CHANGE JAR STATS
++ As of February 7, 2005,
the change jar was 41.3% full.
++ I last emptied the change jar
on August 11, 2004.
++ The change jar is projected
to be full on October 21, 2005.
[See change jar photo here]
There's a guy who walks around downtown Denver sometimes, hauling a wooden cross hooked over one shoulder. I guess he's imitating Christ carrying his cross to Calvary, in an effort to remind us that Jesus died for our sins, for which we have been justly convicted, and we should repent, REPENT, SINNER, FOR WHOSOEVER IS NOT FOUND WRITTEN IN THE BOOK OF LIFE SHALL BE CAST INTO THE EVERLASTING LAKE OF FIRE, WHERE THERE WILL BE WAILING AND GNASHING OF TEETH, AND THE DAMNED ARE TORMENTED DAY AND NIGHT FOR EVER AND EVER. Or maybe it's some kind of advertisement for Big Dave's Discount Cross Emporium
The problem is that the guy has a wheel attached to the cross, at the point where the end would normally drag on the ground. Doesn't this destroy the entire effect? I can see Jesus hanging with his angelic posse, looking down and frowning. "Wheel? I didn't get any kind of damn wheel on my cross. I had to drag that thing, with people spitting and throwing rocks at me, and it was a lot heavier than that so-called 'cross', let me tell you. That's not a cross -- that's a couple of two-by-fours from Home Depot nailed together. [Starts shouting] Hey, you poseur! You call that a cross? You couldn't crucify a Chihuahua on that thing! Man, I remember my cross... [The angels roll their eyes and look at their watches; they have heard this story many times before.] That baby had eight-inch-thick wooden beams, solid oak construction, a real man's cross, you know? [Laughs] Man, I must have fallen three times trying to carry that thing! [Starts shouting again] Hey! Where's your crown of thorns? And try getting flogged next time before you leave the house!"
You might have heard that the World Series That Nobody Wanted ended recently, with the Not New York Yankees defeating the New York Yankees four games to two. I will now turn my attention to more important matters of sport.
No, not LeBron, although let's talk about his Nike commercial that showed about 30,000 times last night to coincide with his NBA regular-season debut. The ad shows LeBron taking the ball just across halfcourt, and then freezing as if in indecision. Prospective Nike customers are treated to 30 seconds or so of LeBron staring at the floor, while the arena goes silent. The commercial ends with LeBron breaking into laughter and driving forward. (To watch the commercial, go here, click Launch, then click the LeBron rectangle.) Did everybody else hate this commercial as much as my poker buddies and I did? Good.
Anyway, only 64 days remain until the Colorado Mammoth opening home game against the San Jose Stealth. The Mammoth? The Stealth? Perhaps I should explain. The Mammoth and Stealth are teams in the National Lacrosse League. Yes, lacrosse -- the game where you toss the ball around with the sticks with the nets on the end. I am a fan of professional lacrosse.
I had never seen lacrosse played before last season. But my friend G-Dog and I had seen some billboards around town for the Mammoth, and decided to give it a shot. Why not? The tickets were cheap enough. We showed up at the Pepsi Center about 20 minutes before game time, figuring that getting tickets would be no problem. It was lacrosse, for chrissake.
We were wrong. A line stretched from the box office out to the street. G-Dog and I couldn't believe it. The game would have been half over by the time we got tickets, so we went out drinking instead.
We made sure to get tickets ahead of time for the next home game the following week against the Vancouver Ravens. I was hooked immediately. If you like hockey -- that is, if you like to watch Canadians hit each other with sticks -- you will love lacrosse. Lacrosse is full of scoring, checking, fighting, and fast end-to-end action. The arena was packed and the fans were raucous, even though most of them, like us, had no idea what was going on. The Mammoth shocked the league by drawing over 17,000 fans a game, more than the world champion Not New York Yankees drew this past season.
If you live in the San Jose, Phoenix, Anaheim, Denver, Buffalo, Calgary, Rochester, Philadelphia, Toronto, or Vancouver areas, you must sample some lacrosse this winter.
You may remember that last Tuesday, (10/21), I posted an Onion-style article about McDonald's Monopoly promotion, headlined "LOCAL MAN ONLY NEEDS PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE TO WIN PLASMA TV". In this article, I claimed that I had found the North Carolina Avenue and Pacific Avenue game pieces and only needed Pennsylvania Avenue to win a Samsung 42" Widescreen Plasma HDTV (estimated retail value: $6,300). I also claimed to have found the Short Line, B&O, and Pennsylvania Railroads, leaving only Reading Railroad between me and an OARS Adventure Trip For Two to Utah with Garmin eTrex Vista GPS Receiver and Motorola FRS/GMRS Two-Way Radios (estimated retail value: $4,989).
I never imagined that anyone would take me seriously.
The beautiful and enchanting Trillian announced a "Plasma for Kilgore Drive" on her blog, (see 10/25). The wise and sophisticated Mike Solomon also posted encouragement, (see 10/20 comments). And someone named Gary checked in with this proposition right here on Chaotic Not Random, left in the 10/21 comments:
If Kilgore Trout needs the Reading Railroad peice [sic]. Let me know, I have one he can have. This is serious. Give me your email address and I will shoot a picture of the Monopoly piece. Let me know
Let me be clear about one thing: I am not collecting pieces in an attempt to win cash and prizes in McDonald's Monopoly promotion. I am still bitter over a bad experience from some years ago, at Boy Scout summer camp, when I tried to win cash and prizes in a similar promotion for Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I purchased many, many, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups from the camp store, and ate them until I was sick, and I won nothing, not even a duffel bag with "Reese's" on the side. And I have not participated in this sort of contest since.
But apparently everyone thinks that I am the sort of sad, compulsive person who would obsessively collect little stickers that look like Monopoly properties and tape them to a little Monopoly game board in an almost certainly futile attempt to store up for myself treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. (Incidentally: I am exactly that sort of sad, compulsive person. I just thought I was better at hiding it.)
But let's talk about Gary a little bit. His offer touched me, at first. Gary wanted to help me win a OARS Adventure Trip For Two to Utah with Garmin eTrex Vista GPS Receiver and Motorola FRS/GMRS Two-Way Radios! But then I read Gary's offer more carefully. Notice that Gary does not say, "Send me your mailing address and I will send you Reading Railroad." Gary only offers to send a picture of the game piece. Is it possible that Gary was expecting more than a "Thanks, man!" and a hearty slap on the back in exchange for sending me Reading Railroad? Is it possible that Gary wished to accompany me on my OARS Adventure Trip For Two to Utah with Garmin eTrex Vista GPS Receiver and Motorola FRS/GMRS Two-Way Radios?
[Cut to fantasy scene from Gary's imagination, featuring himself and Kilgore whitewater rafting in Canyonlands National Park, laughing and communicating via their new Motorola FRS/GMRS Two-Way Radios. Cut to scene of Gary showing a frowning, confused Kilgore how to locate himself on a map using their new Garmin eTrex Vista GPS Receiver. Cut to scene of Gary and Kilgore being photographed holding stringers of freshly caught trout. Gary is smiling and has his arm around Kilgore. Kilgore looks more confused than before. Cut to scene of Gary and Kilgore sitting by a crackling campfire. Kilgore sips hot chocolate while Gary shows him how to find the Little Dipper. Cut to scene of light being switched off in a single tent.]
