Many a moon ago, my brother was with Giorgio Armani's Canadian operations. He was at the time, probably the best window-dresser for the chain, amongst the various things he did for Armani. As a counterpoint, I wear schlumpy jeans, sneakers, white socks, a T-Shirt and a dilapadated ball cap almost all of the time. Different worlds.
Well, Rick gave me an Armani T-Shirt. A $120 T-Shirt. My T-Shirts, at the time, probably were worth five bucks apiece, on average. This was basically a month's worth of clothing in one small birthday present box.
And by gawd, the shirt was worth every penny. It was big, roomy and weighed a little less than air. It became my favourite bridge tournament shirt for big events because it was literally like wearing nothing at all, but yet being able to claim I was dressed in Armani for the event. Perfect. I still have it and I trot it out on nights where I can't be fidgeting with my clothes.
Which brings me to what triggered the memory today. Whilst out shopping, I ended up stopping in two grocery stores, since the first didn't have the lactose-free milk I drink. (Great invention, lactose-free milk. Weeks-long shelf-life and doesn't trigger the milk allergy I developed late in life).
At any rate, I got some Fuji Apples at the first store, buying organic ones for $2.59 a pound. I bought eight. Earlier this month, I had bought them at a third grocer for $1.49 a pound. That was a 20 cent premium per pound over the other apples for sale there, but I thought it was worth it.
After finding the milk missing, I had to stop at the local grocer, which occupied the far end of the mall from the drug store where I was picking up my pills. They had Fuji's on for 59 CENTS a pound!!! "How could that be?" I asked the Oriental chap who owns the place. "We got a deal," he said.
So, I bought four. My disbelief wouldn't let me buy more.
Snack time tonight and I first tried one of the organic beauties. Rapture. The taste was otherworldly. You simply MUST avail yourself of these heavenly treats. Then I tried a cut-rate Fuji from the nearby grocer. I imagine there must be some boxed wine-Lafitte Rothschild comparison you'd understand here. But there is one even better evaluative statement.
You get what you paid for.
Monday, January 28, 2008
LIFE: The New Teller
I actually like my bank. But no bank is perfect.
Left the cave today due to a need to fill some prescriptions, collect some cheques and deposit said cheques into my account to pay some forthcoming bills. I wondered into the bank mid to late afternoon to see a moderately-sized line and only one familiar teller doing business. Unfortunately, the vagaries of chance denied me the familiar, as one of the newbies further on down the row beckoned me over.
I had two cheques totaling a few thousand dollars. I wanted to deposit most of the money, keeping out a few hundred for February operating expenses. I was headed from the bank to pay my communications bills, pick up the medicine I needed and to restock the larder. "I want to deposit all of this but for XXXX dollars."
Like all nice new tellers, she then took forever to process this complicated request. I had to even tell her that I needed to sign the cheques since I would be receiving money back from them. She smiled, probably thanking whoever she thanks, that she had a nice patient customer who actually knew more about her job than she did. I watched her poke at the keyboard. At one point, she took the cheques and the money-back slip over to the experienced teller. She pointed at me and I grinned back as she got affirmation from her fellow worker that I indeed, banked here and frequently deposited and took back sizable sums of money. She came back and then asked me a disappointing question.
"How much did you want to take out?"
Internally, the pressure sensor hit explode. But I quickly realized I had forgotten to be VERY explicit with the young lady. "No, you were supposed to make one transaction, just the amount I wanted deposited from the cheques. If you do it the way you obviously have, then it's two transactions and I get charged a buck per transaction."
The look of panic on her face was quite real. Looking for experienced help was fruitless. The experienced one was in the vault. She leaned over and asked another pup for some help (pup-perpetually uninformed personnel). He looked and acted about two days more experienced. I silently laughed as he 'took over,' and informed me that it was too late to do what I wanted now, but that he would "personally" see to it that the service charge would be reversed in two days time, when the month-end charges would be applied. "Automatically or manually?" I asked, knowing the answer.
He didn't. Off he went to find out. "Next time you're in, just see me or the lady here and we will take care of it." Sure. By the time I come in next, there will be two more pups awaiting me.
I'll throw away a hundred bucks on bridge books at a tournament and not think twice about it. My bank, already one of the half-dozen richest corporations in the country, tries to stiff me for a buck, I take umbrage. I will lose sleep on the night of January 31/February 1. Bright and early on Friday morning, I will be calling the bank demanding the charge be reversed. It's the principle of the thing.
And the next time I see pups at the teller window, I'll START with the education. And probably a smile.
Left the cave today due to a need to fill some prescriptions, collect some cheques and deposit said cheques into my account to pay some forthcoming bills. I wondered into the bank mid to late afternoon to see a moderately-sized line and only one familiar teller doing business. Unfortunately, the vagaries of chance denied me the familiar, as one of the newbies further on down the row beckoned me over.
I had two cheques totaling a few thousand dollars. I wanted to deposit most of the money, keeping out a few hundred for February operating expenses. I was headed from the bank to pay my communications bills, pick up the medicine I needed and to restock the larder. "I want to deposit all of this but for XXXX dollars."
Like all nice new tellers, she then took forever to process this complicated request. I had to even tell her that I needed to sign the cheques since I would be receiving money back from them. She smiled, probably thanking whoever she thanks, that she had a nice patient customer who actually knew more about her job than she did. I watched her poke at the keyboard. At one point, she took the cheques and the money-back slip over to the experienced teller. She pointed at me and I grinned back as she got affirmation from her fellow worker that I indeed, banked here and frequently deposited and took back sizable sums of money. She came back and then asked me a disappointing question.
"How much did you want to take out?"
Internally, the pressure sensor hit explode. But I quickly realized I had forgotten to be VERY explicit with the young lady. "No, you were supposed to make one transaction, just the amount I wanted deposited from the cheques. If you do it the way you obviously have, then it's two transactions and I get charged a buck per transaction."
The look of panic on her face was quite real. Looking for experienced help was fruitless. The experienced one was in the vault. She leaned over and asked another pup for some help (pup-perpetually uninformed personnel). He looked and acted about two days more experienced. I silently laughed as he 'took over,' and informed me that it was too late to do what I wanted now, but that he would "personally" see to it that the service charge would be reversed in two days time, when the month-end charges would be applied. "Automatically or manually?" I asked, knowing the answer.
He didn't. Off he went to find out. "Next time you're in, just see me or the lady here and we will take care of it." Sure. By the time I come in next, there will be two more pups awaiting me.
I'll throw away a hundred bucks on bridge books at a tournament and not think twice about it. My bank, already one of the half-dozen richest corporations in the country, tries to stiff me for a buck, I take umbrage. I will lose sleep on the night of January 31/February 1. Bright and early on Friday morning, I will be calling the bank demanding the charge be reversed. It's the principle of the thing.
And the next time I see pups at the teller window, I'll START with the education. And probably a smile.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
BOOKS: Retrieval Artist vs Recovery Man
One of the other Christmas reads was the latest Retrieval Artist book by K.K. Rusch. The RA books are science fiction mysteries, centering around the talents of Miles Flint, a computer expert and one-time cop, who suffered the tragic loss of a daughter at the hands of a children's worker. That led to a divorce and his eventual movement from police work into private practice as a Retrieval Artist.
Explaining what a Retrieval Artist is would take several books to do properly. Say the prior volumes in this series. All are uniformly high in quality, that rare series that maintains a top level of quality even after the initial idea has petered out. Flint finds (and occasionally loses) people for a living, in a future where various laws from various species make staying strictly legal at times close to impossible.
The latest, Recovery Man, brings in a new level of a private detective. Recovery men are like Remora, useful to some degree, but basically ineffectual without a big bad shark around. They pick up the work RA's won't or can't. The Recovery Man in this book gets involved with Flint's ex-wife and her daughter.
Yep, her daughter. And maybe Flint's too. Well, at least a clone, it appears. The book eventually becomes young Talia Shindo's tale, and it's a harrowingly interesting one. BUT, and there had to be a but, it's a book you can't enjoy without reading the earlier books in the series. There's no understanding Miles' actions at the end unless you do.
So read the five other books in order before taking in this one. You'll enjoy the experience and be ready for the next book in the series, which undoubtedly will see Talia become a major part of Miles' life.
Explaining what a Retrieval Artist is would take several books to do properly. Say the prior volumes in this series. All are uniformly high in quality, that rare series that maintains a top level of quality even after the initial idea has petered out. Flint finds (and occasionally loses) people for a living, in a future where various laws from various species make staying strictly legal at times close to impossible.
The latest, Recovery Man, brings in a new level of a private detective. Recovery men are like Remora, useful to some degree, but basically ineffectual without a big bad shark around. They pick up the work RA's won't or can't. The Recovery Man in this book gets involved with Flint's ex-wife and her daughter.
Yep, her daughter. And maybe Flint's too. Well, at least a clone, it appears. The book eventually becomes young Talia Shindo's tale, and it's a harrowingly interesting one. BUT, and there had to be a but, it's a book you can't enjoy without reading the earlier books in the series. There's no understanding Miles' actions at the end unless you do.
So read the five other books in order before taking in this one. You'll enjoy the experience and be ready for the next book in the series, which undoubtedly will see Talia become a major part of Miles' life.
TV: There's Hope After Primeval 3
A bad-ass animal from the past shows up near an amusement park. Professor Cutter and the crew are off to check it out. Even cut-up Connor is given keys to the gun case. Naturally, he ends up with a REAL gun while the rest are carrying dart guns. But it's a step up. I'll let it pass that Connor loses said gun privileges in a 'Jaws' scene rip-off.
There are fewer logical inconsistencies in this episode, although the animal's protector should have been obvious long before it occurred to the team. And having Cutter leave HIS gun behind while investigating the lair, so that it could be used against him is once again, three stooges level stupidity. Having him outwit the beast twice in a head-to-head showdown was simply unbelievable.
The new tactic of having a shock twist, revealing a hidden threat at the end, has worn out its welcome after back-to-back weeks.
But at least there's been enough improvement to keep on viewing. I hope the Creature from the Black Lagoon homage next week is yet another step up the intelligence ladder.
There are fewer logical inconsistencies in this episode, although the animal's protector should have been obvious long before it occurred to the team. And having Cutter leave HIS gun behind while investigating the lair, so that it could be used against him is once again, three stooges level stupidity. Having him outwit the beast twice in a head-to-head showdown was simply unbelievable.
The new tactic of having a shock twist, revealing a hidden threat at the end, has worn out its welcome after back-to-back weeks.
But at least there's been enough improvement to keep on viewing. I hope the Creature from the Black Lagoon homage next week is yet another step up the intelligence ladder.
HOCKEY: Much Ado About Less Than Nothing
Well, THAT was a letdown. Better the NHL play tapes of the Steve Stamkos/John Tavares Major Junior showdown than let six major NHL stars let the steam completely out of the All-Star Skills Competition finale.
It was awful, with only Alexander Ovechkin (my pre-comp prediction to win) and Ryan Getzlaf making much of a real effort to win the thing. Ovechkin wanted to do the Crosby elevate and swing maneuver, but that only after bookending his two attempts to do so with relatively run of the mill scoring moves. Getzlaf tried a skate pass move first and then admitted to having "run out of ideas." Given the two finalists were going to take four shots apiece, having ONE move might be seen as not giving a hoot about the event.
Pavel Datsyuk, the favourite in some eyes, simply skated in and made a deke and shot. Pitiful entertainment value. Ilya Kovalchuk was just as bad and should have been embarrassed to have former teammate Scott Mellanby boost his scores in as obvious a case of home-town scoring as is possible.
An obvious deterrent to the event's success was letting the goalies come out and poke check the attacker while he was setting up for something. In the future, if they do this again, goalies have to keep a foot in the crease. Nobody's going to shoot from 25 feet away. There's no need for them to be out cutting down the angles ... and the action.
And lastly, John Shannon and the poobahs at the NHL network division, continue to believe that having a camera follow a skater in on a shootout attempt is good TV. It's NOT, you morons. The best principal shot is from behind the goalie. The high centre shot is certainly adequate too. No matter the quality of the steadi-cam nor the abilities of the cameraman, the traveling shot is close to useless. New isn't better. It's just friggin' new.
So much for any goodwill.
It was awful, with only Alexander Ovechkin (my pre-comp prediction to win) and Ryan Getzlaf making much of a real effort to win the thing. Ovechkin wanted to do the Crosby elevate and swing maneuver, but that only after bookending his two attempts to do so with relatively run of the mill scoring moves. Getzlaf tried a skate pass move first and then admitted to having "run out of ideas." Given the two finalists were going to take four shots apiece, having ONE move might be seen as not giving a hoot about the event.
Pavel Datsyuk, the favourite in some eyes, simply skated in and made a deke and shot. Pitiful entertainment value. Ilya Kovalchuk was just as bad and should have been embarrassed to have former teammate Scott Mellanby boost his scores in as obvious a case of home-town scoring as is possible.
An obvious deterrent to the event's success was letting the goalies come out and poke check the attacker while he was setting up for something. In the future, if they do this again, goalies have to keep a foot in the crease. Nobody's going to shoot from 25 feet away. There's no need for them to be out cutting down the angles ... and the action.
And lastly, John Shannon and the poobahs at the NHL network division, continue to believe that having a camera follow a skater in on a shootout attempt is good TV. It's NOT, you morons. The best principal shot is from behind the goalie. The high centre shot is certainly adequate too. No matter the quality of the steadi-cam nor the abilities of the cameraman, the traveling shot is close to useless. New isn't better. It's just friggin' new.
So much for any goodwill.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
HOCKEY: Artistry on Display
Having been out of action, writing-wise, for the past 11 days for reasons discussed in the last post of the day (technically the first, but you will get there last), I decided to sit down and write 11 entries in the blog today. Feel free to skip. Not everything will interest you. As Linda Ellerbee says, "And so it goes."
The NHL wants desperately to be loved by Americans. We Canadians would like that too, but I've come to the conclusion that it's just not possible. Still, the NHL is to be applauded for trying tonight's tricks-inspired shootout. The goalies will hate it (Luongo and Brodeur being smart enough to demur from attending). But the skaters will have the chance to show their mad stick skills. And that can't be bad.
I know Pavel Datsyuk is the favourite now that Sidney Crosby can't participate. But my pick here is Alexander Ovechkin. Whatever the outcome, there will be many new YouTube videos by this time Sunday.
Now on with the rest of the day's verbiage.
The NHL wants desperately to be loved by Americans. We Canadians would like that too, but I've come to the conclusion that it's just not possible. Still, the NHL is to be applauded for trying tonight's tricks-inspired shootout. The goalies will hate it (Luongo and Brodeur being smart enough to demur from attending). But the skaters will have the chance to show their mad stick skills. And that can't be bad.
I know Pavel Datsyuk is the favourite now that Sidney Crosby can't participate. But my pick here is Alexander Ovechkin. Whatever the outcome, there will be many new YouTube videos by this time Sunday.
Now on with the rest of the day's verbiage.
BOOKS: A Ringworld Successor
Larry Niven's Ringworld is a science fiction classic. It's generated two sequels over the last two decades and each has been fine in an of themselves. Good writing around a great concept. Ringworld is a construct. It's many thousands of worlds smashed together until they form a colossal ring around some far-off sun. The sheer enormity of the land mass allows for many civilizations and races to inhabit the same spatial body, but be completely unaware of each other. Or in some cases, be all TOO aware of each other. Crash-land a Terran or two on it, and Ringworld offers an exciting milieu for a travel adventure. Three times.
So, how do you play Top That! with Ringworld. There's the myriad of shell world stories with the sun contained in the middle. Dime a dozen. Hmmmm, any other ideas?
Eric Brown has one. It's called Helix. As a character demonstrates in the book, you take a glass lamp and a long beaded necklace. You coil the necklace around the lamp, starting at the bottom until you reach the top. And you have a helix shape.
Helix, the novel, features a set of Builders who take the Ringworld idea and expand on it, in many strands. Each little worldlet rotates on its helical centre, giving the worldlet a night and day. Each worldlet is separated from its neighbour by an ocean. Difficult, but not impossible to cross. Then the builders went out and populated the worldlets with as many samples of various races and species as they could find. Aliens from cold-weather worlds were put on worldlets at the top or the bottom of the helix. Hot-weather folk ended up on the central strands, nearest the sun centre. Some of the worldlets got specialized climates, such as the grey overcast that permeates over the world where Ehrin Telsa lives under Church tyranny.
Ehrin's not human. He's sort of a sentient rat/weasel/lemur. He's a non-believer and seeks proof the organized religion in his world is wrong and outdated. He hooks up with some Humans who have fled Earth in a cryo-ship, anxious to leave a worn-torn, material-sapped home planet behind and start anew somewhere else in the galaxy. A thousand years of cold-sleep has set the humans down on Helix. Four intrepid Terrans start exploring this wondrous world and finally happen upon Ehrin.
While plenty happens before Ehrin and the humans meet up, enough to really come to like all of the characters, the book really heats up from that point on. Helix is explored by a multi-species exploratory force as various worldlets are found and searched as a potential new home for humanity. Good and bad beings are met. The good ones are genuinely altruistic. The bad ones evil to the core. It's tiresome to present a Church as a bad thing these days, but Brown makes it work.
And when we get to the conclusion 500 some pages later, we are happy. I hope there are going to be sequels to Helix. But I implore Mr. Brown to do it a little faster than did Mr. Niven. I'm not sure I can wait 20 more years!
So, how do you play Top That! with Ringworld. There's the myriad of shell world stories with the sun contained in the middle. Dime a dozen. Hmmmm, any other ideas?
Eric Brown has one. It's called Helix. As a character demonstrates in the book, you take a glass lamp and a long beaded necklace. You coil the necklace around the lamp, starting at the bottom until you reach the top. And you have a helix shape.
Helix, the novel, features a set of Builders who take the Ringworld idea and expand on it, in many strands. Each little worldlet rotates on its helical centre, giving the worldlet a night and day. Each worldlet is separated from its neighbour by an ocean. Difficult, but not impossible to cross. Then the builders went out and populated the worldlets with as many samples of various races and species as they could find. Aliens from cold-weather worlds were put on worldlets at the top or the bottom of the helix. Hot-weather folk ended up on the central strands, nearest the sun centre. Some of the worldlets got specialized climates, such as the grey overcast that permeates over the world where Ehrin Telsa lives under Church tyranny.
