George Kastanza, he ain't

“People are dumb.”

So sayeth Tony Kornheiser, from TV’s “Pardon the Interruption”. Great show, by the way. Tony and Michael Wilbon argue about everything. They banter about sports mainly, but other stuff as well, in a manner that is very engaging. What’s not to love about the “Good Cop, Bad Cop” bit? Genius. Check it out, if you get a chance.

PTI and, it’s little brother of a show, “Around the Horn” are a great way to unwind after work for me. My interest in sports has waned in past years, but shows like these two command enough attention for me to tune in most days, if only for a while.

The term “people”, when used in sweeping generalizations, is a great one. It allows the person using it to apply some derogatory comment to civilization, while simultaneously excluding his or her present company. We generally forget that we are usually as guilty as the next Joe(lyn) of whatever we’re stating. “People” can really beget a sense of elitism.

So when Tony (I may call you that, right?) says “People are dumb”, it’s implied that Tony, Michael and I (the viewer) are the only ones on the planet capable of understanding this concept.

Got that, people?

International Coverup

This image, which needs much introduction but you won't get it from me, is the first in a series of two photographs.

This photo is a ransom of sorts, offered here in the hopes of gaining the second picture.

My commentary on the second photo, once it is in my possession, will be poignant and insightful. That is all for now...

Potato Salad Sensei

Sitting in McMillians last night, as I was, with my parents was the scene. We'd bumped into an old aquaintance of my mother's, a former teaching colleague to be precise. As the back and forth conversation twisted and turned to friends, co-workers, sad tales, and news, I took notice of a quirk most people have. That is, our relationship with a person or object shapes our memories of them.

The person that prompted this observation was an older gentleman, married to a former teacher that both my mother and her aquaintance had worked with. As they shared memories and news of this gentleman, I began to get a patchwork image of him in my head. My mother spoke of him in terms of her knowledge of he and his wife, giving memories of them both together. Her aquaintance knew of him more directly, and the way she spoke of him gave me a more direct image. Finally, my father mentioned that he knew this gentleman was left-handed, having played baseball against him years ago.

Each of them contributed to my mental picture of this man in their own ways, based on how they had intereacted with him in the past. I'd wager that none of them could have described him in the ways the others had, even though they all had known him fairly well.



Also @ Matty, EvRotten, Stump, and STH, the streak continues.

Warning: Hazardous Materials

One is a Rabbi. The other a cop. They're cops!

Except for the Rabbi.



Congratulations to my very good friends, Darren and Carolyn, on the birth of their daughter Ainsley Lauren.

Huzzah!

Gone Daddy Gone

The Boston Red Sox are going to win the World Series.

How do I know, you ask? Is it stats? Inside information? No.

They will win simply because it is my fervent desire that they lose. Karma, it seems, has chosen this moment to bite me in the ass.

Baseball is a game of numbers, and a game of long standing traditions. 56 game hitting streak. 755 home runs. 20 strikeouts in one game. 4256 hits.

No team has ever came back from down three games to none to win the series. Toss that one out. Boston cursed ever since trading away Babe Ruth...It's one of the greatest stories of professional baseball. Get rid of it.

Baseball has been played here in America for well over a century. These records and traditions I'm talking about have been around for a long time. And now this upstart Bawston crew seeks up overturn the 'ol apple cart. I tell you, it makes the statistician and historian in me nauseous.

Also, what's up with David Ortiz? Having watched him for several years here as a member of the Minnesota Twins, I'd say he's currently the best example of steroid use in MLB. No way this is the same guy that choked away so many important at bats for us. ALCS Most Valuable Player!? He must have been abducted by aliens or something like that. I refuse to believe it's the same guy.

Speaking of Karma...I think David Ortiz is saving his up for one colossal screw up. No one can go that long excelling, after sucking for us so long, and have no repercussions. Think Bill Buckner, only on a higher plane of existence. Here's my guess as to how it will play out...

I say Ortiz, who DH's for Boston, will come up to bat. Game 7. Bottom of the 9th. 2 outs, bases loaded. Boston trails by one run. Ortiz will swing at a pitch between his legs, missing horribly and throwing the bat into left field where it knocks over the Green Monster. Meanwhile Ortiz has burst into flames because he rubbed Pedro Martinez's Jheri Curled head for good luck and sets Fenway Park ablaze with his suckiness. That's a word, by the way. By the time the flames subside in the morning, Bud Selig has contracted the Red Sox and deported Ortiz. The aliens don't come to pick him up, however, rightly fearing for the safety of their civilization.

Hey, now that the curse is over, anything is possible. Right?

Addendum

I received an excellent email from one of my good friends, Suspect Bob, about this glorious MEA weekend I had mentioned.

Quoted email-
I would think some commentary could/should have been made regarding the fact that almost NO ONE is using MEA for it's intended purpose...