Gary is not alone in wanting a little something extra in exchange for his Monopoly pieces. A casual search on eBay turned up 78 active auctions for McDonald's Monopoly game pieces, 26 of which have been bid upon. The most ambitious of these is a fellow looking to sell Park Place for $250,000 (plus $5.95 shipping & handling). No bids have been made, possibly because jimsolomon, (your brother, Mike?), is offering a 99.96% discount on Park Place, plus free shipping. The friskiest auction so far appears to be this one for 2 Rare McDonalds Monopoly Game Pieces!!! which has attracted 32 bids with a current high bid of $152.50.
(Note to Gary: Reading Railroad is currently available for 99 cents, plus 37 cents shipping & handling.)
TO RUN A MARATHON IN MY HOMETOWN OF MASON CITY, IOWA
Iowa is beautiful. I had forgotten this. Iowa is especially beautiful after eight hours of driving across the billiards-table-flat scrubland of Nebraska and eastern Colorado. Iowa is filled with rolling green hills and creeks winding through groves of trees and white farmhouses tucked into vales and cows on hillsides and all that Grant Wood stuff.
Iowa is cold. The temperature at the start of the race was below freezing, and over the next four hours barely poked into the 40s. Eight miles into the race, I had to duck behind a tree to transfer the glove on my left hand to an appendage that is, shall we say, more important than my left hand. This worked better than I had any reason to expect it would.
A guy in a truck stop twitching and mumbling, "I need laundry soap but I don't know where to find it you'd think it would be right here they hide that stuff you know." He looked to me for confirmation. Notice to all mumbling people: The rest of us have no desire to get involved with your search for laundry soap, or anything else you might be mumbling about. Please leave us alone.
In Iowa there is a river called the "Nishnabotna". Isn't that a great word? Listen to the way it sounds coming out of your mouth: Nishnabotna. I could say it over and over and over. In fact, I will. Nishnabotna Nishnabotna Nishnabotna Nishnabotna Nishnabotna Nishnabotna Nishnabotna Nishnabotna Nishnabotna Nishnabotna.
Iowa also has a river called the "Middle Raccoon River". You may be wondering if there is a "Top Raccoon River" and a "Bottom Raccoon River". Does the Top Raccoon River fuck the Bottom Raccoon River in the ass? If so, do they use condoms and practice good anal health? (To put your mind at ease: there is no Top or Bottom Raccoon River. They are called the North and South Raccoon Rivers.)
An aqua Thunderbird with license plate "VVVVVVV".
A man who had attached a decal of the Tasmanian Devil to his yellow Jeep, apparently on purpose.
A deer that had been hit by a semi. An orange-clad highway worker was removing chunks of the carcass with a pitchfork. Traffic 1, Wildlife 0.
Just south of Mason City, I saw a pheasant take flight right into the side of a minivan going 70 miles per hour. Feathers scattered. Traffic 2, Wildlife 0.
Iowa has a town called "What Cheer". Iowa also has a convenience-store chain called "Kum & Go", referred to as the "Squirt & Scram" by local teens. Iowa also has a grocery-story chain called "Hy-Vee", which sells a Mountain Dew citrus-soda knockoff called "Heee-Haw". (Yes, there are three e's in "Heee".)
The Danish Windmill and Danish Immigrant Museum in Elk Horn, the Bob Feller Museum in Van Meter, John Wayne's Birthplace in De Soto, and the International Wrestling Institute and Museum in Newton. I blew past all of these Iowa roadside attractions at 75 miles per hour.
Central Iowa has a radio station called "Mix 100.3". Denver also has a Mix 100.3 radio station. Does your city have a Mix 100.3?
It is 796 miles from Denver, Colorado to Denver, Iowa.
Plainfield has a football field right next to a graveyard. Did the people of Plainfield take advantage of this wonderful opportunity to name their team the "Gravediggers" or the "Undertakers"? Sadly, no -- Nashua-Plainfield High School's team name is the Huskies.
Campaign sign seen in Mason City: "Please vote Tornquist for City Council". In Iowa, we say "Please" when asking people to vote for us.
In my marathon goodie bag, I received a biodegradable golf tee constructed of corn starch, courtesy of the Iowa Corn Board. Finally -- a solution to the problem of landfills overflowing with golf tees made of wood, which is not bio... never mind.
I also received, from an anonymous party, a package of candy bearing a label reading:
Rainbow Beans
(Chocolate covered soybeans)
Like M & M's but better for you.
Soybeans are healthier than peanuts.
My verdict: Rainbow Beans are like M & M's, except shitty. Kids love Rainbow Beans, according to the the people at Super Soynuts, who are also eager to sell you soybeans flavored with Honey Mustard, Onion & Garlic, Jalapeno & Cheddar, or Butter Toffee.
Well, not all women. I do just fine hugging women with whom I am romantically involved, or women that I have known for a long time. But I get very nervous when I have to hug, say, my poker buddy's fiancee, or a slightly tipsy hostess when I leave a party.
I am, you see, a shy and reticent person. I am reluctant to share my body heat with people who are not dying of hypothermia.
I often execute the hugging maneuver awkwardly because I fail to see it coming, like a quarterback who can't read the coming blitz. For example, I might be wrapping up a strained and not-quite-successful first date... I start to extend my hand... and suddenly I'm tangled in a hugging situation. At that point, it's too late to audible to a handshake or fake a coughing fit.
Also, I never know where to put my right hand while hugging. Left hand falls safely on her left shoulder blade; with this I have no problem. But my right hand can't go on her right shoulder blade, as that area is blocked by my left elbow. The most natural place is below my left elbow, but a bra strap usually lurks in that area, just the thickness of a cocktail dress away, and placing my hand there makes me feel like a pervert trying to cop a feel.
I might mention that I also get jittery when shaking hands with men. I mangle about one handshake attempt in four -- usually I time the shake badly and end up getting my fingertips crushed in the other man's fist, which makes me look like a nancy-boy. When this happens, I lower my voice an octave and initiate a conversation about professional hockey.
Another sure way for a man to look like a nancy-boy is to drop a thrown object. Recently, during a CPR training class, the instructor tossed me a marker. The throw came toward my left side, which was bad because my left arm is a barely functioning appendage, useful mostly for maintaining balance. I successfully made the catch, but to do so I had to twist to the left and clap both hands together on the marker. Men are not supposed to catch things this way. Men are supposed to catch things casually, with either hand but not both, and without undue contortions of the body.
I have lost 17 pounds in the last 20 weeks. Please, hold your applause and prepare to be amazed: I did this without the help of Dr. Phil and his new book The Ultimate Weight Loss Solution: The 7 Keys to Weight Loss Freedom. (Check out the hilarious cover photo featuring Dr. Phil's clenched fist -- apparently Key #1 is "Put down that Twinkie or I'll punch you in the face.")
Right now, you are curious. You are wondering how I lost 17 pounds without threats of violence from a bald self-improvement guru from Texas. You are trembling and slightly sweaty with anticipation. Mostly you are thinking that you could stand to lose 17 pounds yourself, and brother or sister, you are correct. I wasn't going to say anything, but you have really packed it on ever since what's-his-or-her-name dumped you. How would you like to run into him or her on the street, with your butt hanging out like that? Yeah, that's what I thought. Keep reading, then, for the Kilgore Trout Shocking and Revolutionary 2-Step Weight-Loss Plan.