Ehrin's not human. He's sort of a sentient rat/weasel/lemur. He's a non-believer and seeks proof the organized religion in his world is wrong and outdated. He hooks up with some Humans who have fled Earth in a cryo-ship, anxious to leave a worn-torn, material-sapped home planet behind and start anew somewhere else in the galaxy. A thousand years of cold-sleep has set the humans down on Helix. Four intrepid Terrans start exploring this wondrous world and finally happen upon Ehrin.
While plenty happens before Ehrin and the humans meet up, enough to really come to like all of the characters, the book really heats up from that point on. Helix is explored by a multi-species exploratory force as various worldlets are found and searched as a potential new home for humanity. Good and bad beings are met. The good ones are genuinely altruistic. The bad ones evil to the core. It's tiresome to present a Church as a bad thing these days, but Brown makes it work.
And when we get to the conclusion 500 some pages later, we are happy. I hope there are going to be sequels to Helix. But I implore Mr. Brown to do it a little faster than did Mr. Niven. I'm not sure I can wait 20 more years!
BOOKS: Tim Maleeny
I had a GREAT Christmas reading period. I got the latest from John Sandford and Clive Cussler, both initial books in new series (I hope). They were both better than average. I got the comic adaption of the first Artemis Fowl book by Eoin Colfer. It was a great re-read, pictures and all. Series books from William Dietz and Lee Goldberg were enjoyed.
And I discovered some new authors. I'm most excited about Tim Maleeny, who's penning the Cape Weathers detective books. Weathers is a private investigator working in San Francisco. It's familiar territory (not the least being the setting of Cussler's The Chase, albeit the 1907 era Golden Gate city). And bluntly, Cape is a bit generic in terms of characters within the genre. The book packager recognized that. The cover of the first in the series, Stealing the Dragon, only shows his working partner on the cover. So does the second, Beating the Babushka.
Sally is interesting. She's a lesbian. And she's been trained as a Triad assassin since childhood. Now THAT is a great character description. Beats former cop turned detective completely.
Stealing the Dragon is not perfect. It's a first novel and there are flaws. Saw some things coming a mile away. But on the whole it's fairly entertaining. For most of the book, it follows two narratives. The first is modern day San Francisco where a ship transporting illegals from China runs aground on Alcatraz. Weathers becomes involved and has to handle it mostly single-handedly, since Sally is missing.
The other story-line is that of Sally, starting with her becoming an orphan due to murder. She arrives in a Triad school and becomes the best of the best the training can create. This is the story-line that is the real page-turner. Although I did find myself speed-reading through the modern-day parts to get back to the Sally story.
In the end, the last quarter or so, the story-lines coalesce into a pretty flashy finish. Somebody else described it as Dashiell Hammett by way of way of Jerry Bruckheimer. The Hammett comparison rates as a little glorifying, but the Bruckheimer part is bang on.
Haven't read the Russian Mafiya-inspired second book. But it promises more Sally. And that is a good thing. July's reading week can't come soon enough.
And I discovered some new authors. I'm most excited about Tim Maleeny, who's penning the Cape Weathers detective books. Weathers is a private investigator working in San Francisco. It's familiar territory (not the least being the setting of Cussler's The Chase, albeit the 1907 era Golden Gate city). And bluntly, Cape is a bit generic in terms of characters within the genre. The book packager recognized that. The cover of the first in the series, Stealing the Dragon, only shows his working partner on the cover. So does the second, Beating the Babushka.
Sally is interesting. She's a lesbian. And she's been trained as a Triad assassin since childhood. Now THAT is a great character description. Beats former cop turned detective completely.
Stealing the Dragon is not perfect. It's a first novel and there are flaws. Saw some things coming a mile away. But on the whole it's fairly entertaining. For most of the book, it follows two narratives. The first is modern day San Francisco where a ship transporting illegals from China runs aground on Alcatraz. Weathers becomes involved and has to handle it mostly single-handedly, since Sally is missing.
The other story-line is that of Sally, starting with her becoming an orphan due to murder. She arrives in a Triad school and becomes the best of the best the training can create. This is the story-line that is the real page-turner. Although I did find myself speed-reading through the modern-day parts to get back to the Sally story.
In the end, the last quarter or so, the story-lines coalesce into a pretty flashy finish. Somebody else described it as Dashiell Hammett by way of way of Jerry Bruckheimer. The Hammett comparison rates as a little glorifying, but the Bruckheimer part is bang on.
Haven't read the Russian Mafiya-inspired second book. But it promises more Sally. And that is a good thing. July's reading week can't come soon enough.
LIFE: I Had the Urge to Murder Again
The phone rings. I'm enjoying the last few minutes of dreamy slumber or a much-needed afternoon nap. The Oriental-sounding voice on the other end asks, "Is Mister Gary there?" I feel the urge to get up, get dressed, fly to Vancouver BC, hunt down the owners of the Canadian Gift Centre and shoot them all. And their little dogs too.
I don't believe in guns, hate to fly, and tend not to go out at this time of the year. So the people connected with this bothersome nuisance need not get a protection order and bodyguards to protect themselves from me. But ....
The first phone call I got from this concern came during my little bout with the flu. The caller told me I had a certificate. I told him I wasn't interested. He called back. I screamed at him. That should have been the end of it. It wasn't. Today's afternoon nap was ended by a familiar voice after answering that annoying ring. Once again, Mr. Gary was asked for. He got as far as identifying the concern. I hung up. Phone rang again. I screamed I wasn't interested and hung up. It's been silent since. The urge has passed. The need to rant hasn't.
Canada does not have a DO NOT CALL list, yet. It's supposed to happen this year. Since I occasionally fantasize about solitary confinement in prison affording me all the time I need to read, it can't happen soon enough.
Unwanted phone calls fall into three categories: scammers, charities and service cold-callers. I spent a week doing the second type. I knew what I was doing and knew I was doing wrong. I stopped doing it. It's for that reason I have less patience with people who take on these woefully underpaid, soul-crushing jobs. Find something else. Anything else. You will benefit.
The scammer I want most desperately to have found and shut down now is the group who calls, informing me that I, or a member of my family, have filled out a travel survey and I have now won a prize or a free trip. That phone call ends quickly too, usually with a curse. First, I don't travel. I LIKE my home, with its constant 72 degree temperature year round, lots of entertainment handy and a perfectly designed commode for my reading needs. It's quiet, too. Why would I want to leave it? As for family members filling out a travel survey on my behalf? None live closer than 40 minutes away. My extended family knows exactly how I feel about travel and would no sooner co-operate with one of these surveys than they would put a wet finger into an electrical socket. They'd know I would force them to do such a thing as punishment. So, these folks are LYING blatantly with the first words out of their mouths. They don't deserve civility beyond not letting loose with a whole string of curses as I hang up the phone.
But they HAVE had one other lasting effect. I now no longer participate in opinion polls. You know the ones. They show up on the evening news as "According to XXXXXX, 82 per cent of Canadians now feel the CRTC should speed up the development of the DO NOT CALL List." Can't give the creeps with the free trips the benefit of the doubt.
I don't believe in guns, hate to fly, and tend not to go out at this time of the year. So the people connected with this bothersome nuisance need not get a protection order and bodyguards to protect themselves from me. But ....
The first phone call I got from this concern came during my little bout with the flu. The caller told me I had a certificate. I told him I wasn't interested. He called back. I screamed at him. That should have been the end of it. It wasn't. Today's afternoon nap was ended by a familiar voice after answering that annoying ring. Once again, Mr. Gary was asked for. He got as far as identifying the concern. I hung up. Phone rang again. I screamed I wasn't interested and hung up. It's been silent since. The urge has passed. The need to rant hasn't.
Canada does not have a DO NOT CALL list, yet. It's supposed to happen this year. Since I occasionally fantasize about solitary confinement in prison affording me all the time I need to read, it can't happen soon enough.
Unwanted phone calls fall into three categories: scammers, charities and service cold-callers. I spent a week doing the second type. I knew what I was doing and knew I was doing wrong. I stopped doing it. It's for that reason I have less patience with people who take on these woefully underpaid, soul-crushing jobs. Find something else. Anything else. You will benefit.
The scammer I want most desperately to have found and shut down now is the group who calls, informing me that I, or a member of my family, have filled out a travel survey and I have now won a prize or a free trip. That phone call ends quickly too, usually with a curse. First, I don't travel. I LIKE my home, with its constant 72 degree temperature year round, lots of entertainment handy and a perfectly designed commode for my reading needs. It's quiet, too. Why would I want to leave it? As for family members filling out a travel survey on my behalf? None live closer than 40 minutes away. My extended family knows exactly how I feel about travel and would no sooner co-operate with one of these surveys than they would put a wet finger into an electrical socket. They'd know I would force them to do such a thing as punishment. So, these folks are LYING blatantly with the first words out of their mouths. They don't deserve civility beyond not letting loose with a whole string of curses as I hang up the phone.
But they HAVE had one other lasting effect. I now no longer participate in opinion polls. You know the ones. They show up on the evening news as "According to XXXXXX, 82 per cent of Canadians now feel the CRTC should speed up the development of the DO NOT CALL List." Can't give the creeps with the free trips the benefit of the doubt.
BASEBALL: JP's a Better Man than Me
I'm not a good man. I hold grudges. Decade-long grudges. And I have absolutely no problem admitting, nor admitting that it isn't my best trait.
Apparently, JP Ricciardi forgives and forgets. He signed Rod Barajas to a contract to backup Gregg Zaun as catcher for the Toronto Blue Jays. This is the same Barajas who reneged on a signed commitment last year to REPLACE Zaun as the regular every-day catcher for the Blue Jays. He ended up signing for less annually with the Phillies, something I derived some small satisfaction from last year. It got better. He had a horrible year. Now he's collecting chump change to carry a game or two a week workload while one of my favourite Blue Jays starts ahead of him.
Frankly, when Barajas changed agents last year and the new guy reneged on the deal, I would have seen the last of the former Texas starter. No bygones for me. But in this aspect, JP's a better a man than me. I still think he's a very flawed GM. I think he's a fast talker who's only ever displayed a talent for acquiring servicable middle infielders (although it's more by quantity than quality) and flim-flamming his bosses. He's now in the seventh year of a five-year plan (remember, it was originally a three-year plan built around getting rid of Carlos Delgado). He's drafted abysmally and traded for more injury-prone players than his predecessor Gord Ash ever did. He's ripped the heart out of John McDonald by signing David Eckstein. And that wasn't the first time he did that. He doesn't live in T.O. and there isn't anybody in baseball who doesn't think he'd bail on the Blue Jays for a Boston Red Sox job in a heartbeat.
But he's a better man than I.
Apparently, JP Ricciardi forgives and forgets. He signed Rod Barajas to a contract to backup Gregg Zaun as catcher for the Toronto Blue Jays. This is the same Barajas who reneged on a signed commitment last year to REPLACE Zaun as the regular every-day catcher for the Blue Jays. He ended up signing for less annually with the Phillies, something I derived some small satisfaction from last year. It got better. He had a horrible year. Now he's collecting chump change to carry a game or two a week workload while one of my favourite Blue Jays starts ahead of him.
Frankly, when Barajas changed agents last year and the new guy reneged on the deal, I would have seen the last of the former Texas starter. No bygones for me. But in this aspect, JP's a better a man than me. I still think he's a very flawed GM. I think he's a fast talker who's only ever displayed a talent for acquiring servicable middle infielders (although it's more by quantity than quality) and flim-flamming his bosses. He's now in the seventh year of a five-year plan (remember, it was originally a three-year plan built around getting rid of Carlos Delgado). He's drafted abysmally and traded for more injury-prone players than his predecessor Gord Ash ever did. He's ripped the heart out of John McDonald by signing David Eckstein. And that wasn't the first time he did that. He doesn't live in T.O. and there isn't anybody in baseball who doesn't think he'd bail on the Blue Jays for a Boston Red Sox job in a heartbeat.
But he's a better man than I.
TV: Primeval Disbelief
Okay, half-way home trying to make up for my flu-caused absence.
I railed against the British science fiction series Primeval's debut show for the second series. It was a mess of logical inconsistencies and sloppy editing. It took the strong promise of the last scene of last season's series one and punted it, badly.
Soooo, how did the second show do? Not much better, I fear. We still have team members sauntering up the stairs to do battle with prehistoric problems without benefit of any equipment. Lucy Brown's character, Jenny (aka Claudia in the OTHER reality), almost plays the lunacy up, by joining the battle with the fog worms, deeming it unnecessary to walk up the safe stair wells when she could take the dangerous elevators in her high heels. Her later precise use of a samurai sword was ...
Okay, there were some funny moments. They actors SEEM to know they are acting foolishly in a supposedly smart series.
The Professor's wife makes a reappearance. She had to be a different one than last year, since she not only somehow ends up in Stephen Hart's bed, but sticks around for an anonymous peeping Tina moment at the end. If she was last year's model, she would be back in that other reality, the one where Jenny is an unmarried Claudia, and very much in love with her husband, the Professor. Don't think the divorce is final in either place.
All in all, this is one more stinker of a show away from not being worth the 49 minutes to watch it.
I want it to be better. That might not be enough.
I railed against the British science fiction series Primeval's debut show for the second series. It was a mess of logical inconsistencies and sloppy editing. It took the strong promise of the last scene of last season's series one and punted it, badly.
Soooo, how did the second show do? Not much better, I fear. We still have team members sauntering up the stairs to do battle with prehistoric problems without benefit of any equipment. Lucy Brown's character, Jenny (aka Claudia in the OTHER reality), almost plays the lunacy up, by joining the battle with the fog worms, deeming it unnecessary to walk up the safe stair wells when she could take the dangerous elevators in her high heels. Her later precise use of a samurai sword was ...
Okay, there were some funny moments. They actors SEEM to know they are acting foolishly in a supposedly smart series.
The Professor's wife makes a reappearance. She had to be a different one than last year, since she not only somehow ends up in Stephen Hart's bed, but sticks around for an anonymous peeping Tina moment at the end. If she was last year's model, she would be back in that other reality, the one where Jenny is an unmarried Claudia, and very much in love with her husband, the Professor. Don't think the divorce is final in either place.
All in all, this is one more stinker of a show away from not being worth the 49 minutes to watch it.
I want it to be better. That might not be enough.
HOCKEY: The Last Days of Sundin
As a Montreal Canadiens' fan, I should take delight in the ongoing disaster that is the Toronto Maple Leafs, beloved by both my father and brother Wayne. But schadenfreude gets old really quickly and I admit to a touch of actual pity dating back to the early 90's. About the time the Buds acquired Mats Sundin.
Despite the radio neaderthals hating Sundin on principle (he cost Wendell Clark), the fact is Sundin is and has been a great player for the Maple Leafs, daily far better than Wendell was on his best day. Now, he doesn't throw earth-shattering checks a la Clark, but anybody who's watched him bull out in front of the net from behind can't claim he's not physical. He has been durable in the main and he's played at a high level, without complaint and without complementary players for most of his time as a Toronto Maple Leaf. Outside of a fading Alexander Mogilny and on-the-downside talents like Gary Roberts and Steve Thomas, Sundin has carried water-carriers at his side throughout. And he's the LEADING SCORER in Maple Leaf HISTORY!
When not forced to play with local lads, Sundin has shown his true stripes. On Swedish teams that have won gold at the Olympics, the World Championships and various other competitions, Sundin has consistently been the best player on those teams. Not Forsberg or Alfredsson. Not Lidstrom. Sundin has been the top crown in the Tre Kronor. And he has done that with as little fanfare as possible.
If leading by example is a staple of a great captain, then Sundin stands below no one on the level of Toronto captains. Others might have Stanley Cups, but their teammates were better.
But now, it has come time for Sundin to do one final thing for the Toronto Maple Leafs. He must agree to a trade to allow them to kickstart the rebuilding process that will last until well into Sundin's retirement. And beyond the end of this season, he must NOT RETURN to a final season or two as a Maple Leaf/Late Season Trading Chip. He's good enough to drag almost any collection of third and fourth line players into mediocrity and play-off contention. That is how good the bald Swede is.
No, the right thing is for Sundin to find the right team to boost to a Stanley Cup and then try for a second Cup like John Elway went back for one more Super Bowl. Then, it should be back to Sweden for the greatest Leaf of the 21st century. He goes with the thanks of hockey fans. Maple Leaf fans too.
Despite the radio neaderthals hating Sundin on principle (he cost Wendell Clark), the fact is Sundin is and has been a great player for the Maple Leafs, daily far better than Wendell was on his best day. Now, he doesn't throw earth-shattering checks a la Clark, but anybody who's watched him bull out in front of the net from behind can't claim he's not physical. He has been durable in the main and he's played at a high level, without complaint and without complementary players for most of his time as a Toronto Maple Leaf. Outside of a fading Alexander Mogilny and on-the-downside talents like Gary Roberts and Steve Thomas, Sundin has carried water-carriers at his side throughout. And he's the LEADING SCORER in Maple Leaf HISTORY!
When not forced to play with local lads, Sundin has shown his true stripes. On Swedish teams that have won gold at the Olympics, the World Championships and various other competitions, Sundin has consistently been the best player on those teams. Not Forsberg or Alfredsson. Not Lidstrom. Sundin has been the top crown in the Tre Kronor. And he has done that with as little fanfare as possible.
If leading by example is a staple of a great captain, then Sundin stands below no one on the level of Toronto captains. Others might have Stanley Cups, but their teammates were better.
But now, it has come time for Sundin to do one final thing for the Toronto Maple Leafs. He must agree to a trade to allow them to kickstart the rebuilding process that will last until well into Sundin's retirement. And beyond the end of this season, he must NOT RETURN to a final season or two as a Maple Leaf/Late Season Trading Chip. He's good enough to drag almost any collection of third and fourth line players into mediocrity and play-off contention. That is how good the bald Swede is.
No, the right thing is for Sundin to find the right team to boost to a Stanley Cup and then try for a second Cup like John Elway went back for one more Super Bowl. Then, it should be back to Sweden for the greatest Leaf of the 21st century. He goes with the thanks of hockey fans. Maple Leaf fans too.
TV: The best show of 2007
If you watch American TV, the best show of 2007 was either Dexter or Mad Men, depending on the critic. Both are fine shows with my preference being Dexter, which might not be the best kind of admission to make.
But neither was amongst the two best shows of 2007. The second-best show of 2007 was the second series of the British show, Life on Mars. John Simm's tour-de-force is not science fiction. Not really. The title comes from a David Bowie song that is playing when Simm's detective character gets shot and wakes up 30 years ago. Okay, that's SF, but it's almost covered by the ongoing question of whether Simm has indeed been comported to the past, or is just having one humdinger of a dream/nightmare. Whatever the transport mechanism, playing a 70's cop with 21st century sensibilities and memories proves a daunting task. He's aided by Philip Glenister's morally-ambivalent top cop and lone lady cop Annie Cartwright played winningly by Liz White. There's a shop specializing in British imports in Mississauga's Square One. Both seasons of Life on Mars are excellent. The American remake, with David Kelley at the helm, will eventually grace our TV's. But find the original.
