If you are reading this, you are NOT having a problem with Microsoft Windows XP/2000 and ZoneAlarm. Otherwise, you might not have any connection to the internet whatsoever. But somebody you KNOW might be asking questions.
It all started with a phone call from my father on my birthday. "The internet isn't working. Mail too." I told him to wait awhile. Outages on Bell Sympatico are an accepted risk of using the telco's as your ISP. I remember when the telephone company demanded 99.9999 percent of up-time. Now I get the feeling they'd be happy at 94 percent pure. But I digress. About a half-hour later, Mrs. Slack from across the street called to tell me she was without internet and email too. I wasn't shocked. I told her to wait and give a try after supper. But then Bell should surely have the problem addressed. (By the way, Dad and Mrs. Slack had tried to get tech support and had given up, Dad after 17 minutes, Mrs. Slack after 30 minutes).
Dad tried at supper and failed. It was a short conversation since I had company (who were giving me gifts, the best kind of company!). Okay. It was time to go over and confirm the issue on Mrs. Slack's computer after the company left.
Turns out she wasn't on Bell. She was on Rogers cable internet. She had a modem that appeared dysfunctional. I unplugged it a couple of times, got the green powered lights, and then it slipped into standby amber mode. I called Rogers support. They told me to push the STANDBY button on the modem (It was a different model than MY Rogers modem). Oddly pushing the STANDBY button worked. I slunk back to my house, my computer expert status in tatters.
Dad called a while later and announced he'd fixed the problem. "Turned off Zone Alarm," he said accusingly. I, afterall, was the person who installed and insisted he use the product.
Which led to the investigation and discovery that the latest Windows update patches for July did Zone Alarm in. You can read about in the bulletin issued by Microsoft. Basically, if you are using Windows XP or Windows 2000, PLUS Zone Alarm, you need the latest ZA upgrade to fix the screw-up foisted on it by Microsoft. Disable ZA to get to the internet and download the file. It's a 46M download, so it'll take awhile. But running it directly upgrades ZA to be free of the latest Microsoft foulup.
I repeat. I KNOW YOU aren't plagued by this issue. But be best buddies with the uninitiated and help them get over their unconnectivity problem.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
BOOKS: Fearless Fourteen - Janet Evanovich
A Stephanie Plum novel where she doesn't destroy her car (or cars). Whodda thunk it?
Janet Evanovich's latest novel in the Plum series, Fearless Fourteen, might be the first in the series where her car stays intact throughout the whole book. It gets tagged by a graffiti artist early, but it's washed and ready to go by book's end. It's almost disappointing.
And that's the feeling overall that I got with the book. There's a missing nine million dollars from a ten-year old bank job that might or might not be in paramour Joe Morelli's basement, underneath a couple of inches of cement. There's the ongoing question of whether Lula and Tank are going to get hitched. And the unwelcomed intrusion by one-named Brenda, a sexagenarian singing star with a cougar complex adds goofy plot points, but not much in the way of plot development.
There IS an ending of sorts to at least one of the conundrums above. It IS an ending and comes naturally, something that Evanovich has failed at oocasionally since this series made it to the teens. A little left field, but not egregiously so. The plot thread from the other will likely disappear before the next book.
The Stephanie-Joe-Ranger triangle was a little refined this time out. Not sure if Stephanie spends a night other than at Joe's during the course of the book and that feels right. It IS time for Stephanie and Joe to do the wedding aisle march. It's not like it would overly affect her living arrangements. And it would inject some danger in the Ranger flirting.
As for Ms. Evanovich's plot points, I cringed when she decided to name the stalker Gary. That's personal. And making him a loon hurts. But what did I expect? And there's also the matter of her stating that unmarried men do not fall victim to the Sunday morning reading-room ritual. I'm here to tell you that even unmarried guys enjoy the peace and quiet of taking in the morning paper's import while our pants are around our ankles!
Now that I've scarred you for life with that visual, let me point out (for the second time this week), that minor Evanovich is still decent reading, with several chuckles.
It's good to laugh.
Janet Evanovich's latest novel in the Plum series, Fearless Fourteen, might be the first in the series where her car stays intact throughout the whole book. It gets tagged by a graffiti artist early, but it's washed and ready to go by book's end. It's almost disappointing.
And that's the feeling overall that I got with the book. There's a missing nine million dollars from a ten-year old bank job that might or might not be in paramour Joe Morelli's basement, underneath a couple of inches of cement. There's the ongoing question of whether Lula and Tank are going to get hitched. And the unwelcomed intrusion by one-named Brenda, a sexagenarian singing star with a cougar complex adds goofy plot points, but not much in the way of plot development.
There IS an ending of sorts to at least one of the conundrums above. It IS an ending and comes naturally, something that Evanovich has failed at oocasionally since this series made it to the teens. A little left field, but not egregiously so. The plot thread from the other will likely disappear before the next book.
The Stephanie-Joe-Ranger triangle was a little refined this time out. Not sure if Stephanie spends a night other than at Joe's during the course of the book and that feels right. It IS time for Stephanie and Joe to do the wedding aisle march. It's not like it would overly affect her living arrangements. And it would inject some danger in the Ranger flirting.
As for Ms. Evanovich's plot points, I cringed when she decided to name the stalker Gary. That's personal. And making him a loon hurts. But what did I expect? And there's also the matter of her stating that unmarried men do not fall victim to the Sunday morning reading-room ritual. I'm here to tell you that even unmarried guys enjoy the peace and quiet of taking in the morning paper's import while our pants are around our ankles!
Now that I've scarred you for life with that visual, let me point out (for the second time this week), that minor Evanovich is still decent reading, with several chuckles.
It's good to laugh.
Friday, July 18, 2008
SPORTS: Ban Contract-Jumpers for Life
Here I go again, pulling on my robes of omniscience as czar of all things hockey. It's time to look at the Alexander Radulov situation and how it serves as a bellweather for the future.
Radulov wants to go home to play for more money in the Russian Kontinental Hockey League. It's hardly a new story, what with Canadians of all experience stripes signing overseas and then heading home ... sometimes before the ink is dry on their contracts. And sometimes before the contract's expiration date. So, I'm not ready to come down on Radulov like a ton of bricks.
That said, it's time for a new set of rules to handle the POSSIBILITY that this signing is more than a mere pinprick in the NHL's hockey talent lifeline. For starters, any player who plays with another league's team without WRITTEN permission, while under contract to the NHL team, is banned immediately and irrevocably forever from playing in the NHL. News of this rule should be publicized far and wide, in every minor hockey dressing room from Ottawa to Omsk. The day Radulov plays for Ufa, the NHL holds a press conference and declarers Radulov finished in the NHL. The NHL then calls conferences on every television station in Russia to re-broadcast that ruling. Have EVERY scout talk up the rule. Make Radulov the hockey version a modern-day Sisyphus, never ever getting to the top of that damned hill.
Secondarily, the NHL AND Hockey Canada have to jointly refuse to play in ANY competition that features a banned player playing. The IIHF is SUPPOSED to ban Radulov, but there has to be a little steel at their back to stiffen their spine. There is NO way that the IIHF CAN allow Radulov to play internationally this year (or any year), unless they believe in that cockamamie story about the signing occurring before the NHL-Russian 'agreement' not to poach went into effect. And the NHL and Hockey Canada have to play hardball with the Junior World Championships, which is an IIHF cash cow, coming to Canada every two years. If the IIHF won't back the ban on Radulov and any to follow, then Canada will withdraw from the World Championships and host an international series of exhibitions with the USA. Any argument that series won't draw as much as a World Junior? More profits, too.
That's it. Make the rule. Advertise the rule. Stand by it. Enforce it.
The benefits are immense. The rule has its underpinnings in organized crime. If you are consistently ruthless, the odds you have to actually enforce the rule becomes distinctly unlikely. If it does occur, then you wash your hands of the problem and don't waste time, effort and money pursuing legal recourses. If the NHL wants to help out by offering up an extra draft pick at the end of the round the contract-jumper was drafted in, I can live with it.
Certainly, some of the contract-jumpers won't be of Radulov's calibre. Backups to backups won't fear the international ban and will gladly go home to take Gazprom's millions to live closer to where ever they are from. No loss. And some potential stars WON'T make the first trip over, fearing being caught in a bad contract with no chance to come home to mommy and daddy. Again, no loss. They don't have the mental make-up to play in a foreign land. And make no mistake, it's tough for somebody to jump countries to pursue a job. I had issues with working in the U.S., and that's really only a lite version of Canada afterall. It takes mental fortitude to pick up and move a half-world away. We've all seen failures with talent. It's usually the inability to settle in that does them in.
There's a LOT of Russian money around, gas prices being what they are. There WILL be raiding parties and there will be deal-of-a-lifetime contracts offered up. Players WILL be enticed. As long as they know what awaits them for going back on their word, the NHL has done ALL that it can to try and keep them.
Anything else is just begging.
Radulov wants to go home to play for more money in the Russian Kontinental Hockey League. It's hardly a new story, what with Canadians of all experience stripes signing overseas and then heading home ... sometimes before the ink is dry on their contracts. And sometimes before the contract's expiration date. So, I'm not ready to come down on Radulov like a ton of bricks.
That said, it's time for a new set of rules to handle the POSSIBILITY that this signing is more than a mere pinprick in the NHL's hockey talent lifeline. For starters, any player who plays with another league's team without WRITTEN permission, while under contract to the NHL team, is banned immediately and irrevocably forever from playing in the NHL. News of this rule should be publicized far and wide, in every minor hockey dressing room from Ottawa to Omsk. The day Radulov plays for Ufa, the NHL holds a press conference and declarers Radulov finished in the NHL. The NHL then calls conferences on every television station in Russia to re-broadcast that ruling. Have EVERY scout talk up the rule. Make Radulov the hockey version a modern-day Sisyphus, never ever getting to the top of that damned hill.
Secondarily, the NHL AND Hockey Canada have to jointly refuse to play in ANY competition that features a banned player playing. The IIHF is SUPPOSED to ban Radulov, but there has to be a little steel at their back to stiffen their spine. There is NO way that the IIHF CAN allow Radulov to play internationally this year (or any year), unless they believe in that cockamamie story about the signing occurring before the NHL-Russian 'agreement' not to poach went into effect. And the NHL and Hockey Canada have to play hardball with the Junior World Championships, which is an IIHF cash cow, coming to Canada every two years. If the IIHF won't back the ban on Radulov and any to follow, then Canada will withdraw from the World Championships and host an international series of exhibitions with the USA. Any argument that series won't draw as much as a World Junior? More profits, too.
That's it. Make the rule. Advertise the rule. Stand by it. Enforce it.
The benefits are immense. The rule has its underpinnings in organized crime. If you are consistently ruthless, the odds you have to actually enforce the rule becomes distinctly unlikely. If it does occur, then you wash your hands of the problem and don't waste time, effort and money pursuing legal recourses. If the NHL wants to help out by offering up an extra draft pick at the end of the round the contract-jumper was drafted in, I can live with it.
Certainly, some of the contract-jumpers won't be of Radulov's calibre. Backups to backups won't fear the international ban and will gladly go home to take Gazprom's millions to live closer to where ever they are from. No loss. And some potential stars WON'T make the first trip over, fearing being caught in a bad contract with no chance to come home to mommy and daddy. Again, no loss. They don't have the mental make-up to play in a foreign land. And make no mistake, it's tough for somebody to jump countries to pursue a job. I had issues with working in the U.S., and that's really only a lite version of Canada afterall. It takes mental fortitude to pick up and move a half-world away. We've all seen failures with talent. It's usually the inability to settle in that does them in.
There's a LOT of Russian money around, gas prices being what they are. There WILL be raiding parties and there will be deal-of-a-lifetime contracts offered up. Players WILL be enticed. As long as they know what awaits them for going back on their word, the NHL has done ALL that it can to try and keep them.
Anything else is just begging.
BOOKS: Vampirates, Demons of the Ocean - Justin Somper
Justin Somper hit on a great title for a series, Vampirates. How can it NOT be something worth reading? The first in the series, now some three books old, is Demons of the Ocean.
It's a Young Adult novel, aimed at early teens. It's set some five hundred years into the future, which seems a bit of a crutch for Somper, who writes it in mostly current dialect. He even includes references to the Heimlich maneuver and flapper dresses. Hard to do that if you set it five hundred years into the past. I'll give him a pass, since the story's not for me at my advanced age anyway.
It doesn't start off promisingly. Not all YA books do. J.K. Rowling and Eoin Colfer seem capable of enervating and elevating right from the start. But I had a bad experience in reading the first of the Lemony Snickett books in the Series of Unfortunate Events. That was an unpleasant little book reveling in the misery the children had. Never read another in the series and cannot for the life of me, explain the series' popularity.