He brings a very good point. While everyone is going in a million different directions, pretty much no one actually goes to the conference that is responsible for this long weekend.

In order to uphold my standard of high quality rambling that I hold myself to for this column, I decided crank up the old research engine to 11. Asking the best resource available to me, Ma Retrum, I was determined to get to the bottom of this.

First a bit more background on what exactly MEA is, for those who don't know. It's a professional conference for educators in the state of Minnesota. It features educational vendors, nationally recognized speakers, meetings and workshops, networking opportunities, and a host of other events.

To be completely honest with everyone, I have not been to one since I became an educator, although I did tag along with my mom several times when I was younger. Also, some of the staff at school I spoke with at school were planning on attending. Another good friend and educator, FBIke, is a yearly attendee. So it's not like everyone is skipping out on it, tho I'd say certainly the majority do.

Why don't more educators participate? Ma Retrum and I agree on a number of reasons.

First and foremost, It's two days off. Most people I know, regardless of profession, will take a couple of days off when offered. Teachers value their time off as much as the next person. Many of them have school age children themselves, and it's a chance to spend time with the whole family together.

Another reason I believe is that, while the speakers change and booths come and go, it largely stays the same from year to year. I do notice a lot of younger teachers do attend, and I think they stop attending when they realize that it will be much the same as it's always been.

And finally, for some professional development is just not a priority. I think everyone at their places of work can identify people that are content to get by with what they know, and feel they don't need to improve themselves. Teachers are no different in this regard. It's disappointing when you look at it that way, but it's the truth, I feel. Especially when this weekend is an unpaid one for teachers. I know many teachers will attend conferences during the year, as long as there is some compensation for their time and effort.

There are other reasons, but those are probably the big three. Educators are people too, for good and for bad.

Special thanks to Suspect Bob for watching the watchman, so to speak.

If anyone has any comments on anything I've written, or has something they would like to see discussed, feel free to leave a comment or a TagBoard message. I'd love to get more feedback.

Working for the Weekend

Life, as it seems, has been described as a web, a pattern, a weave of sorts. Lives interconnected in a myriad of ways. Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.

This Thursday and Friday, in Minnesota, is MEA. This is a statewide conference for teachers, aides, and administrators. There will be numerous booths, speakers, convocations, as well as the obligatory free stuff everyone hands out. All of this to promote and improve education in our fine state.

Needless to say, there is no school for teachers and students on those days.

As the day passed by, I asked many of my students and fellow staff what their plans were for this long weekend. Oh, I'm going to visit friends in Luverne. Vacation in Las Vegas, baby! My cousins are coming over for the weekend and we're making movies. Nothing, really. So and so is staying over at my house. Going to the Twin Cities. A different story and destination for each soul I asked.

It struck me that the description of life as a web was particularity apt. Each of us has our own pattern in our web, connected to those we meet in infinite dimentions. Each meeting becomes a vertex in that web, a point of strength and stability. And though we go our own ways each night, in a thousand different directions, we draw together again and reinforce our previous bonds. With each meeting, our web becomes more glorious and detailed. A limitless lattice crafted from our daily lives.

Truly, an amazing thing to behold.

"...and the loss of Credibility"

Last week I had gotten off work a bit early, and decided to grab a bite to eat before heading home. I pull in to one of our local Subways, get myself a sub, grab the free paper, and sit down to relax for a bit. This is all happening during an off-peak dining period, so the place was empty except for me.

As I'm sitting enjoying my late dinner, a rather unremarkable middle-aged woman comes into the store. Seeing as it's pretty much deserted, I'm up for a bit of a diversion from my meal and newspaper.

Woman: "You people really should have a drive-thru for this place. I hardly ever stop here because it's such a pain to come in. If you had a drive-thru, I'd come here a lot more."

Worker: "Actually, Ma'am, we do have a drive-thru. See, it's right over there."

Woman: "Well, you should put it on your sign that you have a drive-thru. You'd get a lot more business that way, if people knew you had a drive-thru. It's just good business."

Worker: "Yeah, ok. What can I get you?"

This woman then goes on to suggest about 3 more improvements that would immensely benefit Subway and the restaurant market in general. I cannot recall the exact suggestions, but they seemed somewhat logical.

Now consider, for a moment, that she is talking to the natural world equivalent of Bumblebee Drones. (No offense towards fast food workers, having been one myself for a long time) Anything you tell these workers is not going to be passed up the management chain. Your suggestions are not going to change the face of the sub business. Most likely, they will be immediately be forgotten by everyone involved, including myself, and I was paying a fair bit more attention to this whole scene as it played out.

In the midst of delivering her sermon on perfecting Subway's business model, the worker helping her asks:

Worker: "What kind of cheese would you like on this?"

