Bob Fosse. That movie is best viewed in parts. Three numbers to be exact, the best being Big Spender. The Pussycat Dolls have stolen the handrail and some of their poses in this music video straight from this scene. In Sweet Charity it's a group of dancehall girls (read "prostitutes") beckoning business from the lone patron of the dancehall and singing about "having fun" while appearing to be having absolutely none themselves. Here, it's the Pussycat Dolls; a group of very attractive women fabricated into a "musical group" that's selling music as sex. Admittedly, they have come pretty close here.

The Pussycats also steal the writhing bodies moving as one from Big Spender. It comes as the Dolls enter a large tube at the beginning of the first verse. You might think you've seen that move before, but remember, Fosse came up with that in the sixties. Every other time you've seen it sense then is some form of flattery, I suppose.

I don't know if it's borrowed or not, but the beaded curtains are great. Maybe it's the lighting. Anyway, check out the Pussycat Dolls at the link above.

And also check out Sweet Charity. Don't bother renting it; it's not a good movie. Instead, check out the good parts on YouTube at the following links:

The first is the aforementioned Big Spender.
The second is a number with Sammy Davis Jr. as the leader of an underground hippie religion Rhythm Of Life.
And the third, Rich Man's Frug, is an exercise in melding boxing and dancing. Not sure this one works so much as it captivates you with its weirdness. And yeah, for a while years ago I wanted to marry a tall, leggy, brunette dancer with a long ponytail. Jeeeeesh!