Wednesday, November 01, 2006

The Promised Land

Seems that I keep meeting people from Ohio. That's right. Keep meeting them everywhere but Ohio. Most of them love it which begs the question, "why did they ever leave?"

So I took the opportunity of Paula's cousin's wedding to visit the great state this last weekend. We borrowed my father-in-law's Land Cruiser (I owe him big time for that one because it made the nine hour drive bearable) and we set off last thursday. The trip up was okay and the boys behaved for the most part. The GPS navigational system in the Land Cruiser rules. Might have to get one of those.

We went to Tipp City, Ohio and stayed in a Holiday Inn Express. First thing you notice in the hotel is how many smoking rooms there are and how much they smell up the rest of the floor. The next thing you notice is the unbearable heat. Turns out the people in Ohio hate the cold more than southern folks do.

Friday, I and the boys, with Judy's Walt and Paula's uncle John went to the Air Force Museum in Dayton. It's really three huge airplane hangers loaded with just about every kind of plane the Air Force has ever flown with some rockets thrown in for good measure.
This picture is just to give you perspective on the size of these hangars. We are standing in the middle looking left. There is a whole other half to this hangar and two more this size.

That's right. An old plane circa WWI and Luke with his hands down his pants.

Luke strikes a pose in front of the models, which the boys seemed to like more than the real thing. Go figure.

This was taken inside one of the bombers. The boys are standing in the bomb compartment. I told them to look scared of all of the bombs. The tube at the top of the photo was for crewmen to slither through if they needed to get to the back of the plane. That way they didn't have to go near the bombs. Pretty smart.

Just a cool photo of a fighter.

We learned that day that Paula's Uncle Michael, who had also come up for the wedding, was a tailgunner in a B-24 over Europe during World War II. He didn't really talk about it much and that was okay by me since he seemed haunted by the experience. Here are some pictures of the B-24 that is in the museum.

This is a B-24 Bomber.

That's the tailgunner's position where Paula's uncle flew over Europe. He said he flew six missions which, "was six too damn many."

This is Uncle Michael, with his wife Helen, who is Paula's aunt/Judy's sister.

Saturday was the wedding. After the wedding party had all entered, just before the bride was to walk down the aisle, one of the wedding party picked up a large roll of rice paper and began walking it down the aisle toward the back of the church as it payed out. The only problem was that apparently they hadn't tried it before the actual ceremony and the paper ran out not even halfway down the aisle much to the surprise of the guy assigned the duty who just keeps going with the empty spool. Meanwhile the jagged end of the paper starts to turn up and then roll itself up in slow motion. Everyone on the aisle, including myself was transfixed on the image as it steadily marched back up toward the altar. A man jumped out from a pew (I was in the back of the church too far away to be a wedding hero, of course) stopped its progression and folded it under. I believe that I will start crashing weddings for the comedy.

Here are some pictures from the reception.

Judy and the boys. Don't they all look sooo-a-nice.

That's Paula's Grandmother Lois, her Aunt Carolyn, and Paula. Aunt Carolyn's daughter was the one that got married. Ben took this picture.

Luke cuts a mean rug with his Nana. He was a machine and had to be dragged off of the dancefloor.

Ben dances with Mommy. Check out Paula's expression. That's right, she's all mine.

At some point in every party the table decorations end up as hats. This was that point.

Overall, not a bad trip. We had a lot of fun.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Oh, Fish #2

Our beloved Fish #2 passed away tonight. Ben was sick and in bed watching a DVD when I noticed Fish #2 floating near the top, listing to starboard, and taking occasional gulps. My oh so delicate wife was almost moved to tears.

Ben decided he didn't want to be in bed anymore and took over the den as his sick headquarters. So I took the opportunity to check on Fish #2. I found him resting against the pump intake, gently removed him, and took him for his last swim. Farewell Fish #2.

Fish #1 had passed away last week. I only know this from the pile of bones behind the fake coral that I found all of the snails on. Oh the horror.

Fish #1 and #2 are survived by Fish #'s 3, 4, and 5 and Baby Snails #'s 1-142.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

This One Took A While Longer

So I enjoyed doing the audio with commentary so much for the last post, I decided to do it again. Only this time it took ten hours. I wasn't expecting that. It was due in large part to solving certain software conversion problems and the fact that the song itself comes in at over eight minutes.

Click here to listen/watch.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

Someone Saved My File Tonight

I recently learned that I have the space in my online storage to save and post more than one song for my running "Song Of The Moment" Theme.

This time, however, instead of posting an mp3 file for you to listen to seperately and commenting about it here, I have married the comments and music into a Quicktime Movie format. It can be viewed with Quicktime which is free and readily available on the internet if you don't already have it.

Changes in my social life in the last few years (including the closing of my favorite record store where I would spend hours socializing and discussing favorite music) has left a hole in me. This new venture allows me to have a one sided conversation (aren't those the best anyway?) about why this song is so great. Feel free to leave a one sided comment in agreement or disgust.

Click here to listen/watch.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Feed Me

So, it must happen a hundred times a day. Total strangers come up to me on the street and say, "man, I love your blog. If only there was a way to subscribe. It would be better than Christmas!" Well Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus.

I don't know about the other web browsers but on Safari (mac) to the right of the web address is a little thing that says RSS. If you click on that it takes you to my blog but in a different format. Once you're looking at the new format you just bookmark it. It's that easy. It's called an RSS Feed. From then on, every time I add content to my blog you will get a little number next to the bookmark representing how many updates there has been since you last saw it (which for a few of you might be a considerably large number.)

Or, you could just click here and then bookmark the page.

Monday, October 02, 2006

The State Answers My Prayers

The State's First Season has just been released on itunes.

Thinking about a Christmas present for yours truly? Don't bother, I already bought it.

Too, too cool. Bring on the second season!

A Trip To See The Fish


Click here to watch the movie.

(Due to the limited space I have for storing movies online the movie had to be reduced in quality. "Small veiwing window" and "Whale Shark" are two phrases that shouldn't go together.)

Friday, September 29, 2006

Another Dam Photo Caption Contest Is Closed. Jeremy?


Here are the Beaver Suicide Note winners according to her Honor Judge Paula:

First Place:
Boom Boom Becca for "Been nice gnawing you."

Simple and hilarious and first to post. Minus five points for the pun. Minus another five points for the shameless begging. Overall score = 90.

Second Place:
Wm. for "Marjorie, If you're reading this then you should know that it was your persistent nagging that led me to take such drastic measures. Your neverending pushing to keep up with the Muckrucks and that ostentatious upstream monstrosity they call a lodge has driven me to this. I've also seen the way you watch him slap-pack mud and sticks with that tail of his. Did you think I didn't know? So yes, it is our tree that I have chosen to die under and that you will find me beneath.

You were, at least, a good mother. Take care of the kits. There is money in the old stump by the rock that I was secretly saving. I think Sara is going to need braces in a few years.

Byron

P.S. The tree didn't crush my skull as planned but I am now trapped. If you don't find me first it will be a long slow death..........not unlike our marriage............ bitch."


Minus 17 points for being married to the judge. Overall score = 83

Third Place:
Mr. Doob for "To whom it may concern, I can no longer live with the knowledge that beavers, as a rule, are damaging the ecology of this planet. I recently had my Greenpeace membership revoked.Where is an ecologically conscious mammal to go? Let this act serve as a message to beavers of the world.

Wood is Murder.

Spotted owls be damned.

Yours in martyrdom,
A. Beaver"


Minus 20 points for naming the beaver "A. Beaver." Overall score = 80

Honorable Mention:
Chosen©er for "Forgive me, Wally."

Minus 45 points for winning the last two contests. Overall score = 55

Honorable Mention:
Helen the Greek for "I didn't see this coming."

Minus 72 points for a suicide note in which the writer is surprised he is dead. Overall score = 28

Congratulations to you all. You will all be receiving your prize COD. Have $83.56 ready (and it wouldn't be a bad idea to have a little something for tip.)