Oddly enough, Simm and Glenister had worked together in 2003 in the first series of State of Play. Glenister is still a tough-talking policeman, while Simm is a crusading journalist. I had the first episode kicking around for months before seeing it during Christmas. I've been searching for the full series since then. That first episode ended so shockingly, I was completely thrown. Might be as good a debut episode as I have ever seen. I hope to complete the review in the future.
Now, what were we talking about? Yeah, right. the BEST show of the past year. Not even close. Jekyll. Another British series. This latest play on the Jekyll and Hyde plot has James Nesbitt doing amazing things physically to show two personalities living inside one body. He's a doting father of two, Dr. Tom Jackman by day, a lecherous psychopath nicknamed Mr. Hyde by night. Tom does battle with his evil side with the help of a surprisingly good Michelle Ryan, who shows none of the lacklustre ability tormenting her turn as the Bionic Woman.
It's tempting to say this is Nesbitt starring in the spotlight by himself. He's certainly capable. I have seen the pilot for the Murphy's Law series and have the full first year to watch. But that show certainly shows Nesbitt's acting chops. So his performance, as good as it is in Jekyll, is almost confirmatory rather than revealing. No, the spice that makes this such a superlative entertainment is Jackman's wife, a role played with confidence by Gina Bellman. She grows during the six episodes of the series to the point where she gleefully refers to the nasty Hyde personality as "MY HUSBAND!" And you believe her!
Everybody who I shared this series with shared my viewing patterns. I watched the first episode one night, the second a night later and then the concluding four episodes in one session on the third night. A session that went later than it should have. But I couldn't turn the TV off. It was like the story was good enough to watch on back-to-back-to-back nights, but TOO good not to finish that third night, sleep and the next day's work be damned. It was that good.
There is a shock twist at the end that I really didn't see coming, although others did. And there is talk of a second series being at least in the planning stages. I'd rather not see a redux of series one's dalliances with Mr. Hyde. That leaves the two tots to grow into the divergent roles or better yet, a turn for the worst by Mrs. Jackman. I think Bellman would be up for it. Good Claire was finding Strong Claire at the end of the first series anyway. With her real background, it might not be too much of a stretch for Strong Claire to find Bad Claire appetizing.
We can only hope.
But neither was amongst the two best shows of 2007. The second-best show of 2007 was the second series of the British show, Life on Mars. John Simm's tour-de-force is not science fiction. Not really. The title comes from a David Bowie song that is playing when Simm's detective character gets shot and wakes up 30 years ago. Okay, that's SF, but it's almost covered by the ongoing question of whether Simm has indeed been comported to the past, or is just having one humdinger of a dream/nightmare. Whatever the transport mechanism, playing a 70's cop with 21st century sensibilities and memories proves a daunting task. He's aided by Philip Glenister's morally-ambivalent top cop and lone lady cop Annie Cartwright played winningly by Liz White. There's a shop specializing in British imports in Mississauga's Square One. Both seasons of Life on Mars are excellent. The American remake, with David Kelley at the helm, will eventually grace our TV's. But find the original.
Oddly enough, Simm and Glenister had worked together in 2003 in the first series of State of Play. Glenister is still a tough-talking policeman, while Simm is a crusading journalist. I had the first episode kicking around for months before seeing it during Christmas. I've been searching for the full series since then. That first episode ended so shockingly, I was completely thrown. Might be as good a debut episode as I have ever seen. I hope to complete the review in the future.
Now, what were we talking about? Yeah, right. the BEST show of the past year. Not even close. Jekyll. Another British series. This latest play on the Jekyll and Hyde plot has James Nesbitt doing amazing things physically to show two personalities living inside one body. He's a doting father of two, Dr. Tom Jackman by day, a lecherous psychopath nicknamed Mr. Hyde by night. Tom does battle with his evil side with the help of a surprisingly good Michelle Ryan, who shows none of the lacklustre ability tormenting her turn as the Bionic Woman.
It's tempting to say this is Nesbitt starring in the spotlight by himself. He's certainly capable. I have seen the pilot for the Murphy's Law series and have the full first year to watch. But that show certainly shows Nesbitt's acting chops. So his performance, as good as it is in Jekyll, is almost confirmatory rather than revealing. No, the spice that makes this such a superlative entertainment is Jackman's wife, a role played with confidence by Gina Bellman. She grows during the six episodes of the series to the point where she gleefully refers to the nasty Hyde personality as "MY HUSBAND!" And you believe her!
Everybody who I shared this series with shared my viewing patterns. I watched the first episode one night, the second a night later and then the concluding four episodes in one session on the third night. A session that went later than it should have. But I couldn't turn the TV off. It was like the story was good enough to watch on back-to-back-to-back nights, but TOO good not to finish that third night, sleep and the next day's work be damned. It was that good.
There is a shock twist at the end that I really didn't see coming, although others did. And there is talk of a second series being at least in the planning stages. I'd rather not see a redux of series one's dalliances with Mr. Hyde. That leaves the two tots to grow into the divergent roles or better yet, a turn for the worst by Mrs. Jackman. I think Bellman would be up for it. Good Claire was finding Strong Claire at the end of the first series anyway. With her real background, it might not be too much of a stretch for Strong Claire to find Bad Claire appetizing.
We can only hope.
FOOD: Fuji Apples
Just before Christmas, I was shopping at a store and thought I'd look at something other than Golden Delicious to meet my daily apple intake requirement. I've been eating an apple a day since my little bout of not being able to keep meals down (combined with the odd seconds-long bout of not being able to breathe). Green apples seem to help the digestion process. It seems to have helped me.
But the semi-tart GD apples of the fall seemed to get blander and blander as Christmas approached. I grabbed some Granny Smith and I happened upon a stash of Fuji apples in the organic aisle. They weren't cheap, but I grabbed three. Also took home a bag of GD apples, since the plans were to stay in the cave until well into the New Year.
Two nights later, I cut open the first of the Fuji's and immediately felt deflated. The core seemed rotten. Around the actual core was a pallid pale 'secondary' core, the rest of the flesh being a sort of off-white, almost yellowish. I shaved off a slice to test if it was bad.
MY GAWD DID IT TASTE GREAT!!!!!!!
I quickly finished coring and then cut the apple up into slices. As my mother taught me, I tossed the slices with a little salt (doesn't everybody?) and hoovered them up. And then I ate the second of the three apples. I kept the third as a Christmas Day present to myself. It took a lot of self-control. I also phoned Patrick's wife Dawna and suggested she might do herself a great flavour favour by getting Fuji's on her next visit to the grocer. I babbled a lot. She indulged me. I selfishly hope she doesn't get the apples for her brood.
I want them all to myself.
How do the Fuji apples taste? A honeyed McIntosh? Close as I can get. The apples have been chosen to become the sole basis for a drink called Fuji 2.0 that is very popular. These are juicy apples. I eat them without aid of any drink whatsoever. It's just a great dining experience. They are even good snacks. Trust the potato chip king, they are worth switching from Hostess and Lay's Chips!
As long as you don't diminish MY buying horde.
But the semi-tart GD apples of the fall seemed to get blander and blander as Christmas approached. I grabbed some Granny Smith and I happened upon a stash of Fuji apples in the organic aisle. They weren't cheap, but I grabbed three. Also took home a bag of GD apples, since the plans were to stay in the cave until well into the New Year.
Two nights later, I cut open the first of the Fuji's and immediately felt deflated. The core seemed rotten. Around the actual core was a pallid pale 'secondary' core, the rest of the flesh being a sort of off-white, almost yellowish. I shaved off a slice to test if it was bad.
MY GAWD DID IT TASTE GREAT!!!!!!!
I quickly finished coring and then cut the apple up into slices. As my mother taught me, I tossed the slices with a little salt (doesn't everybody?) and hoovered them up. And then I ate the second of the three apples. I kept the third as a Christmas Day present to myself. It took a lot of self-control. I also phoned Patrick's wife Dawna and suggested she might do herself a great flavour favour by getting Fuji's on her next visit to the grocer. I babbled a lot. She indulged me. I selfishly hope she doesn't get the apples for her brood.
I want them all to myself.
How do the Fuji apples taste? A honeyed McIntosh? Close as I can get. The apples have been chosen to become the sole basis for a drink called Fuji 2.0 that is very popular. These are juicy apples. I eat them without aid of any drink whatsoever. It's just a great dining experience. They are even good snacks. Trust the potato chip king, they are worth switching from Hostess and Lay's Chips!
As long as you don't diminish MY buying horde.
TV: There's something unsmelly
My time the past fortnight has been spent in sleep, drinking dinner and watching television through half-closed eyes. I don't watch much live TV normally, other than sports, but that was enough to have one of my pet peeve commercials come up on the screen. Any home-cooked pizza commercial that plays on a theme of surprise by somebody that it ISN'T delivery pizza bugs me no end. This one featured hockey greats Luc Robitaille and Marty Brodeur.
What does it say about the pizza in question that it LITERALLY DOES NOT SMELL when it bakes away in the oven? Heating meat, cheese and puff pastry SHOULD produce a smell. I personally don't eat pizza, but I damn well know when it's cooking in the next room.
But somehow, Brodeur is totally oblivious to the smells emanating from the kitchen and just assumes Luc answered the door and paid the delivery guy in literally a blink of the eye. Of course it's just an oversight by this commercial and every other repeating of the same plot. They ALL assume their customers are IDIOTS!
Well, here's one customer who occasionally serves pizza to hungry Movie Mob members (I eat french fries). With each company that insults my intelligence with this stupid plot of a commercial, I cross off another maker of home pies. The list of ones who HAVEN'T ticked me off is getting vanishingly small. Sooner or later, the Mob will have to eat cake or the pizza makers will have to get smart. Wonder which will happen first?
What does it say about the pizza in question that it LITERALLY DOES NOT SMELL when it bakes away in the oven? Heating meat, cheese and puff pastry SHOULD produce a smell. I personally don't eat pizza, but I damn well know when it's cooking in the next room.
But somehow, Brodeur is totally oblivious to the smells emanating from the kitchen and just assumes Luc answered the door and paid the delivery guy in literally a blink of the eye. Of course it's just an oversight by this commercial and every other repeating of the same plot. They ALL assume their customers are IDIOTS!
Well, here's one customer who occasionally serves pizza to hungry Movie Mob members (I eat french fries). With each company that insults my intelligence with this stupid plot of a commercial, I cross off another maker of home pies. The list of ones who HAVEN'T ticked me off is getting vanishingly small. Sooner or later, the Mob will have to eat cake or the pizza makers will have to get smart. Wonder which will happen first?
UPDATE: How I avoided my Colonoscopy
Let's see, I've been 11 days without doing much of anything to talk about. When last we convened here at Mug Shots, I was fasting to be ready for a colonoscopy the next day. When I showed up at Doc Merker's office to get my dose of super-laxative, he took one look at my clammy visage and checked me out for what I knew was the truth. I had the flu. Yep, it wasn't nerves, it was the flu. The kind you avoid when you get the preemptive shots in the fall. I didn't get the shots. I got the flu. I got a pass from surgery the next day. Something about laxatives and incipient dehydration not going together. The ultimate excuse slip, the doctor's note! It still looms in the near-future, but I spent my time last week sleeping, instead. The sleep cycles aren't back, nor is my appetite. But I managed to get caught back up with a little programming work and I have a weekend to get caught up here. I'm going to try with a bunch of mini-posts.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
SPORTS: New Jay Third-Sacker
The Toronto Blue Jays introduced Scott Rolen as their new third-baseman today, replacing the player he was traded for, Troy Glaus.
The conventional wisdom thus far is this: the St. Louis Cardinals probably won this exchange of birdies. But I disagree.
Glaus has more than a few pluses. He's a good guy, great power and he's a good fielder of bunts. In fact, he's pretty good within the limited range he patrols. Did I mention he's a good teammate? But he has some downside. His average is going to hover in the Johnny McDonald-area most of the time. He's got that limited range thing and he's slower'n molasses on the basepaths.
And he's got bad feet. More of that later.
Rolen has a few pluses of his own. He's a Gold Glover who hits for average and used to have power not that long ago. His minuses include the loss of that power recently and the fact that he's left two towns (Philly and St. Loo) with some baggage. There's an honest fear that we are looking at Shea Hillenbrand redux.
And he's got a bad shoulder.
Ahhh, yes. The favourite J.P. Ricciardi kind of acquisition. Lots of talent and a history of DL visits. Like the blackjack player who keeps doubling down, the Blue Jay GM figgers sooner or later he's got to win a big one.
This could be it. Both players passed physicals but that doesn't mean much these days. It's the nature of the injuries that makes the two-year older Rolen seem a better bet to earn his $12 million this year. Rolen's operation this past fall was the removal of scar tissue from one of his umpteen left-shoulder surgeries. That's more of a clean up operation that one of repair. Docs know a lot about shoulders, elbows and knees these days. They've had a lot of practice. ANd cleaning out scar tissue is a whole lot more 'predictable' these days.
On the other foot, feet are mostly still a mystery to doctors. Bad feet on big men is a problem. Glaus is a b-i-g man, well over six feet. He had a nerve problem in his foot that has allegedly been fixed. I wish him well, but I wouldn't bet on that fact in a month of "feeling lucky" days.
When healthy, these two players are all-stars. When unhealthy, neither one earns the $12 million pay cheques (give or take) each collects. Rolen had three years of such largesse, Glaus two. Advantage St. Louis. If both succeed, advantage Toronto. If only one succeeds, which one makes their new home town cheer?
And that's where I think Rolen puts the best foot forward and bounces back from two down years under the Tony LaRussa thumb. In fact, I think I'll go out on a limb.
There will be a day this summer when Rolen lines up beside McDonald, Aaron Hill and Lyle Overbay in the game's best defensive infield. The top Jay defensive trio of Reed Johnson, Vernon Wells and Alex Rios will be manning the outfield. Roy Halladay will be on the mound that day and will throw his first career no-hitter. And Rolen will be a key part of that.
At least JP Ricciardi hopes so.
The conventional wisdom thus far is this: the St. Louis Cardinals probably won this exchange of birdies. But I disagree.
Glaus has more than a few pluses. He's a good guy, great power and he's a good fielder of bunts. In fact, he's pretty good within the limited range he patrols. Did I mention he's a good teammate? But he has some downside. His average is going to hover in the Johnny McDonald-area most of the time. He's got that limited range thing and he's slower'n molasses on the basepaths.
And he's got bad feet. More of that later.
Rolen has a few pluses of his own. He's a Gold Glover who hits for average and used to have power not that long ago. His minuses include the loss of that power recently and the fact that he's left two towns (Philly and St. Loo) with some baggage. There's an honest fear that we are looking at Shea Hillenbrand redux.
And he's got a bad shoulder.
Ahhh, yes. The favourite J.P. Ricciardi kind of acquisition. Lots of talent and a history of DL visits. Like the blackjack player who keeps doubling down, the Blue Jay GM figgers sooner or later he's got to win a big one.
This could be it. Both players passed physicals but that doesn't mean much these days. It's the nature of the injuries that makes the two-year older Rolen seem a better bet to earn his $12 million this year. Rolen's operation this past fall was the removal of scar tissue from one of his umpteen left-shoulder surgeries. That's more of a clean up operation that one of repair. Docs know a lot about shoulders, elbows and knees these days. They've had a lot of practice. ANd cleaning out scar tissue is a whole lot more 'predictable' these days.
On the other foot, feet are mostly still a mystery to doctors. Bad feet on big men is a problem. Glaus is a b-i-g man, well over six feet. He had a nerve problem in his foot that has allegedly been fixed. I wish him well, but I wouldn't bet on that fact in a month of "feeling lucky" days.
When healthy, these two players are all-stars. When unhealthy, neither one earns the $12 million pay cheques (give or take) each collects. Rolen had three years of such largesse, Glaus two. Advantage St. Louis. If both succeed, advantage Toronto. If only one succeeds, which one makes their new home town cheer?
And that's where I think Rolen puts the best foot forward and bounces back from two down years under the Tony LaRussa thumb. In fact, I think I'll go out on a limb.
There will be a day this summer when Rolen lines up beside McDonald, Aaron Hill and Lyle Overbay in the game's best defensive infield. The top Jay defensive trio of Reed Johnson, Vernon Wells and Alex Rios will be manning the outfield. Roy Halladay will be on the mound that day and will throw his first career no-hitter. And Rolen will be a key part of that.
At least JP Ricciardi hopes so.
HEALTH: Save your life
I will spend Wednesday bemoaning the lack of food for most of the day, the need to get intimately acquainted with the porcelain throne for the rest of it. Seems I have to empty my system as much as possible.
I'm scheduled for a colonoscopy Thursday.
Nothing internally has prompted me to seek out this procedure, thankfully. While not a beacon of good health (or habits), I'm doing it, because of the shocking pre-Christmas news that my father had been diagnosed with colon cancer. He was operated on last week and is already at home feeling chipper and ready to use his computer again. (judge that as good or bad news by yourselves). The doctors (and I) are sure they caught it early. And the long-term life expectancy for early catches is phenomenally high. It IS manageable, if you catch it early.
However, since my dad's dad, and now, my father have gotten it, I move to the top of the list of likely candidates to continue the genetic trend. I'm overweight, don't eat enough fibre (an apple a day doesn't quite cut it) and have a myriad of other things breaking down my body. Sooooo, I go from having a colonoscopy once a decade to probably one every two years.
I'd like to complain about the procedure, but I survived my first one. I've had tubes down the throat this past year and that was actually tougher to recover from long term. And I was awake when my kidney guy examined my privates during the kidney stone attack of a few years back. At least I get to sleep through the colonoscopy.
All in all, I agree with W.C. Fields. I WOULD rather be in Philadelphia. But I'd prefer to be there alive. (Speaking of which, do a search on the internet for Merv Griffin's tombstone. My new fave epitaph)
I'm scheduled for a colonoscopy Thursday.
Nothing internally has prompted me to seek out this procedure, thankfully. While not a beacon of good health (or habits), I'm doing it, because of the shocking pre-Christmas news that my father had been diagnosed with colon cancer. He was operated on last week and is already at home feeling chipper and ready to use his computer again. (judge that as good or bad news by yourselves). The doctors (and I) are sure they caught it early. And the long-term life expectancy for early catches is phenomenally high. It IS manageable, if you catch it early.