Demons of the Ocean started the same way. The Tempest twins, Connor and Grace, are orphaned at the age of 14 and must choose between entering the local orphanage, a place of horrors, or getting adopted by the local banker, who's managed to finagle ownership of everything their late father had, including the Crescent Moon Bay lighthouse. They opt for a different solution, swiping the family boat and heading out onto the ocean, with not much beyond a memory of their father and a sea shanty both know backwards and forwards.
The shanty, oft repeated in the book, details the doings of Pirates and Vampirates on the high seas. It's just more unpleasantness. Not surprisingly, a storm brews up almost immediately. In the crashing aftermath of that storm, the twins are saved by two different ships, Connor to the pirate ship and Grace to the vampirate ship. I was close to calling it book closed. It felt all Snicketty.
But I persevered and was rewarded with a fairly entertaining read. I'd bet a lot of teenage boys would enjoy this book. The girls might not be so quick to pick this one up, or its sequels. Just a guess.
Told in basically alternating chapters, Connor and Grace become largely comfortable on their respective ships inside of a week. Connor's integration feels right and the action more or less flows. Grace's chapters come from a state of confusion. We, the reader, knows she's aboard the somewhat legendary vampirate ship. But, is she dead? Maybe she's a vampire now too? And if not, what about the enigmatic captain, who's visage is forever hidden away behind a mask?
Through it all, both twins believe, against the odds, that their other half yet lives. The sorrow I thought we were headed for, doesn't rear its depressing head. And things work out mostly at the end. A showdown of sorts between the two ships comes off rushed and a little bit of a letdown. And the included chapter of the next book hardly clears up the lack of major conflict. But there IS a feeling that the series is off in a good direction.
Now, if they could only explain the absence of Sidorio, a nasty villain-type, in the second book chapter, I'd be a little more inclined to buy it. If introducing Sidorio and then getting rid of him off-screen between books was Somper's idea of a solution, then I'd be greatly disappointed.
This book is aimed at a narrow audience. But I think it hits that target.
It's a Young Adult novel, aimed at early teens. It's set some five hundred years into the future, which seems a bit of a crutch for Somper, who writes it in mostly current dialect. He even includes references to the Heimlich maneuver and flapper dresses. Hard to do that if you set it five hundred years into the past. I'll give him a pass, since the story's not for me at my advanced age anyway.
It doesn't start off promisingly. Not all YA books do. J.K. Rowling and Eoin Colfer seem capable of enervating and elevating right from the start. But I had a bad experience in reading the first of the Lemony Snickett books in the Series of Unfortunate Events. That was an unpleasant little book reveling in the misery the children had. Never read another in the series and cannot for the life of me, explain the series' popularity.
Demons of the Ocean started the same way. The Tempest twins, Connor and Grace, are orphaned at the age of 14 and must choose between entering the local orphanage, a place of horrors, or getting adopted by the local banker, who's managed to finagle ownership of everything their late father had, including the Crescent Moon Bay lighthouse. They opt for a different solution, swiping the family boat and heading out onto the ocean, with not much beyond a memory of their father and a sea shanty both know backwards and forwards.
The shanty, oft repeated in the book, details the doings of Pirates and Vampirates on the high seas. It's just more unpleasantness. Not surprisingly, a storm brews up almost immediately. In the crashing aftermath of that storm, the twins are saved by two different ships, Connor to the pirate ship and Grace to the vampirate ship. I was close to calling it book closed. It felt all Snicketty.
But I persevered and was rewarded with a fairly entertaining read. I'd bet a lot of teenage boys would enjoy this book. The girls might not be so quick to pick this one up, or its sequels. Just a guess.
Told in basically alternating chapters, Connor and Grace become largely comfortable on their respective ships inside of a week. Connor's integration feels right and the action more or less flows. Grace's chapters come from a state of confusion. We, the reader, knows she's aboard the somewhat legendary vampirate ship. But, is she dead? Maybe she's a vampire now too? And if not, what about the enigmatic captain, who's visage is forever hidden away behind a mask?
Through it all, both twins believe, against the odds, that their other half yet lives. The sorrow I thought we were headed for, doesn't rear its depressing head. And things work out mostly at the end. A showdown of sorts between the two ships comes off rushed and a little bit of a letdown. And the included chapter of the next book hardly clears up the lack of major conflict. But there IS a feeling that the series is off in a good direction.
Now, if they could only explain the absence of Sidorio, a nasty villain-type, in the second book chapter, I'd be a little more inclined to buy it. If introducing Sidorio and then getting rid of him off-screen between books was Somper's idea of a solution, then I'd be greatly disappointed.
This book is aimed at a narrow audience. But I think it hits that target.
SOFTWARE: Awful Page Colours
My site is green. Not eco-green, but a few different shades of green. I like it. Others might hate my screen choices. I know there are SOME places, like SciFi Chick who's colour choices of black on dark grey baffle me completely.
There IS a solution for the failure of web page designers to consider the delicate colour palette of their reader. It's a bookmarklet. There is one that I call ZAP, and it removes all colour info from the page you are currently looking at. You basically end up with black type on a white background. Links are blue on my screen, but different settings in your browser might lead to different results.
At any rate, here's how you go about having ZAP on your system. Start up a new bookmark. Use Zap for the name. Then, in the URL, paste the following into the field:
javascript:(function(){var newSS, styles='* { background: white ! important; color: black !important } :link, :link * { color: #0000EE !important } :visited, :visited * { color: #551A8B !important }'; if(document.createStyleSheet) { document.createStyleSheet(%22javascript:'%22+styles+%22'%22); } else { newSS=document.createElement('link'); newSS.rel='stylesheet'; newSS.href='data:text/css,'+escape(styles); document.documentElement.childNodes[0].appendChild(newSS); } })();
It's important to get the whole thing into that one line. Then save the bookmark. I keep this bookmark on my Bookmarks Toolbar in Firefox for easy access. Of course, you have to have javascript enabled and I can't and won't guarantee it works with Internet Explorer (I figure if you are using IE, you're probably beyond help anyway).
I originally found ZAP at Jesse's Bookmarklets site. I originally ran across the whole idea of bookmarklets at, no surprise, bookmarklets.com.
Some, or even many, of the bookmarklets are no longer necessary in Firefox. Firefox add-ins now do most of the work those bookmarklets did. Still, I haven't found anything that works as well or as quick in doing the assigned task as ZAP.
So, if you don't like green on green, then ZAP away!
There IS a solution for the failure of web page designers to consider the delicate colour palette of their reader. It's a bookmarklet. There is one that I call ZAP, and it removes all colour info from the page you are currently looking at. You basically end up with black type on a white background. Links are blue on my screen, but different settings in your browser might lead to different results.
At any rate, here's how you go about having ZAP on your system. Start up a new bookmark. Use Zap for the name. Then, in the URL, paste the following into the field:
javascript:(function(){var newSS, styles='* { background: white ! important; color: black !important } :link, :link * { color: #0000EE !important } :visited, :visited * { color: #551A8B !important }'; if(document.createStyleSheet) { document.createStyleSheet(%22javascript:'%22+styles+%22'%22); } else { newSS=document.createElement('link'); newSS.rel='stylesheet'; newSS.href='data:text/css,'+escape(styles); document.documentElement.childNodes[0].appendChild(newSS); } })();
It's important to get the whole thing into that one line. Then save the bookmark. I keep this bookmark on my Bookmarks Toolbar in Firefox for easy access. Of course, you have to have javascript enabled and I can't and won't guarantee it works with Internet Explorer (I figure if you are using IE, you're probably beyond help anyway).
I originally found ZAP at Jesse's Bookmarklets site. I originally ran across the whole idea of bookmarklets at, no surprise, bookmarklets.com.
Some, or even many, of the bookmarklets are no longer necessary in Firefox. Firefox add-ins now do most of the work those bookmarklets did. Still, I haven't found anything that works as well or as quick in doing the assigned task as ZAP.
So, if you don't like green on green, then ZAP away!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
SPORTS: The Rautins Flap
I find myself in an oddly conflicted position over the current flap between Leo Rautins and Sam Dalembert and the damage that flap is doing to the national basketball program in Canada.
Basically, I think everybody involved is wrong and the repercussions this program will suffer will make all of we hoop fans in this country rue the very mention of Leo and Sam.
Let's start with Rautins, who I have blasted as a colour man on Toronto Raptors broadcasts. His performance there is overly-teachy and his passive-aggressive approach with outgoing play-by-play man Chuck Swirsky was off-putting. On the other hand, I pointed out how good with kids he was and that there was not a single doubt in my mind as to how dedicated to basketball he was. So, you have my pre-flap biases straight.
Leo should not have been afforded the chance to become a first-time coach as the national coach of this country. Not that the move is unprecedented. It's rare for second and third tier countries NOT to turn to past stars to coach their squads. Leo's predecessor, Jay Triano, fit the same bill, BUT had head coaching experience in university ball before tugging on the Maple Leaf-embroidered jacket. That's a big difference.
Coaching is more than x's and o's. It's people management. As Casey Stengel once said about coaching the Yankees, "I had to keep the 1o guys who hated my guts from the 10 guys who weren't sure." It's not overstating the case. The coach has to play five and sit seven. In that seven are a bunch who think they should be on the floor 40 minutes a night (Carl English?). Giving players roles and having them accept those roles, differentiates the good coaches from the bad. The quality of the talent then decides whether a coach is good or can be great. Make no mistake about it, Leo is not a great coach because he can't be. Doesn't have the talent.
But, is he a good coach? There's no evidence to suggest it. Before Dalembert 's participation came asunder, there was the Juan Mendez issue. He started a pre-qualifying tournament game and then left the team the next day. A decent-sized wing player with a Euro game, Mendez surely could have found a 12th spot on this roster ahead of some of the youth that predominates the team. That one of those players was Leo's son Andy was a bad sign. Having Andy Rautins on the team and a useful player like Mendez not, was the first sign of the coming apocalypse. That's just visuals, but the optics were bad.
Kicking Dalembert off the team immediately, without an intermediary step like suspending him for a game, was another mis-step. It might have been popular. Other team players were sounding off on the preferential treatment Dalembert was getting and expecting. Most of that was anonymous, so how bad COULD it have been. But getting rid of Dalembert before the biggest game in Rautins' coaching career was either a gutsy move, or the latest bone-headed one. If nothing else, it suggested Rautins didn't have the gravitas to coach a difficult player. And trust me, basketball players can be the most difficult of all the team sports athletes. Most have been coddled since coaches and teachers realized the dude was big enough to be a difference maker on the basketball court. It's hard NOT to grow up feeling entitled.
So, it's Leo's fault?
No. Not entirely. Dalembert was the feel-good story from last summer. He moved heaven and earth to get Canadian citizenship in time to play in the Americas qualifying tournament in Las Vegas. Played decently, but not well enough to propel Canada through. It was the sports movie where the underdogs' winning shot at the buzzer clanks off the rim rather than going through it. Despite that, Dalembert became one of the few visiting players who'd get cheers in Toronto. Not up there with Mo Peterson, but not inconspicuous.
That'll change this year. The facts certainly need more light before announcing him a spoiled and pampered big baby. The initial reports are not favourable. If he has, in the words of several reporters, been trying to 'big-time' his teammates and coaches, then he's lost his way big time. Acting like you're a star and a difference-maker requires a winning team and a leading performance. In neither case was Dalembert putting those attributes on display in the opening loss to Slovenia. After that kind of performance, you put your tail between your legs and tell your teammates you PROMISE to do better.
Of course, he never got the chance to do better. That must have been some sort of conversation between Leo and Sam, as they vied for the honour of wrecking both of their careers completely. And in the end, they decided on self-immolation.
Whoever picks up the pieces (Gord Herbert?) better hope Dalembert WAS acting like a huge knob and doesn't deserve solidarity from other players. If he WAS wronged, then agents from the NBA and overseas will be doing everything they can to steer clients wide of Canada's national team until Rautins is history. And maybe beyond. If Dalembert was guilty and people know it, then there's a chance the team building can continue. Either way, I can't see Rautins around for the next Americas qualifying tournament three years from now.
Hey, there's a game Friday with Croatia. Doesn't really seem to matter now, does it?
Basically, I think everybody involved is wrong and the repercussions this program will suffer will make all of we hoop fans in this country rue the very mention of Leo and Sam.
Let's start with Rautins, who I have blasted as a colour man on Toronto Raptors broadcasts. His performance there is overly-teachy and his passive-aggressive approach with outgoing play-by-play man Chuck Swirsky was off-putting. On the other hand, I pointed out how good with kids he was and that there was not a single doubt in my mind as to how dedicated to basketball he was. So, you have my pre-flap biases straight.