Jury Duty Update

I just found this picture on the internet of the dude that we convicted of stabbing the other dude.

Is there anyone other than Keith that gets this one?

Domo arigato Mr. Roberto.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Another Dam Photo Caption Contest

So here it is. Your next opportunity to be witty and impress all five people reading this.

This photo is an obvious fabrication. If the sheer improbability won't sell you then maybe the artist's name on the tree in the lower left corner can. I found it in an online collection of "funny photos," which it is neither.

But let's suppose for a second that it's straight out of the National Geographic (I've been nominated for membership). Further, let's suppose that Mr. Beaver did it on purpose...and that he left a note.

That's right, the assignment for this contest is to write a suicide note for a beaver. Good Ruck.

Why Are I So Dumb?

There are a few words which I keep hearing but can't seem to remember the definition of. I look them up and then forget. Then some lame-asses get together and use one of the words three times in a single issue of a magazine. Here they are in no particular order:

Sycophant - a servile flatterer. (Nothing comes to mind on this one.)
Hubris - excessive pride or self-confidence. (Makes me think of chickpeas and crackers.)
Obsequious - excessively attentive. (I keep thinking this is a kind of triangle.)
Paradigm Shift - a fundamental change in approach. (New BMW transmission, right?)

Here are some words that I am nominating to be locked away in the Disney vault:

Proactive, Enabler, Diva, Gravitas, Synergistic, and Reality

Feel free to add to either list in the comments section.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Listen While I Work

Just found this on the internet. Now you can listen to me work from anywhere on the planet. This is a scanner feed of our radio dispatch.

Listen with RealPlayer.
Listen with Windows Media Player.

I use the RealPlayer link. On my computer it downloads a small file and then I can click on the file and listen (as if I don't get enough of this at work). I can't get the Windows Media Player link to work. Maybe it's my computer. All of this can be found on scandekalb.com.

The picture is from the fire in April that I have talked about. Not that you can tell much from the photo, but this was a big fire. The building at the very left of the picture burned to the ground. The flames in the photo are the gas main on fire. This photo was actually taken about two hours into the incident. The gas fed a fire in the basement and the whole thing came down. Swell.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Happies Birthdays


Today is my paternal grandfather's birthday. He would have been 89 years old. I believe he was the greatest man I will ever know.

Jeremy and Michael share a birthday on Sunday and they are good men as well.

Merrin will have a birthday on Monday. She is my very cute niece.

Keith had a birthday on September 3rd that I didn't mention on this blog. He is probably the smartest friend I have.

Happy Birthday to all of you.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

A Salty Song


Massive. Fateful. Theatrical. Dreamlike. Longing. Hulking. Eerie. Devastating. Tragic. Gloomy. Significant. Profoundly sad. Fierce. Ambitious. Multi-layered. Relentless. Terrifying. Strange. Bottomless. Black. Tremendous. Heart-rending. Wretched. Striking.

All describe this song. It's older and I found it quite by accident. The first time I heard it I was stopped in my tracks and for the next three days I listened to it over and over. How could something this incredible escape a broader audience? And so I offer it to you.

It begins with a hauntingly calm call for "all hands on deck" and continues "let no one leave alive." This song deceptively and skillfully paints the auditory equivalent of a terrible shipwreck, which from the consenting tone of the narrator seems to be anticipated and unavoidable. But this isn't the story of a ship which is sinking, but a ship sailing to another land from where the sailors will not return; a celebration of the soul's ultimate liberation.

(Formerly A Salty Dog by Procol Harum. This song has been removed from the rotation.)

Sunday, September 17, 2006

The Convoluted Genius Of R. Kelly

For those of you not familiar with R. Kelly's Trapped In The Closet, let me refer you to the Wikipedia article which gives summaries for all twelve (that's right TWELVE) parts of this "hiphopera." It's a rambling, absurd, and confusing narrative sung entirely by R. Kelly and conspicuously missing a chorus. Mr. Kelly has hinted that there may be more parts to come. Below are links to the twelve existing parts.

Be warned! There are curse words involved including "sh*t," "a**es," "ni**ga," and an unbleeped "fu*k" at the end of chapter five to name a few. There is also simulated unintentionally comical violence and adult situations. But fear not, BET Network gave this a PG rating, as you can see at the beginning of some of the clips. That's right, PG, as in we don't feel that a story of sex, adultery, gay adultery, cursing, the momentary invocation of a christian ethic, token white trash, and a few prominent handguns (and that's all in just the first six chapters) warrant the harsh restrictions of the PG-13 rating. Apparently, young kids should be able to watch this and laugh, I mean learn. (Chapters 7-12 have been uploaded from the original with language intact.)

Seriously, this is one of the funniest things I've ever seen. It seems like a lot to watch but it's worth it. Revel in its badness.

Trapped In The Closet Chapter 1
Trapped In The Closet Chapter 2
Trapped In The Closet Chapter 3
Trapped In The Closet Chapter 4
Trapped In The Closet Chapter 5
Trapped In The Closet Chapter 6
Trapped In The Closet Chapter 7
Trapped In The Closet Chapter 8
Trapped In The Closet Chapter 9
Trapped In The Closet Chapter 10
Trapped In The Closet Chapter 11
Trapped In The Closet Chapter 12

Friday, September 15, 2006

Things I Really Don't Like


1. Meth.
2. Meth Mothers.
3. Meth Mothers covered in sores.
4. Meth Mothers covered in sores who just delivered a baby on their nasty floor.
5. Meth Mothers covered in sores who just delivered a baby on their nasty floor three months early.
6. Meth Mothers covered in sores who just delivered a baby on their nasty floor three months early and won't go to the hospital.
7. Meth Mothers covered in sores who just delivered a baby on their nasty floor three months early and won't go to the hospital because they're doing the "natural thing."
8. Meth Mothers covered in sores who just delivered a baby on their nasty floor three months early and won't go to the hospital because they're doing the "natural thing" and then lecture you about the evils of your medicines.
9. Meth Mothers covered in sores who just delivered a baby on their nasty floor three months early and won't go to the hospital because they're doing the "natural thing" and then lecture you about the evils of your medicines even though they called you.
10. Meth Mothers covered in sores who just delivered a baby on their nasty floor three months early and won't go to the hospital because they're doing the "natural thing" and then lecture you about the evils of your medicines, even though they called you, and how much healthier some woman is in Africa because she has only eaten dirt for forty years.
11. Meth Mothers that argue in circles.
12. Meth Mothers willing to jeopardize the health of their newborn for fear of being found out they are on meth.
13. Meth Mothers that think we don't know they're on meth.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Wiki Wiki Wiki

I came upon the word "pusillanimous" in the lyrics of a Rutles song. I looked it up and found out it meant "cowardly." It then occured to me that the "p" word, when used as an insult, is probably a variation of "pusillanimous." I mean it fits. After all, what is particularly insulting about calling someone a cat or female genitalia? However, call me a coward and get ready to see how I roll.

Seriously though, so I looked the "p" word up on Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia. It lists the origins of the word for all of its meanings but none seemed to fit as well as "pusillanimous." Noting the hole in the encyclopedia I was compelled to fill it. Click here to see the entry (note: there aren't any pictures of genitalia. If you want that, as I imagine you already know, it's only too easy to find.)

What's interesting about my theory (I say my theory although I find a few mentions on other pages to the same effect) is that I found a lot of pages with people calling other people "pusillanimous pu**ies." What's the opposite of a contradiction of terms? Maybe an agreement of terms? Anyway, calling someone a cowardly coward is a little ridiculous to me. Perhaps it's a double negative meaning heroic? Probably not. But maybe I've started the ball rolling on a greater understanding of the entymology of the "p" word as an insult.

One can only hope.