Step 1: I ate less. Notice that "eating less" does not mean "switching immediately from a typical American high-fat-and-sugar diet to half a grapefruit for breakfast and celery sticks for dinner." I don't have that kind of will power, and neither do you, because everyone who has the ability to stick to that sort of regimen is already on it. I just ate less, that's all. I quit keeping ice cream and cookies around my apartment. I switched from regular soda to diet and exchanged potato chips for pretzels. I didn't stop eating fast food -- I went less often and bought smaller meals. I started measuring portions. I quit eating when I was full. I made myself be a little hungry for a hour or so before eating snacks. Nothing too difficult there, right?
Step 2: I exercised. I have expended about 50,000 calories by running over 500 miles in the last 20 weeks. Because a pound of fat contains 3500 calories, my exercise program alone helped me lose about 14 pounds. Five hundred miles sounds like a lot, but really it averages out to running five miles five times a week. Most anyone can work up to doing that, and people who don't like running can do one hour of whatever other vigorous exercise five times a week. You won't lose weight if you don't exercise, because you'll have to slash your diet down too far and you won't be able to stick to it.
Christ, I don't know. It just doesn't seem that hard.
LOCAL MAN ONLY NEEDS PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE TO WIN PLASMA TV
Denver resident actually taking McDonald's Monopoly game seriously
DENVER -- Kilgore Trout, 29, of Denver, has successfully collected North Carolina Avenue and Pacific Avenue, and now only needs Pennsylvania Avenue to complete the greens and win a Samsung Plasma Digital TV, sources reported Monday. The announcement sparked general amazement that someone is actually taking McDonald's Monopoly promotion seriously.
The Monopoly promotion, which runs from October 14 through November 10, allows McDonald's customers to win prizes by collecting game pieces and affixing them to a Monopoly-like "game board". For example, players who collect all three yellow pieces -- Marvin Gardens, Ventnor Avenue, and Atlantic Avenue -- can win a notebook computer.
"Every time I tear the pieces off my Super Size soft drink, I'm just sure it's going to be Pennsylvania Avenue," said Trout. "That plasma TV will look so awesome in my living room." Trout also confirmed that he has Park Place, which would win him $1 million if combined with Broadway, "but I'm not getting too excited about that one. They always flood the contest with Park Places to get you pumped up, and then there's only a few Boardwalks around."
Trout said he usually goes to McDonald's two or three times a week, but since the Monopoly promotion started, he's been going at least six times a week. "Champions find a way to win," he said. "Like sometimes I stop off on the way home to get medium fries off the Dollar Menu just so I can get another game piece."
Playing the game has not been without its challenging moments. Trout has received many duplicate pieces, including "about fifteen fucking Mediterranean Avenues," and has had several pieces fall off due to the poor quality of the adhesive backing. Now, says Trout, he tapes each piece securely in place.
"One of the first pieces I got was one of the railroads," said Trout. "I threw it away, because if you collect all four railroads you win a rafting trip, which sounded kind of lame. But I found out later that you can take cash instead of the rafting trip, and now I have the Short Line, B&O, and Pennsylvania Railroads. Now all I need is the Reading Railroad and I'll win that cash."
"I'm pretty sure it was the Reading Railroad I threw away," added Trout, frowning.
Trout's friends and coworkers have not shared his enthusiasm for the Monopoly promotion.
"He won't shut up about that retarded Monopoly game," said G.Z., a close friend of Trout's who requested anonymity. "He only ever wants to go to McDonald's anymore, and when we go, he's always bugging me: 'Is that Pennsylvania Avenue? Did you get Pennsylvania Avenue? If you got Pennsylvania Avenue, you would give it to me, wouldn't you?' Once I pretended I had Pennsylvania Avenue and then tossed the thing out the window. He went batshit on me."
"I've caught him several times looking at his Monopoly board when he's supposed to be calling our delinquent customers," said Jan Zanios, Trout's supervisor. "If it happens again I'll have to write him up. Plus he's always bugging the other workers about if they got Pittsburgh Avenue, or Red Railroad, or whatever. I think he even sent out a company-wide email."
I've been seeing a commercial lately for an SUV, (the Nissan Pathfinder, I believe), that I can't quite figure out. The ad opens with two guys in faux-outdoorsy plaid clothes, stocking caps, and chin stubble in a wilderness setting. One pseudo-rugged guy dumps a few grains of rice into a pot of boiling water and announces, unhappily, "Well, I guess that's the end of it." In the next scene, one of the guys catches a beetle and drops it into his mouth as the other guy looks on, horrifed. The commercial closes with the two guys in their Nissan Pathfinder driving in a deserted area and encountering a family in their Nissan Pathfinder, complete with snotty little kids watching cartoons in the back seat. One of the kids holds a bag of tortilla chips up to the window as the family drives away.
The message, of course, is that the Nissan Pathfinder is a tough and versatile vehicle, ideal for rugged backwoodsmen and adventurous families alike. But I have a question: how stupid do you have to be to go into the wilderness without sufficient food, especially if you are driving an SUV with enough space to carry several weeks' worth of supplies? Furthermore, if you ran out of food and had an SUV at your disposal, would you start eating bugs, or would you hop in your SUV and drive somewhere to get food?
Attention prospective Nissan Pathfinder buyers: do not buy a Nissan Pathfinder unless you want people to think you are stupid and/or have snotty kids.
I also have some questions about the Bureau of Engraving and Printing's commercials for the new $20 bills. I've seen two of these so far: one featuring a bespectacled guy getting a new twenty from an ATM and becoming so overjoyed at his good fortune that he buys two bouquets of flowers and gives one to a stranger. In the other one, the same bespectacled guy gets a new twenty back as change at a music store, (what did he pay with? Does he carry C-notes around?). He spins the bill on his finger and rolls it across his shoulders like a Harlem Globetrotter, to the delight of the other customers, who, being residents of Commercial Land, applaud his prowess. (Real-world customers would have cursed the bespectacled guy and shoved him out of the way for holding up the line.)
I don't know how many of our tax dollars these ads cost, but they are slick, high-quality productions. Why was this necessary? The goal of a slick, high-quality commercial is normally to convince the viewer to buy something, (Nike shoes), do something, (quit smoking), or think something, (Candidate Smith won't raise taxes). But what, exactly, is the Bureau of Engraving and Printing trying to get us to buy, do, or think? We have to use the new bills whether we like them or not; the only purpose of these ads is to spread basic information: we've changed the twenty. Here's what the new bill looks like. So why not just stick a picture of the new bill on the screen and have an narrator point out its new features?
A word of advice to fellow bloggers: if you want to increase hits to your site, you must post on Cubs goat Steve Bartman, (as I did on 10/15), and Kia/Progressive/Sony pitchgirl-next-door Stacey Scowley (10/10). Traffic exploded on my site after I posted my thoughts on this disparate duo, from people searching these terms on Google and other search sites: Steve Bartman (fifth link on Google!), kill steve bartman, steve bartman pics, sportscenter bartman pretend, steve bartman joke, picture of Steve Bartman catching ball, sportscenter interview with bartman, Progressive commercial blonde girl, stacey scowley pics, and cheryl colburn Progressive customer.
I've also had visitors to my site from people who, for reasons best known and kept to themselves, were searching for:
assholl gay club (first link on the list!)
girls-in-tank-tops safeway club card patent "jason giambi" foreskin (only link found!)
what kind of picture indians use to draw a foreskin? Baby pictures have a Small Dick girl pussy dick pitchers
I never imagained that someone would actually -- see my 9/4 post -- misspell asshole as assholl.