Leo should not have been afforded the chance to become a first-time coach as the national coach of this country. Not that the move is unprecedented. It's rare for second and third tier countries NOT to turn to past stars to coach their squads. Leo's predecessor, Jay Triano, fit the same bill, BUT had head coaching experience in university ball before tugging on the Maple Leaf-embroidered jacket. That's a big difference.
Coaching is more than x's and o's. It's people management. As Casey Stengel once said about coaching the Yankees, "I had to keep the 1o guys who hated my guts from the 10 guys who weren't sure." It's not overstating the case. The coach has to play five and sit seven. In that seven are a bunch who think they should be on the floor 40 minutes a night (Carl English?). Giving players roles and having them accept those roles, differentiates the good coaches from the bad. The quality of the talent then decides whether a coach is good or can be great. Make no mistake about it, Leo is not a great coach because he can't be. Doesn't have the talent.
But, is he a good coach? There's no evidence to suggest it. Before Dalembert 's participation came asunder, there was the Juan Mendez issue. He started a pre-qualifying tournament game and then left the team the next day. A decent-sized wing player with a Euro game, Mendez surely could have found a 12th spot on this roster ahead of some of the youth that predominates the team. That one of those players was Leo's son Andy was a bad sign. Having Andy Rautins on the team and a useful player like Mendez not, was the first sign of the coming apocalypse. That's just visuals, but the optics were bad.
Kicking Dalembert off the team immediately, without an intermediary step like suspending him for a game, was another mis-step. It might have been popular. Other team players were sounding off on the preferential treatment Dalembert was getting and expecting. Most of that was anonymous, so how bad COULD it have been. But getting rid of Dalembert before the biggest game in Rautins' coaching career was either a gutsy move, or the latest bone-headed one. If nothing else, it suggested Rautins didn't have the gravitas to coach a difficult player. And trust me, basketball players can be the most difficult of all the team sports athletes. Most have been coddled since coaches and teachers realized the dude was big enough to be a difference maker on the basketball court. It's hard NOT to grow up feeling entitled.
So, it's Leo's fault?
No. Not entirely. Dalembert was the feel-good story from last summer. He moved heaven and earth to get Canadian citizenship in time to play in the Americas qualifying tournament in Las Vegas. Played decently, but not well enough to propel Canada through. It was the sports movie where the underdogs' winning shot at the buzzer clanks off the rim rather than going through it. Despite that, Dalembert became one of the few visiting players who'd get cheers in Toronto. Not up there with Mo Peterson, but not inconspicuous.
That'll change this year. The facts certainly need more light before announcing him a spoiled and pampered big baby. The initial reports are not favourable. If he has, in the words of several reporters, been trying to 'big-time' his teammates and coaches, then he's lost his way big time. Acting like you're a star and a difference-maker requires a winning team and a leading performance. In neither case was Dalembert putting those attributes on display in the opening loss to Slovenia. After that kind of performance, you put your tail between your legs and tell your teammates you PROMISE to do better.
Of course, he never got the chance to do better. That must have been some sort of conversation between Leo and Sam, as they vied for the honour of wrecking both of their careers completely. And in the end, they decided on self-immolation.
Whoever picks up the pieces (Gord Herbert?) better hope Dalembert WAS acting like a huge knob and doesn't deserve solidarity from other players. If he WAS wronged, then agents from the NBA and overseas will be doing everything they can to steer clients wide of Canada's national team until Rautins is history. And maybe beyond. If Dalembert was guilty and people know it, then there's a chance the team building can continue. Either way, I can't see Rautins around for the next Americas qualifying tournament three years from now.
Hey, there's a game Friday with Croatia. Doesn't really seem to matter now, does it?
TV: Summertime's Swell in British TV
To spoil an old saying, summertime TV in Britain has brought us something old, something new, something between old and new and nothing to make me feel blue.
Within the last two weeks, the fine folks that have brought us Doctor Who these last four years, have debuted the fifth season of New Tricks, the debut serial of Bonekickers and the second season of Would I Lie to You? And there's not a single failure in the lot.
New Tricks is a turn on the cold-case police squad show that has run successfully in Canada (Cold Squad) and is still running in the US (Cold Case). The British variation takes the usual sexy female lead, Amanda Redman in this case, but pairs her up with a bunch of washed up wily old veterans. Alun Armstrong's Brian Lane went bonkers, earning retirement. He's a little obsessively compulsive. Brilliant, but batty. And he's the only one with a spouse, a deliciously understanding wife played by Susan Jameson. James Bolam's Jack Halford HAD a wife, but she was murdered and the elderly grieving Halford had to end his long and distinguished career as a detective. Dennis Waterman's Gerry Standing's had a few wives. A little rule-forgetful, a little too much boozing and carousing and an inability to play politics forced Standing into retirement too early.
But four years ago, Redman's Sandra Pullman made a few political mistakes herself and got sequestered off into a corner with the cold cases. Her solution? Find the brightest and the best of the coppers who weren't coppers anymore. The result has been a great series that gets better each year. Halford's AWOL right now, and the other two stooges need his calming influence around, but I don't expect that situation to last much longer.
Oh, and by the way, Waterman's theme song for the show, "It's All Right" is an insanely catchy ditty.
I was going to pass Bonekickers by, by the way. But Adrian Lester (Mickey Stone from the first three seasons of Hustle) was in it. Couldn't say no to that. Julie Graham was in it too, WITH hair (that's a shutout to an insanely awful movie she was in last century). Completely the archaeological crew that move this TV drama around are always entertaining Hugh Bonneville and relative newcomer Gugu Mbatha-Raw, last seen in the Doctor Who universe.
What they are doing is a TV-takeoff on The DaVinci Code, replete with 2000 year-old crosses, old English churches and religious zealots. If you enjoyed the book (or heaven forbid, the movie), you'll enjoy this show. I liked the book enough to give it a positive review over at PDA 24/7, so I found myself enjoying the first of the six-episode run. Can it maintain that level? Don't know. But I'm looking forward to the remaining episodes.
And that brings us to the chat show/comedy game show amalgam called Would I Like to You? And the answer, apparently is sometimes yes, sometimes no. The premise is shockingly loose. It's a game show that keeps score, declares winners, and pays no attention whatsoever in trying to be fair. Plus, winning doesn't accomplish much, besides evading a sharp end of show putdown from emcee Angus Deayton. It features two teams of 'celebrities' captained by David Mitchell and the truly funny quipster Lee Mack. Members of each team get to tell a potentially funny fact about themselves, then try to convince their opponents that it is the absolute truth. When the opposing captain finally deems the truthfulness of the story, it's revealed whether the story is true or false. There are slight variations of that through the show, involving one person who each of the members of one team claims is his or her friend/acquaintance, and watching video clips that lead to outrageous claims of dubious authenticity. But that's it. Simple.
And very funny, despite me not knowing most of the 'celebrities,' what with being from the colonies over here in North America. Mack I know from the very funny Not Going Out. Mitchell? I gather he's an actor/comedian of some note 'over there, but he comes across as a funny Tucker Carlson, or maybe a funny, younger George Will. If you know what I mean. All in all, this is the show I'd actually like to see borrowed. But only if they keep the same political uncorrectness that permeates the show.
Dealy's role would fall to Bill Maher, who specializes in snide asides. Dennis Miller, who's fallen mightily since renouncing comedic pounding on all, to write republican-biased material only, could start the road to comeback to the comedic centre, by taking on the Mitchell role. He could still spout right-wing nonsense, while trying to be actually funny once in a while. The Lee Mack role would go to Lewis Black, who could then give up that awful Lewis Black's Root of All Evil. (in reality, I'd like Jon Stewart as the moderator and Maher in the Mitchell role, but then there would be no stick-in-the-mud right-winger to take shots and hand the odd ones out)
If you get a chance to see these shows, through DVD, BBC Canada or even downloading, go ahead. You will be entertained. Guarantee it.
Within the last two weeks, the fine folks that have brought us Doctor Who these last four years, have debuted the fifth season of New Tricks, the debut serial of Bonekickers and the second season of Would I Lie to You? And there's not a single failure in the lot.
New Tricks is a turn on the cold-case police squad show that has run successfully in Canada (Cold Squad) and is still running in the US (Cold Case). The British variation takes the usual sexy female lead, Amanda Redman in this case, but pairs her up with a bunch of washed up wily old veterans. Alun Armstrong's Brian Lane went bonkers, earning retirement. He's a little obsessively compulsive. Brilliant, but batty. And he's the only one with a spouse, a deliciously understanding wife played by Susan Jameson. James Bolam's Jack Halford HAD a wife, but she was murdered and the elderly grieving Halford had to end his long and distinguished career as a detective. Dennis Waterman's Gerry Standing's had a few wives. A little rule-forgetful, a little too much boozing and carousing and an inability to play politics forced Standing into retirement too early.
But four years ago, Redman's Sandra Pullman made a few political mistakes herself and got sequestered off into a corner with the cold cases. Her solution? Find the brightest and the best of the coppers who weren't coppers anymore. The result has been a great series that gets better each year. Halford's AWOL right now, and the other two stooges need his calming influence around, but I don't expect that situation to last much longer.
Oh, and by the way, Waterman's theme song for the show, "It's All Right" is an insanely catchy ditty.
I was going to pass Bonekickers by, by the way. But Adrian Lester (Mickey Stone from the first three seasons of Hustle) was in it. Couldn't say no to that. Julie Graham was in it too, WITH hair (that's a shutout to an insanely awful movie she was in last century). Completely the archaeological crew that move this TV drama around are always entertaining Hugh Bonneville and relative newcomer Gugu Mbatha-Raw, last seen in the Doctor Who universe.
What they are doing is a TV-takeoff on The DaVinci Code, replete with 2000 year-old crosses, old English churches and religious zealots. If you enjoyed the book (or heaven forbid, the movie), you'll enjoy this show. I liked the book enough to give it a positive review over at PDA 24/7, so I found myself enjoying the first of the six-episode run. Can it maintain that level? Don't know. But I'm looking forward to the remaining episodes.
And that brings us to the chat show/comedy game show amalgam called Would I Like to You? And the answer, apparently is sometimes yes, sometimes no. The premise is shockingly loose. It's a game show that keeps score, declares winners, and pays no attention whatsoever in trying to be fair. Plus, winning doesn't accomplish much, besides evading a sharp end of show putdown from emcee Angus Deayton. It features two teams of 'celebrities' captained by David Mitchell and the truly funny quipster Lee Mack. Members of each team get to tell a potentially funny fact about themselves, then try to convince their opponents that it is the absolute truth. When the opposing captain finally deems the truthfulness of the story, it's revealed whether the story is true or false. There are slight variations of that through the show, involving one person who each of the members of one team claims is his or her friend/acquaintance, and watching video clips that lead to outrageous claims of dubious authenticity. But that's it. Simple.
And very funny, despite me not knowing most of the 'celebrities,' what with being from the colonies over here in North America. Mack I know from the very funny Not Going Out. Mitchell? I gather he's an actor/comedian of some note 'over there, but he comes across as a funny Tucker Carlson, or maybe a funny, younger George Will. If you know what I mean. All in all, this is the show I'd actually like to see borrowed. But only if they keep the same political uncorrectness that permeates the show.
Dealy's role would fall to Bill Maher, who specializes in snide asides. Dennis Miller, who's fallen mightily since renouncing comedic pounding on all, to write republican-biased material only, could start the road to comeback to the comedic centre, by taking on the Mitchell role. He could still spout right-wing nonsense, while trying to be actually funny once in a while. The Lee Mack role would go to Lewis Black, who could then give up that awful Lewis Black's Root of All Evil. (in reality, I'd like Jon Stewart as the moderator and Maher in the Mitchell role, but then there would be no stick-in-the-mud right-winger to take shots and hand the odd ones out)
If you get a chance to see these shows, through DVD, BBC Canada or even downloading, go ahead. You will be entertained. Guarantee it.
BOOKS: The Blonde - Duane Swierczynski
It's an old trope, but it keeps working when the wordsmith behind it adds a new touch or two. A man sits at a bar (yet to see the reverse of this). He's drinking alone. A beautiful woman slides up to the seat next to him. In the next few minutes, his life changes. She whispers in his ear. "I've poisoned your drink."
Duane Swierczynski's The Blonde starts off in an airport bar in Philadelphia. The gent at the bar is Jack Eisley, a journalist. (I'll CLAIM the job description is the reason I got the book and that the hot model on the book's cover had nothing to do with the purchase decision. But I'd be lying big time) The blonde in question, Kelly White (at least then), gives him the bad news and promises him he has to stay with her 24/7 or he will die. He's been infected by nanobots.