Jury Duty Update

I couldn't resist and I googled the defendant's name in the case that I was a juror for (see previous entries below). The actual stabbing in the case I heard took place last November. Turn's out this defendant stabbed someone in July, just four months earlier. It happened in Maine while he was working for an Atlanta company. He apparently left a restaurant with a coworker and in the parking lot decided to stab the guy...wait for it...twice; once in the stomach and once in the bicep. Just as in the case I heard, he represented himself and claimed self-defense only the jurors of Maine believed him and he was acquitted. It was mentioned in the articles that even though a police officer had broken up the fight/stabbing, the knife could not be located.

The only other search return on his name was a verdict in a civil lawsuit regarding alleged procedural errors when he was released from prison at some point earlier than these two stabbings. He sued the warden and lost. Odds are he was in prison for stabbing someone since the little bird told me the stabbing I sat as juror for was his third.

He must have taken the name he goes by now in prison. It's an African phrase for a first name, an area of Africa for a middle name, and a dark color for a last name. I believe that he probably found religion in prison, changed his name, and learned a little bit about the law. But as we all know the only thing more dangerous than not knowing is knowing only a little bit. He is no lawyer, that's for sure.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Photo Caption Contest: Closed

The second photo caption contest has now come to an end. This time we managed to gather twelve submissions from four contributors up from ten submissions from three. Well done.

FIRST PRIZE: "Luke, I'm your mother." by chosen©er.
Awarded once again for its simplicity and subtlety.

SECOND PRIZE: "Dark Lord of Sanrio..." by Jeremy Frye.
Awarded for his use of authentic Sanrio character names as well as the name of the Emperor of Japan.

THIRD PRIZE: "My husband drags me to this sh*t every year." by Helen The Greek.
Awarded for her honest portrayal of the plight of women in America and her unabashed use of profanity.

Well done. You will all recieve the prize below.


That's right! They're laser guided scissors! Just as the advertisement says - Now you can cut perfect straight lines. What the advertisement didn't point out was that these scissors also cut perfectly arced arcs, perfectly wobbly lines, perfect zig-zags, etc. A $20 value!

Thursday, September 07, 2006

This Is No Fantasy

I have often commented (to those close enough to me to not immediately characterize me as a loon) that I sometimes wonder if my life is not unlike a "Truman Show" of sorts. I have from time to time experienced days when stranger after stranger seem to look at me a little longer than normal. As if I had something written on my forehead that caught their eye. I have always discounted this theory for the simple fact that it is incredibly egocentric to believe that others' lives are arranged merely as adjuncts to your own.

Anyway, today was another day of those kind of looks. However, the looks took the form of actions during the course of the trial which I was selected on Tuesday to sit as a juror. I have taken my responsibility to the court and the community very seriously, refusing to even discuss the case with my wife. This was not an attempt to place emphasis on the matter that was being deliberated but a effort on my part to stay as true to the process as possible out of respect for the process itself.

The case I heard involved a man who admitted stabbing another man but claimed he had done so in self defense. After hearing the evidence Wednesday I was left to ponder the details of the case overnight and came to a conclusion. The basis of my argument against self defense was that the victim was stabbed twice in the torso by the defendant. I also had come to the conclusion that the defendant could have left the apartment and defused the situation as an alternative.

The state's counsel used both of these arguments in her closing statement. After we were given the indictment and escorted to the jury room it was our job to elect a foreperson. Yours truly was quickly nominated and there were no objections from anyone. This was not something I had wanted to do but I reluctantly accepted.

And this is when the Truman Effect kicked in. All of the court movies seemed rolled into one. I had to handle a juror who said outright that he was changing his vote to agree with everyone else so that he could go back to work. I had to handle a younger woman who I think was reluctant to pass judgement unless 100% sure. On the second ballot that we took to see where everyone stood, I had one ballot come back "yes." All of the ballots from the first vote were "guilty" or "not guilty." Why now "yes" except to test whether I would request a third ballot to make sure that the vote was unanimous? It just started feeling like some of the testing I have done for positions in the fire department where they put you in a situation and then see how you behave as people lob grenades at you. Come to think of it, a large continuous stretch of the defendant's closing argument he made eye contact with me.

In the end, we returned a "guilty" verdict. I was worried that I would have to read it aloud as I have in the last day lost my voice. I was relieved to find that all it entailed on my part once in the courtroom was to hand the written verdict to the bailiff.

The defendant had cried, what seemed genuine tears, at different points in the trial. However, when the verdict was read there were no tears. He sat emotionless. After being released a knowledgeable little bird told me that, "he was a very bad man," and that this wasn't his first time stabbing someone. Come to think of it, at the time the verdict was read, there were six more deputies in the room than normal. I confess I was somewhat relieved at hearing this. It washed away any fears I had that we were convicting an innocent man.

If this is a Truman Show then everyone involved in what I just wrote might be reading. On the off chance that they are let me say that I thank my fellow jurors. My experience has been educational and pleasant for the most part. Further, I encourage anyone called to jury duty to approach it not as a hassle, but as an opportunity to contribute to a society which so many of us are quick to criticize.

All rise.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Doing My Doody

So today I was chosen to be on a jury. The entirity of today was spent with voir dire (which means "speak the truth") of the potential jurors and the opening statements. I have heard many people today complain about jury duty as a hassle, but I am really excited about the whole thing. Yeah, it's slow and sometimes boring but altogether I'm finding it fascinating.

Also, this weekend Keith and Helen came to town for Keith's birthday. We were talking on Saturday and I said that there was a song on the OK GO album that I couldn't believe the NFL hadn't picked up for it's advertising. The song is called "Invincible." Well Sunday I went to the station and Larry informed me that, "that band you showed us the video on treadmills is doing the song on all of the college football commercials." How about that?

Anyway, we went to Six Flags on Saturday and had a blast. Goliath, the new roller coaster with the 175 foot drop, rules.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Photo Caption Contest: A New Hope

Due to overwhelming demand, the photo caption contest has returned!

HOWEVER...This time I'm not looking for a caption but for dialogue. I don't want both sides, just Girly Vader's side of the conversation. Like she was talking on a cell phone or something.

Good luck, and may the...ah screw it.

(Sorry Bobby) Why I Still Don't Like Basketball

So I was talking at the station last night about my realization as to why I don't like basketball (see entry below.) One of the guys, who happens to like basketball, refuted my claim that dunks were common saying, "they were as rare as triples in baseball." (I think I hurt his basketball feelings.) I immediately countered that he, "must be crazy." (clever eh?) The other guys seemed to back my claim about the triples.

But today I got to thinking. I don't really watch much sports -- what if he's right? So I went to looking for the stats to answer the question.

I got stats for the 2005-2006 NBA regular season and the 2005 MLB regular season since this one is still going. Here are the results.

NBA Dunks in the 2005-2006 Regular Season
Number of players who dunked: 354
Total number of dunks: 8598
Number of teams in the league: 30
Number of games in a season per team: 82
Number of played games in a season: 1230

Number of dunks per game: 6.99


MLB Triples in the 2005 Regular Season
Number of players who tripled: 341
Total number of triples: 878
Number of teams in the league: 30
Number of games in a season per team: 162
Number of played games in a season: 2430

Number of triples per game: .36


So there it is. Unless there's an error in my math. And I'm fully aware of how statistics can be manipulated to show whatever you want. Steven can show that 1+1=3. But this is pretty straight forward.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Teenagers - The Exhibition

So today I went to see Bodies - The Exhibition. I couldn't find anyone willing to go so I went by myself. Good thing, too. I think one more person in there would have exceeded the capacity set forth by the fire marshal.

Now, I called before I went down. I asked the woman in the box office about crowds. She said, "No one is here right now. It's empty." That was at 9:10 am. So I headed down. I arrived at about 10:00 and found school bus after school bus unloading. I should have turned back but I didn't. I wasn't sure about when I would have another chance to see the exhibit as it leaves on September 4th.

Once inside the first room I was confronted with the realities of high school mentality. They all had been given paperwork to complete as they toured the exhibit. What they hadn't been given were clipboards. So the tops of the display cases were where they placed their paperwork, obscuring the view for the rest of us. The paperwork seemed to encourage a scavenger hunt mentality where they merely were racing from display to display to collect the required words for the blanks on their pages. Few of them paused to wonder at the displays and the careful means by which they were created.