Yesterday I criticized and ridiculed the fifteen worst quarters produced during the first half of the U.S. Mint's 50 State Quarters Program. In doing so, I introduced Kilgore's Four Laws of State Quarter Design:
1. Pick one image and stick with it.
2. Do not show a bunch of crap from your state that no one cares about.
3. Do not include your state's outline.
4. Avoid retarded slogans.
In today's post, I'll continue the quarter reviews, with a twist: all of today's quarters are good, featuring aesthetically pleasing, economical, coherent designs. Notice in particular how all of them follow the First Law precisely.
10. Mississippi. This very nice quarter depicts two magnolias, the state flower of Mississippi. This is an excusable Second Law violation. Magnolias are pretty, you see, and because the flowers take up nearly the entire coin, the designer was able to include details not possible in, say, the South Carolina quarter, on which the state flower was shrunk to the size of a pencil eraser. My only complaint about this quarter is that the magnolia blossoms are hard to distinguish from the magnolia leaves, making the quarter look like a mass of foliage.
9. Kentucky. Those of you who have been paying attention might complain that this design violates the First Law, because it includes several elements: a horse, a fence, a hill and a mansion. But the designer of this quarter actually obeyed the First Law by picking a single scene and including only elements consistent with that scene. (Contrast this with Arkansas' cluttered, incoherent quarter.) Anyway, this is a peaceful, pastoral scene, but it ranks ninth because the plantation setting is a little creepy to this Yankee -- I halfway expect to see a Nigra stablehand grooming the horse and polishing the saddle for the massa's afternoon ride.
8. Virginia. This cool quarter features the three ships that landed at Jamestown in 1607. I like the seagoing design, but it looks weird that the water gets cut off so sharply above the word "Quadricentennial". (Compare Rhode Island for a better nautical composition). I also think there's too much empty space above the ships; the designer could have expanded them upward and included more detail.
7. North Carolina. Remember how Ohio was all, like, bragging and shit about being the "Birthplace of Aviation Pioneers" because Orville Wright was born there? Well, what Ohio doesn't want you to know is that Orville actually made the first flight in North Carolina, an event comemmorated on this quarter as well as on North Carolina's license plates. I like this design because of the way the wings of the 1903 Flyer spread dramatically across the widest part of the coin from edge to edge. According to the accompanying text, "some alternate design concepts suggested were the 1903 Flyer superimposed over an outline of the state" and "the Hatteras Lighthouse superimposed over an outline of the state" (emphasis mine). In other words, North Carolinians were sorely tempted to disregard Kilgore's Third Law of State Quarter Design! But Governor James B. Hunt bravely stood in the gap for all that is decent and Christian, choosing the "First Flight" design sans state outline. Bravo, Governor James B. Hunt!
6. Alabama. Who'd a' thunk Alabama would produce a sensitive, inspiring quarter honoring the struggles of disabled people? This design features a seated Helen Keller reading a Braille book, (and, in a regrettable but minor violation of the First Law, a pine branch and magnolias on either side like garnishes on a dinner plate). The coin also includes Helen Keller's name in both English and Braille, although, in an unintentionally hilarious twist, the Braille is way too small for an actual blind person to read, rendering it meaningless except as decoration for sighted people. Still a very nice effort, Alabama.
5. Rhode Island. Not much to say here, except to admire this really nifty sailing scene on Narragansett Bay. The accompanying text at the Mint website explains that sailing is "Rhode Island's most popular sport". Really? So if I went to a sports bar in Providence, they would be watching yacht races instead of the Patriots or Red Sox? According to the Census Bureau, Rhode Island's median household income in 2001 was $45,723. This is not much more than I make, and I'm having trouble keeping myself in running shoes, let alone maintaining a sailing hobby.
4. Connecticut. This beautiful quarter features the Charter Oak, which is technically an infraction of the Second Law. But Connecticut's designer made it work by including nothing but the Charter Oak, expanding the image to fill the available space. This allowed for a startling level of detail that would have done wonders for, say, Massachusetts' and New York's quarters.
3. Vermont. This quarter shows a charming winter scene of a man collecting sap from barren maple trees against a mountain backdrop. Simple, economical, moving, and effective. No complaints.
2. New Jersey. New Jersey is the only state so far to adapt an existing painting for its quarter: Washington Crossing the Delaware by Emmanuel Leutze. This surprises me; why bother dreaming up your own design when a famous, well-executed image already exists? The designer should have eliminated the dopey slogan "Crossroads of the Revolution" -- Fourth Law violation! -- and expanded the image, but this is still a great quarter.
1. Maine. This sublime quarter features a lovely scene of a clifftop lighthouse overlooking a schooner at sea. Notice how the designer created an effective compostion through creative use of empty space: the design might seem unbalanced -- its elements are off-center and much of the coin is blank -- but, like Whistler's mother stares across empty space in this famous painting, the lighthouse overlooks over the water and balances the compositon with grace and purpose. The design could have been even better if the citizens of Maine had had the courage to leave the blank space blank, instead of filling it with unnecessary light rays. We all know what a lighthouse does, fellas.
If your state hasn't issued its quarter yet, and you're curious about prospective designs, call in sick and head to Quarter Designs. I was relieved to see that Iowa, the state where I grew up, had resisted the temptation to go with some sort of pussy-ass compromise city/country design, (see Illinois for lame example), opting instead to adapt Grant Wood's painting Arbor Day. I would have preferred American Gothic, but three cheers for Iowa anyway, except for the Fourth Law-busting slogan "Foundation in Education".
Note to my sister in Florida and Eric P in Wisconsin: here's looking forward to dissing on your states' shitty quarters in 2004!
Any day now, the new Arkansas quarter will start showing up in your pocket change. Now that we're halfway through the U.S. Mint's 50 State Quarters Program, I thought it would be nifty to rank the quarters by economy and effectiveness of design and post that ranking with cheeky reviews of each coin. You probably think that any person who spends time doing such a thing also sorts his paper currency by denomination with all of the portraits right side up and facing forward and generally leads a dreary existence devoid of joy or hope or even occasional coitus. You, sir, are correct.
Today's post will review the fifteen worst state quarters, listed from worst to most mediocre. Tomorrow's post will review the ten best quarters. (I can't post images on this blog, so if you want to look at the quarters yourself, you're just going to have to click on the links, you lazy piece of shit.)
25. Louisiana. This awful quarter violates Kilgore's First Law of State Quarter Design: Pick one image and stick with it. The reverse side of a quarter measures less than eight-tenths of a square inch in area. The Louisiana coin designers split that tiny area up among three images: an outline of the United States with the Louisiana Purchase colored in, (easily the dumbest graphic on any of the state quarters so far); a pelican; and a trumpet. Why? Why not show, say, a jazz musician playing the trumpet and zoom in on him, allowing for greater size, detail, and coherence? As it stands, Louisiana takes the prize for Worst State Quarter Released So Far.
24. Arkansas. This coin's cluttered composition includes a diamond, rice stalks, and a mallard flying over a lake, breaking both Kilgore's First Law of State Quarter Design and Kilgore's Second Law of State Quarter Design: Do not show a bunch of crap from your state that nobody cares about. The rice stalks, for example, symbolize Arkansas' rice industry. Who cares? Rice stalks are boring.
23. Illinois. This ugly quarter violates the First Law by showing Abraham Lincoln plus a Chicago skyline and a farm scene -- a wishy-washy compromise. Why not just show a closeup of Honest Abe? Illinois' coin also breaks Kilgore's Third Law of State Quarter Design: Do not include your state's outline. Eight of the first twenty-five state quarters have included their state's outlines, as though this was some sort of Mint-sponsored geography lesson. Hilariously, Abe's figure is cut off by the edges of the state outline, making it appear as though he's trying to escape. This quarter also includes the cryptic slogan "21st State/Century". (Illinois was the 21st state admitted to the Union, see, and this is the 21st century... get it?) This is an obvious infraction of Kilgore's Fourth Law of State Quarter Design: Avoid retarded slogans.