What?
Yeah, we don't get any traditional poisons with this book. It's all about the fictional little machines that cause so many problems over in the Stargate TV universe. Bit of a bane for me. Have never quit gotten the "let's survive and propagate" threat with nano thingies. They are supposed to be small computerized machines with programming to do a job, maybe two jobs. For the programming to go SO WRONG as to turn them into the mechanical version of magic monster creators ... well, somebody should get fired in the IT department.
All this is to say I had an antipathy to the whole idea from the time I read the cover copy. But there was that hot chick with the big gun on the cover. What to do, what to do? I read the book.
Now, I'm not saying I'm racing out to buy everything Swierczynski writes forever. But it was a fast-paced, action-packed thriller. Not much thinking behind anything, but you sort of wondered what fantastical turn Swierczynski was going to put Eisley and White through. There's a hit man who might or might not be government-sanctioned for at least most of his hits, on their case. And it's THEIR case, since both Eisley and White have the same familiarity problem with the nanites. Gives them a physical edge, but requires them to stay within spitting distance for most of the book.
In the end, Kowalskin the hitmann runs full-on into karma. Eisley survives, stronger and better for the experience. The nasty divorce lawyer and the soon-to-be ex, the reasons for him being at the bar at the airport in Philly in the first place, have their own showdown with karma. It's all quite satisfying.
And the book doesn't end there. At least the paperback edition doesn't end there. There's a tacked-on prequel novella. The Redhead details Kowalski pre-Eisley dealings with his beloved, the redhead of the title. Although it's a prequel, the page prior to it starting begs the reader to read the full novel before it. It's a little short of exposition of some of the things that it shares with the novel. And the warning is fully justified.
As far as I'm concerned, I got taken along for a ride and a half. That's pretty good return for the price.
Duane Swierczynski's The Blonde starts off in an airport bar in Philadelphia. The gent at the bar is Jack Eisley, a journalist. (I'll CLAIM the job description is the reason I got the book and that the hot model on the book's cover had nothing to do with the purchase decision. But I'd be lying big time) The blonde in question, Kelly White (at least then), gives him the bad news and promises him he has to stay with her 24/7 or he will die. He's been infected by nanobots.
What?
Yeah, we don't get any traditional poisons with this book. It's all about the fictional little machines that cause so many problems over in the Stargate TV universe. Bit of a bane for me. Have never quit gotten the "let's survive and propagate" threat with nano thingies. They are supposed to be small computerized machines with programming to do a job, maybe two jobs. For the programming to go SO WRONG as to turn them into the mechanical version of magic monster creators ... well, somebody should get fired in the IT department.
All this is to say I had an antipathy to the whole idea from the time I read the cover copy. But there was that hot chick with the big gun on the cover. What to do, what to do? I read the book.
Now, I'm not saying I'm racing out to buy everything Swierczynski writes forever. But it was a fast-paced, action-packed thriller. Not much thinking behind anything, but you sort of wondered what fantastical turn Swierczynski was going to put Eisley and White through. There's a hit man who might or might not be government-sanctioned for at least most of his hits, on their case. And it's THEIR case, since both Eisley and White have the same familiarity problem with the nanites. Gives them a physical edge, but requires them to stay within spitting distance for most of the book.
In the end, Kowalskin the hitmann runs full-on into karma. Eisley survives, stronger and better for the experience. The nasty divorce lawyer and the soon-to-be ex, the reasons for him being at the bar at the airport in Philly in the first place, have their own showdown with karma. It's all quite satisfying.
And the book doesn't end there. At least the paperback edition doesn't end there. There's a tacked-on prequel novella. The Redhead details Kowalski pre-Eisley dealings with his beloved, the redhead of the title. Although it's a prequel, the page prior to it starting begs the reader to read the full novel before it. It's a little short of exposition of some of the things that it shares with the novel. And the warning is fully justified.
As far as I'm concerned, I got taken along for a ride and a half. That's pretty good return for the price.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
SOFTWARE: Repeat After Me, "ONE at a time!"
FileHippo.com is a place I visit daily. It lists the new downloads and I pair it with visits to Betanews.com to make sure I know what's come down the pipeline in terms of updates over the last 24 hours. But sometimes I miss the odd update. So, today, I downloaded File Hippo's Update Checker and one I found on Betanews, Update Notifier.
These checkers do NOT check for updates to Windows, nor do they check for most of your windows drivers. Plus, they BOTH find items missed by the other. All in all, they do a good job in tandem and it doesn't take long to run either one. And no, they don't even catch ALL of the program updates that really exist out there. But there ARE some issues.
I had Firefox up and running, but minimized, when I ran FileHippo Update Checker. It DID bring up a window of things I missed. But when I clicked on the download arrows, NOTHING happened. At least that I could see. It turns out new tabs in the minimized Firefox were opening with each click. Discovered it later when grumpily clicking on Firefox to find a help page at FileHippo to see if I could figure out what was going wrong. Of such things are blogs worthwhile.
The download links for all of the programs I saw updates for were at FileHippo. The download process wasn't as smooth as I would have liked, as simply clicking on download links tended not to succeed until the second or third page. And I dislike that FileHippo Update Checker stays running after you are finished with it. Make sure you close it from the system tray each time. Also, uncheck the box to load at startup during install. Make sure you incorporate update checking into your weekly maintenance ritual. You know, the one where you check for virii, scumware and updates to your anti-virus, anti-spyware and firewall programs? You ARE doing weekly cleaning, right? Thought so.
Update Notifier is a bit of a mystery too. Copy it to where you are going to use it from, before running it. It's a no-install program. BUT, it does want to run each time you startup, so make sure that's disabled by pressing the options button. And like I said, run it from a shortcut. It has three panels for purview, the suggested missing updates, one panel for updates you want to monitor and a third panel with suggested software you don't already have. None of the stuff is bad and if you aren't using something in any category covered by the suggestions, go for it. But it really is just unobtrusive advertising. The best I've seen.
All in all, the missing updates were an interesting list. There were updates to daily-used programs like Gadwin PrintScreen, Foxit Reader, and my ATI Videocard drivers, plus Firefox (remember, I'm back to using v2). It also pointed out newer versions of InnoSetup, which I use for making install programs for my software, AM-Deadlink to show me what bookmarks are dead in my set of Firefox bookmarks (3K and still counting) and the latest Java and Flash updates. Other than Firefox, I installed all the updates at once and rebooted the machine.
I am here to tell you, THAT WAS STUPID!!!!
All the updates were okay, except for the one I KNEW was going to goof my hardware ... the video-card driver. I NEVER use the latest video drivers unless I have an issue. Being on the cutting edge of video-card drivers is for hard-core gamers who want the last little bit of oomph they can get. I know this, but still updated. I AM STUPID!
Naturally, the newer version of the product from ATI called @#($#@$(*$ (it has a real name, but that's what I call the #(@*$@#*()$ piece of software), screwed up my system. Took five reboots, one restore and lots of moving around of my two-screens worth of icons (both running 1600x1200 to afford me maximum screen real estate) to get me back to where I was, visually-speaking.
Then, I installed the other updates AGAIN, but this time one at a time. When faced with the final decision as to whether to install the video-card driver update, I thought about it for about a New York second.
Nah! It wasn't broke. No NEED to update it.
These checkers do NOT check for updates to Windows, nor do they check for most of your windows drivers. Plus, they BOTH find items missed by the other. All in all, they do a good job in tandem and it doesn't take long to run either one. And no, they don't even catch ALL of the program updates that really exist out there. But there ARE some issues.
I had Firefox up and running, but minimized, when I ran FileHippo Update Checker. It DID bring up a window of things I missed. But when I clicked on the download arrows, NOTHING happened. At least that I could see. It turns out new tabs in the minimized Firefox were opening with each click. Discovered it later when grumpily clicking on Firefox to find a help page at FileHippo to see if I could figure out what was going wrong. Of such things are blogs worthwhile.
The download links for all of the programs I saw updates for were at FileHippo. The download process wasn't as smooth as I would have liked, as simply clicking on download links tended not to succeed until the second or third page. And I dislike that FileHippo Update Checker stays running after you are finished with it. Make sure you close it from the system tray each time. Also, uncheck the box to load at startup during install. Make sure you incorporate update checking into your weekly maintenance ritual. You know, the one where you check for virii, scumware and updates to your anti-virus, anti-spyware and firewall programs? You ARE doing weekly cleaning, right? Thought so.
Update Notifier is a bit of a mystery too. Copy it to where you are going to use it from, before running it. It's a no-install program. BUT, it does want to run each time you startup, so make sure that's disabled by pressing the options button. And like I said, run it from a shortcut. It has three panels for purview, the suggested missing updates, one panel for updates you want to monitor and a third panel with suggested software you don't already have. None of the stuff is bad and if you aren't using something in any category covered by the suggestions, go for it. But it really is just unobtrusive advertising. The best I've seen.
All in all, the missing updates were an interesting list. There were updates to daily-used programs like Gadwin PrintScreen, Foxit Reader, and my ATI Videocard drivers, plus Firefox (remember, I'm back to using v2). It also pointed out newer versions of InnoSetup, which I use for making install programs for my software, AM-Deadlink to show me what bookmarks are dead in my set of Firefox bookmarks (3K and still counting) and the latest Java and Flash updates. Other than Firefox, I installed all the updates at once and rebooted the machine.
I am here to tell you, THAT WAS STUPID!!!!
All the updates were okay, except for the one I KNEW was going to goof my hardware ... the video-card driver. I NEVER use the latest video drivers unless I have an issue. Being on the cutting edge of video-card drivers is for hard-core gamers who want the last little bit of oomph they can get. I know this, but still updated. I AM STUPID!
Naturally, the newer version of the product from ATI called @#($#@$(*$ (it has a real name, but that's what I call the #(@*$@#*()$ piece of software), screwed up my system. Took five reboots, one restore and lots of moving around of my two-screens worth of icons (both running 1600x1200 to afford me maximum screen real estate) to get me back to where I was, visually-speaking.
Then, I installed the other updates AGAIN, but this time one at a time. When faced with the final decision as to whether to install the video-card driver update, I thought about it for about a New York second.
Nah! It wasn't broke. No NEED to update it.
SPORTS: George's Final Bow?
Hugely entertaining All-Star game tonight. Didja ever think I would type those words?
After thinking about that question, answer this one. Was tonight's George Steinbrenner appearance his final appearance in public? He's been a huge part of the sporting life over the last 35 years, but he certainly didn't look well.
If that was it for George, who celebrated a birthday on July 4, then he sure went out on a high note.
Oh, and good-bye to Yankee Stadium. Thanks for the memories.
After thinking about that question, answer this one. Was tonight's George Steinbrenner appearance his final appearance in public? He's been a huge part of the sporting life over the last 35 years, but he certainly didn't look well.
If that was it for George, who celebrated a birthday on July 4, then he sure went out on a high note.
Oh, and good-bye to Yankee Stadium. Thanks for the memories.
BOOKS: Phantom Prey - John Sandford
John Sandford's Lucas Davenport books, the so-called 'Prey' books, are never bad reads. But his latest in the series, Phantom Prey, surely rates at the bottom of the list.
I think Sandford's obvious lack of knowledge about the Goth culture is a key part of the problem. Other than describing most participants as wearers of black, and some odd facts here and there (I didn't know that there had been three waves of popularity for Goth since it largely first surfaced in the 60's), the 'setting' of this book feels phony. A disjointed beginning of the book also doesn't help.
Comparing this book to the one I read on Monday, Jeffrey Deaver's Broken Window, the narrative isn't much different. You get an early insight into the mind of the looney tunes killer. The detective finds himself somewhat divided between this new killing spree and the B Plot problem. There's a resolution to the A Plot that involves multiple bad men, and then a resolution to the B Plot that is almost as interesting as the A Plot's denouement. No question, the Deaver book accomplishes all of its goals, Phantom Prey few of them.
As hard as I am coming down on Sandford for this book, it still has page-turning capability. Davenport, who hasn't been scarred in a while, gets a new one near his privates, courtesy of a murder attempt. He has a fair bit of interaction with wife Weather, who we find hen-pecking him more than usual. That's entertaining. One character in the book describes him as a thug, and there's a lot of that buried in him. It's always amusing to see his wife handling with such little effort.
The B Plot has everything from the movie, Stakeout, except Davenport getting up close and personal with Heather Toms. Still funny stuff. Balancing that was Davenport's adopted daughter Letty behaving more like a member of his squad, then a teen-aged girl.