When they did stop they offered such pearls of wisdom as, "maybe your [penis] shrinks when you die." There were a lot of genitalia comments as most of the cadavers were preserved with genitals intact.

The exhibit contained entire bodies arranged for views of particular systems of the body. Each room was organized around different systems of the body; circulatory, nervous, respiratory, etc. Organs were preserved alone sometimes. Entire systems were displayed, such as the whole nervous system of a person in one piece isolated from all other tissues, or the arteries and veins of a leg without the leg. Amazing stuff to see. Still the crowd made it very difficult.

Perhaps the low point came in the room which detailed the developing fetus. A sign at the entrance warned of the nature of this particular portion of the exhibit and offered a chance to bypass it through a door. I took the door around but ten minutes later decided to go back after much careful consideration. The hesitation I experienced was completely absent in the teenagers. They poured through the door as if there were prizes inside.

I previously had said aloud to others that these were merely bodies; bodies whose owners no longer needed them. But bodies that were able to continue to give through educating the public. However, once inside this room my rationale evaporated. These were babies.

The comments from the teenagers continued. I heard one girl ask, "are these real?" Apparently the entire concept of the exhibit had escaped her. Then I heard, "Ewww! This one's got hair." Instead of getting upset, I did what most men do when they feel that sad; I got angry. I was already irritable at the crowd and this just put me over the edge. So I left.

One day, if they are lucky enough to have children maybe they will understand. Hopefully they won't remember the comments they made. I am sure that as a teenager, I made tasteless and offensive comments. I never went to see anything like this exhibit but I'm sure the occasion presented itself when I said or did things that hurt others, and it is a subject of constant regret for me.

So I'm glad no one came with me. It was hard enough negotiating the crowd by myself but with someone in tow...?

Still, I recommend it. It really is amazing stuff. There really isn't an ick factor as the specimens have been presented well. They play tennis and volleyball. They seem to live. Just go at night or after 1:00 pm. That's when the field trips stop. That would have been good to know when I called, Ms. Box Office Woman On The Phone.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Why Me No LIkey The Round Ball

Basketball, more than any other team sport that I can think of has become a celebration of individual achievement. I have come to this conclusion after much deliberation while cutting the grass. It occurred to me that the "dunk" has taken on the quality of ubiquitousness (that's a real word). It is now as much a part of the game as the free throw. But why?

The dunk isn't required in the game. There are many other ways to get the ball in the basket. Far less complicated ones. Strategically there is no rationale that I can think of for dunking the basketball other than to show off. I know some that would say it is psychological warfare against your opponent and therefore, a necessary part of the game. Dennis Rodman, after all, dyed his hair and sported a nose ring to distract the other team. Or was it to distract them from the fact that he wasn't that great of a ballplayer? Was this his "edge?"

I'm not a fan of sports on the whole. I am a huge fan of the idea of sport. A Ken Burns documentary on golf or basketball would be fantastic. I'm sure there are stories within the game that elevate it; that make it mythic and real. But it's the implementation of the idea of sport that falls short for me. Why can't we have competition in sport as Andre the Giant said; "Skill against skill alone." No psych-outs. No performance enhancing drugs. Just a few people playing to see who is better at the given task.

Oh, wait...I would probably be the only one watching.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

We Have A Weiner

After much deliberation and countless entries from thousands of readers, we have a winner in the photo caption contest.

First Prize goes to: "Two words: Jumbo Shrimp" submitted by chosen©er for it's simplicity and offensiveness. Well done. Thanks to everyone else who submitted entries. You're all bastards.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Have A Go At It

In an effort to boost responses to this blog and lure people to stay for at least 6 seconds, I am hosting a photo caption contest. Here's the picture, hit me with your best. Then, hit me again. Yeah, come on.

Update: 16 Visits. 78% <5 secs. But.....

I may be getting my message out in short bursts but I'm hitting far away places. According to the stats I've had visitors from the Russian Federation, Germany, India, Thailand, and Australia. No one can stop me now.

Update: 13 visits. 72% <5 secs

That's right. Read the stats and weep.

Hi And Bye

Previously, I had relied on comments as a gauge of whether anyone was listening to my ramblings. This system wasn't working very well so I added a site counter. Along with counting visits to the site it can provide other information on the visitor. That's how I found out that of the eleven people who have visited the site since I installed the counter, 66% stayed for less than five seconds. Therefore, I will be changing the name of this blog to "Free Pictures of Boobies and Hoo Hoos." Look for some adjusted content.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Near And Far


You Tube has turned out to be a sort of curse for me. I really enjoy finding some of these things that I have forgotten but it really bothers me that I can't save them onto my computer. Beyond the fact that I have all the makings of an electronic pack rat is the realization that I am not able to share these clips with people who have slower internet connections.

If that last part pertains to you, then just skip the rest of this entry.

Sesame Street is represented pretty well on You Tube. A lot of my favorite clips seem to involve Grover. In this one he explains "near" and "far."
Grover Does Near And Far

Here he is trying to sell the short fat blue man that always comes for lunch on the benefits of avoiding the big hamburger.
Grover Recommends The Small Hamburger

Here are a few more and I'm sure there are plenty that I haven't found yet.
Grover The Waiter In The Park
Grover Does Cooperation
Grover's Echo

You can also find some of the animated shorts that used to appear on the show in the 70's. At least two of them were created by Bud Luckey. He now works for Pixar and is credited by John Lasseter as the person who suggested that Woody be a cowboy in Toy Story. Most recently he voiced Rick Dicker, agent of the superhero relocation program, in The Incredibles. The first two are his. And maybe the third.

The Alligator King
The Ladybug Picnic
My Martian Cutie

Telephone Rock was always a favorite as a kid and now I realize why: it's a really great song. I love the operator sharing the screen.

Capital I should be covered by somebody. I remember it being faster and more up tempo but I really like it the way it is.

The Pinball Countdown was and is soooo freaky. I can remember as a child feeling like I was watching something exciting and new.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Something Rich And Strange

"But Doth Suffer A Sea-change Into Something Rich And Strange."

Shakespeare wrote that. And Beck named one of his albums Sea Change. Beck is a Shakespeare of our day; he is one of the best musicians working and he won't be fully appreciated by mass audiences until long after he's dead, which by the tone of this album, you might think happened some time around it's release.

Fear Not! Beck is alive and well.

This set of songs is definitely dreary but it's also astonishingly beautiful. Check out the "listen" link in the right column for one of the frikkin' awesomest songs from the album. The string slide just before the first refrain? Strings building and climbing far past the breaking point until the song melts away? Like I said, frikkin' awesome.

Friday, August 11, 2006

We Have A Winner

JAWS. No not that one. This one is scarier.

Apparently there's a section of surf off of Maui that is so terrible that it is called Jaws. Surfing there requires being towed in on a wave runner. Wikipedia says waves at this beach can get to over thirty feet but it sure looks a lot taller than that in this video. The guy surfing is named Mike Parsons and I say he wins the brass balls contest.

Click on his picture to watch the video.

Maybe The Coolest Video Ever

I usually come late to these online parties, so you might have already seen this. If you have I know you've watched it at least twenty times. If not click on one of the links below and set aside about forty-five minutes to watch it over and over.

My favorite part is the tug on the jacket at 00:41 and then the walk/skate. Sooo cool.

Here.
Here.
And here.(In the left column)

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Wires And Lights In A Box Revised

EDWARD R. MURROW

RTNDA Convention
Chicago
October 15, 1958

This just might do nobody any good. At the end of this discourse a few people may accuse this reporter of fouling his own comfortable nest, and your organization may be accused of having given hospitality to heretical and even dangerous thoughts. But the elaborate structure of networks, advertising agencies and sponsors will not be shaken or altered. It is my desire, if not my duty, to try to talk to you journeymen with some candor about what is happening to radio and television.