However, since my dad's dad, and now, my father have gotten it, I move to the top of the list of likely candidates to continue the genetic trend. I'm overweight, don't eat enough fibre (an apple a day doesn't quite cut it) and have a myriad of other things breaking down my body. Sooooo, I go from having a colonoscopy once a decade to probably one every two years.
I'd like to complain about the procedure, but I survived my first one. I've had tubes down the throat this past year and that was actually tougher to recover from long term. And I was awake when my kidney guy examined my privates during the kidney stone attack of a few years back. At least I get to sleep through the colonoscopy.
All in all, I agree with W.C. Fields. I WOULD rather be in Philadelphia. But I'd prefer to be there alive. (Speaking of which, do a search on the internet for Merv Griffin's tombstone. My new fave epitaph)
Monday, January 14, 2008
ETHICS: Is Entertainment Entertaining No Matter the Source?
I don't agree with the point of view of everybody who runs a site I visit regularly. For example, Robert Bruce Thompson has some views on guns that I disagree with. Vehemently. Yet he writes a wonderful daily blog that I actually support with my dollars, because he writes about computers and dogs and TV and books and other things I find I agree largely with his opinion about. I like Bill Maher and his humour and share his basic political philosophy from afar, since, afterall, he spouts off about American politics and I live up here in the Great White North where we must make do with Bush-light Light in the form of Stupefying Stevie Harper. But I don't agree with Maher regarding PETA or drugs.
In both cases, I would describe holders of opinions similar to Thompson or Maher as dangerous nutcases, if I didn't know these gents' relatively global world view. Misguided would be my preferred label, since I otherwise value their entertainment and informative views. Does that seem wrong to you?
I ask this because I'm troubled by my continued visits to a weekly blog written by a well-known, award-winning SF writer, who's column is an off-shoot to a daily newspaper on the East Coast of the USA. I won't identify him, cuz he strikes me as the litigious type. I have corresponded with him, discovering in the process that he is a right-wing nutjob who worships at the discarded, soiled unmentionables of one George W. Bush. His recent fawning over the President and his dismissal of all who oppose Bush's worldview as ... well the dirty euphemism he uses is, 'liberals.' His ability to look at numbers and pull out evaluations that paint Bush as a wonderful leader is the stuff of fiction. Science Fiction.
But here's the kicker. I have enjoyed his books in the past and they stood up to a re-reading after I knew he was a kook. Does that seem wrong to you? Seems wrong to me. And worse, I go back and read his weekly column, despite the complete lack of intelligence behind the political analysis and the more than odd reference to his religious values. I tend to glance over those passages, as I do the sections he prattles on about things local in nature to his home town. That might reduce the column to complete unreadability on occasion. But mostly, I get something out of stopping by.
The guy's an idiot, but one who writes well. Is it right to extract worth from such a dubious source, or should I avoid mining the crap to harvest a few pearls of wisdom, since feeling dirty is the inevitable result of spending time with such a misguided mind? He's not the worst I've ever found myself reading (I once mistakenly bought a copy of American Max magazine). And it's not like he's a mass-murderer, although he seems to have affinity for the concept. But is HE the line I shouldn't cross when trying to maintain the moral high ground?
Tis a puzzlement I wonder if I will ever solve.
In both cases, I would describe holders of opinions similar to Thompson or Maher as dangerous nutcases, if I didn't know these gents' relatively global world view. Misguided would be my preferred label, since I otherwise value their entertainment and informative views. Does that seem wrong to you?
I ask this because I'm troubled by my continued visits to a weekly blog written by a well-known, award-winning SF writer, who's column is an off-shoot to a daily newspaper on the East Coast of the USA. I won't identify him, cuz he strikes me as the litigious type. I have corresponded with him, discovering in the process that he is a right-wing nutjob who worships at the discarded, soiled unmentionables of one George W. Bush. His recent fawning over the President and his dismissal of all who oppose Bush's worldview as ... well the dirty euphemism he uses is, 'liberals.' His ability to look at numbers and pull out evaluations that paint Bush as a wonderful leader is the stuff of fiction. Science Fiction.
But here's the kicker. I have enjoyed his books in the past and they stood up to a re-reading after I knew he was a kook. Does that seem wrong to you? Seems wrong to me. And worse, I go back and read his weekly column, despite the complete lack of intelligence behind the political analysis and the more than odd reference to his religious values. I tend to glance over those passages, as I do the sections he prattles on about things local in nature to his home town. That might reduce the column to complete unreadability on occasion. But mostly, I get something out of stopping by.
The guy's an idiot, but one who writes well. Is it right to extract worth from such a dubious source, or should I avoid mining the crap to harvest a few pearls of wisdom, since feeling dirty is the inevitable result of spending time with such a misguided mind? He's not the worst I've ever found myself reading (I once mistakenly bought a copy of American Max magazine). And it's not like he's a mass-murderer, although he seems to have affinity for the concept. But is HE the line I shouldn't cross when trying to maintain the moral high ground?
Tis a puzzlement I wonder if I will ever solve.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
TV: Primeval Second Season Stinker Start
I'm watching a lot of Aussie and British TV thanks to the WGA withdrawal of writing services in the States. I think the other members of the Commonwealth do quite a good job in general. One series I quite enjoyed early in 2007 was the Brit SF action thriller, Primeval. It was a monster of the week show, with said monsters coming through portals into the current time in Jolly Olde England. Doug Henshall headed the team that battled the dinosaurs and other assorted prehistorical ilk. He also had a missing wife to initially mourn over and then battle when she too showed up. All the while, he was falling in extreme like with Claudia Brown, played by Lucy Brown. It was a nice match of naive young lass with jaded old professorial type (by way of Indiana Jones). The first six-episode season concluded with Henshall's Professor Cutter emerging from a portal into the past, only to find the time-line he returned to didn't include the likeable Claudia.
Which set the stage for the second season debut this weekend. Claudia's no more than a glint in the eye of Cutter and there are a whole lot of new people hanging around a nifty HQ. A Raptor or two or three have invaded a local multi-level mall after-hours. Last season, a commando unit and our intrepid team headed by Cutter would have descended upon the mall to box up the visitors and send them back through the portal. Not this year. Cutter's team of four go in with ONE dart rifle and ONE dart pistol. Alone.
The whole thing turns into a lite version of Night at a Museum. Raptors ride elevators from within and without. They scrabble along slick linoleum with nary a problem. They let themselves get bopped on the nose by Cassius Clay Cutter like a common shark, yet the youngest of the reptile 'family' gets to use its claws to almost eviscerate one of an enumerable set of various people who are hanging around the place. A Three Stooges race that has Cutter on a motorcycle leading one nasty Raptor back into the bowels of the mall (actually, to the bowling alley), while another team member follows up, segues immediately into the Raptor chasing BOTH of them. Lithsome Hannah Spearritt won't give the comic sidekick of the team, played by Andrew Lee Potts, a gun, until she hears something in a locker room. Then hands it over so that Potts' Connor Temple can do a Bondian riff before shooting her accidentally.
When this episode of supposedly smart people acting stupidly grinds to its obvious 'shock' conclusion, I was dispirited and wondering if it was at all possible to continue watching any more shows in this series. Then I got mad and wrote this review. I am not going to give up, yet.
There is a lot of good science fictional potential in the whole Primeval setup. The portals (aka anomalies) are interesting in and of themselves. The monster of the week is the weakest point, but the characters are generally well-drawn and interesting. As long as they stay above the normal slasher-film intelligence level, it can be worthwhile. But please, let the characters be as smart as they were last year.
Which set the stage for the second season debut this weekend. Claudia's no more than a glint in the eye of Cutter and there are a whole lot of new people hanging around a nifty HQ. A Raptor or two or three have invaded a local multi-level mall after-hours. Last season, a commando unit and our intrepid team headed by Cutter would have descended upon the mall to box up the visitors and send them back through the portal. Not this year. Cutter's team of four go in with ONE dart rifle and ONE dart pistol. Alone.
The whole thing turns into a lite version of Night at a Museum. Raptors ride elevators from within and without. They scrabble along slick linoleum with nary a problem. They let themselves get bopped on the nose by Cassius Clay Cutter like a common shark, yet the youngest of the reptile 'family' gets to use its claws to almost eviscerate one of an enumerable set of various people who are hanging around the place. A Three Stooges race that has Cutter on a motorcycle leading one nasty Raptor back into the bowels of the mall (actually, to the bowling alley), while another team member follows up, segues immediately into the Raptor chasing BOTH of them. Lithsome Hannah Spearritt won't give the comic sidekick of the team, played by Andrew Lee Potts, a gun, until she hears something in a locker room. Then hands it over so that Potts' Connor Temple can do a Bondian riff before shooting her accidentally.
When this episode of supposedly smart people acting stupidly grinds to its obvious 'shock' conclusion, I was dispirited and wondering if it was at all possible to continue watching any more shows in this series. Then I got mad and wrote this review. I am not going to give up, yet.
There is a lot of good science fictional potential in the whole Primeval setup. The portals (aka anomalies) are interesting in and of themselves. The monster of the week is the weakest point, but the characters are generally well-drawn and interesting. As long as they stay above the normal slasher-film intelligence level, it can be worthwhile. But please, let the characters be as smart as they were last year.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
COMPUTERS: Back up. NOW!
I have a morning routine. Part of that routine is checking out www.CrooksAndLiars.com, the liberal American political site. It links to many clips from shows, saving me the time visiting each of the host sites. Friday, I clicked a video to watch and then did something REALLY STUPID. I moved the video window from my left screen to the right one (I have two monitors). Half way across the digital divide, the machine froze. Hard. A little fiddling around left me with no option but the reset button. And when the computer returned from its boot up screen, I was staring at the infamous Blue Screen of Death.
And nothing I could do, or Patrick could do, in the next 30 hours could change that fact. The C:\ drive was toast for booting purposes, although I COULD access it, if I didn't do anything high-handed like actually start Windows (XP if you have to know). Eventually, I declared it time to resort to my backup. My last backup of the C: Drive had taken place about three weeks ago. This isn't the tragedy that some of you might otherwise suspect. I do NOT install anything I can avoid doing so, onto that C: Drive. Everything is installed in an apps folder residing on D:, E:, F: or X:. Outside of an XP patching utility and programs that give me no choice, all of C: is devoted to Windows and cache files, both temporary and all-too-permanent.
Oh yah, and some settings. Hate programs that do that.
Once I recovered using the disks created in Acronis True Image, I rebooted to a very familiar screen. The cursor was something I'd tried and discarded. I had to throw it out again. And Grisoft AVG Anti-Virus was absolutely sure I was horrendously out of date in my virus signature data (twas true enough). The massive overhaul I had made in my newsgroup handler last week was gone, which is and will be a pain until I remember to do it again. And Firefox's bookmarks were back to the way they were before I made a large re-organization of them, ten days ago. Not trifling, but nothing traffic-stopping.
I was back in business. Because I'd made a backup.
Actually, I could have recovered in about 20 minutes Friday if I hadn't been so curious as to what happened and how to fix it AND how to prevent it recurring. Patrick's curiousity was similarly piqued. So, it wasn't until Saturday at the supper hour that I was back up and running.
You KNOW you should be making a backup. I know I should be making BETTER backups (and will). And yet, the majority of you reading this will smile and pray/hope you never see the Blue Screen of Death. Lotsa luck. I had more stress this weekend deciding on what to eat for supper, then I had seeing that Blue Screen of Death ... because I had a backup. You might enjoy the stress. Knowing your sole source of income and/or entertainment has gone belly up might be something you can laugh off, or enjoy coping with. If you aren't amongst that incredibly small minority, I have only one phrase for you.
Back up, NOW!
And nothing I could do, or Patrick could do, in the next 30 hours could change that fact. The C:\ drive was toast for booting purposes, although I COULD access it, if I didn't do anything high-handed like actually start Windows (XP if you have to know). Eventually, I declared it time to resort to my backup. My last backup of the C: Drive had taken place about three weeks ago. This isn't the tragedy that some of you might otherwise suspect. I do NOT install anything I can avoid doing so, onto that C: Drive. Everything is installed in an apps folder residing on D:, E:, F: or X:. Outside of an XP patching utility and programs that give me no choice, all of C: is devoted to Windows and cache files, both temporary and all-too-permanent.
Oh yah, and some settings. Hate programs that do that.
Once I recovered using the disks created in Acronis True Image, I rebooted to a very familiar screen. The cursor was something I'd tried and discarded. I had to throw it out again. And Grisoft AVG Anti-Virus was absolutely sure I was horrendously out of date in my virus signature data (twas true enough). The massive overhaul I had made in my newsgroup handler last week was gone, which is and will be a pain until I remember to do it again. And Firefox's bookmarks were back to the way they were before I made a large re-organization of them, ten days ago. Not trifling, but nothing traffic-stopping.
I was back in business. Because I'd made a backup.
Actually, I could have recovered in about 20 minutes Friday if I hadn't been so curious as to what happened and how to fix it AND how to prevent it recurring. Patrick's curiousity was similarly piqued. So, it wasn't until Saturday at the supper hour that I was back up and running.
You KNOW you should be making a backup. I know I should be making BETTER backups (and will). And yet, the majority of you reading this will smile and pray/hope you never see the Blue Screen of Death. Lotsa luck. I had more stress this weekend deciding on what to eat for supper, then I had seeing that Blue Screen of Death ... because I had a backup. You might enjoy the stress. Knowing your sole source of income and/or entertainment has gone belly up might be something you can laugh off, or enjoy coping with. If you aren't amongst that incredibly small minority, I have only one phrase for you.
Back up, NOW!
Sunday, December 16, 2007
EXCUSES: I've had a few. Here's some
Last week, Andrew Stanley joshed me that I had lost the race. ?!?!? I responded, puzzled by the suggestion by anybody that I would be in a race. Turns out, Andrew had been heroically checking Mug Shots regularly, along with another blog by somebody else he was acquainted with, to see which of us would end a near year-long embargo on posting. I lost. The other guy blogged about ten days ago.
Never one to be goaded into doing something he didn't want to do, I did NOT immediately check in here to see how long it has been. But I got caught tonight with nothing immediately calling for my attention and I peeked. It's been 348 days. Almost 50 weeks. But it seems like forever.
This year has not been a good year health-wise. And, in between visits to the medicos, I've actually carried three fairly active projects, programming-wise. But the big time killer has been my novel. It was in decent shape quarter of the way through the year before I had to part ways with my co-author and completely throw out her contributions to the book. Took a while to recover from the trauma and the fact that the laziest man on earth (c'est moi), was faced with coming up with a new approach to the basic plot, new characters to replace the co-created characters and all new dialog and setups. It's been wearing. And darn it, I liked the meeting scenes between the former two main characters.
Another issue was my lack of enthusiasm for the new TV season. Nothing jumped out and demanded I yell good or bad in some public forum. I liked some new stuff (Chuck, Pushing Daisies and later, Samantha Who?), but was disappointed in lots of things I think I was supposed to like: Bionic Woman, the pilot for The Sarah Connor Chronicles and Cane. Some returning shows slumped: Heroes, Grey's Anatomy and Friday Night Lights. Others continued to make watching TV worthwhile: 30 Rock and Numbers. But everything else seemed to flit between blah and slightly not blah. I've watched LOTS of sports.
So, that's why you've heard little from me in the 50 weeks less two days since I last took up space on Google's file servers. Won't make any promises about how soon it will happen again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe November 28, 2008.
Probably somewhere in between.
Never one to be goaded into doing something he didn't want to do, I did NOT immediately check in here to see how long it has been. But I got caught tonight with nothing immediately calling for my attention and I peeked. It's been 348 days. Almost 50 weeks. But it seems like forever.
This year has not been a good year health-wise. And, in between visits to the medicos, I've actually carried three fairly active projects, programming-wise. But the big time killer has been my novel. It was in decent shape quarter of the way through the year before I had to part ways with my co-author and completely throw out her contributions to the book. Took a while to recover from the trauma and the fact that the laziest man on earth (c'est moi), was faced with coming up with a new approach to the basic plot, new characters to replace the co-created characters and all new dialog and setups. It's been wearing. And darn it, I liked the meeting scenes between the former two main characters.
Another issue was my lack of enthusiasm for the new TV season. Nothing jumped out and demanded I yell good or bad in some public forum. I liked some new stuff (Chuck, Pushing Daisies and later, Samantha Who?), but was disappointed in lots of things I think I was supposed to like: Bionic Woman, the pilot for The Sarah Connor Chronicles and Cane. Some returning shows slumped: Heroes, Grey's Anatomy and Friday Night Lights. Others continued to make watching TV worthwhile: 30 Rock and Numbers. But everything else seemed to flit between blah and slightly not blah. I've watched LOTS of sports.
So, that's why you've heard little from me in the 50 weeks less two days since I last took up space on Google's file servers. Won't make any promises about how soon it will happen again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe November 28, 2008.
Probably somewhere in between.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
BOOKS: Fowl's found a girlfriend
A very pleasing Christmas book haul lies stacked neatly underneath the framed hockey cards in my living room. The reading stack has grown by 18 books to a height of nearly four feet. It makes a reader feel contented to see so many anticipated tomes just sitting there to be opened and read.
Still, I found myself busy with other things and only managed to get one book done in time for the turn of the year. Artemis Fowl and the Lost Colony is the fifth book in the series starring the delinquent genius by British author Eoin Colfer.
I've said it before and it bears repeating. This Young Adult series rises to the levels of the second-best of the Harry Potter books and has never dipped in quality. The book is slightly longer than its predecessors and does introduce Minerva as a future love interest for Artemis, but it's pretty well written and deserves the length.
More or less, it's actually the kick-off to adding Minerva AND No. 1 as new characters to the enchanted world inhabited by Holly Short, ex-captain of the LEPrecon Patrol and her detective partner, Mulch Diggums, the perennial on-the-run burglar. No. 1 is an imp awaiting transformation into a demon. He doesn't get along with his mates at all. And when a chance to get back to Earth comes, he jumps at it. Literally. That's where he intersects with Artemis and a stranded Holly, caught upside, when Commander Sool cuts off contact with the Mud People. Minerva inserts herself into the process and the hormones and hilarities kick in, while a true sense of adventure moves the pace along quite nicely. Familiar folk die for the second book in a row, and the books ends with people older, much older, and maybe not any wiser.
Recommended for teen and adult alike, as long as said adult still has a kid inside of their heart.