Bluntly, I think Sandford wrote this one on contract. He REALLY wanted to write another Virgil Flowers book. He probably mentions Flowers a half-dozen times (Kidd from Luellen & Kidd gets another handful of mentions, suggesting there might be a story for THAT series in the future). He always refers to Flowers with an alliterate expletive.
Well, quit swearing about Flowers. Get writing! You've used your mulligan on this one.
I think Sandford's obvious lack of knowledge about the Goth culture is a key part of the problem. Other than describing most participants as wearers of black, and some odd facts here and there (I didn't know that there had been three waves of popularity for Goth since it largely first surfaced in the 60's), the 'setting' of this book feels phony. A disjointed beginning of the book also doesn't help.
Comparing this book to the one I read on Monday, Jeffrey Deaver's Broken Window, the narrative isn't much different. You get an early insight into the mind of the looney tunes killer. The detective finds himself somewhat divided between this new killing spree and the B Plot problem. There's a resolution to the A Plot that involves multiple bad men, and then a resolution to the B Plot that is almost as interesting as the A Plot's denouement. No question, the Deaver book accomplishes all of its goals, Phantom Prey few of them.
As hard as I am coming down on Sandford for this book, it still has page-turning capability. Davenport, who hasn't been scarred in a while, gets a new one near his privates, courtesy of a murder attempt. He has a fair bit of interaction with wife Weather, who we find hen-pecking him more than usual. That's entertaining. One character in the book describes him as a thug, and there's a lot of that buried in him. It's always amusing to see his wife handling with such little effort.
The B Plot has everything from the movie, Stakeout, except Davenport getting up close and personal with Heather Toms. Still funny stuff. Balancing that was Davenport's adopted daughter Letty behaving more like a member of his squad, then a teen-aged girl.
Bluntly, I think Sandford wrote this one on contract. He REALLY wanted to write another Virgil Flowers book. He probably mentions Flowers a half-dozen times (Kidd from Luellen & Kidd gets another handful of mentions, suggesting there might be a story for THAT series in the future). He always refers to Flowers with an alliterate expletive.
Well, quit swearing about Flowers. Get writing! You've used your mulligan on this one.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
BOOKS: Plague Ship - Clive Cussler
I am an unabashed fan of Clive Cussler's work. I remember him pitching Raise the Titanic on a radio show last century and went out and bought it. And subsequently, everything else he's written in novel form, and the two non-fiction books too.
Granted, I'm a little fatigued with his main series star, Dirk Pitt. And Kurt Austin, star of his secondary series is really Pitt with a slightly different supporting cast. The tertiary series, The Oregon Files, however is still young and vibrant. And the latest in that series, Plague Ship, was a pleasure to read today.
The Oregon Files are about the good ship Oregon and it's black ops company of good men, led by the Chairman Juan Cabrillo. The one-legged Cabrillo is every bit the superman that Pitt and Austin are, but the cast is more diffusive than those surrounding Cussler's main series stars. This book is as much about Max Hanley as it is Cabrillo. He gets the last line of the book. Hanley's role is normally Scotty to Cabrillo's Kirk, but he has to step away from his engines to rescue his son, who's joined a cult.
Like all cults, there's a veneer of reasonability behind Responsivism. Dedicated to cutting down the explosive population growth its founder figures will lead Earth into ruin, the cult acts like a passing fad amongst Hollyweirdos and liberal do-gooders. Like many cults, the veneer hides a rotten core, one determined to unleash a modern-day plague upon Earth, rendering half the world population sterile, forever.
The means for doing so is simultaneously brilliant and yet clumsily handled. A timer-released set of their viral bombs would have worked perfectly fine. But no, Cussler had to construct one of those Bondian strongholds for the villain to push a button and launch death and destruction. There also had to be the requisite hero-capturing and escape from said stronghold before it's destroyed. Contrived? Yes. Still a page-turner? Absolutely yes!
There isn't much missing from the stock Cussler surrounding material. There's a brutish Serbian thug who gets his in satisfying fashion. Plenty of underwater theatrics. But, and this is a BIG but, this not being a Pitt or Austin novel, NO sudden appearance to save the day in some fashion by a character called Clive Cussler. I had that little peccadillo we've seen from Cussler over the last half of his career more than words can communicate. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.
So, in the absence of it, or any other major blemishes, I have to save, liked it, liked it, liked it!
Granted, I'm a little fatigued with his main series star, Dirk Pitt. And Kurt Austin, star of his secondary series is really Pitt with a slightly different supporting cast. The tertiary series, The Oregon Files, however is still young and vibrant. And the latest in that series, Plague Ship, was a pleasure to read today.
The Oregon Files are about the good ship Oregon and it's black ops company of good men, led by the Chairman Juan Cabrillo. The one-legged Cabrillo is every bit the superman that Pitt and Austin are, but the cast is more diffusive than those surrounding Cussler's main series stars. This book is as much about Max Hanley as it is Cabrillo. He gets the last line of the book. Hanley's role is normally Scotty to Cabrillo's Kirk, but he has to step away from his engines to rescue his son, who's joined a cult.
Like all cults, there's a veneer of reasonability behind Responsivism. Dedicated to cutting down the explosive population growth its founder figures will lead Earth into ruin, the cult acts like a passing fad amongst Hollyweirdos and liberal do-gooders. Like many cults, the veneer hides a rotten core, one determined to unleash a modern-day plague upon Earth, rendering half the world population sterile, forever.
The means for doing so is simultaneously brilliant and yet clumsily handled. A timer-released set of their viral bombs would have worked perfectly fine. But no, Cussler had to construct one of those Bondian strongholds for the villain to push a button and launch death and destruction. There also had to be the requisite hero-capturing and escape from said stronghold before it's destroyed. Contrived? Yes. Still a page-turner? Absolutely yes!
There isn't much missing from the stock Cussler surrounding material. There's a brutish Serbian thug who gets his in satisfying fashion. Plenty of underwater theatrics. But, and this is a BIG but, this not being a Pitt or Austin novel, NO sudden appearance to save the day in some fashion by a character called Clive Cussler. I had that little peccadillo we've seen from Cussler over the last half of his career more than words can communicate. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.
So, in the absence of it, or any other major blemishes, I have to save, liked it, liked it, liked it!
Monday, July 14, 2008
BOOKS: Broken Window - Jeffrey Deaver
Jeffrey Deaver's Lincoln Rhymes novels feel comfortable ... if you can call the series of battles between the brilliant criminologist and a lengthy list of crazed killers comfortable.
Broken Window is the latest in the 10-year old series that started with the media hit The Bone Collector. It was the one that was made into a movie starring Denzel Washington. 'Nuff said about that mistake. However, Broken Window is a pretty good book, possibly right up there with Cold Moon as the best of the series. Cold Moon happens to be the other Rhymes novel that deals with the Watchmaker. He's a peripheral participant in Broken Window until literally the last page in the book. That page gives the reader one last cold chill down the spine.
The personal data mining business is the heart of Broken Window. Repeatedly, readers should be feeling a little panicked at how little privacy they truly have in this computerized world. One after another of the shields we 'think' we have are battered down. It's the completeness of the inspection that eventually allows for the rescue of Lincoln's other half, police detective Amelia Sachs. She once again charges into the foray sans backup and spends a chapter or two as the loon's prisoner. THAT might be getting a little old, the only downbeat in the story.
Otherwise, we get a decent list of potential suspects to measure against the chapters narrated by the loony-tune killing people. He's a hoarder, along with being an expert at taking advantage of society's total reliance (and acceptance) of computers. He's killing people, planting enough physical evidence to lead to the incarceration of others and their convictions. With no one looking for him, he's free to kill. And kill again. And again.
Until he picks one patsy too many. Lincoln's cousin Art, a real piece of work, plays fall guy and Lincoln comes to the rescue. Well comes to the rescue might be overstating it. He is, after all, a quadraplegic, trapped in a gussied up wheelchair, when not in bed. But he sends for the usual cast led by Sachs and the now recovered Ron Pulaski. Pulaski suffers more than Sachs in this book, although getting shot and losing her prized Camaro certainly leaves Sachs sad.
A good development that could have been handled horribly sees Amelia's almost-ward Pam do some growing up. It's a mark of Deaver's deft touch that the two women aren't simply men in dresses ... or at least form-fitting jeans.
There's a lot to like about Broken Window. It was a good kick off to this summer's reading week.
Broken Window is the latest in the 10-year old series that started with the media hit The Bone Collector. It was the one that was made into a movie starring Denzel Washington. 'Nuff said about that mistake. However, Broken Window is a pretty good book, possibly right up there with Cold Moon as the best of the series. Cold Moon happens to be the other Rhymes novel that deals with the Watchmaker. He's a peripheral participant in Broken Window until literally the last page in the book. That page gives the reader one last cold chill down the spine.
The personal data mining business is the heart of Broken Window. Repeatedly, readers should be feeling a little panicked at how little privacy they truly have in this computerized world. One after another of the shields we 'think' we have are battered down. It's the completeness of the inspection that eventually allows for the rescue of Lincoln's other half, police detective Amelia Sachs. She once again charges into the foray sans backup and spends a chapter or two as the loon's prisoner. THAT might be getting a little old, the only downbeat in the story.
Otherwise, we get a decent list of potential suspects to measure against the chapters narrated by the loony-tune killing people. He's a hoarder, along with being an expert at taking advantage of society's total reliance (and acceptance) of computers. He's killing people, planting enough physical evidence to lead to the incarceration of others and their convictions. With no one looking for him, he's free to kill. And kill again. And again.
Until he picks one patsy too many. Lincoln's cousin Art, a real piece of work, plays fall guy and Lincoln comes to the rescue. Well comes to the rescue might be overstating it. He is, after all, a quadraplegic, trapped in a gussied up wheelchair, when not in bed. But he sends for the usual cast led by Sachs and the now recovered Ron Pulaski. Pulaski suffers more than Sachs in this book, although getting shot and losing her prized Camaro certainly leaves Sachs sad.
A good development that could have been handled horribly sees Amelia's almost-ward Pam do some growing up. It's a mark of Deaver's deft touch that the two women aren't simply men in dresses ... or at least form-fitting jeans.
There's a lot to like about Broken Window. It was a good kick off to this summer's reading week.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
TV: NO More CLIFFHANGERS!
I curse the day somebody thought of the Who Shot J.R.? campaign. To the best of my knowledge, the Dallas season-ender to season three spawned plenty of publicity back in 1980 and one of the most unfortunate trends in television history.
John Doe, which had a GREAT cliffhanger and no pay-off, isn't the only or even the latest offender to the sensibilities of viewers wishing for closure (aka END of the story). It seems just about every episodic TV show wants some hook to bring back the viewers come fall (or whenever 24 comes back). Isn't just producing good entertainment enough to guarantee returns? I can live with 'To be continued ..." for shows that have guaranteed return dates. But for shows on the bubble or headed for inevitable cancellation, a cliffhanger is a breaking of a covenant with the viewer.
I watched the season set for October Road over the last couple of nights and there isn't a reason in the world that the show deserved a third season. EXCEPT, that the creators didn't dump a cliffhanger on we few people who watched the show (even belatedly). That's respect (or at least foreknowledge of impending cancellation doom).
The show had its moments, but had a severe flaw in having boy coming back for the girl, only to have the girl against all intelligence decide to marry the town jerk. The fact that boy is probably the father of the girl's young lad seems to play against that decision, but the whole show is basically predicated on it.
When the last musical montage rolled over the last few minutes, I was content. There was more story to tell if the show was renewed. Would the girl still marry the jerk? Would the boy's new girl friend continue to pick him over his brother? Would the boy's father survive a bout with cancer? Would the shut-in escape his self-made prison? Would the high school heartthrob forgive his girlfriend's moment of weakness? Not a single one of those questions was vital. In fact, I probably won't be thinking about them at all about 48 hours from now.
And that's all right. A story was told. It had a beginning, a muddled middle and a sort of ending. No one was in peril. No emotional investment left unspent. I can live with this ending.
But I sure would have hated the show and its creators a whole lot had Brian Greenberg's character not turned around and came back to Knight's Ridge to be with family and friends. THAT would have been a cliffhanger to add to the list of infamously failed final shows.
Let's suggest a new law. No renewal notice from the network, NO CLIFFHANGER!
John Doe, which had a GREAT cliffhanger and no pay-off, isn't the only or even the latest offender to the sensibilities of viewers wishing for closure (aka END of the story). It seems just about every episodic TV show wants some hook to bring back the viewers come fall (or whenever 24 comes back). Isn't just producing good entertainment enough to guarantee returns? I can live with 'To be continued ..." for shows that have guaranteed return dates. But for shows on the bubble or headed for inevitable cancellation, a cliffhanger is a breaking of a covenant with the viewer.