I have no technical advice or counsel to offer those of you who labor in this vineyard that produces words and pictures. You will forgive me for not telling you that instruments with which you work are miraculous, that your responsibility is unprecedented or that your aspirations are frequently frustrated. It is not necessary to remind you that the fact that your voice is amplified to the degree where it reaches from one end of the country to the other does not confer upon you greater wisdom or understanding than you possessed when your voice reached only from one end of the bar to the other. All of these things you know.

You should also know at the outset that, in the manner of witnesses before Congressional committees, I appear here voluntarily-by invitation-that I am an employee of the Columbia Broadcasting System, that I am neither an officer nor a director of that corporation and that these remarks are of a "do-it-yourself" nature. If what I have to say is irresponsible, then I alone am responsible for the saying of it. Seeking neither approbation from my employers, nor new sponsors, nor acclaim from the critics of radio and television, I cannot well be disappointed. Believing that potentially the commercial system of broadcasting as practiced in this country is the best and freest yet devised, I have decided to express my concern about what I believe to be happening to radio and television. These instruments have been good to me beyond my due. There exists in mind no reasonable grounds for personal complaint. I have no feud, either with my employers, any sponsors, or with the professional critics of radio and television. But I am seized with an abiding fear regarding what these two instruments are doing to our society, our culture and our heritage.

Our history will be what we make it. And if there are any historians about fifty or a hundred years from now, and there should be preserved the kinescopes for one week of all three networks, they will there find recorded in black and white, or color, evidence of decadence, escapism and insulation from the realities of the world in which we live. I invite your attention to the television schedules of all networks between the hours of 8 and 11 p.m., Eastern Time. Here you will find only fleeting and spasmodic reference to the fact that this nation is in mortal danger. There are, it is true, occasional informative programs presented in that intellectual ghetto on Sunday afternoons. But during the daily peak viewing periods, television in the main insulates us from the realities of the world in which we live. If this state of affairs continues, we may alter an advertising slogan to read: LOOK NOW, PAY LATER.

For surely we shall pay for using this most powerful instrument of communication to insulate the citizenry from the hard and demanding realities which must be faced if we are to survive. I mean the word survive literally. If there were to be a competition in indifference, or perhaps in insulation from reality, then Nero and his fiddle, Chamberlain and his umbrella, could not find a place on an early afternoon sustaining show. If Hollywood were to run out of Indians, the program schedules would be mangled beyond all recognition. Then some courageous soul with a small budget might be able to do a documentary telling what, in fact, we have done--and are still doing--to the Indians in this country. But that would be unpleasant. And we must at all costs shield the sensitive citizens from anything that is unpleasant.

I am entirely persuaded that the American public is more reasonable, restrained and more mature than most of our industry's program planners believe. Their fear of controversy is not warranted by the evidence. I have reason to know, as do many of you, that when the evidence on a controversial subject is fairly and calmly presented, the public recognizes it for what it is--an effort to illuminate rather than to agitate.

Several years ago, when we undertook to do a program on Egypt and Israel, well-meaning, experienced and intelligent friends shook their heads and said, "This you cannot do--you will be handed your head. It is an emotion-packed controversy, and there is no room for reason in it." We did the program. Zionists, anti-Zionists, the friends of the Middle East, Egyptian and Israeli officials said, with a faint tone of surprise, "It was a fair account. The information was there. We have no complaints."

Our experience was similar with two half-hour programs dealing with cigarette smoking and lung cancer. Both the medical profession and the tobacco industry cooperated in a rather wary fashion. But in the end of the day they were both reasonably content. The subject of radioactive fall-out and the banning of nuclear tests was, and is, highly controversial. But according to what little evidence there is, viewers were prepared to listen to both sides with reason and restraint. This is not said to claim any special or unusual competence in the presentation of controversial subjects, but rather to indicate that timidity in these areas is not warranted by the evidence.

Recently, network spokesmen have been disposed to complain that the professional critics of television have been "rather beastly." There have been hints that somehow competition for the advertising dollar has caused the critics of print to gang up on television and radio. This reporter has no desire to defend the critics. They have space in which to do that on their own behalf. But it remains a fact that the newspapers and magazines are the only instruments of mass communication which remain free from sustained and regular critical comment. If the network spokesmen are so anguished about what appears in print, let them come forth and engage in a little sustained and regular comment regarding newspapers and magazines. It is an ancient and sad fact that most people in network television, and radio, have an exaggerated regard for what appears in print. And there have been cases where executives have refused to make even private comment on a program for which they were responsible until they heard the reviews in print. This is hardly an exhibition of confidence.

The oldest excuse of the networks for their timidity is their youth. Their spokesmen say, "We are young; we have not developed the traditions nor acquired the experience of the older media." If they but knew it, they are building those traditions, creating those precedents everyday. Each time they yield to a voice from Washington or any political pressure, each time they eliminate something that might offend some section of the community, they are creating their own body of precedent and tradition. They are, in fact, not content to be "half safe."

Nowhere is this better illustrated than by the fact that the chairman of the Federal Communications Commission publicly prods broadcasters to engage in their legal right to editorialize. Of course, to undertake an editorial policy, overt and clearly labeled, and obviously unsponsored, requires a station or a network to be responsible. Most stations today probably do not have the manpower to assume this responsibility, but the manpower could be recruited. Editorials would not be profitable; if they had a cutting edge, they might even offend. It is much easier, much less troublesome, to use the money-making machine of television and radio merely as a conduit through which to channel anything that is not libelous, obscene or defamatory. In that way one has the illusion of power without responsibility.

So far as radio--that most satisfying and rewarding instrument--is concerned, the diagnosis of its difficulties is rather easy. And obviously I speak only of news and information. In order to progress, it need only go backward. To the time when singing commercials were not allowed on news reports, when there was no middle commercial in a 15-minute news report, when radio was rather proud, alert and fast. I recently asked a network official, "Why this great rash of five-minute news reports (including three commercials) on weekends?" He replied, "Because that seems to be the only thing we can sell."

In this kind of complex and confusing world, you can't tell very much about the why of the news in broadcasts where only three minutes is available for news. The only man who could do that was Elmer Davis, and his kind aren't about any more. If radio news is to be regarded as a commodity, only acceptable when saleable, then I don't care what you call it--I say it isn't news.

My memory also goes back to the time when the fear of a slight reduction in business did not result in an immediate cutback in bodies in the news and public affairs department, at a time when network profits had just reached an all-time high. We would all agree, I think, that whether on a station or a network, the stapling machine is a poor substitute for a newsroom typewriter.

One of the minor tragedies of television news and information is that the networks will not even defend their vital interests. When my employer, CBS, through a combination of enterprise and good luck, did an interview with Nikita Khrushchev, the President uttered a few ill-chosen, uninformed words on the subject, and the network practically apologized. This produced a rarity. Many newspapers defended the CBS right to produce the program and commended it for initiative. But the other networks remained silent.

Likewise, when John Foster Dulles, by personal decree, banned American journalists from going to Communist China, and subsequently offered contradictory explanations, for his fiat the networks entered only a mild protest. Then they apparently forgot the unpleasantness. Can it be that this national industry is content to serve the public interest only with the trickle of news that comes out of Hong Kong, to leave its viewers in ignorance of the cataclysmic changes that are occurring in a nation of six hundred million people? I have no illusions about the difficulties reporting from a dictatorship, but our British and French allies have been better served--in their public interest--with some very useful information from their reporters in Communist China.

One of the basic troubles with radio and television news is that both instruments have grown up as an incompatible combination of show business, advertising and news. Each of the three is a rather bizarre and demanding profession. And when you get all three under one roof, the dust never settles. The top management of the networks with a few notable exceptions, has been trained in advertising, research, sales or show business. But by the nature of the coporate structure, they also make the final and crucial decisions having to do with news and public affairs. Frequently they have neither the time nor the competence to do this. It is not easy for the same small group of men to decide whether to buy a new station for millions of dollars, build a new building, alter the rate card, buy a new Western, sell a soap opera, decide what defensive line to take in connection with the latest Congressional inquiry, how much money to spend on promoting a new program, what additions or deletions should be made in the existing covey or clutch of vice-presidents, and at the same time-- frequently on the same long day--to give mature, thoughtful consideration to the manifold problems that confront those who are charged with the responsibility for news and public affairs.