22. Missouri. This design breaks the First Law by showing both the Lewis & Clark expedition and the Gateway Arch. In a hilarious twist, Lewis and Clark, who explored from 1804 to 1806, appear to be rowing toward the Gateway Arch, which wasn't built until 1965.
21. Ohio. This quarter achieves the seemingly impossible Grand Slam of Bad State Quarter Design by violating all four Laws: the First (shows both an early aircraft and an astronaut), the Fourth ("Birthplace of Aviation Pioneers" -- Orville Wright, Neil Armstrong, and John Glenn were born in Ohio), the Second (who cares where they were born? They all went on achieve their aviation breakthroughs elsewhere), and the Third (so that's what Ohio looks like!).
20. South Carolina. Just another messy coin with the state bird, state tree, state flower, and state outline, breaking the First, Second, and Third Laws. Ho-hum.
19. Maryland. The only element on this very boring quarter is the Maryland Statehouse, which "features the country's largest wooden dome built without nails." WHO CARES? Attention Maryland: Your entire state gets two minutes in the penalty box for violation of the Second Law.
18. Indiana. These guys chose to put an open-wheeled race car on their quarter, which was a good choice. But why shrink it down and superimpose it over an outline of Indiana -- I know what Indiana looks like -- and a ring of nineteen stars? Why not just do a closeup of the race car?
17. New Hampshire. In a positive development, New Hampshire obeyed the First Law and chose a single image for their quarter. Unfortunately, in a clear infraction of the Second Law, they chose something called The Old Man of the Mountain, a mass of rock that, when viewed from a certain angle, appears to be a mass of rock. Thanks for playing, guys.
16. Georgia. Have you ever wondered what the state tree of Georgia is? Would you like to try impressing women in bars by reciting the state motto of Georgia? Are you a moron who always thought Georgia was square, like Wyoming? Do you like to look at peaches? No, no, no, and no? Um, never mind, then.
15. Pennsylvania. Depiction of very cool statue "Commonwealth": Good, very good. Shrinking down of statue to show keystone logo (Second Law violation) and outline of state (Third Law violation): Bad, very bad. Bad! Bad state! No treat!
14. Delaware. The strongest praise I can give this extremely mediocre design is that it is not quite as boring as Maryland's. It does, however, violate the Second Law by depicting a man on horseback named Caesar Rodney. A recent poll found that three out of four Delaware residents believe Caesar Rodney to be "a gay porn star". (The fourth Delaware resident thinks that he is "a kind of salad dressing".)
13. Tennessee. This is not a bad composition, although a little busy, including a trumpet, a fiddle, a guitar, and a musical score. This appears to be a violation of the First Law, but it is not, because all of the elements contribute to a common theme, (helpfully spelled out by a banner reading "Musical Heritage"). A closeup of a person actually playing one of these instruments would have been a nice improvement, though.
11. (tie) Massachusetts and New York. Two quarters that could have been great, had they not shrunk their excellent subject choices -- the Statue of Liberty and the Minuteman statue -- and superimposed them over their respective state outlines. Why did anyone ever think this was a good idea? Should Leonardo have reduced the size of the Mona Lisa's face and superimposed it over an outline of Italy?
Okay, so The Fan Who Kept Moises Alou From Catching The Foul Ball -- identified by the Chicago Sun-Times as Steve Bartman, 26, a youth baseball coach and lifelong Cubs fan -- should have kept his hands to himself. That's what you would have done, right, Mr. Cubs Fan? You would have sat there with your legs crossed at the knee and hands folded neatly in your lap while Alou made the catch. Then you would have applauded politely, taken a sip of your White Zinfandel, and gone back to crocheting your doily, right? Right?
Bullshit. You are a baseball fan, and when that foul ball came your way, you would have done what all baseball fans do in that situation, which is to go into Foul Ball-Induced Psychosis and do anything possible to get that ball so you can show it to the guys and maybe get on SportsCenter. If necessary, you would have jumped the railing and kneed Moises Alou in the groin to get that ball. This is no joke. I have seen replays of baseball fans falling over upper-deck railings trying to get a souvenir baseball.
Having a foul ball come your way with your favorite team fielding in the top of the eighth inning of Game 6 of the National League Championship Series is one of those things that nobody ever thinks will happen to them, and nobody ever prepares for, and when it happens, it happens too fast to think and consider the right move. I would have done the same thing that Steve Bartman did, and you would have too, and then it would have been me or you getting beer dumped on our heads and having people threatening to kill us. (I'm not sure what a man would have to do in order to make me want to throw beer at him and threaten him with injury, but I'm reasonably sure it would have to be worse than marginally influencing a baseball game that means nothing, ultimately.)
Consider this:
The game situation before the foul ball was: Cubs up 3-0, Marlins batting in the top of the eighth, man on second, one out, 2-2 count.
The game situation after the foul ball was: Cubs up 3-0, Marlins batting in the top of the eighth, man on second, one out, 2-2 count.
After that: walk, single, error, double, IBB, sac fly, IBB, double, and single. Eight runs score. Not exactly what one expects of the rightful owners of the National League pennant.
Real champions don't fall to pieces because some guy in headphones sticks his hands in the wrong place. Michael Jordan wouldn't have crumbled like that. Neither would Joe Montana. And neither will the cursed Yankees, should the Cubs meet them next week.
Come on, guys. Convince me that you belong in the World Series.
When the beaver launches into its Razor Tail of Death move, push right, right, then hold the left button down while pressing triangle, triangle, circle, square. This will unleash your Anti-Rodent Flaming Foot defense, which causes at least 17% damage. (If you win the fight with this move, you get to see a secret Mortality screen where your flaming foot barbecues the beaver and you and your friends eat him with fava beans and a nice chianti.)
Taunt the beaver by reminding him that Rush Limbaugh is a drug addict. (Most beavers are conservative Republicans.) The beaver will retreat to its lodge to sulk and pop a Vicodin.
Slowly stroke the beaver until it becomes moist and engorged with blood. Gently insert one or two fingers... oh, sorry.
When choosing a weapon, remember that a beaver gains a +3 bonus to its armor class when defending attacks from wooden weapons. Also, if you plan to use a gun, be sure to load it with silver bullets in case you are facing a werebeaver.
If the beaver leaps fifteen feet into the air, twisting in the air while flinging shimmering water globules from its tail in slow motion, you are in a Matrix sequel. Call your agent and ask if she got you a percentage of the gross.
If the beaver is showing blitz, call an audible to Double-Z Minnesota Right. Take the snap and hit the open tight end before the pass rush can penetrate the line.
Pretend that you are a county building inspector and ask to inspect the beaver's lodge for code violations. The beaver will make excuses to get away, because beavers are corner-cutters and never install the proper number of smoke detectors or handicapped parking spaces.
Engage the beaver in a debate about the designated hitter rule. After a year or so of fruitless argument, the beaver's teeth, (which grow continuously), will get so long that it will be unable to fight, and you can dispatch him at your leisure.
If the beaver opens with 1. P-K4, do not respond with 1. P-K4 P-QB4. Beavers are well-versed in the intricate Sicilian Defense and will use their early control of the center to retard your development and crush your kingside in the middle game.