I watched the season set for October Road over the last couple of nights and there isn't a reason in the world that the show deserved a third season. EXCEPT, that the creators didn't dump a cliffhanger on we few people who watched the show (even belatedly). That's respect (or at least foreknowledge of impending cancellation doom).
The show had its moments, but had a severe flaw in having boy coming back for the girl, only to have the girl against all intelligence decide to marry the town jerk. The fact that boy is probably the father of the girl's young lad seems to play against that decision, but the whole show is basically predicated on it.
When the last musical montage rolled over the last few minutes, I was content. There was more story to tell if the show was renewed. Would the girl still marry the jerk? Would the boy's new girl friend continue to pick him over his brother? Would the boy's father survive a bout with cancer? Would the shut-in escape his self-made prison? Would the high school heartthrob forgive his girlfriend's moment of weakness? Not a single one of those questions was vital. In fact, I probably won't be thinking about them at all about 48 hours from now.
And that's all right. A story was told. It had a beginning, a muddled middle and a sort of ending. No one was in peril. No emotional investment left unspent. I can live with this ending.
But I sure would have hated the show and its creators a whole lot had Brian Greenberg's character not turned around and came back to Knight's Ridge to be with family and friends. THAT would have been a cliffhanger to add to the list of infamously failed final shows.
Let's suggest a new law. No renewal notice from the network, NO CLIFFHANGER!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
TV: SF Series Gone Before Their Time
There's a list floating around the various TV and SF circles that lists the author's idea of the top ten SF series that were canceled before their time should have been up. It's been ridiculed for topping with the original series of Star Trek and leaving off the truly worst network blunder, Firefly. I won't bore you with the original list. It's just plain wrong.
Here's the right list, counting down from 10 to 1:
[10] Max Headroom: Played by crazy Canuck by choice Matt Frewer (most recently in Eureka, which has thankfully NOT been canceled!), the TV construct was waaaaay ahead of its times. Figures it came from Britain to be buried in America. Canceling the show meant no more Amanda Pays until The Flash. And we see way too little of Mrs. Corbin Bernsen as it is. If this show were invented today, it would be a hit with the attention-deficit inflicted audience. Unfortunately, trying a revival wouldn't work unless it is dark and moody, as in the Battlestar Galactica way. And that wouldn't work with this show.
[9] The Flash: Did I mention Amanda Pays was in this show? Oh well. John Wesley Shipp was a credible Barry Allen and the show was moving right of centre when it came to camp. Had it completed the move towards the kind of territory Smallville mined later, it might have lasted a full contract commitment. With super-speed being the easiest of the super-powers to mimic on TV, it sure wasn't an excessive SFX budget.
[8] Dead Like Me: At least a movie's being made to salve the missing third season wounds. What does it say about me that I prefer to moan over the early demise of dead George, played by Ellen Muth, than the absence of Tru Calling, which featured Eliza Dusku as a life-saver. Bluntly, I prefer the shenanigans of Mandy Patinkin to those of Jason Priestly, I guess. There was just something deadpan and funny about Muth and Patinkin. We'll see after the movie. If it wraps it all up, then just change this list to include Tru Calling.
[7] Journeyman: This show might have tanked after another nine or so episodes. The potential to flop was always there, what with its inevitable comparisons to Quantum Leap. And it didn't help that supporting star Moon Bloodgood was doing a turn not too different from her role on the tanked Daybreak. But if it HAD reached its potential, NBC was getting rid of a tentpeg show. Stuck traveling through time at the behest of some unknown agency, Kevin McKidd's Dan Vasser lived as much in now as then. That was it's leg up over Quantum Leap. And we all miss not seeing Gretchen Egloff weekly.
[6] Now And Again: John Goodman dies of a gigantic heart attack. At least most him. His brain survives in the form of genetically enhanced host Eric Close, who then struggles with trying to keep an acceptable distance from Margaret Colin, Goodman's wife. Keeping a leash on government black op Close is Dennis Haysbert, later to play Commander-in-Chief in 24 and a team commander on The Unit. Close, of course, moved onto Without a Trace. This was top-notch casting. And Colin is still a middle-aged man's idea of a hot mama. And daughter Heather Mattarazzo played smart, if not cheerleader cute. It's the least SF of all the shows on the list. But it had a real heart. We will never know if Colin's character figured out her husband survived, sort of.
[5] Crusade: Boy was there a lot of material to come with Babylon 5 spin-off Crusade. Gary Cole's new spaceship had a mission to extend the life of the Babylon 5 universe and it was a rich one. What with Tracy Scoggins in tow more often and the enigmatic Peter Woodward, a technomage, to create new and interesting directions to go, this was a good idea. Unfortunately, the early bugs were too many to let the networks let it find its way. Given a full first year, Crusade would have matched the length of its parent, I am sure.
[4] The 4400: I hate, I hate, I hate shows that end on cliff-hangers (see #3). That there is no closure to four years of The 4400 is criminal! It wasn't that the show mined completely new SF themes. Robert Silverberg's Riverworld was surely a template for the starting point of this series. A bunch of Earthlings from disparate times get kidnapped. Instead of ending up on Riverworld, they are deposited back on Earth in the 21st century. Some come back ... enhanced. Handling that ... and them, falls to a pair of newly-minted agents of the National Threat Assessment Command, played by Joel Gretsch and Jacqueline McKenzie. Right from the start, it was hard not to feel for some of the 4400, including characters played by Mahershalalhashbaz Ali and Laura Allen. And I NEVER got over Conchita Campbell's creepy little Maia. No resolution really stinks, though.
[3] John Doe: Possibly the best cliff-hanger scene of all time NEVER GETS RESOLVED after John Doe was canceled without a second season to explain WHY the friendly bartender, Digger, is the man climbing up the ladder to escape John Doe . He's apparently the leader of the conspiracy John Doe's been fighting! Dominic Purcell as Doe and William Forsythe as Digger had 22 episodes to grow what looked like a pretty solid friendship. Why? What? Will there ever be a when? The enigmatic human computer with no memory should have had at least as long as some second-rate fare like The Pretender had.
[2] Space: Above and Beyond: The one and only season of this show stands up decades later as watchable, believable science fiction. It was Battlestar Galactica before there was a Galactica revival. It was warfare at its dirty and grimiest best. It showed how camaraderie and sheer will often are what wins battles, not backseat politician-generals who have an ease to spending lives and no knowledge on how to survive and thrive. James Morrison's squad of fightin' fighter pilots, led by Kristin Cloke, were all memorable right from the first episode. So were the enemy chigs. Frustratingly brief glimpses of potential rapprochement in the final few episodes suggested an uneasy peace was possible. Definitely a second season would have entertained and informed.
[1] Firefly: Obviously! The show sustained a good movie, albeit one that ended with fewer characters than it started with. Nathan Filion proved quite capable at both action AND the fast patter written by Joss Whedon. His crew that included second in command Gina Torres and her pilot husband Alan Tudyk, mechanic Jewel Staite and heavy-lifter/comedic relief Adam Baldwin, were uniquely entertaining in many ways. The Firefly carried passengers, not the least of which was Morena Baccarin, worthy of watching read a telephone book for 45 minutes all by herself. A well-realized Whedonverse, replete with bad guys after two other passengers on the Firefly, and solid SF extensions to what an intergalactic civilization would be like (Think ante-bellum South, with heavy Chinese influence). It was ultimately too literate for the masses who see SF on a show's description and flip the clicker to see if what they are pitching on the shopping channel might be worth buying.
Hmm, two of the shows have movies or are in the midst of making one. The Flash has popped up on Smallville.
There IS life after cancellation. Just not enough of one.
Here's the right list, counting down from 10 to 1:
[10] Max Headroom: Played by crazy Canuck by choice Matt Frewer (most recently in Eureka, which has thankfully NOT been canceled!), the TV construct was waaaaay ahead of its times. Figures it came from Britain to be buried in America. Canceling the show meant no more Amanda Pays until The Flash. And we see way too little of Mrs. Corbin Bernsen as it is. If this show were invented today, it would be a hit with the attention-deficit inflicted audience. Unfortunately, trying a revival wouldn't work unless it is dark and moody, as in the Battlestar Galactica way. And that wouldn't work with this show.
[9] The Flash: Did I mention Amanda Pays was in this show? Oh well. John Wesley Shipp was a credible Barry Allen and the show was moving right of centre when it came to camp. Had it completed the move towards the kind of territory Smallville mined later, it might have lasted a full contract commitment. With super-speed being the easiest of the super-powers to mimic on TV, it sure wasn't an excessive SFX budget.
[8] Dead Like Me: At least a movie's being made to salve the missing third season wounds. What does it say about me that I prefer to moan over the early demise of dead George, played by Ellen Muth, than the absence of Tru Calling, which featured Eliza Dusku as a life-saver. Bluntly, I prefer the shenanigans of Mandy Patinkin to those of Jason Priestly, I guess. There was just something deadpan and funny about Muth and Patinkin. We'll see after the movie. If it wraps it all up, then just change this list to include Tru Calling.
[7] Journeyman: This show might have tanked after another nine or so episodes. The potential to flop was always there, what with its inevitable comparisons to Quantum Leap. And it didn't help that supporting star Moon Bloodgood was doing a turn not too different from her role on the tanked Daybreak. But if it HAD reached its potential, NBC was getting rid of a tentpeg show. Stuck traveling through time at the behest of some unknown agency, Kevin McKidd's Dan Vasser lived as much in now as then. That was it's leg up over Quantum Leap. And we all miss not seeing Gretchen Egloff weekly.
[6] Now And Again: John Goodman dies of a gigantic heart attack. At least most him. His brain survives in the form of genetically enhanced host Eric Close, who then struggles with trying to keep an acceptable distance from Margaret Colin, Goodman's wife. Keeping a leash on government black op Close is Dennis Haysbert, later to play Commander-in-Chief in 24 and a team commander on The Unit. Close, of course, moved onto Without a Trace. This was top-notch casting. And Colin is still a middle-aged man's idea of a hot mama. And daughter Heather Mattarazzo played smart, if not cheerleader cute. It's the least SF of all the shows on the list. But it had a real heart. We will never know if Colin's character figured out her husband survived, sort of.
[5] Crusade: Boy was there a lot of material to come with Babylon 5 spin-off Crusade. Gary Cole's new spaceship had a mission to extend the life of the Babylon 5 universe and it was a rich one. What with Tracy Scoggins in tow more often and the enigmatic Peter Woodward, a technomage, to create new and interesting directions to go, this was a good idea. Unfortunately, the early bugs were too many to let the networks let it find its way. Given a full first year, Crusade would have matched the length of its parent, I am sure.
[4] The 4400: I hate, I hate, I hate shows that end on cliff-hangers (see #3). That there is no closure to four years of The 4400 is criminal! It wasn't that the show mined completely new SF themes. Robert Silverberg's Riverworld was surely a template for the starting point of this series. A bunch of Earthlings from disparate times get kidnapped. Instead of ending up on Riverworld, they are deposited back on Earth in the 21st century. Some come back ... enhanced. Handling that ... and them, falls to a pair of newly-minted agents of the National Threat Assessment Command, played by Joel Gretsch and Jacqueline McKenzie. Right from the start, it was hard not to feel for some of the 4400, including characters played by Mahershalalhashbaz Ali and Laura Allen. And I NEVER got over Conchita Campbell's creepy little Maia. No resolution really stinks, though.
[3] John Doe: Possibly the best cliff-hanger scene of all time NEVER GETS RESOLVED after John Doe was canceled without a second season to explain WHY the friendly bartender, Digger, is the man climbing up the ladder to escape John Doe . He's apparently the leader of the conspiracy John Doe's been fighting! Dominic Purcell as Doe and William Forsythe as Digger had 22 episodes to grow what looked like a pretty solid friendship. Why? What? Will there ever be a when? The enigmatic human computer with no memory should have had at least as long as some second-rate fare like The Pretender had.
[2] Space: Above and Beyond: The one and only season of this show stands up decades later as watchable, believable science fiction. It was Battlestar Galactica before there was a Galactica revival. It was warfare at its dirty and grimiest best. It showed how camaraderie and sheer will often are what wins battles, not backseat politician-generals who have an ease to spending lives and no knowledge on how to survive and thrive. James Morrison's squad of fightin' fighter pilots, led by Kristin Cloke, were all memorable right from the first episode. So were the enemy chigs. Frustratingly brief glimpses of potential rapprochement in the final few episodes suggested an uneasy peace was possible. Definitely a second season would have entertained and informed.