Sometimes there is a clash between the public interest and the corporate interest. A telephone call or a letter from the proper quarter in Washington is treated rather more seriously than a communication from an irate but not politically potent viewer. It is tempting enough to give away a little air time for frequently irresponsible and unwarranted utterances in an effort to temper the wind of criticism.

Upon occasion, economics and editorial judgment are in conflict. And there is no law which says that dollars will be defeated by duty. Not so long ago the President of the United States delivered a television address to the nation. He was discoursing on the possibility or probability of war between this nation and the Soviet Union and Communist China--a reasonably compelling subject. Two networks CBS and NBC, delayed that broadcast for an hour and fifteen minutes. If this decision was dictated by anything other than financial reasons, the networks didn't deign to explain those reasons. That hour-and-fifteen-minute delay, by the way, is about twice the time required for an ICBM to travel from the Soviet Union to major targets in the United States. It is difficult to believe that this decision was made by men who love, respect and understand news.

So far, I have been dealing largely with the deficit side of the ledger, and the items could be expanded. But I have said, and I believe, that potentially we have in this country a free enterprise system of radio and television which is superior to any other. But to achieve its promise, it must be both free and enterprising. There is no suggestion here that networks or individual stations should operate as philanthropies. But I can find nothing in the Bill of Rights or the Communications Act which says that they must increase their net profits each year, lest the Republic collapse. I do not suggest that news and information should be subsidized by foundations or private subscriptions. I am aware that the networks have expended, and are expending, very considerable sums of money on public affairs programs from which they cannot hope to receive any financial reward. I have had the privilege at CBS of presiding over a considerable number of such programs. I testify, and am able to stand here and say, that I have never had a program turned down by my superiors because of the money it would cost.

But we all know that you cannot reach the potential maximum audience in marginal time with a sustaining program. This is so because so many stations on the network--any network--will decline to carry it. Every licensee who applies for a grant to operate in the public interest, convenience and necessity makes certain promises as to what he will do in terms of program content. Many recipients of licenses have, in blunt language, welshed on those promises. The money-making machine somehow blunts their memories. The only remedy for this is closer inspection and punitive action by the F.C.C. But in the view of many this would come perilously close to supervision of program content by a federal agency.

So it seems that we cannot rely on philanthropic support or foundation subsidies; we cannot follow the "sustaining route"--the networks cannot pay all the freight--and the F.C.C. cannot or will not discipline those who abuse the facilities that belong to the public. What, then, is the answer? Do we merely stay in our comfortable nests, concluding that the obligation of these instruments has been discharged when we work at the job of informing the public for a minimum of time? Or do we believe that the preservation of the Republic is a seven-day-a-week job, demanding more awareness, better skills and more perseverance than we have yet contemplated.

I am frightened by the imbalance, the constant striving to reach the largest possible audience for everything; by the absence of a sustained study of the state of the nation. Heywood Broun once said, "No body politic is healthy until it begins to itch." I would like television to produce some itching pills rather than this endless outpouring of tranquilizers. It can be done. Maybe it won't be, but it could. Let us not shoot the wrong piano player. Do not be deluded into believing that the titular heads of the networks control what appears on their networks. They all have better taste. All are responsible to stockholders, and in my experience all are honorable men. But they must schedule what they can sell in the public market.

And this brings us to the nub of the question. In one sense it rather revolves around the phrase heard frequently along Madison Avenue: The Corporate Image. I am not precisely sure what this phrase means, but I would imagine that it reflects a desire on the part of the corporations who pay the advertising bills to have the public image, or believe that they are not merely bodies with no souls, panting in pursuit of elusive dollars. They would like us to believe that they can distinguish between the public good and the private or corporate gain. So the question is this: Are the big corporations who pay the freight for radio and television programs wise to use that time exclusively for the sale of goods and services? Is it in their own interest and that of the stockholders so to do? The sponsor of an hour's television program is not buying merely the six minutes devoted to commercial message. He is determining, within broad limits, the sum total of the impact of the entire hour. If he always, invariably, reaches for the largest possible audience, then this process of insulation, of escape from reality, will continue to be massively financed, and its apologist will continue to make winsome speeches about giving the public what it wants, or "letting the public decide."

I refuse to believe that the presidents and chairmen of the boards of these big corporations want their corporate image to consist exclusively of a solemn voice in an echo chamber, or a pretty girl opening the door of a refrigerator, or a horse that talks. They want something better, and on occasion some of them have demonstrated it. But most of the men whose legal and moral responsibility it is to spend the stockholders' money for advertising are removed from the realities of the mass media by five, six, or a dozen contraceptive layers of vice-presidents, public relations counsel and advertising agencies. Their business is to sell goods, and the competition is pretty tough.

But this nation is now in competition with malignant forces of evil who are using every instrument at their command to empty the minds of their subjects and fill those minds with slogans, determination and faith in the future. If we go on as we are, we are protecting the mind of the American public from any real contact with the menacing world that squeezes in upon us. We are engaged in a great experiment to discover whether a free public opinion can devise and direct methods of managing the affairs of the nation. We may fail. But we are handicapping ourselves needlessly.

Let us have a little competition. Not only in selling soap, cigarettes and automobiles, but in informing a troubled, apprehensive but receptive public. Why should not each of the 20 or 30 big corporations which dominate radio and television decide that they will give up one or two of their regularly scheduled programs each year, turn the time over to the networks and say in effect: "This is a tiny tithe, just a little bit of our profits. On this particular night we aren't going to try to sell cigarettes or automobiles; this is merely a gesture to indicate our belief in the importance of ideas." The networks should, and I think would, pay for the cost of producing the program. The advertiser, the sponsor, would get name credit but would have nothing to do with the content of the program. Would this blemish the corporate image? Would the stockholders object? I think not. For if the premise upon which our pluralistic society rests, which as I understand it is that if the people are given sufficient undiluted information, they will then somehow, even after long, sober second thoughts, reach the right decision--if that premise is wrong, then not only the corporate image but the corporations are done for.

There used to be an old phrase in this country, employed when someone talked too much. It was: "Go hire a hall." Under this proposal the sponsor would have hired the hall; he has bought the time; the local station operator, no matter how indifferent, is going to carry the program-he has to. Then it's up to the networks to fill the hall. I am not here talking about editorializing but about straightaway exposition as direct, unadorned and impartial as falliable human beings can make it. Just once in a while let us exalt the importance of ideas and information. Let us dream to the extent of saying that on a given Sunday night the time normally occupied by Ed Sullivan is given over to a clinical survey of the state of American education, and a week or two later the time normally used by Steve Allen is devoted to a thoroughgoing study of American policy in the Middle East. Would the corporate image of their respective sponsors be damaged? Would the stockholders rise up in their wrath and complain? Would anything happen other than that a few million people would have received a little illumination on subjects that may well determine the future of this country, and therefore the future of the corporations? This method would also provide real competition between the networks as to which could outdo the others in the palatable presentation of information. It would provide an outlet for the young men of skill, and there are some even of dedication, who would like to do something other than devise methods of insulating while selling.

There may be other and simpler methods of utilizing these instruments of radio and television in the interests of a free society. But I know of none that could be so easily accomplished inside the framework of the existing commercial system. I don't know how you would measure the success or failure of a given program. And it would be hard to prove the magnitude of the benefit accruing to the corporation which gave up one night of a variety or quiz show in order that the network might marshal its skills to do a thorough-going job on the present status of NATO, or plans for controlling nuclear tests. But I would reckon that the president, and indeed the majority of shareholders of the corporation who sponsored such a venture, would feel just a little bit better about the corporation and the country.