Which ethnic holiday is more fun -- St. Patrick's Day or Columbus Day?
It's no contest. One associates St. Patty's Day with green beer, public drunkenness, fun parades, green plastic hats, calling out "Begorrah!" and "The luck o' the Irish be with ye!", corned beef and cabbage, leprechauns, and twofer specials on Guinness. Whereas Columbus Day conjures up images of empty mailboxes, dreary parades marred by Indian protesters correctly pointing out that Columbus "discovered" America in the same sense that pickpockets "discover" your wallet, and Italian-Americans responding that they too number among the downtrodden because The Sopranos portrays them all as mobsters.
I can't figure out the Italian-American determination to become a certified oppressed group. Yes, Italians were victims of discrimination in the first half of the twentieth century. Yes, Italians are disproportionately portrayed on TV and in movies as gangsters and greaseballs. Who cares? Are Italian-Americans today being denied employment, credit, or housing? Does anybody seriously believe that the average Italian-American is involved with organized crime?
Italian-Americans would do well to imitate Irish-Americans, who have faced terrific oppression in this country as well as their own, and are disproportionately portrayed by the entertainment industry as violent drunkards. But the Irish have sensibly concluded that because the "No Irish Need Apply" signs have come down, and because nobody is getting turned down for a mortgage because his name is O'Malley, they might as well poke a little fun at themselves. Ask an Irish-American if he wants another beer, and he'll call out cheerfully, "Of course I want another beer! I'm Irish!"
Columbus Day isn't about Christopher Columbus any more than St. Patrick's Day is about St. Patrick. Think of the revelry that could be had if we changed the name of Columbus Day to Italy Day or whatever. People would call each other "paisano", wear fake handlebar mustaches, and gorge themselves on calzones and lasagne and Lambrusco Grasparossa di Castelvetro wine. People would actually attend the parades. Local theaters would run De Niro and Pacino and Fellini movies all day. We would have two fun holidays in October.
Come on, Italian-Americans. Do I have to make you an offer you can't refuse?
A year or so ago, I started seeing a nifty little commercial for the Kia Spectra. You saw it, too: a young woman drives around in her Spectra with a succession of loser boyfriends while a silly pop chorus, ("With my boyfriend, my laughing boyfriend"), bounces in the background. Message: the Kia Spectra, with its 10-year/100,000-mile warranty, is more reliable than any man! (In a future Spectra ad, Kia plans to reveal that Terre Haute, Indiana, is located at a higher elevation than Death Valley.)
This commercial quickly became one of my favorites, the kind you come out of the bathroom to watch if it comes on while you're brushing your teeth. This was entirely due to the aesthetic merits of the actress, a button-nosed blonde cutie with a face screaming girl next door and I would be happy to serve as a cheerleader in your next mastubation fantasy.
The commercial disappeared after a while, of course. A few months later, I saw the same actress in a Sony Vaio commercial, playing a waitress in a coffee shop who stares over a customer's shoulder, entranced by his notebook computer. At about the same time, she appeared in a car insurance commercial, again as a waitress, or more specifically as "Cheryl Colburn, Progressive Customer." I loved these commercials, because the button-nosed blonde was in both of them. Did I mention that she is cute? Yes. She is not hot per se, but to me she is hotter than a thousand supermodels because she looks real. She looks like the kind of cute girl who might actually work at the coffee shop, or at your company in Human Resources, or might run a few miles around the park on Saturday afternoons.
I got to thinking about the blonde cutie today, because... well, because I am a lonely man with a dreary job, and thinking about cute blondes with button noses helps pass the time until it's time to go get my oil changed again. Anyway, I typed "sony vaio" progressive commercial into a search engine and soon found that I hadn't been the only guy watching Kia Spectra, Sony Vaio, and Progressive Insurance commercials with a toothbrushe sticking from my mouth and Crest foam trickling down my chin.
Her name is Stacey Scowley, and she's got fans. Check out the message board at the bottom of her IMDB profile. (Lester_Murphy dared to claim that "SHE IS NOT HOT" and got ripped to shreds.) Look at the comments posted to this blog, where Bj confesses that he "would give anything to meet her." She has an official website, where you can download the Kia commercial and a Bud Light commercial in which she appeared. (I signed up to receive e-mail updates of her activities.) Somebody started an unofficial fansite, and there's an interview with her at Movie Poop Shoot. Want pics? Go here to see photos from Hell Asylum, a sub-B horror movie in which she appeared. (Her only other movie credit: Brotherhood 2: The Young Warlocks.)
It's pretty weird when you think you're the only person who's noticed an obscure actress appearing in a few forgettable commercials, only to find that said obscure actress already has a tiny, festering cult of drooling admirers. It's even weirder to realize that you are one of those drooling admirers.
Today, as so often happens on autumn afternoons, when the air grows crisp and the earth shows signs of settling down for its long winter slumber, I spent time thinking about my high school gym teacher. Mr. Eggleston was the kind of man one finds impossible to imagine as anything other than a physical education teacher and high school football coach. He had a thick, muscular body; a puffy gut; and I rarely saw him wear anything except tight shorts, sneakers, and short-sleeved T-shirts with a whistle around his neck. He sported a haircut that screamed HIT THAT SUCKER! YOU GOTTA HIT THAT SUCKER WHEN HE COMES OVER THE MIDDLE!
Mr. Eggleston loved young boys. He loved teaching them proper bench press technique and how to penetrate the line and stuff the run. He loved molding and improving young boys through hard work and sweat and torn anterior cruciate ligaments. His natural habitat was the Mason City High School weight room, where he could supervise dozens of young boys pressing, curling, and squatting hundreds of pounds while hard rock music blasted from the stereo. He cared only about effort and improvement. A guy lifting 90 pounds for the first time would get an enthusiastic clap on the back, while a stronger guy lifting 290 pounds -- but dogging it -- would get an earful of abuse.
One day, after gym class, Mr. Eggleston took an interest in a junior named Chris Wistrick. Chris was a gangly redhead, one of those kids who was not quite a geek but not quite a jock either.
"Do you work out, Wistrick?" Mr. Eggleston's asked. He peered up at Chris through wire-rim glasses with thick lenses.
"Uh, no," Chris shrugged and shifted uncomfortably, the way you do when you are seventeen and a man twice your age and size is surveying your body with eyes agleam.
Mr. Eggleston was appalled. Wistrick didn't work out? Why not? Had he ever tried lifting weights? Did he like the results? Well, possibly he hadn't been training properly. Was he out for any sports? Tennis? Anything else, like football or wrestling? Hm.
"We gotta get you up in the weight room," Mr. Eggleston decided. His eyes crawled over Chris's chest and legs and arms. "I hate to see a great body like that go to waste."
On Monday I went to see Lost in Translation, a really decent film starring Bill Murray, who plays an actor drowning in depression, loneliness, and angst over his washed-up career and his growing distance from his wife and children.
The entire movie is set in Tokyo, where Murray's character is getting paid $2 million to appear in a whiskey ad. Think about that. What if somebody called you tomorrow and said they wanted to fly you to Tokyo for a couple of weeks and pay you $2 million to have your picture taken holding a glass of liquor? Would you be happy or unhappy?
Allow me to answer: you would be happy. You would be ecstatic, actually, and you would call everyone you knew to tell them the good news and brag a little. And when you went to Tokyo, you would go out and gawk at the tall buildings and the flashing lights. You would eat exotic food and order the most expensive wine on the list. You would buy things you had always wanted but were not able to purchase before. You would behave, generally, like the unbelievably fortunate bastard that you would be.