Still, I found myself busy with other things and only managed to get one book done in time for the turn of the year. Artemis Fowl and the Lost Colony is the fifth book in the series starring the delinquent genius by British author Eoin Colfer.
I've said it before and it bears repeating. This Young Adult series rises to the levels of the second-best of the Harry Potter books and has never dipped in quality. The book is slightly longer than its predecessors and does introduce Minerva as a future love interest for Artemis, but it's pretty well written and deserves the length.
More or less, it's actually the kick-off to adding Minerva AND No. 1 as new characters to the enchanted world inhabited by Holly Short, ex-captain of the LEPrecon Patrol and her detective partner, Mulch Diggums, the perennial on-the-run burglar. No. 1 is an imp awaiting transformation into a demon. He doesn't get along with his mates at all. And when a chance to get back to Earth comes, he jumps at it. Literally. That's where he intersects with Artemis and a stranded Holly, caught upside, when Commander Sool cuts off contact with the Mud People. Minerva inserts herself into the process and the hormones and hilarities kick in, while a true sense of adventure moves the pace along quite nicely. Familiar folk die for the second book in a row, and the books ends with people older, much older, and maybe not any wiser.
Recommended for teen and adult alike, as long as said adult still has a kid inside of their heart.
MOVIES: Eragon not so much of a disaster
The call came after a particularly crappy day of work. "Let's go see Eragon," said Patrick, left at home with A.J. and a friend, Stephen, while Dawna and Angela were in Toronto at a play. As invitations go, this wasn't high on my want list. I'd read the reviews and I knew the movie to be a disappointment to the legion of Christopher Paolini fans and movie critics alike.
"Sure," I said. It was a moment of weakness based on a need to get out of the house and away from the phone tether to my various clients. Not looking at a computer for a few hours had a certain charm. Just how bad could the movie really be, when compared to the alternative?
Turns out, not so bad. Is the movie derivative of Lord of the Rings and any number of dragon stories, not the least of which was Dinotopia from a few years back? Slavishly so. Is it a remake of the book? Decidedly not so, said Patrick and A.J., both of whom had consumed Eragon and it's sequel in the last year, Patrick by listening to the audio version, A.J. by reading it. I have the two books on the stack to be read this year, but I had little trouble anticipating each step along the way, even to the point of figuring out where the movie had cut book material.
So, the movie was predictable, yet wasn't a page-for-page remake of the book. In other words, the movie had no chance of pleasing anyone. BUT, and this is an important but, it IS NOT THAT BAD! Youngsters of a certain age, who haven't had the chance to immerse themselves on Eragon's ancestors will enjoy the movie. And those who haven't seen superior dragon fare (and Dinotopia really WAS pretty good, if short-lived) in movies such as Dragonheart, don't have any measuring stick for the dragon-effects. They'll lap it up.
As a result, should Eragon be hoisted on its own petard for being late? I prefer to think it was a well-done rerun. As such, didn't regret the time spent in the theatre at all. Won't recommend the movie if you are persnickety about these things. You've been warned. It's up to you to see it.
"Sure," I said. It was a moment of weakness based on a need to get out of the house and away from the phone tether to my various clients. Not looking at a computer for a few hours had a certain charm. Just how bad could the movie really be, when compared to the alternative?
Turns out, not so bad. Is the movie derivative of Lord of the Rings and any number of dragon stories, not the least of which was Dinotopia from a few years back? Slavishly so. Is it a remake of the book? Decidedly not so, said Patrick and A.J., both of whom had consumed Eragon and it's sequel in the last year, Patrick by listening to the audio version, A.J. by reading it. I have the two books on the stack to be read this year, but I had little trouble anticipating each step along the way, even to the point of figuring out where the movie had cut book material.
So, the movie was predictable, yet wasn't a page-for-page remake of the book. In other words, the movie had no chance of pleasing anyone. BUT, and this is an important but, it IS NOT THAT BAD! Youngsters of a certain age, who haven't had the chance to immerse themselves on Eragon's ancestors will enjoy the movie. And those who haven't seen superior dragon fare (and Dinotopia really WAS pretty good, if short-lived) in movies such as Dragonheart, don't have any measuring stick for the dragon-effects. They'll lap it up.
As a result, should Eragon be hoisted on its own petard for being late? I prefer to think it was a well-done rerun. As such, didn't regret the time spent in the theatre at all. Won't recommend the movie if you are persnickety about these things. You've been warned. It's up to you to see it.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
COMPUTERS: Firefox 2.0 is good, really, REALLY GOOD!
Flush with victory over getting that extra third of an inch of depth in my Firefox browser window, I decided to tempt fate and upgrade to Firefox 2.0 on the main machines. I had been running on the test machine Ollie and, a few quirks aside, I was okay with it.
The upgrade process was quick, but not painless. It left my old Firefox installation alive and kicking in a sub-folder called Firefox 1.5. That caused some confusion. And it took a few starts and restarts before the old extensions got themselves worked out. (as an aside, the person responsible for changing the name extension to add-in must be the son of the keyboard designer for the original IBM keyboard, the one that was NOT based on the top-selling keyboard of the time, the IBM Selectric Typewriter. Change for change's sake is dumb).
My first reaction was to panic over some of the extensions I had lost. All-in-One Sidebar was working a little wonky, but the only one of my must-have list missing was Copy Image. That seemed replaced by a built-in version. So, no harm there. Bookmark Backup was also missing in action and that concerned me. As was Diggler. ColourfulTabs and WellRounded made me wistful for my old version. But the REAL problem, interface-wise, was the missing close tab button on the far right of the tab header row. I could live with the tab headers scrolling rather than showing a gazillion mini headers. But I needed that button back. Sure, each tab had it's own close button, but I used middle-click for that when I was in the vicinity. But when I just wanted to scan through a bunch of sites quickly, I needed the one-stop action of the right-hand-side close button.
I went looking for new “add-ins” and found some delightful ones. More of that later. What I didn't find was an add-in that would give me back the close tab button. Off to google for “firefox restore close button” and found instructions to do this.
Into the url field, type in About:config and hit enter. That takes you to the arcane Firefox configuration file. Scroll down until you find: browser.tabs.closeButtons and right click. Choose to modify and change the value from 0 or 1 to 3. Voila! You and I are happy again. If you want to get a more complete explanation, go to http://kb.mozillazine.org/Browser.tabs.closeButtons.
Diggler's ability to go back up a site tree has been replaced by ParentFolder. Not quite as all-knowing as Diggler, but it'll do. I also miss the left-hand-side NewFolder on the tab header bar, but I simply customized the menu to put it on the top row where I have the word menu plus the navigation toolbar.
Now for the new goodies. The ColorfulTabs are now a thing of the past. Replaced with AgingTabs. After loading this one, I changed the custom tab colour to Bright yellow with an aging target of dull yellow. The Highlight slected tab became light lime green and I told it to age every 60 seconds. I slid the aging amount slider to the middle. Perfect!
The other REALLY NEAT thing was TabsOpenRelative. This one meant any links I clicked on would open RIGHT after the tab I was currently on, rather than the far right. THIS, is a wonderful thing. Remember, I have folders of links I open with a single middle click. That gets my sports links, entertainment links and computer links up there already loaded as I go through them site by site. It was not unusual to be going through the sports stuff, see a link I wanted to load and do so. But it would load AFTER all of my other already-loaded links. So I was faced with the decision to read all of sports, then entertainment, then computers and finally go back to the sports link, or pop to the end and then come back. TabsOpenRelative solves that utterly and completely.
Firefox 2.0 is now VERY friendly with the wheel on your mouse or trackball. In the tab header area, the scroller will move the tab headers right and left. On a page, it scrolls as you expect and if you hold the control key down while using it, it moves the size of type up and down. Very nifty. And when you add the return of being able to use the space bar to page down, which I suspect TabBrowserPreferences ate a year ago, I can unequivocally say, UPGRADE!
Some goodies you MIGHT want to investigate include the GmailSpace and Check4Change add-ins which I have loaded but haven't used. BookmarkDuplicateDetector does what it says. PDFDownload and SourgeforgeDirectDownload help me with saving files to my drive in a quicker, smarter, less error-prone manner. And UndoClosedTabsButton will come in handy eventually. Probably.
Yep, the upgrade is the smart thing to do.
The upgrade process was quick, but not painless. It left my old Firefox installation alive and kicking in a sub-folder called Firefox 1.5. That caused some confusion. And it took a few starts and restarts before the old extensions got themselves worked out. (as an aside, the person responsible for changing the name extension to add-in must be the son of the keyboard designer for the original IBM keyboard, the one that was NOT based on the top-selling keyboard of the time, the IBM Selectric Typewriter. Change for change's sake is dumb).
My first reaction was to panic over some of the extensions I had lost. All-in-One Sidebar was working a little wonky, but the only one of my must-have list missing was Copy Image. That seemed replaced by a built-in version. So, no harm there. Bookmark Backup was also missing in action and that concerned me. As was Diggler. ColourfulTabs and WellRounded made me wistful for my old version. But the REAL problem, interface-wise, was the missing close tab button on the far right of the tab header row. I could live with the tab headers scrolling rather than showing a gazillion mini headers. But I needed that button back. Sure, each tab had it's own close button, but I used middle-click for that when I was in the vicinity. But when I just wanted to scan through a bunch of sites quickly, I needed the one-stop action of the right-hand-side close button.
I went looking for new “add-ins” and found some delightful ones. More of that later. What I didn't find was an add-in that would give me back the close tab button. Off to google for “firefox restore close button” and found instructions to do this.
Into the url field, type in About:config and hit enter. That takes you to the arcane Firefox configuration file. Scroll down until you find: browser.tabs.closeButtons and right click. Choose to modify and change the value from 0 or 1 to 3. Voila! You and I are happy again. If you want to get a more complete explanation, go to http://kb.mozillazine.org/Browser.tabs.closeButtons.
Diggler's ability to go back up a site tree has been replaced by ParentFolder. Not quite as all-knowing as Diggler, but it'll do. I also miss the left-hand-side NewFolder on the tab header bar, but I simply customized the menu to put it on the top row where I have the word menu plus the navigation toolbar.
Now for the new goodies. The ColorfulTabs are now a thing of the past. Replaced with AgingTabs. After loading this one, I changed the custom tab colour to Bright yellow with an aging target of dull yellow. The Highlight slected tab became light lime green and I told it to age every 60 seconds. I slid the aging amount slider to the middle. Perfect!
The other REALLY NEAT thing was TabsOpenRelative. This one meant any links I clicked on would open RIGHT after the tab I was currently on, rather than the far right. THIS, is a wonderful thing. Remember, I have folders of links I open with a single middle click. That gets my sports links, entertainment links and computer links up there already loaded as I go through them site by site. It was not unusual to be going through the sports stuff, see a link I wanted to load and do so. But it would load AFTER all of my other already-loaded links. So I was faced with the decision to read all of sports, then entertainment, then computers and finally go back to the sports link, or pop to the end and then come back. TabsOpenRelative solves that utterly and completely.
Firefox 2.0 is now VERY friendly with the wheel on your mouse or trackball. In the tab header area, the scroller will move the tab headers right and left. On a page, it scrolls as you expect and if you hold the control key down while using it, it moves the size of type up and down. Very nifty. And when you add the return of being able to use the space bar to page down, which I suspect TabBrowserPreferences ate a year ago, I can unequivocally say, UPGRADE!
Some goodies you MIGHT want to investigate include the GmailSpace and Check4Change add-ins which I have loaded but haven't used. BookmarkDuplicateDetector does what it says. PDFDownload and SourgeforgeDirectDownload help me with saving files to my drive in a quicker, smarter, less error-prone manner. And UndoClosedTabsButton will come in handy eventually. Probably.
Yep, the upgrade is the smart thing to do.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
NATURE: Even Hippos can be cute
I love the zoo. I've come to that conclusion late in life, but I look forward to the (usually) yearly visit to the Toronto Zoo. In fact, I like it enough to actually drive myself and bring the movie mob with me, rather than wait until I can hitch a ride with one of the mob's actual parents.
When I was a wee heffer in the making, I had a bad experience somewhere that made me leary of zoos. Can't remember it all that well, but it involved a cow barn, lots of excrement and a weak stomach. Took me almost 30 years and getting old enough to forget the childhood experience to go back.
Hardly the odiferous place I feared, it was a place of delights. I can watch the gorillas and lesser apes for hours. The otters and the meerkats are watchable for just as long. Polar bears have their moments and so do the warthogs. Giraffes are the ultimate in languid grace and elephants are fascinating in size alone. In groups, all the better.
And, now, I have found a site that will let you see behind-the-scenes stuff from the zoo. Not MY favourite zoo, but a good one nonetheless. The San Francisco Zoo is a pretty good one and they have a bi-weekly video blog (known as a podcast) available at www.sfzoo.org/podcasts/#archive . Worth taking a look. The first of the two penguin broadcasts was best. The koala episode was first rate. The hippo show for Stomp and Chomp wasn't as good as others I have seen, but not bad. Check out the jowls on that hippo.
At any rate, I wonder what a fall visit to the Zoo would be like?
When I was a wee heffer in the making, I had a bad experience somewhere that made me leary of zoos. Can't remember it all that well, but it involved a cow barn, lots of excrement and a weak stomach. Took me almost 30 years and getting old enough to forget the childhood experience to go back.
Hardly the odiferous place I feared, it was a place of delights. I can watch the gorillas and lesser apes for hours. The otters and the meerkats are watchable for just as long. Polar bears have their moments and so do the warthogs. Giraffes are the ultimate in languid grace and elephants are fascinating in size alone. In groups, all the better.
And, now, I have found a site that will let you see behind-the-scenes stuff from the zoo. Not MY favourite zoo, but a good one nonetheless. The San Francisco Zoo is a pretty good one and they have a bi-weekly video blog (known as a podcast) available at www.sfzoo.org/podcasts/#archive . Worth taking a look. The first of the two penguin broadcasts was best. The koala episode was first rate. The hippo show for Stomp and Chomp wasn't as good as others I have seen, but not bad. Check out the jowls on that hippo.
At any rate, I wonder what a fall visit to the Zoo would be like?
COMPUTERS: Neat Firefox Stuff
I have a BIGGGG monitor (several, in fact). But the main point is that even with the big monitor, I find myself JUSTTHISCLOSE to having enough depth to see the Next buttons when doing a google search. I get the ten default items and you can usually see a bit of the google travel buttons at the bottom. So, I have to scroll down and then click. Oh, Bother! as Winnie the Pooh would say.
I read about a neat extension at Shell Extension City, one of my daily blog stops, called Compact. It was meant to make the word menu, you know, the File-Edit-View menu bar, collapse into a button on the button bar, the one with the back and forward buttons. EXACTLY what I needed.
Didn't work. Had to uninstall it.
But it got me thinking. I tried the effect of pushing the buttons up to the right-hand side of the word menu bar. And you know, it works!!!! I then made the button bar non-viewed and I have EXACTLY the space now to see the google buttons without having to scroll. It's a small thing, but it turns a crappy day into a semi-victory.
So, let's walk through the steps into getting that much appreciated extra depth. First, right click on your button bar. You SHOULD get a menu to checkmark on or off your various toolbars. Select the customize option. Up will come a window that will allow you to drag buttons TO the bar or buttons OFF the bar. Anddddd, unbeknownst to me until today, you can drag buttons FROM bar TO bar. Drag ALL of your buttons from the toolbar and plop them down at the end of the menu bar. Even the URL type-in field. When completed and the button bar is empty of icons, click DONE in the customize toolbar window. The final step? Right click on the menu bar and turn off the navigation toolbar (That's the REAL name of the button bar).
Bob's your uncle.
Extensions I have known and loved
Speaking of extensions, I'm REALLY happy with my current set of extensions. Here's a run-down of what I am using.
Adblock Plus with the Adblock Filterset.G Updater keeps most of the annoying ads at bay and lets me kick others out of sight on an as-encountered basis. All-In-One sidebar is a godsend for allowing easy viewing/switching between bookmarks, download manager and the extension manager. Bookmark backup does what it says it does. BugMeNot was huge at one time, but with the NY Times having caught up, not as good anymore. BMN is there more out of tradition than use. Clear Cache Button gives me a quick way to clear the cache before and after visiting a site I will be giving personal info too. Colorful Tabs is nice, cuz it helps separate the see of grey into more discreet tabs. Context Highlight lets me decide to highlight a word or group of words. Think Find All at Once. Copy Image lets me right-click on a picture and save it to disk. And copy plain text lets me hightlight and copy, without bringing formatting info along for the ride.
Dictionary Search is handy for those words I don't know. Not a frequent need, but it does happen. Diggler lets me back up the url tree to someplace higher on the chain. DownThemAll! lets me get all the links (usually pictures) on a page all at once. A great saver. Fasterfox measures how fast pages take to load and optimizes things a little but. Saves microseconds, if that. Flashblock makes all flash animations require a click (or two) from me to play. Sites can be given cartblanche to show animations. Otherwise, all you web-design morons who use flash are getting nothing from me, in terms of attention. Scorn maybe, but attention, no! GMail Manager, lets me quickly check my GMail account. And Grease Monkey is a programming environment for Firefox. I am still new to it, but already, I have a page or two of usually microscopic text starting up at the right size.
Image Zoom allows me to right click and enlarge or make smaller images on the page. InFormEnter is a program that attaches blue arrows to the end of input fields and lets me select from a bunch of previously entered in answers. NoScript stops click-by web infections by javascript dead cold. You have to allow or allow permanently a web-site to execute scripts on your computer. And you can mix and match. Let Sportsnet run ITS scripts, but disallow the adsense links to do so. NukeAnythingEnhanced lets me get rid of objects on the page, usually before printing the page. And PrintPreview gives me a button to do that job quickly. SaveImageInFolder lets me save selected graphics, TV/Movie Posters or Cast shots, for example, into a separate folder (called unoriginally Posters). TabBrowser Preferences is the king of tab extensions, allowing you to middle click to add and delete, amongst other goodies. VideoDownloader speeds up the task of saving YouTube videos to the hard drive as flash animations. I know, I know! I ragged on flash just a paragraph ago. The difference here is choosing to save and watch, rather than having the decision made for me by an attention-deficit affected designer. And finally, for cosmetic reasons, I like my URL field to have rounded corners, and WellRounded does that for me.
Which of the above would make the absolute MUST HAVE list? NoScript, Tabbrowser Preferences, All-in-One Sidebar, Adblock Plus, Clear Cache Button, Image Zoom, Copy Image and InFormEnter, nmaybe in that order. Nuke Anthing Enhanced and VideoDownloader are the other two that get used a lot. The rest are either cosmetic or once in a blue moon tools.