It may be that the present system, with no modifications and no experiments, can survive. Perhaps the money-making machine has some kind of built-in perpetual motion, but I do not think so. To a very considerable extent the media of mass communications in a given country reflect the political, economic and social climate in which they flourish. That is the reason ours differ from the British and French, or the Russian and Chinese. We are currently wealthy, fat, comfortable and complacent. We have currently a built-in allergy to unpleasant or disturbing information. Our mass media reflect this. But unless we get up off our fat surpluses and recognize that television in the main is being used to distract, delude, amuse and insulate us, then television and those who finance it, those who look at it and those who work at it, may see a totally different picture too late.

I do not advocate that we turn television into a 27-inch wailing wall, where longhairs constantly moan about the state of our culture and our defense. But I would just like to see it reflect occasionally the hard, unyielding realities of the world in which we live. I would like to see it done inside the existing framework, and I would like to see the doing of it redound to the credit of those who finance and program it. Measure the results by Nielsen, Trendex or Silex-it doesn't matter. The main thing is to try. The responsibility can be easily placed, in spite of all the mouthings about giving the public what it wants. It rests on big business, and on big television, and it rests at the top. Responsibility is not something that can be assigned or delegated. And it promises its own reward: good business and good television.

Perhaps no one will do anything about it. I have ventured to outline it against a background of criticism that may have been too harsh only because I could think of nothing better. Someone once said--I think it was Max Eastman--that "that publisher serves his advertiser best who best serves his readers." I cannot believe that radio and television, or the corporation that finance the programs, are serving well or truly their viewers or listeners, or themselves.

I began by saying that our history will be what we make it. If we go on as we are, then history will take its revenge, and retribution will not limp in catching up with us.

We are to a large extent an imitative society. If one or two or three corporations would undertake to devote just a small traction of their advertising appropriation along the lines that I have suggested, the procedure would grow by contagion; the economic burden would be bearable, and there might ensue a most exciting adventure--exposure to ideas and the bringing of reality into the homes of the nation.

To those who say people wouldn't look; they wouldn't be interested; they're too complacent, indifferent and insulated, I can only reply: There is, in one reporter's opinion, considerable evidence against that contention. But even if they are right, what have they got to lose? Because if they are right, and this instrument is good for nothing but to entertain, amuse and insulate, then the tube is flickering now and we will soon see that the whole struggle is lost.

This instrument can teach, it can illuminate; yes, and it can even inspire. But it can do so only to the extent that humans are determined to use it to those ends. Otherwise it is merely wires and lights in a box. There is a great and perhaps decisive battle to be fought against ignorance, intolerance and indifference. This weapon of television could be useful.

Stonewall Jackson, who knew something about the use of weapons, is reported to have said, "When war comes, you must draw the sword and throw away the scabbard." The trouble with television is that it is rusting in the scabbard during a battle for survival.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Wires And Lights In A Box

Just got finished watching Good Night, And Good Luck.

I deleted this entry because I didn't spend enough time to write it well enough. And Edward R. Murrow did spend enough time and he said everything I wanted to say about the news today. Except that he said it in the 50's.

Monday, July 31, 2006

The Fruit

There's a new commercial for underwear that is apparently only appearing on a tivo machine near you. Usually I don't check these things out but this time I did. Good thing, too.

According to comments on youtube this is a parody of a Coldplay video or videos. Regardless, the song is pretty good. Check it out here.

You can also watch their country music video/commercial here.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Troy

I'm not really in a funk but the second offering I make is along the lines of the last. It might be the saddest song ever. From the opening line, "It's the same with men, as with horses and dogs, nothing wants to die," to the last line "the well is full of pennies" this is pound for pound the most tragic, horribly sad, and moving song in my collection.

The song starts with Mr. Waits explaining to his live audience that this song is based on a newspaper article that he read. Therefore we can assume there is a story here, but his lyric is anything but a narrative. It is as though he only studied the pictures that accompanied the article and not the article itself. Gleaning every ounce of detail from them, he creates a painfully real world, the honesty of his uncomplicated words making the whole matter all the more terrible. His story more gut-wrenching for the fact that we fill in the missing pieces to the story with our own versions of tragedy, hurt, and loss.

The worst of all; the final verse. First sung from the point of view of a son watching his mother despair, and in the last lines switching to the mother's voice. She only wants her son back. And "the well is full of pennies."

The link to the song is in the right column of links on this page simply labeled: "Listen."

For Your Listening Pleasure Too

I intend to continue to offer a new song every week. However, due to the fact that these blogs are searchable I can't list the song title. If I did the website hosting the file might become flooded with requests for a "free" download of copyrighted material.

That said let me reiterate that my intention is to expose you to music you might not have heard. It's merely a taste. If you like it I strongly encourage you to support the artist by purchasing the song or album. Think of it as being a patron of the arts.

Anyway, the link will be in the right hand column with the other permanent links. It is labeled "Listen." Whatever is the most recent featured selection will be linked there. Old posts will not be available due to the fact that space on my host is limited.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

For Your Listening Pleasure

As some of you know, I have a very extensive music collection. And with a collection so large you end up listening to artists in cycles. You might not listen to something you love for a long, long time. And then you come back to it, sometimes by choice sometimes by accident. And it's magical. It's like hearing it for the first and five hundredth time all at once. You remember sublteties to the song you had forgotten while you sing the lyrics, which flow effortlessly from your mouth.

So it goes for "Not The Girl You Think You Are." Crowded House is my desert island band. Given the choice of a band to listen to forever it would be them (if limited to a single album of theirs it would be Temple Of Low Men.) What can I say? This music strikes me in a very deep and emotional part of my mind. It moves me to my core.

This particular song is horribly tragic with lines such as, "the bathroom mirror makes you look tall." It starts, to steal a phrase, like a rusty squeeze box, and it paints a picture of denial so vivid and familiar, that it makes me hurt. But before it ends I hit the repeat button and can't escape it for the next hour.

And I guess that's what good music is supposed to do; move you in ways you can't control. It sounds hokey, but it anchors me.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

No More

Due to overwhelming lack of interest, the journal entries covering my trip across the country fourteen years ago are to be discontinued. Lack of interest coupled with the daily effort to type up an entry and find photographs to accompany it. The photos had to be scanned, photoshopped for scratches, dust, color, etc. and then entered into the blog. A lot of work with, as of now, no comments for encouragement.

Not angry. More relieved.

Monday, July 10, 2006

France Loses By A Nose

So I've spent the last few weeks championing the Futbol cause at the ol' firehouse. I have explained how I appreciate the game's simplicity; the fact that there are only about ten rules. I have explained how I appreciate the game's purity; no time outs, no intentional grounding, no intentional walk to avoid a good hitter, etc. I have also been heard remarking that a billion fans worldwide can't be wrong. It was hardest to defend the prat falls to draw fouls but I always countered that the greatness of the game was that it was the referee's decision to be made, right or wrong, without consulting a video monitor.

So how do I explain this? The "beautiful" game was anything but that Sunday after what can only be described as a very ugly final bow. A player who was spoken of as one of the truly great athletes the game has known was red-carded (ejected) from what was to be his final game before retirement afer he headbutted the other team. Instead of possibly leading his team to victory his actions may have cost his team the championship.

That's my problem. In match after match I found myself rooting for the underdog. Ghana surprising the Czechs was a real treat. But my approach to soccer has been of this same philosophy. I have gravitated toward it out of all of the sports because it is the underdog of American sport. I want it to succeed.

But this World Cup match will be remembered for one thing. Not for what it was but what it might have been if one player had been there in the end. And that's a shame.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Day Seven, July 5, 1992 Somewhere in Texas

[Director's Cut: This journal entry was actually made on July 8th but has been restored to its intended place in the journal.]

All we did was drive. We drove from Denton through Fort Worth and down to San Angelo. We stayed right at the Twin Buttes Park on the San Angelo Reservoir. Needles to say, we got there after dark (we left Denton at 3:00 p.m.) Being so close to the reservoir, the mosquitoes were horrible. We set up the tent and went to sleep.