Murray's character does none of these things. He either sulks in his hotel room or sits slumped in the hotel bar, numbing his pain with whiskey. Why?
The answer (I think): People are not happy because of where they are, but because they think their lives are improving. Think about how happy you were the last time you got a raise, and how you daydreamed about what you would do with the extra money. Did that happiness last, or did you slowly become accustomed to the extra money and start looking forward to your next raise?
Consider that the average American today lives in luxury incomprehensible to the average American two centuries ago. We live longer, and in considerably greater comfort. We can travel anywhere in the country in a day. We have more food than we can eat. We have vaccines and antibiotics and anesthesia. We have nearly unlimited entertainment possibilities and access to information. We can communicate at the speed of light. We are the most unbelievably fortunate bunch of bastards in the history of the planet, but are we happier than ever? We are not.
Based on this realization, here are three suggestions for a happy life:
1. Live your life in hypercompetitive pursuit of academic achievement, career advancement, status, power, and material wealth. You will be happy because you will believe yourself to be moving forward, piling up the tall dollars, and staying one step ahead of the Joneses. Unfortunately, you will die at age 38 from a massive heart attack.
2. Renounce the whole racket and become a drifter, doing odd jobs occasionally and living your life in an irresponsible haze of illicit drug use and kinky sex. You will be happy because, well, drugs and sex are fun, and work isn't. Everyone else will despise and ridicule you, but you won't care because you will secretly know that you are one of the wisest people on the planet. Unfortunately, you will die at age 38 from a massive drug overdose.
3. Become a religious fanatic. You will be happy because you will come to believe that every pointless thing you do, (such as praying), or avoid doing, (such as jerking off), actually has enormous cosmic consequences. Unfortunately, you will die at age 38 from a massive state-administered drug overdose for killing an abortion doctor.
What I learned from watching baseball's Division Series...
Game 1 is the key game, especially in a short series of five games. Did you know that 21 of the 32 Division Series contested since 1995 have been won by the team that won the first game?* That underscores the importance of setting the tone for the series by jumping out in front of your opponent and getting momentum on your side.
The importance of winning Game 2 cannot be underestimated, especially in a short series. If you lost the first game, it is crucial not to go down 2-0 and put yourself in a position to have to win three straight, in particular if you opened the series at home. If you won the first game, winning Game 2 really establishes momentum and puts you in the driver's seat to win the series early.
Game 3 is always a critical game, especially in a short series. If you're down 2-0, of course, Game 3 is a must-win game to stave off elimination. If you're up 2-0, you need to pound the nail in the coffin so you can finish the series early and put your pitching rotation in order. If the series is tied 1-1, then Game 3 is the turning point -- whoever wins seizes the momentum and forces the other team to the brink of elimination.
Game 4? One word: vital, especially in a short series where one team must be on the verge of elimination. If you have the upper hand, it's time to finish off your opponent and give your pitching staff that all-important extra day of rest. If you're down 2-1, winning Game 4 not only keeps you alive, but it puts the momentum back in your clubhouse for the final game.
In a short series, Game 5 is, of course, the decisive contest. Winner moves on, loser goes home. Game 5 is for all the marbles, so forget about momentum, forget about regular-season records, and forget about your pitcher taking the mound on three days' rest. This is October baseball, when leaders emerge and champions prove their mettle.
*BONUS PROBABILITY FEATURE!
During last Saturday's A's-Red Sox game, the announcers put a graphic on the screen showing that, up to that point, teams that won Game 1 of a five-game Division Series had won that series 21 of 32 times. This statistic floored the announcers, who discussed it with reverence and awe, and seemed to agree that to win Game 1 confers powerful psychological advantages on the victorious team, as well as giving them precious momentum. (Momentum is a magic substance secreted by faeries when a team wins a game. Smart teams keep their momentum in an enchanted box, crafted by the elves of Mfriggrynddor, to be used at a critical juncture later in the series. Strangely, when a team loses a game, all of its momentum disappears.)
Anyway, should we be surprised that the team that wins the first game has won 21 of 32 Division Series? (Let's try to forget for a moment that this year's Game 1 winners lost 3 of 4 Division Series.) Let's suppose that Team A is playing Team B, and Team A wins Game 1. Let's further suppose that Team A and Team B are evenly matched; that is, that the probability is 50% that Team A will beat Team B, (or vice versa), in any given game. There are only a few ways the series can unfold.
Team A wins series: AAA (probability = 50% x 50% = 25%)
ABAA (probability = 50% x 50% x 50% = 12.5%)
AABA (probability = 50% x 50% x 50% = 12.5%)
ABBAA (probability = 50% x 50% x 50% x 50% = 6.25%)
ABABA (probability = 50% x 50% x 50% x 50% = 6.25%)
AABBA (probability = 50% x 50% x 50% x 50% = 6.25%)
Total probability that Team A wins series: 68.75% =============================================
Team B wins series: ABBB (probability = 50% x 50% x 50% = 12.5%)
AABBB (probability = 50% x 50% x 50% x 50% = 6.25%)
ABABB (probability = 50% x 50% x 50% x 50% = 6.25%)
ABBAB (probability = 50% x 50% x 50% x 50% = 6.25%)
Total probability that Team B wins series: 31.25%
Out of 32 Division Series, then, we would expect that the team winning the first game would win 22 ( 32 x 68.75% ) of those series. Game 1 winners have thus done worse historically than we should expect, especially when we consider that the team that wins the first game is probably the better team. This means that it should stand a better-than-50% chance of winning any given game, which would skew its expected winning percentage upward.
People who walk right toward you in twos or threes on the sidewalk, sometimes walking a dog, and they obviously see you, but they refuse to move aside. What's wrong with you people? Or did you purchase the entire sidewalk while I wasn't looking?
People who affix Confederate flags to their extended-cab pickup trucks and yell stale insults at people, (that is, me), who are just out for a pleasant run. I can understand wanting to ridicule a skinny man prancing about in a halter top and hot pants, but can you please come up with something clever and original? "Nice legs!" and "Run, Forrest, run!" just aren't going to cut it anymore.
Those Jaguar commercials where the guy with the snotty British accent pronounces it "Jag-u-ahhhhh". Why are Americans such suckers for British accents? Having a British accent doesn't make you smart. It just means that you grew up in England. And why did Captain Jean-Luc Picard on "Star Trek: The Next Generation" have a British accent? Wasn't he supposed to be French?
Speaking of Jaguars: any commercial in which a man gets ridiculed for not buying his wife a ridiculously expensive gift. These commercials tend to run during the Christmas season, which means they should be starting up next week or so. I remember one commercial from last year in which a man and his wife are driving around their upper-middle-class neighborhood, looking at all the men who bought their wives Jaguars for Christmas, as denoted by huge bows on the Jaguars' roofs. The wife shoots a smoldering dirty look at her husband, who sheepishly turns aside and stares at the floor. Now: I have never hit a woman in my life, but any woman who gives me a dirty look for failing to buy her a Jaguar is going to get a fist in the face. No jury would convict me.
Here's another one: a Jared jewelry store commercial in which a woman looks at her husband as though he was covered in donkey semen and jeers at him in front of other people for not buying her jewelry from Jared. (The context of the commercial makes it clear that the man had bought her jewelry, just not from the right particular goddam store.) BAM!!!!
People who form plural's with apostrophe's.
This itching, burning rash and nasty yellow discharge.
My poker buddy Saul of Tarsus, who bought speakers from one of those guys who drive around in vans. Sorry, Saul, but you encouraged them, and now they'll never go away.