I read about a neat extension at Shell Extension City, one of my daily blog stops, called Compact. It was meant to make the word menu, you know, the File-Edit-View menu bar, collapse into a button on the button bar, the one with the back and forward buttons. EXACTLY what I needed.
Didn't work. Had to uninstall it.
But it got me thinking. I tried the effect of pushing the buttons up to the right-hand side of the word menu bar. And you know, it works!!!! I then made the button bar non-viewed and I have EXACTLY the space now to see the google buttons without having to scroll. It's a small thing, but it turns a crappy day into a semi-victory.
So, let's walk through the steps into getting that much appreciated extra depth. First, right click on your button bar. You SHOULD get a menu to checkmark on or off your various toolbars. Select the customize option. Up will come a window that will allow you to drag buttons TO the bar or buttons OFF the bar. Anddddd, unbeknownst to me until today, you can drag buttons FROM bar TO bar. Drag ALL of your buttons from the toolbar and plop them down at the end of the menu bar. Even the URL type-in field. When completed and the button bar is empty of icons, click DONE in the customize toolbar window. The final step? Right click on the menu bar and turn off the navigation toolbar (That's the REAL name of the button bar).
Bob's your uncle.
Extensions I have known and loved
Speaking of extensions, I'm REALLY happy with my current set of extensions. Here's a run-down of what I am using.
Adblock Plus with the Adblock Filterset.G Updater keeps most of the annoying ads at bay and lets me kick others out of sight on an as-encountered basis. All-In-One sidebar is a godsend for allowing easy viewing/switching between bookmarks, download manager and the extension manager. Bookmark backup does what it says it does. BugMeNot was huge at one time, but with the NY Times having caught up, not as good anymore. BMN is there more out of tradition than use. Clear Cache Button gives me a quick way to clear the cache before and after visiting a site I will be giving personal info too. Colorful Tabs is nice, cuz it helps separate the see of grey into more discreet tabs. Context Highlight lets me decide to highlight a word or group of words. Think Find All at Once. Copy Image lets me right-click on a picture and save it to disk. And copy plain text lets me hightlight and copy, without bringing formatting info along for the ride.
Dictionary Search is handy for those words I don't know. Not a frequent need, but it does happen. Diggler lets me back up the url tree to someplace higher on the chain. DownThemAll! lets me get all the links (usually pictures) on a page all at once. A great saver. Fasterfox measures how fast pages take to load and optimizes things a little but. Saves microseconds, if that. Flashblock makes all flash animations require a click (or two) from me to play. Sites can be given cartblanche to show animations. Otherwise, all you web-design morons who use flash are getting nothing from me, in terms of attention. Scorn maybe, but attention, no! GMail Manager, lets me quickly check my GMail account. And Grease Monkey is a programming environment for Firefox. I am still new to it, but already, I have a page or two of usually microscopic text starting up at the right size.
Image Zoom allows me to right click and enlarge or make smaller images on the page. InFormEnter is a program that attaches blue arrows to the end of input fields and lets me select from a bunch of previously entered in answers. NoScript stops click-by web infections by javascript dead cold. You have to allow or allow permanently a web-site to execute scripts on your computer. And you can mix and match. Let Sportsnet run ITS scripts, but disallow the adsense links to do so. NukeAnythingEnhanced lets me get rid of objects on the page, usually before printing the page. And PrintPreview gives me a button to do that job quickly. SaveImageInFolder lets me save selected graphics, TV/Movie Posters or Cast shots, for example, into a separate folder (called unoriginally Posters). TabBrowser Preferences is the king of tab extensions, allowing you to middle click to add and delete, amongst other goodies. VideoDownloader speeds up the task of saving YouTube videos to the hard drive as flash animations. I know, I know! I ragged on flash just a paragraph ago. The difference here is choosing to save and watch, rather than having the decision made for me by an attention-deficit affected designer. And finally, for cosmetic reasons, I like my URL field to have rounded corners, and WellRounded does that for me.
Which of the above would make the absolute MUST HAVE list? NoScript, Tabbrowser Preferences, All-in-One Sidebar, Adblock Plus, Clear Cache Button, Image Zoom, Copy Image and InFormEnter, nmaybe in that order. Nuke Anthing Enhanced and VideoDownloader are the other two that get used a lot. The rest are either cosmetic or once in a blue moon tools.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
EDUCATION: Kill all the Shakespeareans
Not a day doesn't go by that I don't have to stop and repeat something I've said, usually in plainer, less accurate terms, because some high-school educated person I'm talking to doesn't get what I am saying.
I'm hardly William F. Buckley, but for comparative purposes, my level of language is akin to Elizabethan English to too many 'educated' youngsters and young adults. It makes me wonder WHAT we are teaching in English class in high school today. I hear lots of Shakespeare and I shudder.
Shakespeare wrote in a dialect of English that no longer exists. It bears only a passing resemblance to what is spoken today and is taught as a sop to the teachers that educated our teachers. It's almost like an initiation process. "I had to put up with Shakespeare and for the one of You in this class that will become an English major and eventually a teacher, You are going to have to go through this too". Better they be stripped naked and be forced to run a gauntlet of their peers with tomahawks. Less florid speeches that turn off most students and more attention to getting all students to communicate effectively in today's workplace would be a giant first step in repairing education.
Before you scholars take to your keyboards in righteous anger, let me point out that I have NO problem with teaching Shakespeare in history. I think it would be boring there too, but it has a place there. It's relatively entertaining prose from a language that became that, that we speak today. The EVOLUTION of language is a historical subject. And it should make up a section in some year's historical curriculum. ONE SECTION. Not a semester's worth in each of three or four years.
Was ol' Will a wonderful wordsmith? Leaving aside the slight chance that his authorship was a fraud, I'd say yes. Some of the tropes we are ALL too familiar with today in our entertainment, seem to trace back to Shakespeare. But then again, there really are only seven different stories, and choice of language and/or dialect doesn't change that. Our educational system's devotion to Shakespeare has blinded the educators to the fact that student's don't read it, if unforced. Save for the one future English teacher in the student body.
Contemporary literature might be a minefield of mediocrity and modern magazines and newspapers a monument to short attention spans, but it IS the reading material students WILL be buying and consuming. Teaching good from bad, literate from eubonic pablum, honest from deceitful ... wouldn't THAT be a more effective use of the time we USED to call Language Arts?
I'm hardly William F. Buckley, but for comparative purposes, my level of language is akin to Elizabethan English to too many 'educated' youngsters and young adults. It makes me wonder WHAT we are teaching in English class in high school today. I hear lots of Shakespeare and I shudder.
Shakespeare wrote in a dialect of English that no longer exists. It bears only a passing resemblance to what is spoken today and is taught as a sop to the teachers that educated our teachers. It's almost like an initiation process. "I had to put up with Shakespeare and for the one of You in this class that will become an English major and eventually a teacher, You are going to have to go through this too". Better they be stripped naked and be forced to run a gauntlet of their peers with tomahawks. Less florid speeches that turn off most students and more attention to getting all students to communicate effectively in today's workplace would be a giant first step in repairing education.
Before you scholars take to your keyboards in righteous anger, let me point out that I have NO problem with teaching Shakespeare in history. I think it would be boring there too, but it has a place there. It's relatively entertaining prose from a language that became that, that we speak today. The EVOLUTION of language is a historical subject. And it should make up a section in some year's historical curriculum. ONE SECTION. Not a semester's worth in each of three or four years.
Was ol' Will a wonderful wordsmith? Leaving aside the slight chance that his authorship was a fraud, I'd say yes. Some of the tropes we are ALL too familiar with today in our entertainment, seem to trace back to Shakespeare. But then again, there really are only seven different stories, and choice of language and/or dialect doesn't change that. Our educational system's devotion to Shakespeare has blinded the educators to the fact that student's don't read it, if unforced. Save for the one future English teacher in the student body.
Contemporary literature might be a minefield of mediocrity and modern magazines and newspapers a monument to short attention spans, but it IS the reading material students WILL be buying and consuming. Teaching good from bad, literate from eubonic pablum, honest from deceitful ... wouldn't THAT be a more effective use of the time we USED to call Language Arts?
TV: The New Tuesday - Are you ready for some FOOTBALL!!
Nope! Not a mistake. Tuesday night is Football night redux, at least as far as the new TV shows this fall go. I might have been looking forward to CBS's Smith, but I stayed for NBC's Friday Night Lights, the small-screen version of the movie of the same name.
Bluntly, it's the only new show Tuesdays will continue to bring into the house. Even if I have to tape it to watch House and NCIS. It's like The OC with a purpose and a Texas twang. Forget the football, it's a teen soap opera with believable parents (faves Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton). Too many people see the SF label and bypass Battlestar Galactica. This one's stuck with the pigskin outline on its rear. Get over your dislike for sports shows that ain't for real. This is one for the VCR while you watch your REAL Tuesday at 8 favourite.
One of the VERY BEST SHOWS ON TV ANYWHERE (have I got your attention?) is Hustle, the British caper show, shown on this side of the Atlantic in hacked apart one-hour shows (it needs 90 minutes to show the full British episode). It's through three (regrettably short) seasons and coming back for more. Just about every other theft-inspired show over 'ere seems to die part way through the first season. Well, at least since It Takes a Thief. I had high hopes for Smith. Ray Liotta, Virginia Madsen, a moody movie approach, some appealing secondary characters given life by Amy Smart, Simon Baker and Frankie G. And it plopped. Big Time. No chemistry between the intense Liotta and the expressionless Madsen. Smart's character wasn't very smart. And it wasn't the little things that set the authorities onto the caper crew, it was a spot-on ID by a child-hood friend that Smart's character neglected to mention to the rest of her high-end team. It was the first casualty of the year, although I watched it to the bitter end (okay, it WAS only three shows).
What should have been the first casualty was the show I could only watch a half of. ABC deserves a bad chastising for releasing Ted Danson's dreadful Help Me, Help You on to an unsuspecting viewership. When the clean freak he's treating reaches into the garbage can for a partially eaten something or other as part of her aversion therapy, I reached for the remote. Just horrible. Won't subject myself to it again.
I sort of liked Standoff's first show. Even liked the second. Started hoping they'd start losing hostages by the third show. A show about hostage negotiators needs a LOT of time away from the job to have any legs. Otherwise, it becomes like a Superman comic where you KNOW nobody's in real jeopardy. Super Clark will always arrive in time to save Lois Lane. Takes the dramatic kick completely out of the show. But this is a work-place show. And losing hostages isn't really part of the romantic comedy the two negotiators have set up by becoming lovers as well as partners. It's like corn chips. Easy to overdose on, and slow to come back too. Ron Livingston's fine as one half of the team, can't say I'm much impressed with Rosemarie DeWitt as the distaff partner. But even Billy Connelly and Charlize Theron couldn't make this work.
Bluntly, it's the only new show Tuesdays will continue to bring into the house. Even if I have to tape it to watch House and NCIS. It's like The OC with a purpose and a Texas twang. Forget the football, it's a teen soap opera with believable parents (faves Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton). Too many people see the SF label and bypass Battlestar Galactica. This one's stuck with the pigskin outline on its rear. Get over your dislike for sports shows that ain't for real. This is one for the VCR while you watch your REAL Tuesday at 8 favourite.
One of the VERY BEST SHOWS ON TV ANYWHERE (have I got your attention?) is Hustle, the British caper show, shown on this side of the Atlantic in hacked apart one-hour shows (it needs 90 minutes to show the full British episode). It's through three (regrettably short) seasons and coming back for more. Just about every other theft-inspired show over 'ere seems to die part way through the first season. Well, at least since It Takes a Thief. I had high hopes for Smith. Ray Liotta, Virginia Madsen, a moody movie approach, some appealing secondary characters given life by Amy Smart, Simon Baker and Frankie G. And it plopped. Big Time. No chemistry between the intense Liotta and the expressionless Madsen. Smart's character wasn't very smart. And it wasn't the little things that set the authorities onto the caper crew, it was a spot-on ID by a child-hood friend that Smart's character neglected to mention to the rest of her high-end team. It was the first casualty of the year, although I watched it to the bitter end (okay, it WAS only three shows).
What should have been the first casualty was the show I could only watch a half of. ABC deserves a bad chastising for releasing Ted Danson's dreadful Help Me, Help You on to an unsuspecting viewership. When the clean freak he's treating reaches into the garbage can for a partially eaten something or other as part of her aversion therapy, I reached for the remote. Just horrible. Won't subject myself to it again.
I sort of liked Standoff's first show. Even liked the second. Started hoping they'd start losing hostages by the third show. A show about hostage negotiators needs a LOT of time away from the job to have any legs. Otherwise, it becomes like a Superman comic where you KNOW nobody's in real jeopardy. Super Clark will always arrive in time to save Lois Lane. Takes the dramatic kick completely out of the show. But this is a work-place show. And losing hostages isn't really part of the romantic comedy the two negotiators have set up by becoming lovers as well as partners. It's like corn chips. Easy to overdose on, and slow to come back too. Ron Livingston's fine as one half of the team, can't say I'm much impressed with Rosemarie DeWitt as the distaff partner. But even Billy Connelly and Charlize Theron couldn't make this work.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
TV: The New Monday ... I Need a Hero
Let's face it, I watch Monday Night Football and tape whatever else I'm going to watch. That said, Monday night does house the best of the new shows this season and not the worst of the rest. In other words, an okay grade.
The best show is NBC's Heroes, a show that appeals to the comic book reader (hey, I've got close to ten thousand of them in the vault and downstairs. I AM A COMIC BOOK READER). But like other fantastical shows, this has cross-over appeal and a shot to compete in its time slot. The pilot was incomplete and the addition of Greg Grunberg, ex of Alias, in the second episode is a good sign this will be a good show.
Heroes is followed to the screen by Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, one of the more disappointing shows thus far. It's okay, but more was expected from Matthew Perry and Bradley Whitford, playing riffs on their characters from Cheers and West Wing respectively. Not surprising, since West Wing came from the same fertile minds of Aaron Sorkin and Thomas Schlamme. Unfortunately, there is a truth in show biz. Viewers at home couldn't care less about writers, whether they be newspapermen, crusading magazine stars or TV Shows. Murder She Wrote was a detective show. And The Mary Tyler Moore Show was set in a newsroom about as often as Mary enjoyed long-lasting relationships with men. In Studio 60, we get more of Sorkin, and maybe you CAN get too much of Sorkin. Still, I will watch the show if only for the pairing of Jack & Jill survivors Amanda Peet and Sarah Paulson.
Fox's Vanished is one of the two kidnapping shows this year (NBC cutting right to the chase by calling their show, Kidnapping). Lots to like about the show, which is the DaVinci Code tossed into the blender with 24. BUT, and it's a BIG but, the behaviour of daughter Marcy, played by Margarita Levieva, is preposterious. Marcy has to act impossibly stupidly in key sequences to further the plot. And everybody has to ignore her while she's making the bad decisions. Levieva IS quite cute, but I can't get around that.
The new network CW, runs Runaway against Vanished. It's a Canuck-content extravaganza. Competent, but blah. As a serial, it asks too much to get interested in the Rader family on the run, sort of The Fugitive on steroids. Would be surprised if it lasted til Christmas. I said the same thing about a comedy from ABC last year and it went the whole season. So it got a whole half-season more than I projected. My revenge is that I can't remember its name.
Which brings me to Class, the best of a woeful lot of comedies I've seen this year. Class gets a failing grade, and it's STILL the funniest of the new comedies. It depends on faux gay humour to a great degree, brings in suicide as an ON-GOING plot device, repeats the same punch line ad nauseum “Your party,” and features a philandering wife. I did laugh three or four times in two episodes. Time well spent? Not anymore.
It's time for some FOOTBALL!!
The best show is NBC's Heroes, a show that appeals to the comic book reader (hey, I've got close to ten thousand of them in the vault and downstairs. I AM A COMIC BOOK READER). But like other fantastical shows, this has cross-over appeal and a shot to compete in its time slot. The pilot was incomplete and the addition of Greg Grunberg, ex of Alias, in the second episode is a good sign this will be a good show.
Heroes is followed to the screen by Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, one of the more disappointing shows thus far. It's okay, but more was expected from Matthew Perry and Bradley Whitford, playing riffs on their characters from Cheers and West Wing respectively. Not surprising, since West Wing came from the same fertile minds of Aaron Sorkin and Thomas Schlamme. Unfortunately, there is a truth in show biz. Viewers at home couldn't care less about writers, whether they be newspapermen, crusading magazine stars or TV Shows. Murder She Wrote was a detective show. And The Mary Tyler Moore Show was set in a newsroom about as often as Mary enjoyed long-lasting relationships with men. In Studio 60, we get more of Sorkin, and maybe you CAN get too much of Sorkin. Still, I will watch the show if only for the pairing of Jack & Jill survivors Amanda Peet and Sarah Paulson.
Fox's Vanished is one of the two kidnapping shows this year (NBC cutting right to the chase by calling their show, Kidnapping). Lots to like about the show, which is the DaVinci Code tossed into the blender with 24. BUT, and it's a BIG but, the behaviour of daughter Marcy, played by Margarita Levieva, is preposterious. Marcy has to act impossibly stupidly in key sequences to further the plot. And everybody has to ignore her while she's making the bad decisions. Levieva IS quite cute, but I can't get around that.
The new network CW, runs Runaway against Vanished. It's a Canuck-content extravaganza. Competent, but blah. As a serial, it asks too much to get interested in the Rader family on the run, sort of The Fugitive on steroids. Would be surprised if it lasted til Christmas. I said the same thing about a comedy from ABC last year and it went the whole season. So it got a whole half-season more than I projected. My revenge is that I can't remember its name.
Which brings me to Class, the best of a woeful lot of comedies I've seen this year. Class gets a failing grade, and it's STILL the funniest of the new comedies. It depends on faux gay humour to a great degree, brings in suicide as an ON-GOING plot device, repeats the same punch line ad nauseum “Your party,” and features a philandering wife. I did laugh three or four times in two episodes. Time well spent? Not anymore.
It's time for some FOOTBALL!!
Monday, October 02, 2006
I'm BAAAAAACK!
Having not discovered a way to pawn off my work and still get paid for it (like my current external facilities manager, GRRRRRRR!), I haven't had time to do this thing.