Woman: "Oh, give me the white stuff."

Fascinating.

Heresy!

I'm sitting in Study Hall today (something I do almost every day) and working with a group of students on some homework. One of them is to write a statement about what they would do in a certain situation. The statement they write begins with "I will try to..."

At this point, one of my students (I'll call her the Genius) says, "No, don't write that you'll try to do it, just say that you'll do it".

At which point I faithfully quote Yoda, saying, "Do or do not. There is no try." In response to their dumbfounded looks, I say this is a quote from Star Wars.

The Genius then goes on scold me for quoting Star Wars, saying no one actually watches that stuff.

I tell you, kids these days...

Zombies at the Mall

If I'm ever given the choice of being consigned to death or managing a shopping mall, and if for some reason I choose the mall, I've come up with an advertising slogan.

(sung to a happy little tune)

Come shop at the mall,
It's got it all.
We've got stuff you don't!

Dome Pie

So, I went to an event this weekend, and a baseball game broke out. Weird how that happens sometimes. The event/game was of course our Minnesota Twins getting the loving crap kicked out of them. The murder weapon, you ask? The New York Yankees.

I had the privilege of doing a bit of people watching (as I'm want to do), and I'll have some observations on that later this week. Before I get to that, however, I do want to address one important, burning issue.

I am not transparent.

Game 4, down two games to one in a best of five series. The twins need a raucous crowd to back them up, and I aim to give it to them. The whole crowd is on their feet, cheering for Strikeouts and booing the Yankees lustily. Problem is, I've a certain gentleman sitting behind me. Midway through the 1st inning, he kindly tells me he can't see through me, and asks me to sit down. 52,000+ screaming fans, and he asks me to take a seat. This guys feels like being a bump on a log in our team's most important game of the season, and he drags me into being his accomplice.

Many possible descriptions of this man have gone through my head in preparation for this column. I think I've finally settled on a good one. Picture, if you will,Statler and Waldorf (of The Muppets fame) wrapped into one man. You know, older guys sitting behind everyone, generally being derisive and rude. Unfortunately, these two's witty charm must have gotten left at the cleaners when it comes to this guy. His voice sounded like he sucked down an entire blimp filled with helium, as he had this annoying high-pitched squeaky voice the whole game. He was with another gentleman whom, as far as I can tell, was either deaf or rendered unconscious during the game because I never heard him respond to any of Statler/Waldorf's inane rambling.

I'm torn as far as my overall feelings towards this guy. On one hand I don't want to interfere with his right to enjoy the game on his own terms. And on the other, I wanted to tell him to suck it up, stand up, and cheer for our boys.

CDFunk, my good friend, would have punched him in the face. Game on.

Who's to say who's right, or who has the right? In the end, we lost the game and series. Guess all that's left to do is root for those Damn Yankees from here on out.

Quick update

Hey all...Been very busy these past few days, and it won't get better until Monday probably. I'll have some great observations from the Twins playoff games for you, so the wait will be worth it, I hope.

Go Twins!

Caveat Emptor

So I bought a new scanner/printer this week for a project I'm going to be working on in the near future. Excited? I think I am.

Some products come with "Hidden Costs" that sneak up on you, and by the time you realize your mistake it's too late for you to do anything about them. I, however, have discovered a new slant on this business practice. Let's call them "Idiot Costs".

These are things that you know you need to purchase, but somehow they escape attention until you're writing out the check. Example, you ask? I pick out the scanner/printer that I want, confident that it's in my price range. Oh, I need to pick up a USB cable for it as well? No prob, I'll grab one right now. Ink? Sure, better get some of that. So, merrily I walk off to the registers, my new toys in hand. As the cashier rings it all up, I'm still blissfully thinking I've come in under-budget. It's not until the national debt of Turkishwomenhaveallthefunistan comes up on the screen that I realize my error.

Idiot Costs. And I am their king.

Understand? Good, I'm glad you're coming along with me on this one.

Still, it's a nice set up that I've got, so I'm not really upset. One small complaint I do have is the packaging on my USB cable. You know the type...thick, tough plastic which has been hermetically sealed against the coming cockroach invasion. You basically need to have some wickedly sharp tool, with which you stab repeatedly in order to penetrate the plastic. Then, with the patience and deft touch of a master craftsman, saw like mad until you can pry the desired object out of the packing. At that point I'd give anything for those old cassette tape security frames.

And man, did those suck.

Blow out the candles

Just wanted to wish my sister a happy birthday! Today she's...somewhat older.

I could do something ordinary, like call her, or send a card, I suppose. But this is me we're talking about. I'm not really a calling type person. When it comes to phoning others, I prefer a more Smithian "Laissez Faire" approach. Cards? They're overrated. And expensive. And require forethought. Of which I have none.