[I remember this day being difficult. Where we camped was almost in the brush. It was very, very hot and like I said the mosquitoes were unbearable. You tried not to inhale to deeply for fear of sucking in a few. Setting up the tent was a race to get out of the swarm. Then we had to kill all of the ones that had gotten inside.

I remember being surprised by how hot, flat, and almost desolate Texas was in this area, although the picture is much more green than I recall this area being.
]

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Day Six, July 4, 1992 Denton, Texas

Today we got up late again and then did two loads of wash. Around 4:00 we went into Dallas to Dealy Plaza. It's really cool. We took a lot of pictures, fifteen each [fifteen was a lot on our pre-digital camera era budget]. Standing behind the fence on the grassy knoll, it would be impossible to miss [a shot on a person only as far away as the president was at the time of the shot]. Makes you think.

After that we went back to the West End Market to the JFK Assasination Information Center. From there we came back to Denton. On the way back we passed the Word of Faith Church with its thirty foot satellite dish. Drew said, "they're beaming the word of God around the world."

We went to the fireworks show at the University of North Texas in Denton. [This was the best Fourth of July I can remember. It was very small town and the marching band played as the fireworks were set off above the stadium.]

We came back to Drew's apartment and played Scattergories. One of the categories was National Parks and Drew said "Jellystone." Drew was on a roll. We started to watch Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead but everyone was falling asleep so them we put on The Muppet Movie and still everyone was falling asleep. We went to sleep.

The Human Element

"For each of us there’s a moment of discovery. We turn a page. We raise a hand. And just then in the flash of a synapse, we learn that life is elemental. And this knowledge changes everything. We look around and see the grandness of the scheme. Sodium bonding with chlorine, carbon bonding with oxygen, hydrogen bonding with oxygen. We see all things connected. We see life unfold. And in the dazzling briliance of this knowledge, we may overlook the element not listed on the chart. It’s importance so obvious its presence is simply understood. The missing element is the human element. And when we add it to the equation the chemistry changes. Every reaction is different. Potassium looks to bond with potential. Metals behave with hardened resolve. And hydrogen and oxygen form desire. The human element is the element of change. It gives us our footing to stand fearlessly and face the future. It is a way of seeing that gives us a way of touching; Issues, ambitions, lives. The human element. Nothing is more fundamental. Nothing more elemental."

I wish I had written that. It's from a new ad for Dow Chemical. You can see the commercial here. For me, it perfectly expressed how we yearn to be part of something greater and that in rare and sometimes simple moments our best shines through.

Monday, July 03, 2006

Day Five, July 3, 1992 Denton, Texas

Today we slept in late. then we got up and waited for someone to decide what to do. Around 5:00 we went grocery shopping and I bought a cool book on American Indian Myths and Legends [I bought this book looking specifically for a legend of the creation of the dog. The story I heard on televsion was that some Native American cultures believed that the creator gathered all of the animals and then a chasm appeared that seperated man from all of the animals. But at the last instant the dog jumped the chasm and took his place by man.] In the grocery store Rich kept wanting to buy things for the woods that were totally and completely impractical.

We had spaghetti for dinner. It was good and had turkey in it instead of beef. At about 10:00 we headed down to the West End. It's kind of like a party every weekend. Bands in the streets and tons of police. The Marketplace, a shopping center not unlike Underground, had some cool shops. The Autograph Store had a wonderful Unforgettable Fire photo for $399.00 or you could purchase the Davy Crockett for $63,000.00. Paula Abdul's she signed on her breasts. There was a William Shatner, a beautiful Winona [Ryder], and an incredible Jim Henson.

After the Marketplace, we went to find the Main Bar in a place not unlike Buckhead. We drove around for at least an hour looking for a parking space. Finally we got one and made it to the bar for Ten Hands. They had three songs that I liked. They were very loud. There was, however, an incredibe young woman that I believe may have been my cosmic other. Tonight we chanced upon each other, but we didn't meet.

On the way home we stopped on Harry Hines Boulevard. There we saw a billboard for the Satin and Silk Modeling Studio located on [wait for it] Harry Hines Boulevard, Fragrance World, and Janitor's World. Then I fell asleep. Oh, we also saw Dealy Plaza. I never knew it was so hilly. I always thought it was flat.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

Day Four, July 2, 1992 Denton, Texas

We got up really early this morning and began the drive for Denton. We took the back roads. This is definitely the best way to travel. We got so far and then we had to take interstate highways due to time limitations. Today was Rich's now infamous drum solo and the ultra-hip "O" rap. Called Mom, she just said, "okay, call Sunday." Cool. Mailed two postcards from the Texarkana rest stop. There was a possible transexual behind the counter. We ate our first "real food" prepared by the McDonald's in Morrilton. The burgers there were pretty bad because the sandwiches were made with wonder buns. It was 8:00 when we arrived at Drew's. We got to take showers and I was very happy. We ate pizza and I drank three cokes. Drew has tablas [a kind of drum] that he's learning to play. The last part of the drive, down 380, I was pelted from the driver's side by a steady southernly wind that was blowing my glasses off. I was very oily and dirty after the approximate 12 hours with only a few stops. We're close to hitting the 1000 mile mark for the trip. One really cool thing about Arkansas was that there are yellow wildflowers everywhere.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Day Three, July 1, 1992 Buffalo Point, Arkansas

Our second day in the Ozarks. We moved out fairly quickly this morning. My first time of shaving in the side mirror of the jeep. We travelled early morning over to Buffalo Point. The guides were really nice and helpful. Rich made a twenty minute phone call home after we waited ten for another man to get off. My chain, I wrapped my chain around the horn and it accidentally set it off twice while the man was talking. We took a 3 or 6 mile hike (6 when we relate the tale to others, tall tales and all)downt he Indian Rock House Trail. We saw an old mine, a small cave (absolutely amazing because it felt air conditioned to at least 50 but very humid), and this old indian rock house which is actually a huge cave with a spring running through the bottom. Rich said it was very cold. It is incredibly humid here.

After the hike we drove out to rent a canoe. rich wanted to do it today, I wanted to do it tomorrow. Rich was right in insisting. Turns out most people canoe in the morning. When we went we were the only people on the Mighty (slow) Buffalo River. The trip down river was 11 miles and took 3 hours. A fun day but now I'm paying for it. My legs are killing me.

After the canoe trip we treated ourselves to cokes. That was probably the coldest best tasting coke I've ever had. We then headed down to the campsites to stake a claim. Their 113 sites were nearly full but there were 3 tent only sites left. Rich had some particular in mind when all I wanted was a place to lay down, sleep. and leave at daybreak. I think we were both just tired and hungry.

The sound of vans, RV's, and kids, along with the nature pavillon's PA can be heard in the distance as the 4th grows closer. The skies have grown cloudy overhead but I don't think it will rain. We can't seem to figure teh weather channels on the CB out.

We saw many butterflies, lizards, tiny frogs the size of frogs [?], turtles, giant fish, and a horsefly that bit Rich.

By the way, the canoe trip was from Maumee back to Buffalo Point. We took pictures at the falls, the small cave, and the big cave, Tomorrow, we hope to eat real food. That means anything prepared by anyone else. Then we will mail and write post cards at the post office on our way to Dallas, to see Drew. Dallas should be ok. We'll get to take showers there. I used some of that skin-so-soft and now regret it. I'm sweating oil. Water gets really hot in a plastic container. The burn on my leg blistered up with sweat and I got my first Teva [the particular brand of sandals I wore} tan today.

P.S. Tim The Manic drove us to Maumee doing about 75 miles an hour on a gravel mountain road. "Hey Tim, where's the best swimming?" "Wherever the most girls are! Did you see that girl with the tied up shirt? Whoa! She scared me." Tim pointed out a roadrunner on the way and then tried to run over it. We, however, on the way to Buffalo Point stopped to help an upside down turtle who wanted nothing to do with Rich or his efforts, and scurried to the side of the road, and possibly to his death over the cliff. It's dark now. Goodnight.