But I will over the next few days. The BBL season came to an end with the usual result, the Mug Shots are Brampton Beisbol League roto champs again. The OOPS (the hockey roto) draft is tomorrow night with the Mug Shots and Pool Division cousing Bugaboos as defending champs. And even though the Mug Shots won the SNAFU (football roto) title last year, I decided to skip pigskin operations this year. That will leave me with some spare time to fit more work in ... or work here.
I hope.
But I will over the next few days. The BBL season came to an end with the usual result, the Mug Shots are Brampton Beisbol League roto champs again. The OOPS (the hockey roto) draft is tomorrow night with the Mug Shots and Pool Division cousing Bugaboos as defending champs. And even though the Mug Shots won the SNAFU (football roto) title last year, I decided to skip pigskin operations this year. That will leave me with some spare time to fit more work in ... or work here.
I hope.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
SPORTS: Boston and the Black athlete
The Boston Red Sox were legendarily the last major league baseball team to integrate, when infielder Pumpsie Green joined them in the late 50's ... AFTER I was born. As a kid, my Pumpsie Green card was one of my favourties. Nothing about Pumpsie being black, just loved the name.
Later, as a I grew older and became a little more aware of the importance of Green's presence ON that card, I formed an opinion of Boston as a hard place for black athletes. Sure, the Celtics were a tribute to Bill Russell, the Jones boys and Satch Sanders, but I just got the impression that Boston was as provincial as a Northern states city could get. Even when Russell got the head coaching job after Red Auerbach retired to the cigar-smoking section in the stands, I held fast to my notion.
Yesterday, talking to a New Englander, the subject came up. "Hmmmmmm," said my Bridge-playing friend. "Didn't Boston have the first black NHL player? Fellow by the name of O'Ree. Willie O'Ree I think. And you know Chuck Cooper broke the colour barrier in the NBA. You know, you can't paint us all with a tarbrush, when it was just the Red Sox management that was slow on the uptake."
And he was right. Sorry, Boston.
Later, as a I grew older and became a little more aware of the importance of Green's presence ON that card, I formed an opinion of Boston as a hard place for black athletes. Sure, the Celtics were a tribute to Bill Russell, the Jones boys and Satch Sanders, but I just got the impression that Boston was as provincial as a Northern states city could get. Even when Russell got the head coaching job after Red Auerbach retired to the cigar-smoking section in the stands, I held fast to my notion.
Yesterday, talking to a New Englander, the subject came up. "Hmmmmmm," said my Bridge-playing friend. "Didn't Boston have the first black NHL player? Fellow by the name of O'Ree. Willie O'Ree I think. And you know Chuck Cooper broke the colour barrier in the NBA. You know, you can't paint us all with a tarbrush, when it was just the Red Sox management that was slow on the uptake."
And he was right. Sorry, Boston.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
SPORTS: It's not as good as it USED to be, but ...
I love lacrosse.
Played it when I was a kid one year, when I disagreed with the direction of the local softball team (I was a second-baseman, not a third-baseman). Wasn't any good. Actually, I was pretty bad. But at least I got to see some good goaltending by Jim Ward and the modern bulldozer of a player that was Billy Gardhouse. Once saw Gardhouse destroy his sneakers by jabbing a step so hard into the tar-top of the local box that the sole stayed there while Billy's foot and the top of the shoe went the other way.
Now, I know lacrosse is violent. Doesn't jibe with my dislike for boxing, does it? But properly played, lacrosse is an art.
Just now, I finished watching the Toronto Rock of the National Lacrosse League beat the Edmonton Rush in an entertaining game. But as entertaining as many Rock games are, the lacrosse I see today pales in comparison to what I was covering as a sports reporter 25 years ago.
I'm not a fan of the rule changes in the NLL version of the boxla game I love. Back in the day, you couldn't go into the crease with the ball, regardless if the last step you took was outside the goaltender's barrier. It made Bill Coghill and Paul Suggate interesting players as they explored how well the refs could detect their encroaching as they dived around, and more than occasionally, into the crease.
I don't like the large centre zone. It makes chasing penalty-killing teams impossible and eliminates the role of the human rag doll played by the likes of Joe Madeiros. Joe would get the ball in the offensive zone while on the penalty kill and the other team would send two, and then three, men to try and extract the ball. He would be battered about (yeah, I know I'm glorifying violence) for the whole two minutes, as often as not. That's right, the penalty killers didn't have a shot clock. It was great entertainment to see just how much punishment Joe and his ilk could take.
Joe was a specialist. Today, EVERY player is a specialist. There are no lines, just offensive and defensive units. About half of each 30-second possession is spent changing from one to the other. That is NOT entertaining. Lacrosse IS the fastest game on two feet, as Jim Hinkson was fond of saying. But not when the players are trotting to the bench or to the floor to get ready for 15 seconds of frenetic play. About the only advantage I can see to this system is that it allows under-sized offensive prodigies like Josh Sanderson to play the game. Mind you, Josh isn't much taller than Chuck Li was and Li and the Oshawa Green Gaels were dominant with him on the floor. Okay, so Gaylord Powless' presence might have had something to do with that.
The plastic sticks they use today with either hand don't permit some of the ball-handling wizardry that was a hall-mark of the teams of the past. Sure, Josh Sanderson, John Grant and the recently retired Gait boys, Gary and Paul, can still handle the stick like there's no tomorrow. But even Grant would agree he can't handle the stick as well as his dad, Big John. And even Big John wasn't the best handler on his squad. He played with (and for) Bobby Allan. The best of the handlers in Bobby's day could fake a pass left, fake a pass right, over the shoulder and then fire an underhand pass to a wide-open creaseman for a goal, all in a blink of an eye.
I miss the days when goalie Barry Maruk, Dennis' probably more-athletic brother, would regularly join the offence up the floor. He'd average a goal a week, about three assists a game, and would throw his body around the goal area with reckless abandon. Bob Watson, a smallish man, despite the humungous goalie costume he inhabits, shows many a Maruk-like move while tending goal. But I've never seen him venture up to the offensive area, let alone become a scoring threat.
John McCauley, Gus to his friends, and I counted myself amongst them, coached the Brampton Excelsiors in those summers between NHL seasons. Gus was possible the smartest man I knew in sports. There was a day when he started acting up on the bench, hurling accusations of blindness and assorted other failings at the referees. He was given a game misconduct and kicked out of the game. Surprised at how this NHL referee could go crazy at the lacrosse zebras, I asked Gus why he'd pulled the stunt, was it to get his players going? "Mugs," he replied with a smile that bordered on a knowing smirk, "Did you notice how many players we had on the floor at the time?" Assuring him I hadn't, he continued, "Well I did, and it was one too many." In order to save his team a penalty call, he'd gotten himself a misconduct that would cost him $25 out of his pocket. And that's why his Excelsiors were national champions. Everybody talks about the tragic loss the NHL suffered when he passed away, way too early. It was worse for lacrosse.
Maybe he'd be able to talk the purveyors of lacrosse to get rid of the music during game-play. Hell, I'd deep six it completely, just so the PA guys (and I was one, and an offender) could dial it back a hundred notches and not scream at everybody, just to be heard over the soundtrack. That alone makes it hard for me to get up off the couch, with it's access to a remote control to lower the volume, and head off to the headache-inducing environs of the Air Canada Centre.
So, it seems I have a lot to complain about lacrosse. Yep. But here's the kicker. Even with all of the changes not for the better, lacrosse is two hours of usually thrilling entertainment. It's got the violence, but it's got defence and offence. It's got individual thrills and great team plays. It's frequently tight to the finish, and you don't break ties with penalty shots or ever-lasting overtime. You get your money when you pay for a lacrosse game.
I love lacrosse.
Played it when I was a kid one year, when I disagreed with the direction of the local softball team (I was a second-baseman, not a third-baseman). Wasn't any good. Actually, I was pretty bad. But at least I got to see some good goaltending by Jim Ward and the modern bulldozer of a player that was Billy Gardhouse. Once saw Gardhouse destroy his sneakers by jabbing a step so hard into the tar-top of the local box that the sole stayed there while Billy's foot and the top of the shoe went the other way.
Now, I know lacrosse is violent. Doesn't jibe with my dislike for boxing, does it? But properly played, lacrosse is an art.
Just now, I finished watching the Toronto Rock of the National Lacrosse League beat the Edmonton Rush in an entertaining game. But as entertaining as many Rock games are, the lacrosse I see today pales in comparison to what I was covering as a sports reporter 25 years ago.
I'm not a fan of the rule changes in the NLL version of the boxla game I love. Back in the day, you couldn't go into the crease with the ball, regardless if the last step you took was outside the goaltender's barrier. It made Bill Coghill and Paul Suggate interesting players as they explored how well the refs could detect their encroaching as they dived around, and more than occasionally, into the crease.
I don't like the large centre zone. It makes chasing penalty-killing teams impossible and eliminates the role of the human rag doll played by the likes of Joe Madeiros. Joe would get the ball in the offensive zone while on the penalty kill and the other team would send two, and then three, men to try and extract the ball. He would be battered about (yeah, I know I'm glorifying violence) for the whole two minutes, as often as not. That's right, the penalty killers didn't have a shot clock. It was great entertainment to see just how much punishment Joe and his ilk could take.
Joe was a specialist. Today, EVERY player is a specialist. There are no lines, just offensive and defensive units. About half of each 30-second possession is spent changing from one to the other. That is NOT entertaining. Lacrosse IS the fastest game on two feet, as Jim Hinkson was fond of saying. But not when the players are trotting to the bench or to the floor to get ready for 15 seconds of frenetic play. About the only advantage I can see to this system is that it allows under-sized offensive prodigies like Josh Sanderson to play the game. Mind you, Josh isn't much taller than Chuck Li was and Li and the Oshawa Green Gaels were dominant with him on the floor. Okay, so Gaylord Powless' presence might have had something to do with that.
The plastic sticks they use today with either hand don't permit some of the ball-handling wizardry that was a hall-mark of the teams of the past. Sure, Josh Sanderson, John Grant and the recently retired Gait boys, Gary and Paul, can still handle the stick like there's no tomorrow. But even Grant would agree he can't handle the stick as well as his dad, Big John. And even Big John wasn't the best handler on his squad. He played with (and for) Bobby Allan. The best of the handlers in Bobby's day could fake a pass left, fake a pass right, over the shoulder and then fire an underhand pass to a wide-open creaseman for a goal, all in a blink of an eye.
I miss the days when goalie Barry Maruk, Dennis' probably more-athletic brother, would regularly join the offence up the floor. He'd average a goal a week, about three assists a game, and would throw his body around the goal area with reckless abandon. Bob Watson, a smallish man, despite the humungous goalie costume he inhabits, shows many a Maruk-like move while tending goal. But I've never seen him venture up to the offensive area, let alone become a scoring threat.
John McCauley, Gus to his friends, and I counted myself amongst them, coached the Brampton Excelsiors in those summers between NHL seasons. Gus was possible the smartest man I knew in sports. There was a day when he started acting up on the bench, hurling accusations of blindness and assorted other failings at the referees. He was given a game misconduct and kicked out of the game. Surprised at how this NHL referee could go crazy at the lacrosse zebras, I asked Gus why he'd pulled the stunt, was it to get his players going? "Mugs," he replied with a smile that bordered on a knowing smirk, "Did you notice how many players we had on the floor at the time?" Assuring him I hadn't, he continued, "Well I did, and it was one too many." In order to save his team a penalty call, he'd gotten himself a misconduct that would cost him $25 out of his pocket. And that's why his Excelsiors were national champions. Everybody talks about the tragic loss the NHL suffered when he passed away, way too early. It was worse for lacrosse.
Maybe he'd be able to talk the purveyors of lacrosse to get rid of the music during game-play. Hell, I'd deep six it completely, just so the PA guys (and I was one, and an offender) could dial it back a hundred notches and not scream at everybody, just to be heard over the soundtrack. That alone makes it hard for me to get up off the couch, with it's access to a remote control to lower the volume, and head off to the headache-inducing environs of the Air Canada Centre.
So, it seems I have a lot to complain about lacrosse. Yep. But here's the kicker. Even with all of the changes not for the better, lacrosse is two hours of usually thrilling entertainment. It's got the violence, but it's got defence and offence. It's got individual thrills and great team plays. It's frequently tight to the finish, and you don't break ties with penalty shots or ever-lasting overtime. You get your money when you pay for a lacrosse game.
I love lacrosse.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
TV: No VCR Sunday
This week (hopefully) I’m going through my TV viewing habits and listing what I’d watch if I didn’t have a VCR to view everything weeks later when I finally have the time. The only exception is I get to use the time-shifting capabilities of my digital box to add an extra viewing hour between 11 and midnight to my TV night.
Here's the Sunday schedule.
The 7-8pm hour belongs to CBS's 60 Minutes. I got hooked on 60 Minutes late in my teens on a Thursday evening. No, I didn't have a VCR to do my own time-shifting. Back then, 60 Minutes was still a struggling newsmagazine and summer reruns were being shown on weeknights to try and drum up interest for the show. The segment that caught me was a story about Bill Stevenson and the Enigma Machine. Thirty some-odd years later, I'm still a faithful viewer and would be, even if forced to eat a meal while watching the show. I miss the ambush interviews that Mike Wallace specialized in for years. And I really miss the every-man approach Harry Reasoner was famous for. But the true joy is watching Morley Safer turn whimsy into entertaining fact, and that Lesley Stahl seems a spiritual successor to Safer. Football might intrude, but 60 Minutes always has been worth an accommodation and will continue to be.
There's not much competition in the 8-9pm hour either, as the only thing worth watching is West Wing. This show has veered from great to adequate and back to above-average during its run on NBC. I think the show is touching its zenith again this season. Watching Jimmmy Smits and Alan Alda eat up scenes has been entertaining since it got going last year. Brad Whitford's Josh Lyman continues to be the entry point for the viewer, who either agrees with Lyman's politics or thinks Lyman is a typical liberal political screw-up. The characters surrounding Lyman are not as compelling as the past-cast, but Janeane Garofalo is giving it a try. And I’ve lusted after Mary McCormack forever. NBC, hardly on a run, could do a LOT worse than bringing back this show next year. And, despite a difference in politics, I think I'd actually prefer seeing Alda's character in the White House for that season.
Okay, there's some debate about what to watch in the 9-10pm hour. The world watches Desperate Housewives on ABC. Here, I also have a choice of CBS comedies that show on Monday nights or NBC's Law & Order: Criminal Intent. It's hard to deny the compelling viewing that is Terri Hatcher and Eva Longoria. But watching LOCI is usually entertaining for the full 60 minutes. The best part about LOCI this year is the splitting of the show into two concurrent series. Both have the same office setting with the captain played by Jamey Sheridan. But Mike Noth and the scrumptious Annabella Sciorra now get half the episodes while long-time stars Vincent D'Onofrio and Kathryn Erbe get two weeks to turn out their convoluted shows. This is almost a rebirth of the old NBC Mystery Wheel, which featured some of the best mystery shows ever shown. (Columbo and McCloud being the obvious ones). D'Onofrio is the modern-day Sherlock Holmes, who's guilty frequently of playing the character as an over-acting know-it-all. Some find the act grating, I enjoy the insights. Noth is the smart, but temper-challenged cop to Sciorra's steam valve of a partner. The different approach makes a perfect counterpoint. Frankly, LOCI's never been better, because they are getting two weeks to make each story, and that's a wise investment in time. Wonder when Olivia D'Abo's coming back as Sherlock, errrrr D'Onofrio's arch enemy?
The 10-11pm hour really comes down to ABC's Grey's Anatomy and NBC's Crossing Jordan. Jill Hennessy is very fine, and a Canuck to boot. But the women of Grey's Anatomy are all interesting and very pleasant on the eyes. Ellen Pompeo plays the lead, tortured resident Meredith Grey. She has a sexily squeeky voice and a lop-sided grin, which makes a good fit with the always good Patrick Dempsey as Dr. "Dreamy" Shepherd, one of Grey's bosses. And her off-on-off-on-off (I think that's current) paramour. Landlord Grey lives with renting residents played by Sandra Oh, sexy Katherine Heigl and T.R. Knight. Like Grey, Oh's Christina Yang can't keep a boss out of her scrubs, but with much more tragic circumstances. And then there's the parents. Grey's mother, a legendary surgeon slash harridan, spent time hanging around the hospital, her Alzheimer's Disease making her a time bomb to scramble any plot at any time. And recently, we discovered Yang's mother is a disapproving PITA. So far, the medical cases have been within the understanding realm of the average medical drama watcher (see House, for the reverse). This is a good show. P.S. I love the opening notes of the show's opening credits. Not the whole song, but the I love those first few notes.
And now the cheat show. Crossing Jordan or Desperate Housewives? The reality is that I'd prefer seeing Hex, a BBC show, but that's what the internet is for. Nope, I have to decide between Hennessy and Hatcher/Longoria. Counter-intuitive, I know, but the supporting characters in Crossing Jordan are so good, I'll stick with the Canuck ex-pat. Miguel Ferrer has rarely been as good as he is in Crossing Jordan. Hennessy's co-horts under Ferrer's boss, are enough off-kilter, but still earnest, that you come to like and admire them. Jerry O'Connell is trying to Dirty Harry up his image as Detective Woody Hoyt this year, but you know My Greatest Hero's heart still beats in his chest. The show will end the day Hoyt and Hennessy's Jordan Cavannaugh kiss for real, which might be this spring. But I wouldn't mind seeing another year of this fine show.
Well, it's bedtime and time to turn in. See ya' tomorrow night.
Here's the Sunday schedule.
The 7-8pm hour belongs to CBS's 60 Minutes. I got hooked on 60 Minutes late in my teens on a Thursday evening. No, I didn't have a VCR to do my own time-shifting. Back then, 60 Minutes was still a struggling newsmagazine and summer reruns were being shown on weeknights to try and drum up interest for the show. The segment that caught me was a story about Bill Stevenson and the Enigma Machine. Thirty some-odd years later, I'm still a faithful viewer and would be, even if forced to eat a meal while watching the show. I miss the ambush interviews that Mike Wallace specialized in for years. And I really miss the every-man approach Harry Reasoner was famous for. But the true joy is watching Morley Safer turn whimsy into entertaining fact, and that Lesley Stahl seems a spiritual successor to Safer. Football might intrude, but 60 Minutes always has been worth an accommodation and will continue to be.