Happy B-day, sis. See you this weekend hopefully.

Mission Statement

"Thanks to my solid academic training, today I can write hundreds of words on virtually any topic without possessing a shred of information, which is how I got a good job in journalism." Dave Barry

I think that accurately sums up what I'm tring to accomplish here.

Funky Wheat Pennies

I was talking last week at a tennis match with Ted, another teacher at work. After exchanging pleasantries and idle banter, we talked about the tennis match and sports in general. He mentioned something I hadn't thought of in years.

Strat-o-matic. One of the first sports fantasy games.

The Fantasy sports boom has reached all over this great land of ours. Fantasy Football, Baseball, Basketball. Fantasy NASCAR, Golf, Tennis. It's probably a billion dollar a year industry. Not to mention the lost productivity at work as fantasy owners scour the internet looking for that edge that will grant them victory.

Heck, back in college the guys on my floor and I made up a Fantasy Lumberjack League. I was in a rock band back in those days, and after we'd get back from practice, we sit in the lounge till all hours and root for our fave Lumberjack. Rolin Eslinger was my man, and though he shone brightly at first, he soon tumbled into sawdust obscurity. Still, looking back on it now, there was probably something not entirely healthy about cheering for Penny Halvorson at 3:00 a.m Wednesday mornings.

The thrill of competition was there. It is a way for people who can't compete at the actual sport to show we at least know more about it than our neighbors. Victorious, we do our little dance while in our mind the voice of John Facenda forever immortalizes our victory.

I just google'd 'ol Rolin, and sure enough, he's still swinging that axe and revving that saw. Come on back, Rolin. Some of us still believe in you.

Hey, the floor is wet!

Just talked with my sister on the phone. She was calling me from a library book sale. Everything was a dollar or less, with quite a good selection as she tells it. She just called to ask if I needed anything. I ended up rattling off about 4 different authors, and she managed to find at least 2 of them while we were on the phone. Sisters rule.

This whole episode makes me hearken back to the days of my youth. The year was 1992, the place was Houston, Texas. Five students on a trip to an academic competition. There, these five brave souls discovered the joy that is Half Price Books. Good lord, we thought that store was the greatest. Every day, after being crushed mercilessly in our competition, we would make our pilgrimage across parking lots, streets, and parks to the Mecca that was Half Price Books. Then we'd float back to our dorms, burdened with books, content in mind and soul. Heady days, they were.

What a trip that was. Herr T pulled over twice for speeding. Justin trying to buy our friend Kim. Three liter bottles of pop. Galveston beach. Shakespeare in togas.

Marble. Slab. Creamery.

'nuff said.

Pretty Pretty Pain Cave

The sounds, oh the sounds. They've started again. That horrible, gut wrenching sound. Madness lies within that sound. Madness and death. From that sound, no escape is possible. Wait, it's coming from next door. They must not have gotten out in time. To late to run. No matter what I do...I'm next.

I'm speaking of course of a lawnmower. And here I sit, with a lawn that needs mowing.

The horror.

Aesthetics are all well and good, don't get me wrong. I enjoy a terrific mountain vista, starry skies at night, and the shapely feminine form as much as the next guy. An immaculately groomed lawn, however, does not excite my senses. Who thought of lawns, anyway? Probably someone who didn't have to mow one. I understand that mowing builds character for our youth (i.e. Drew), but I've got character in spades when it comes to mowing, if that's the case.

Why not let our lawns go back to the natural Prarie grasslands they used to be? I'm sure my sister would approve.

Sadly, failing that, I must:
A) Diligently wait for someone to bio-engineer a species of grass that does not grow over 3 inches tall.
B) Become fantastically wealthy and get my own Jeebes or Coolie John.
C) Get really drunk and mix green food coloring with cement.

I'll get right on that.

Hurry, hurry! Fix the tank!

One of my favorite sites to check out on the this crazy world wide web thing is www.redvsblue.com. These guys make films. Very strange films. Based off of games that they play. Specifically Halo.

Inspired, as we all were, by the "Warthog Jump" video, these guys have set out to create a series of video episodes using the Halo game as their medium. They've got a whole cast of characters (Caboose being the best, of course) engaged in a struggle for their very lives in the middle of this box canyon.

The short films they create are nothing short of brilliant. You can get into the story easily, even if you're not a fan of Halo, or games for that matter. I've introduced RvB to a diverse group of people, and they all enjoy watching this machinima unfold.

Also, the episodes are just hilarious. And so very quoteable. I dig quotes.

What makes me mention this is that they guys at RvB (the studio name is Rooster Teeth) are starting up a new series, this time based on the game "The Sims 2". More of a modern feel to this one, instead of the more scifi/miliaristic style of Red vs Blue. I can't wait to check it out. The first episode should be out now, so look around for it if you're interested.