Matrix rip-offs featuring actors on wires leaping 22 feet in the air while fighting thirty guys at once, accompanied by a thumping techno soundtrack. I am done with this.
I am also done with bullets traveling in slow motion and cameras that whirl around while the action freezes. Next idea, please.
Comes now the beautiful and enchanting Trillian, who claims to be simultaneously a Cubs and Tigers fan, which is sort of like simultaneously being an OutKast and Vanilla Ice fan. She has publicly vowed to drink an entire case of Old Style beer should the Cubs win the World Series. Go Cubs!
Trillian also admits to sharing my phobia of beer commercials (see my September 25 post). She writes:
"Beer commercials frighten me more than a clown, mime and harlequin convention. Scarier still are the current Captain Morgan billboards. Is it rum or a Fellini movie?"
I haven't seen the Captain Morgan billboards, Trillian. But I see exactly what you mean if they're anything like the Captain Morgan website. (Make sure to swirl your pointer around in the black space to the left of the pulsing door to get the full Felliniesque effect.) Bikini-clad hotties! Muscular, bare-chested guys sporting successfully styled hair! Throbbing strobe lights and gyrating clubgoers, all of whom have had sex since January! Heaping helpings of attitude and raw sex appeal! Drawn-on mustaches! Viewing this site had me cowering and whimpering under my desk for most of the morning.
Belated congratulations to the Detroit Tigers, who closed the baseball season with a heroic 5-1 run, finishing with a 43-119 record to avoid matching the record for most losses in a season set by the 1962 Mets, who went 40-120.
I emailed Mike Solomon, a known Tigers fan now living in Chicago, back on September 25, (when Detroit had 118 losses), to find out if he was rooting for the Tigers to break the record. I theorized that even though nobody wants their team to be lousy, as long as they are lousy anyway, wouldn't you want them to be historically lousy? At least the Tigers were playing for something at the end of the season and getting features on SportsCenter, which is more than I can say for my kinda-sorta lousy Colorado Rockies.
Anyway, here's Mike's reply:
Being a lifelong Tigers fan, I can honestly say I would want nothing more than for them to take the record from the Mets. And just in speaking with family and friends, I don't think anyone from the D would disagree with me. In Detroit, we embrace anything that brings attention to our worndown city, be it good or bad.
For example, I can't tell you how many people had "Murder Capital of the World" t-shirts and cursed the Big 3 when I was a kid, when in fact, those were only reasons our Dads had jobs and Detroit was known for anything at all in the 80s.
Hey, like they always say, there's no such thing as bad press. And there is no doubt in my mind the Tigers will take one for team, or the city, for that matter, on this one.
Spoken like a real fan, Mike. And remember, the Amazin' 1969 Mets won the World Series. Tigers in 2010!
+posted by Lawrence @ 10/03/2003 11:01:00 AM
If you have a strong stomach and a desire to learn about the Dark Side of baseball thinking, you should read Jayson Stark's loathsome article about Alex Rodriguez's Most Valuable Player candidacy.
Stark concedes that A-Rod "may have the prettiest overall numbers in the American League," but argues that he isn't the MVP because he failed to carry the Rangers and their awful pitching staff to the playoffs, or at least to a winning record. (My research indicates that, during the 2003 season, A-Rod also failed to walk on water and redeem the sins of the world by rising from the grave after three days.) This is nothing new. I already covered this objection in my September 3 post, and I won't bother with it further, except to quote Salon's King Kaufman: "Rodriguez has the same value on a last-place team as he'd have on a first-place team in the same way that a $100 bill has the same value in my pocket that it does in Bill Gates'."
But Stark adds a new wrinkle:
OK, suppose we accept the argument that it is possible to have value on a non-contending team. Obviously, Andre Dawson, Ernie Banks and Cal Ripken all won MVP awards. So it must be possible, at least in some years.
But if you're going to be "valuable" on a last-place team, then you'd better be really, really, really valuable. You'd better be start-to-finish valuable. You'd better be able to demonstrate that, as your team fell apart all around you, you were the guy towing the boat with the rope in your mouth.
Well, unfortunately for A-Rod, we can't say that about him -- not this year.
Stark goes on to complain that from May 30 through June 23, A-Rod went 2-for-23 with runners in scoring position while the Rangers went from nearly .500 (27-29) to way, way under, losing 20 of 22 games. He had only one home run and two RBI during the first 16 games of that stretch. His league ranking in home runs, RBI, and slugging percentage slumped during the months of May, June, and July, when his team needed him most. "So as the ship sank, he sank with it," Stark concludes.
Kilgore's Third Law of Bad MVP Selection states: Beware of sportswriters bearing highly situational stats. There was a lot of this going on last year, when various writers and bobbleheads scrambled to justify Miguel Tejada's MVP award by pointing out that he went 12-for-15 with runners on first and third against Dominican left-handers in May and August, or whatever. All players' performances rise and fall over a long season, and it's easy to distort a player's production by highlighting his slumps and ignoring his hot streaks, or vice versa. (For example: Stark conveniently forgets that A-Rod batted .355 with 9 home runs and an 1117 OPS in April, when his team needed him at least as much as they needed him in May, June, or July.)
Apart from the obvious idiocy of boiling a 162-game season down to 22 games and 23 at-bats, Stark is wrong when he argues that A-Rod played badly during May, June, and July. A-Rod posted an 867 OPS for those three months, and from May 30 through June 23, while the Rangers crashed, he had an 861 OPS while batting .296. These are not the brilliant numbers that A-Rod put up the rest of the year, but they are still very good. If A-Rod had performed as horribly all season as he did from May 30 through June 23, he would have ranked second in OPS -- barely behind Nomar Garciaparra at 870 -- among American League shortstops.
The Rangers' season-crushing 2-20 slump had nothing to do with A-Rod and everything to do with the worst pitching staff in the major leagues, which allowed 150 runs (6.8 runs per game) during that stretch. But let's say that A-Rod had performed a little better and gone 12-for-23 with runners in scoring position, instead of 2-for-23. What difference would it have made? The Rangers might have won one extra game, maybe two. They would had a 4-18 slump and Jayson Stark would be writing that A-Rod couldn't be the MVP because he only hit .190 in Wednesday and Saturday away games on artificial turf after the All-Star break.
I work for a company that installs logistics systems in hospitals. When these hospitals pay their bills, I handle the payments. This means that I occasionally handle U.S. Treasury checks, because we do some work in military hospitals.
I handled one such payment yesterday. Printed on the check stub was this notice:
IN THE EVENT OF OVERPAYMENT, REMIT TO:
DEFENSE FINANCE AND ACCOUNTING SERVICE -- CLEVELAND CENTER
POST OFFICE BOX 998014
CLEVELAND, OHIO 44199
I handle hundreds of payments every week, and I never see this or any similar notice except on U.S. Treasury checks. I've loosely interpreted the notice to mean:
HERE'S SOME MONEY WE OWE YOU
IT'S PROBABLY THE RIGHT AMOUNT
BUT WE SCREW UP A LOT
SO IF WE SENT YOU TOO MANY TAXPAYER DOLLARS
WOULD YOU PLEASE CATCH OUR ERROR FOR US
AND TAKE SOME TIME AWAY FROM YOUR
SILLY PRIVATE-SECTOR JOB AND SEND IT BACK TO US?
THANKS BUNCHES!
THE GOVERNMENT
+posted by Lawrence @ 10/01/2003 03:45:00 PM
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