[1] Firefly: Obviously! The show sustained a good movie, albeit one that ended with fewer characters than it started with. Nathan Filion proved quite capable at both action AND the fast patter written by Joss Whedon. His crew that included second in command Gina Torres and her pilot husband Alan Tudyk, mechanic Jewel Staite and heavy-lifter/comedic relief Adam Baldwin, were uniquely entertaining in many ways. The Firefly carried passengers, not the least of which was Morena Baccarin, worthy of watching read a telephone book for 45 minutes all by herself. A well-realized Whedonverse, replete with bad guys after two other passengers on the Firefly, and solid SF extensions to what an intergalactic civilization would be like (Think ante-bellum South, with heavy Chinese influence). It was ultimately too literate for the masses who see SF on a show's description and flip the clicker to see if what they are pitching on the shopping channel might be worth buying.
Hmm, two of the shows have movies or are in the midst of making one. The Flash has popped up on Smallville.
There IS life after cancellation. Just not enough of one.
SPORTS: It Was ThatClose!
Is it Don Adams whispering "It was thatclose" in my ear or the echo of my own words from this past winter? Roy Halladay had no-hit stuff tonight in the Toronto Blue Jays' whitewashing of the New York Yankees. Unfortunately, Vernon Wells was NOT in centrefield and a late clean hit by Derek Jeter meant the Yanks totaled two hits in the game.
Back in the winter, at the time of the Scott Rolen acquisition, I opined that some day this season, when the Blue Jays were playing their top defensive squad of Gregg Zaun, Lyle Overbay, Aaron Hill, John McDonald, Rolen, Reed Johnson, Wells and Alex Rios, Halladay would spin a no-hitter. With Johnson gone to the Chicago Cubs, Hill and Wells hurt and Rios on leave to be with his pregnant wife (Baby girl, as it turns out), my prediction didn't have a chance of actually occurring. In fact, McDonald and Zaun didn't start the game either. David Eckstein and Rod Barajas did, as did second baseman Marco Scutaro and emergency outfielders Joe Inglett, Brad Wilkerson and Adam Lind, none of whom has spent the whole year with the club.
Truly, it was a motley crew standing behind Halladay.
Didn't matter. He just mowed the Yankees down like they were the Staten Island Yankees. The only hit before the ninth came in the fourth when Madonna's favourite boy toy dropped a liner in front of Wilkerson. Either Wells or Rios probably catches Alex Rodriguez's hit. With both in the line-up, Rios would have been playing right in the ninth when Jeter found room to drop in a ground rule double. New daddy Rios would have been in the vicinity, especially if a no-no was on the line.
Still, given the no no-no, the play MOST people will be talking about was a co-production by Scutaro and McDonald (in as a defensive replacement). One of NINE grounders to second-baseman Scutaro in the game saw the super-sub range far to his right and glove a Wilson Betemit grounder to McDonald, crossing in front of him. McDonald counter-pivoted away from first base and threw a blind strike to Overbay to nip Betemit. Just a routine 4-6-3 out!
If sports is at least partially about entertainment, give me Halladay and McDonald any day. You never know, you might see a no-hitter.
Back in the winter, at the time of the Scott Rolen acquisition, I opined that some day this season, when the Blue Jays were playing their top defensive squad of Gregg Zaun, Lyle Overbay, Aaron Hill, John McDonald, Rolen, Reed Johnson, Wells and Alex Rios, Halladay would spin a no-hitter. With Johnson gone to the Chicago Cubs, Hill and Wells hurt and Rios on leave to be with his pregnant wife (Baby girl, as it turns out), my prediction didn't have a chance of actually occurring. In fact, McDonald and Zaun didn't start the game either. David Eckstein and Rod Barajas did, as did second baseman Marco Scutaro and emergency outfielders Joe Inglett, Brad Wilkerson and Adam Lind, none of whom has spent the whole year with the club.
Truly, it was a motley crew standing behind Halladay.
Didn't matter. He just mowed the Yankees down like they were the Staten Island Yankees. The only hit before the ninth came in the fourth when Madonna's favourite boy toy dropped a liner in front of Wilkerson. Either Wells or Rios probably catches Alex Rodriguez's hit. With both in the line-up, Rios would have been playing right in the ninth when Jeter found room to drop in a ground rule double. New daddy Rios would have been in the vicinity, especially if a no-no was on the line.
Still, given the no no-no, the play MOST people will be talking about was a co-production by Scutaro and McDonald (in as a defensive replacement). One of NINE grounders to second-baseman Scutaro in the game saw the super-sub range far to his right and glove a Wilson Betemit grounder to McDonald, crossing in front of him. McDonald counter-pivoted away from first base and threw a blind strike to Overbay to nip Betemit. Just a routine 4-6-3 out!
If sports is at least partially about entertainment, give me Halladay and McDonald any day. You never know, you might see a no-hitter.
Friday, July 11, 2008
SPORTS: Mikey Does NOT Really Like It!
Michael 'Pinball' Clemons must be feeling an incipient case of deja vu getting ready to strike any second now.
The two-time coach of the Toronto Argonauts of the Canadian Football League must be thinking that he either got out while the getting out was good, or that the owners of the club are just a matter of a few days away from tapping him on the shoulder and asking him to make it another encore. His plans for a graceful retirement from football might be falling apart.
When Clemons first made the move from the sidelines to the president's office with the club, it allowed the team to hire defensive whiz Gary Etchevarry. Etchevarry wasn't promoted, but HAD been the Argo defensive co-ordinator in the years before Clemons' ascendancy to the head coaching position. Etchevarry lasted until September of that first head coaching season. Just like that, Clemons was back, having traded the pinstripe suit for the coaching jack with Pinball embossed on it.
And that was a good thing. A Grey Cup and regularly competitive teams were the stamp of the Argos under Clemons' tutelage. But time marches on, and the personable Clemons thought it was the right moment to step aside and allow last year's defensive co-ordinator, Rich Stubler, to take over. With many CFL teams looking for new head coaches, it was likely a case of promote or lose the mastermind of the stifling Argo defence.
Three games into the season, still mid-July, the odds of Stubler reaching coaching length parity with Etchevarry seems vanishingly slim. The bend-not-break defence that Stubler oversaw the last few years has been lit up the last two weeks by Hamilton (!?!?!) and tonight, Edmonton. A largely unchanged squad, minus really only Jordan Younger, has become the leakiest sieve in the league. Granted, Younger was all-CFL, and the desired replacement, Willie Middlebrooks, was stellar in the season-opening win and missing for the two losses. But one guy should not make such a huge difference.
Then, there is the Stubler quarterback-on-installment plan. He wanted to play both QB's in each game because, "Then the other teams have to plan for both." Not horrible reasoning, unless both quarterbacks are basically the same kind of mobile, strong-armed guy, with more desire than wiles when it comes to throwing into double coverage. And of course, Stubler failed to do any switching at all in the second game, the loss to hated, and usually undreaded Hamilton. He stuck with arguably the worse of the two quarterbacks from the first week's game.
Stubler obviously communicates with his defensive players. But there is at least one quarterback who's confused right now. Mike Bishop got into the game tonight for two series. He didn't complete a pass, if you don't consider the one that was intercepted and then stolen away by an Argo for a shocking touchdown. That actually got him a seat back on the bench. It's good to see good deeds get rewarded. Oops. Never mind.
As for communicating with the media, Stubler comes across as an unfunny Bill Parcels. He isn't interested in talking to microphone-toting pains in the butt and can't really hide it. And he just doesn't have a funny bone that can be located without an autopsy.
Unfortunately, that might become available. I'd give him two more losses. At that point, the phone will ring at the Clemons Foundation.
"Michael, we need you!"
The two-time coach of the Toronto Argonauts of the Canadian Football League must be thinking that he either got out while the getting out was good, or that the owners of the club are just a matter of a few days away from tapping him on the shoulder and asking him to make it another encore. His plans for a graceful retirement from football might be falling apart.
When Clemons first made the move from the sidelines to the president's office with the club, it allowed the team to hire defensive whiz Gary Etchevarry. Etchevarry wasn't promoted, but HAD been the Argo defensive co-ordinator in the years before Clemons' ascendancy to the head coaching position. Etchevarry lasted until September of that first head coaching season. Just like that, Clemons was back, having traded the pinstripe suit for the coaching jack with Pinball embossed on it.
And that was a good thing. A Grey Cup and regularly competitive teams were the stamp of the Argos under Clemons' tutelage. But time marches on, and the personable Clemons thought it was the right moment to step aside and allow last year's defensive co-ordinator, Rich Stubler, to take over. With many CFL teams looking for new head coaches, it was likely a case of promote or lose the mastermind of the stifling Argo defence.
Three games into the season, still mid-July, the odds of Stubler reaching coaching length parity with Etchevarry seems vanishingly slim. The bend-not-break defence that Stubler oversaw the last few years has been lit up the last two weeks by Hamilton (!?!?!) and tonight, Edmonton. A largely unchanged squad, minus really only Jordan Younger, has become the leakiest sieve in the league. Granted, Younger was all-CFL, and the desired replacement, Willie Middlebrooks, was stellar in the season-opening win and missing for the two losses. But one guy should not make such a huge difference.
Then, there is the Stubler quarterback-on-installment plan. He wanted to play both QB's in each game because, "Then the other teams have to plan for both." Not horrible reasoning, unless both quarterbacks are basically the same kind of mobile, strong-armed guy, with more desire than wiles when it comes to throwing into double coverage. And of course, Stubler failed to do any switching at all in the second game, the loss to hated, and usually undreaded Hamilton. He stuck with arguably the worse of the two quarterbacks from the first week's game.
Stubler obviously communicates with his defensive players. But there is at least one quarterback who's confused right now. Mike Bishop got into the game tonight for two series. He didn't complete a pass, if you don't consider the one that was intercepted and then stolen away by an Argo for a shocking touchdown. That actually got him a seat back on the bench. It's good to see good deeds get rewarded. Oops. Never mind.
As for communicating with the media, Stubler comes across as an unfunny Bill Parcels. He isn't interested in talking to microphone-toting pains in the butt and can't really hide it. And he just doesn't have a funny bone that can be located without an autopsy.
Unfortunately, that might become available. I'd give him two more losses. At that point, the phone will ring at the Clemons Foundation.
"Michael, we need you!"
SPORTS: Has Ricciardi Slipped the Noose?
Why am I getting that sick feeling that once again, the plaintive bleats that "INJURIES cost us a good season," will find resonance in the ears of Ted Rogers? I hope I'm wrong. But it's possible I won't be. And that means yet another lost year (2009) for the Toronto Blue Jays.
I kept my counsel after the surprising hiring of Cito Gaston, figuring things were headed in the direction of necessity. Gaston wouldn't be able to turn the wreck around (and he hasn't) and at season's end, J.P. Ricciardi would take his slick smoke act south of the border and his mentor/protector/excuse-maker Paul Godfrey would be moved to some far off remote corner of the Rogers empire, no longer able to diddle the Blue Jays like Roger Peddie does the Toronto Maple Leafs. The new management team (I've already stated Gillick and Ash redux) would probably retain Gaston, but anything to be rid of the stifling presence of Ricciardi on the management team.
The only fear I had was that the management would give Ricciardi carte blanche to make the start of the makeover the Jays need, rather than awaiting a saner, smarter decision-maker. The admission earlier this week that 2008 was done and finished didn't do a lot to assuage that fear. Would Ricciardi make smart moves, like trading David Eckstein to either LA or Baltimore for a decent prospect? Would he move Rod Barajas, having a big year comparatively speaking, to one of the contenders in need of a catcher? Could he parlay Matt Stairs into a talent or two from a team needing a lefty masher and occasional corner outfielder? Might he package Jason Frasor and Brian Tallett to contenders looking for relief help? Would he hang on to AJ Burnett to get the two decent draft picks next summer (somebody ELSE doing the picking, of course)?
Then Dustin McGowan and Vernon Wells both developed month-long (minimum) injuries in a 72-hour period and suddenly the King of Excuses has that ole Black Curse to blame for his team's underperformance. There's a Gilbert Gottfried line that seems appropriate here. "Sonavab----!"
If Uncle Teddy buys this recycled feldergarb, then we are squarely back in Harold Ballard territory. It was known that the Ballard-owned Maple Leafs would never win in Pal Hal's lifetime, and they didn't. If Rogers can't see the mess his friend Paul and his chumpy flunky have made out of the 100 million a year he's given them, then it's time to start a death watch. On the other hand, Rogers didn't become a billionaire by being completely oblivious and money foolish. Surely he can see this emperor's joker has no clothes.
On the other hand, I said that last year. And the year before.