There's not much competition in the 8-9pm hour either, as the only thing worth watching is West Wing. This show has veered from great to adequate and back to above-average during its run on NBC. I think the show is touching its zenith again this season. Watching Jimmmy Smits and Alan Alda eat up scenes has been entertaining since it got going last year. Brad Whitford's Josh Lyman continues to be the entry point for the viewer, who either agrees with Lyman's politics or thinks Lyman is a typical liberal political screw-up. The characters surrounding Lyman are not as compelling as the past-cast, but Janeane Garofalo is giving it a try. And I’ve lusted after Mary McCormack forever. NBC, hardly on a run, could do a LOT worse than bringing back this show next year. And, despite a difference in politics, I think I'd actually prefer seeing Alda's character in the White House for that season.
Okay, there's some debate about what to watch in the 9-10pm hour. The world watches Desperate Housewives on ABC. Here, I also have a choice of CBS comedies that show on Monday nights or NBC's Law & Order: Criminal Intent. It's hard to deny the compelling viewing that is Terri Hatcher and Eva Longoria. But watching LOCI is usually entertaining for the full 60 minutes. The best part about LOCI this year is the splitting of the show into two concurrent series. Both have the same office setting with the captain played by Jamey Sheridan. But Mike Noth and the scrumptious Annabella Sciorra now get half the episodes while long-time stars Vincent D'Onofrio and Kathryn Erbe get two weeks to turn out their convoluted shows. This is almost a rebirth of the old NBC Mystery Wheel, which featured some of the best mystery shows ever shown. (Columbo and McCloud being the obvious ones). D'Onofrio is the modern-day Sherlock Holmes, who's guilty frequently of playing the character as an over-acting know-it-all. Some find the act grating, I enjoy the insights. Noth is the smart, but temper-challenged cop to Sciorra's steam valve of a partner. The different approach makes a perfect counterpoint. Frankly, LOCI's never been better, because they are getting two weeks to make each story, and that's a wise investment in time. Wonder when Olivia D'Abo's coming back as Sherlock, errrrr D'Onofrio's arch enemy?
The 10-11pm hour really comes down to ABC's Grey's Anatomy and NBC's Crossing Jordan. Jill Hennessy is very fine, and a Canuck to boot. But the women of Grey's Anatomy are all interesting and very pleasant on the eyes. Ellen Pompeo plays the lead, tortured resident Meredith Grey. She has a sexily squeeky voice and a lop-sided grin, which makes a good fit with the always good Patrick Dempsey as Dr. "Dreamy" Shepherd, one of Grey's bosses. And her off-on-off-on-off (I think that's current) paramour. Landlord Grey lives with renting residents played by Sandra Oh, sexy Katherine Heigl and T.R. Knight. Like Grey, Oh's Christina Yang can't keep a boss out of her scrubs, but with much more tragic circumstances. And then there's the parents. Grey's mother, a legendary surgeon slash harridan, spent time hanging around the hospital, her Alzheimer's Disease making her a time bomb to scramble any plot at any time. And recently, we discovered Yang's mother is a disapproving PITA. So far, the medical cases have been within the understanding realm of the average medical drama watcher (see House, for the reverse). This is a good show. P.S. I love the opening notes of the show's opening credits. Not the whole song, but the I love those first few notes.
And now the cheat show. Crossing Jordan or Desperate Housewives? The reality is that I'd prefer seeing Hex, a BBC show, but that's what the internet is for. Nope, I have to decide between Hennessy and Hatcher/Longoria. Counter-intuitive, I know, but the supporting characters in Crossing Jordan are so good, I'll stick with the Canuck ex-pat. Miguel Ferrer has rarely been as good as he is in Crossing Jordan. Hennessy's co-horts under Ferrer's boss, are enough off-kilter, but still earnest, that you come to like and admire them. Jerry O'Connell is trying to Dirty Harry up his image as Detective Woody Hoyt this year, but you know My Greatest Hero's heart still beats in his chest. The show will end the day Hoyt and Hennessy's Jordan Cavannaugh kiss for real, which might be this spring. But I wouldn't mind seeing another year of this fine show.
Well, it's bedtime and time to turn in. See ya' tomorrow night.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
SPORTS: Please, no Aldridge
I've been wrong before. I absolutely thought Channing Frye might be the biggest bomb of this year's draft. Maybe not. But hey, Zeke signed Jerome James and traded for Eddy Curry. So I wasn't exactly lonesome in my feelings about Frye. Still think he's a stiff, but I'll need time to wash out his good early stats.
But enough Frye and self-recrimination. It's time to start banging the drums to stop the Toronto Raptors from drafting LaMarcus Aldridge, the center/forward who will probably declare early out of Texas next spring. If he truly was another Bosh/Villanueva clone, I'd say do it. I think the Raptors could do quite well with a power trio consisting of power forwards. But Aldridge is all flash and potential. He has no back-to-the-basket game and he's easily pushed out from the boards. The Raptors have players like that already. Watching Aldridge get pushed around by Shelden Williams today makes me nervous about the pick, the most important pick since Vince Carter, in Raptor history.
If the Raptors, who will draft from first to sixth, get the first pick, then they have an easy choice in Rudy Gay, the small forward out of UConn. The problems come with picks in the next three. I really, REALLY dislike the idea of Aldridge. Unfortunately, the only other bigs projected atop the draft at this point, is the Italian Andrea Bargnani. His draft card reads like a slimmer Aldridge. He gets pushed around. Same problem with the Brazilian Tiago Splitter (can Babcock really draft another Brazilian?) and Nick Fazekas, the reed-thin Nevada star.
Behind Gay is Larry Bird play-a-like Adam Morrison of Gonzaga. Actually, the description I heard today was a modern-day John Havlicek. That's pretty good praise for the 6-8 SF. Now, here's the problem. Can the smooth-stroking, hard-working Morrison continue to have success against the typical great athlete small forwards he will see in the NBA? I have problems with that. So let me throw one more comparison into the mix. Wally Szczerbiak. Nothing wrong with that. Wally's hit a hot streak of late, averaging about 25 ppg. he works hard, but he's just not athletic enough to sustain those kinds of stats game in, game out. I think Morrison's more Wally than Larry. And I think Joey Graham offers enough not to want a Wally.
Soooo, the Raptors have to take a long look at three players. They all played today against each other. Texas PG Daniel Gibson was outshone by Duke PF Shelden Williams and especially by Duke SG JJ Reddick. Gibson has great measurables. He'd be a perfect running partner for Jose Calderon. That would free the Raptors up to package Mike James and/or the rights to Roko Ukic in trades to help out elsewhere. In fact, if Gibson could get a little better from long-range, the Raptors could pair Calderon and Gibson at times. Williams is too small to play NBA centre. But he does have a down-low game and he is a ferocious rebounder. He's getting smarter as he gets older. Would it be possible to play him with Bosh and Villanueva offensively? Yes. Defensively? Just as resounding a no! He's the least likely of the three to wear Raptor togs come next fall.
Which brings me to Reddick. If I knew Ukic was coming to North America in a year or two, Reddick would be the pick here. No second thoughts about Gibson at all. Reddick is undersized to be an NBA shooting guard. He's not as athletic as you would like. But he's smart. And he's an unconscious shooter, from NBA distance to boot. He creates a weapon that any NBA team with a half-decent drive and dish guard (Calderon) can turn into a killer. He doesn't create his own shot much. But give him a bit of an opening to spot up and you can, "Ring it up!!!" as Chuck Swirsky says at least once a game.
Will Reddick be a Rick Mount or a Jerry West? The worries are there, but gawd does he shoot the ball. If I was picking and only had the probable choices available in this draft, I'd rank Gay, Reddick, Gibson, Fazekas, Morrison and Williams in that order. Wanna bet the Raptors end up with the seventh pick?
Having Denver's first-round pick and an early second-rounder, could the Raptors end up with Reddick, Darius Washington, the PG out of Memphis and Michigan St. centre Paul Davis? If so, the tradeways of James, Eric Williams and eventually Jalen Rose would result in a young and talented Raptor team two years hence.
PG: Calederon, Washington
SG: Reddick, Peterson
SF: Graham, Bonner
PF: Villanueva, Sow
C: Bosh, Davis
Obviously, the money freed up with the trades above could go towards a true centre and Graham would be a better backup than starter at SF. Take the same group, substitute Magloire for Bonner or Sow and ask yourself if it can compete. The answer is an unequivocal YES!
But enough Frye and self-recrimination. It's time to start banging the drums to stop the Toronto Raptors from drafting LaMarcus Aldridge, the center/forward who will probably declare early out of Texas next spring. If he truly was another Bosh/Villanueva clone, I'd say do it. I think the Raptors could do quite well with a power trio consisting of power forwards. But Aldridge is all flash and potential. He has no back-to-the-basket game and he's easily pushed out from the boards. The Raptors have players like that already. Watching Aldridge get pushed around by Shelden Williams today makes me nervous about the pick, the most important pick since Vince Carter, in Raptor history.
If the Raptors, who will draft from first to sixth, get the first pick, then they have an easy choice in Rudy Gay, the small forward out of UConn. The problems come with picks in the next three. I really, REALLY dislike the idea of Aldridge. Unfortunately, the only other bigs projected atop the draft at this point, is the Italian Andrea Bargnani. His draft card reads like a slimmer Aldridge. He gets pushed around. Same problem with the Brazilian Tiago Splitter (can Babcock really draft another Brazilian?) and Nick Fazekas, the reed-thin Nevada star.
Behind Gay is Larry Bird play-a-like Adam Morrison of Gonzaga. Actually, the description I heard today was a modern-day John Havlicek. That's pretty good praise for the 6-8 SF. Now, here's the problem. Can the smooth-stroking, hard-working Morrison continue to have success against the typical great athlete small forwards he will see in the NBA? I have problems with that. So let me throw one more comparison into the mix. Wally Szczerbiak. Nothing wrong with that. Wally's hit a hot streak of late, averaging about 25 ppg. he works hard, but he's just not athletic enough to sustain those kinds of stats game in, game out. I think Morrison's more Wally than Larry. And I think Joey Graham offers enough not to want a Wally.
Soooo, the Raptors have to take a long look at three players. They all played today against each other. Texas PG Daniel Gibson was outshone by Duke PF Shelden Williams and especially by Duke SG JJ Reddick. Gibson has great measurables. He'd be a perfect running partner for Jose Calderon. That would free the Raptors up to package Mike James and/or the rights to Roko Ukic in trades to help out elsewhere. In fact, if Gibson could get a little better from long-range, the Raptors could pair Calderon and Gibson at times. Williams is too small to play NBA centre. But he does have a down-low game and he is a ferocious rebounder. He's getting smarter as he gets older. Would it be possible to play him with Bosh and Villanueva offensively? Yes. Defensively? Just as resounding a no! He's the least likely of the three to wear Raptor togs come next fall.
Which brings me to Reddick. If I knew Ukic was coming to North America in a year or two, Reddick would be the pick here. No second thoughts about Gibson at all. Reddick is undersized to be an NBA shooting guard. He's not as athletic as you would like. But he's smart. And he's an unconscious shooter, from NBA distance to boot. He creates a weapon that any NBA team with a half-decent drive and dish guard (Calderon) can turn into a killer. He doesn't create his own shot much. But give him a bit of an opening to spot up and you can, "Ring it up!!!" as Chuck Swirsky says at least once a game.
Will Reddick be a Rick Mount or a Jerry West? The worries are there, but gawd does he shoot the ball. If I was picking and only had the probable choices available in this draft, I'd rank Gay, Reddick, Gibson, Fazekas, Morrison and Williams in that order. Wanna bet the Raptors end up with the seventh pick?
Having Denver's first-round pick and an early second-rounder, could the Raptors end up with Reddick, Darius Washington, the PG out of Memphis and Michigan St. centre Paul Davis? If so, the tradeways of James, Eric Williams and eventually Jalen Rose would result in a young and talented Raptor team two years hence.
PG: Calederon, Washington
SG: Reddick, Peterson
SF: Graham, Bonner
PF: Villanueva, Sow
C: Bosh, Davis
Obviously, the money freed up with the trades above could go towards a true centre and Graham would be a better backup than starter at SF. Take the same group, substitute Magloire for Bonner or Sow and ask yourself if it can compete. The answer is an unequivocal YES!
SPORTS: Babcock no Knight-mare
Fans here in the Toronto area love to express their opinion that Mike Babcock, the Toronto Raptor GM is either an idiot or the devilspawn. Methinks he looks nothing like Adam Sandler, but I'm definitely in the minority here in T.O. That said, he's no Billy Knight.
Now, Knight happens to be a good guy. I've talked to him a couple of times and he's a good guy. A pretty good player in his time. But he's the nadir of NBA GMs, without a doubt. In fact, unless Steve A Smith gets a GM job, Knight might be the worst GM of all time. One caveat, he's often made decisions forced on him by management, but there's a limit any GM should do just to keep collecting a paycheck. I mean, even Elgin Baylor has managed to keep getting talent before sending it away at the behest of The Dentist.
The worst moment will come next summer when somebody from the Atlanta organization passes a card to Commish Stern that announces the Hawks have traded the number one pick in the draft to ... well, it doesn't matter at this point. Why is that going to happen? Because the consensus pick come warm weather will be Rudy Gay, a wing from UConn. And wings, the Hawks have. Point guards and tall rebounding types, not so much.
And it could have been really different down in the deep South. The Hawks had their chance this past summer. A team with a plethora of young and athletic wing players had the second spot in the draft. In that draft slot sat Chris Paul, an almost local product that had played one state over in Carolina at Wake Forest. A ready-to-start NBA point guard. Not necessarily an all-star in the making, but Steve Nash wasn't all-star ready out of the college mould either. Paul was the obvious choice to get the ball to those wings.
But the pretty girl at this baller's ball was Marvin Williams. The SIXTH man of the NCAA champeen Tar Heels of North Carolina. Couldn't start for NC, would have to be one of a half-dozen good athletic and young wings in Atlanta, but possessing the most pure talent in the draft. The spectre of Michael Jordan being passed over for needs in his draft year scared Knight into making the nightmare pick. He passed over Paul and took Williams. And he sealed Atlanta's fate for the rest of this decade.
Naturally, having screwed up that deal, he went out and gave max money to ANOTHER wing, Joe Johnson because, as we Toronto fans know too well, he finally found a player that WANTED to come to his town. He never found out if that desire would have existed at half-the-price, he just doled out the max dollars and fought with the lone bright light in management to keep that precious "Wants to be a Hawk" player. Muttered something about playing Johnson at the point.
Now we know. Paul's going to be an all-star some day. Johnson's a great complimentary player that can't lead and can't play the point more than 10 minutes a game. Williams plays the kind of minutes Rafael Araujo plays here in Toronto. Josh Childress, the real victim of all this, has regressed mightily. And Al Harrington crosses off the days until his trade out of purgatory in the New Year. Dunk champ Josh Smith should be playing big minutes, but isn't. And there are other wings who could play too, but don't.
Harrington's not the only one who should be outward bound in a trade. The smart money would have Childress and Smith going elsewhere too. But it will be a buyer's market and the return will hardly be all-star calibre points like Chris Paul. Bottom line, the Hawks have to divest themselves of at least two and maybe three of these players in order to rebuild their roster. And the Hawks certainly can't add Rudy Gay to the mix this summer. That's why the trade, hopefully for the pick a few back of theirs to take Texas guard Daniel Gibson, will be a requirement. After that, the Hawks will owe Phoenix draft picks from that ill-fated Johnson acquisition. That means the Hawks won't be able to get the other two studs they need to compete until 2008 or thereabouts. That's how bad of a job Billy Knight has done.
Makes me appreciate Mike Babcock a lot more.
Now, Knight happens to be a good guy. I've talked to him a couple of times and he's a good guy. A pretty good player in his time. But he's the nadir of NBA GMs, without a doubt. In fact, unless Steve A Smith gets a GM job, Knight might be the worst GM of all time. One caveat, he's often made decisions forced on him by management, but there's a limit any GM should do just to keep collecting a paycheck. I mean, even Elgin Baylor has managed to keep getting talent before sending it away at the behest of The Dentist.
The worst moment will come next summer when somebody from the Atlanta organization passes a card to Commish Stern that announces the Hawks have traded the number one pick in the draft to ... well, it doesn't matter at this point. Why is that going to happen? Because the consensus pick come warm weather will be Rudy Gay, a wing from UConn. And wings, the Hawks have. Point guards and tall rebounding types, not so much.
And it could have been really different down in the deep South. The Hawks had their chance this past summer. A team with a plethora of young and athletic wing players had the second spot in the draft. In that draft slot sat Chris Paul, an almost local product that had played one state over in Carolina at Wake Forest. A ready-to-start NBA point guard. Not necessarily an all-star in the making, but Steve Nash wasn't all-star ready out of the college mould either. Paul was the obvious choice to get the ball to those wings.
But the pretty girl at this baller's ball was Marvin Williams. The SIXTH man of the NCAA champeen Tar Heels of North Carolina. Couldn't start for NC, would have to be one of a half-dozen good athletic and young wings in Atlanta, but possessing the most pure talent in the draft. The spectre of Michael Jordan being passed over for needs in his draft year scared Knight into making the nightmare pick. He passed over Paul and took Williams. And he sealed Atlanta's fate for the rest of this decade.
Naturally, having screwed up that deal, he went out and gave max money to ANOTHER wing, Joe Johnson because, as we Toronto fans know too well, he finally found a player that WANTED to come to his town. He never found out if that desire would have existed at half-the-price, he just doled out the max dollars and fought with the lone bright light in management to keep that precious "Wants to be a Hawk" player. Muttered something about playing Johnson at the point.
Now we know. Paul's going to be an all-star some day. Johnson's a great complimentary player that can't lead and can't play the point more than 10 minutes a game. Williams plays the kind of minutes Rafael Araujo plays here in Toronto. Josh Childress, the real victim of all this, has regressed mightily. And Al Harrington crosses off the days until his trade out of purgatory in the New Year. Dunk champ Josh Smith should be playing big minutes, but isn't. And there are other wings who could play too, but don't.
Harrington's not the only one who should be outward bound in a trade. The smart money would have Childress and Smith going elsewhere too. But it will be a buyer's market and the return will hardly be all-star calibre points like Chris Paul. Bottom line, the Hawks have to divest themselves of at least two and maybe three of these players in order to rebuild their roster. And the Hawks certainly can't add Rudy Gay to the mix this summer. That's why the trade, hopefully for the pick a few back of theirs to take Texas guard Daniel Gibson, will be a requirement. After that, the Hawks will owe Phoenix draft picks from that ill-fated Johnson acquisition. That means the Hawks won't be able to get the other two studs they need to compete until 2008 or thereabouts. That's how bad of a job Billy Knight has done.
Makes me appreciate Mike Babcock a lot more.
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