I kept my counsel after the surprising hiring of Cito Gaston, figuring things were headed in the direction of necessity. Gaston wouldn't be able to turn the wreck around (and he hasn't) and at season's end, J.P. Ricciardi would take his slick smoke act south of the border and his mentor/protector/excuse-maker Paul Godfrey would be moved to some far off remote corner of the Rogers empire, no longer able to diddle the Blue Jays like Roger Peddie does the Toronto Maple Leafs. The new management team (I've already stated Gillick and Ash redux) would probably retain Gaston, but anything to be rid of the stifling presence of Ricciardi on the management team.
The only fear I had was that the management would give Ricciardi carte blanche to make the start of the makeover the Jays need, rather than awaiting a saner, smarter decision-maker. The admission earlier this week that 2008 was done and finished didn't do a lot to assuage that fear. Would Ricciardi make smart moves, like trading David Eckstein to either LA or Baltimore for a decent prospect? Would he move Rod Barajas, having a big year comparatively speaking, to one of the contenders in need of a catcher? Could he parlay Matt Stairs into a talent or two from a team needing a lefty masher and occasional corner outfielder? Might he package Jason Frasor and Brian Tallett to contenders looking for relief help? Would he hang on to AJ Burnett to get the two decent draft picks next summer (somebody ELSE doing the picking, of course)?
Then Dustin McGowan and Vernon Wells both developed month-long (minimum) injuries in a 72-hour period and suddenly the King of Excuses has that ole Black Curse to blame for his team's underperformance. There's a Gilbert Gottfried line that seems appropriate here. "Sonavab----!"
If Uncle Teddy buys this recycled feldergarb, then we are squarely back in Harold Ballard territory. It was known that the Ballard-owned Maple Leafs would never win in Pal Hal's lifetime, and they didn't. If Rogers can't see the mess his friend Paul and his chumpy flunky have made out of the 100 million a year he's given them, then it's time to start a death watch. On the other hand, Rogers didn't become a billionaire by being completely oblivious and money foolish. Surely he can see this emperor's joker has no clothes.
On the other hand, I said that last year. And the year before.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
SOFTWARE: Still Using Firefox 2. You?
In the end, my trial of Firefox 3.0 didn't outlast the first week. I could have lived with it if it hadn't futzed up my right clicking of folders in the Bookmark panel. I DID discover that All-In-One Sidebar was responsible in some way for the problem. But even without AIO Sidebar, the default behaviour of right-clicking was all wrong. Instead of opening at the far right of the queue of tabs, it opened up to the immediate right of the currently-selected tab ... if it didn't replace that tab along the way.
BUT, maybe things will get fixed next week. Sometime next week (the target is Tuesday, July 15th), they will be releasing the update to v3.0. There will be the usual security fixes in the product, but there will also be bug fixes. I hope the issue I hold nearest and dearest to my right thumb will be amongst them.
I WILL give v3.01 a try again and report here.
BUT, maybe things will get fixed next week. Sometime next week (the target is Tuesday, July 15th), they will be releasing the update to v3.0. There will be the usual security fixes in the product, but there will also be bug fixes. I hope the issue I hold nearest and dearest to my right thumb will be amongst them.
I WILL give v3.01 a try again and report here.
TV: Confidential Whets Appetite
Having taken in the current series of Doctor Who (see yesterday's posts), I picked and chose my way through the companion Doctor Who Confidential episodes. I started watching the Confidential episodes last year and found them fascinating in many ways.
They are each a "Making of ..." documentary on the episode of the Doctor Who show that has just played. I feel I know the crew of the show as well as I know the fictional Doctor Who. Russell T Davies is a jovial explainer of why and what -for in terms of writing the show. It's not hard to see the little boy and big-time Doctor Who fan in him at all. When he's not writing, the episode's writer shows up to explain how-come and why-for. With Steven Moffat explaining his various episodes as writer, I feel comfortable with him in the command chair come series 5.
Then there are the crew. Producer Phil Collinson, Executive Producer Helen Vallis and their merry band of imagination creators all get a moment in the sun to show what they do to make Doctor Who seem real to many, many fans. The stunts and the special effects are shown in preparation and execution. You get a real sense of just how a TV show is made. It takes some of the glamour and magic away from the show, but shows how many people it takes to put on the show. It's a veritable army.
Plus, you get to meet some of the actors outside of their characters. David Tennant is a really likable chap it seems. He likes to laugh and gambol about. A star having fun can make a shoot WAAAAAY more enjoyable than a 'serious' actor who is above mixing with the common rabble of gaffers and lighting men and the like. Trust me on that one. I will continue my vow not to mention a certain bionically-enhanced actress when discussing these kinds of primadonnas.
And it's just not the stars that get their five minutes to talk up the process. Most of the guest stars get their turn, even the ones who spend the whole show encased in some monster's rubber costume. I would have thought the Sontarans were all teenagers from their height. Not so. It's apparently doable to find five-foot tall accomplished actors to do that kind of job.
I was also gob-smacked to find that the actress who played The Doctor's Daughter, in The Doctor's Daughter, was actually The Doctor's Daughter! Really!! Georgia Moffett is the daughter of Peter Davison, who was the fifth Doctor Who. Davison and Tennant had a fun-time playing off each other in a short called Time Crash last year, and it just seemed reasonable to keep the part of the daughter in the family so-to-speak. I quite enjoyed Moffett's performance as Jenny and forsee, happily, a return for her in some future Doctor Who series.
To be frank, I'm not going to watch all of the Confidential episodes. I've watched about five and will watch two more (the final two). I'm not interested in the excuses and reasons for the mistakes that lead to the dreary episodes from this season. I know they MEANT well. But not every one is a winner.
That said, if you have ANY interest in participating in the TV business, in just about any way, then this show stands out as a prerequisite for that college course and apprenticeship you have ahead of you. Might scare you off. Or it might lead you to being the next Doctor Who companion, writer, stunt co-ordinator or star himself!
They are each a "Making of ..." documentary on the episode of the Doctor Who show that has just played. I feel I know the crew of the show as well as I know the fictional Doctor Who. Russell T Davies is a jovial explainer of why and what -for in terms of writing the show. It's not hard to see the little boy and big-time Doctor Who fan in him at all. When he's not writing, the episode's writer shows up to explain how-come and why-for. With Steven Moffat explaining his various episodes as writer, I feel comfortable with him in the command chair come series 5.
Then there are the crew. Producer Phil Collinson, Executive Producer Helen Vallis and their merry band of imagination creators all get a moment in the sun to show what they do to make Doctor Who seem real to many, many fans. The stunts and the special effects are shown in preparation and execution. You get a real sense of just how a TV show is made. It takes some of the glamour and magic away from the show, but shows how many people it takes to put on the show. It's a veritable army.
Plus, you get to meet some of the actors outside of their characters. David Tennant is a really likable chap it seems. He likes to laugh and gambol about. A star having fun can make a shoot WAAAAAY more enjoyable than a 'serious' actor who is above mixing with the common rabble of gaffers and lighting men and the like. Trust me on that one. I will continue my vow not to mention a certain bionically-enhanced actress when discussing these kinds of primadonnas.
And it's just not the stars that get their five minutes to talk up the process. Most of the guest stars get their turn, even the ones who spend the whole show encased in some monster's rubber costume. I would have thought the Sontarans were all teenagers from their height. Not so. It's apparently doable to find five-foot tall accomplished actors to do that kind of job.
I was also gob-smacked to find that the actress who played The Doctor's Daughter, in The Doctor's Daughter, was actually The Doctor's Daughter! Really!! Georgia Moffett is the daughter of Peter Davison, who was the fifth Doctor Who. Davison and Tennant had a fun-time playing off each other in a short called Time Crash last year, and it just seemed reasonable to keep the part of the daughter in the family so-to-speak. I quite enjoyed Moffett's performance as Jenny and forsee, happily, a return for her in some future Doctor Who series.
To be frank, I'm not going to watch all of the Confidential episodes. I've watched about five and will watch two more (the final two). I'm not interested in the excuses and reasons for the mistakes that lead to the dreary episodes from this season. I know they MEANT well. But not every one is a winner.
That said, if you have ANY interest in participating in the TV business, in just about any way, then this show stands out as a prerequisite for that college course and apprenticeship you have ahead of you. Might scare you off. Or it might lead you to being the next Doctor Who companion, writer, stunt co-ordinator or star himself!
TV: Mary McCormack's Outta Sight!
I have never hidden my total enrapture with Mary McCormack. She first popped up on my little screen in Murder One a decade and a bit ago. Then she was a mainstay on West Wing for a couple of years. There have been other parts here and there, but that's the progression she followed to her present starring role as U.S. Marshal Mary Shannon in the USA series In Plain Sight.
In the other shows, she always played a put-together second banana who just refused to stay in the shadows. Good looks are one thing. And McCormack's got them. But she just seemed so damn competent in each of her roles. She's competent in In Plain Sight. Still beautiful. Put together?
Not so much.
Hey, it's called 'acting' and she's playing against her own stereotype on this show. She's macho to the point of cowing partner Marshal Marshall Mann, played entertainingly by Fred Weller, and her boss, Stan McQueen, played with the usual unctuousness by Paul Ben-Victor. (As an aside, I believe Ben-Victor's character was originally going to be called John Booth, John WILKES Booth! They decided that having fun with Mann's name was enough in that area). She gets away with her domineering ways by being pretty good at her job. It's the only up-tick in her life.
Otherwise, she's a mess. Boyfriend/"Friend with Benefits" Raphael is more the latter than the former. Things get complicated when he's called up the majors (He's a minor-league ball player) and subsequently proposes marriage to the sooo-not-so-ready to get married Mary. She says no, he flies off, watched wistfully by Mary, unable to get to the airport to do ...
That's the thing. We aren't sure what she would have done. Probably kissed him off. I'm guessing, cuz he's back an episode or two later, injured on her couch recuperating.
He's not the only housemate at the Shannon house. Mary's little sister, the beloved baby of the family and a little criminally insane, shows up to bunk down in the first episode. She joins the mother of the two girls, Jinx, played unlovingly by Lesley Ann Warren. I am of an age to remember the beautiful young dancer that Warren was in her early days. Those days are long gone. She's shrill, ridiculous and a show-stopper on this show. If the show is to have any longevity, Jinx has to go. Mary's sister Brandi, played by Nichole Hiltz, can stay. But the suitcase full of drugs better come into play sooner rather than later.
By now, if you haven't seen the show, you're probably wondering what Mary and Marshall, the marshals do. They shepherd entrants to the Witness Protection program, trying to keep witnesses and the odd miscreant snitch alive long enough to testify and prosper. Every now and then, the stories veer over into police territory where the very black Bobby Dershowitz ("It's a long story.") runs straight into bureaucratic red tape from Mary. Mary and Bobby D. have chemistry that seems at a higher level than that of Mary and Raphael. A long-term run for the show could end up in a Janet Evanovich-like situation with Mary playing the Stephanie Plum role between two very different, but ardent admirers.
You could do a lot worse. And anything that keeps Mary McCormack on the screen is a good thing.
In the other shows, she always played a put-together second banana who just refused to stay in the shadows. Good looks are one thing. And McCormack's got them. But she just seemed so damn competent in each of her roles. She's competent in In Plain Sight. Still beautiful. Put together?
Not so much.
Hey, it's called 'acting' and she's playing against her own stereotype on this show. She's macho to the point of cowing partner Marshal Marshall Mann, played entertainingly by Fred Weller, and her boss, Stan McQueen, played with the usual unctuousness by Paul Ben-Victor. (As an aside, I believe Ben-Victor's character was originally going to be called John Booth, John WILKES Booth! They decided that having fun with Mann's name was enough in that area). She gets away with her domineering ways by being pretty good at her job. It's the only up-tick in her life.
Otherwise, she's a mess. Boyfriend/"Friend with Benefits" Raphael is more the latter than the former. Things get complicated when he's called up the majors (He's a minor-league ball player) and subsequently proposes marriage to the sooo-not-so-ready to get married Mary. She says no, he flies off, watched wistfully by Mary, unable to get to the airport to do ...
That's the thing. We aren't sure what she would have done. Probably kissed him off. I'm guessing, cuz he's back an episode or two later, injured on her couch recuperating.
He's not the only housemate at the Shannon house. Mary's little sister, the beloved baby of the family and a little criminally insane, shows up to bunk down in the first episode. She joins the mother of the two girls, Jinx, played unlovingly by Lesley Ann Warren. I am of an age to remember the beautiful young dancer that Warren was in her early days. Those days are long gone. She's shrill, ridiculous and a show-stopper on this show. If the show is to have any longevity, Jinx has to go. Mary's sister Brandi, played by Nichole Hiltz, can stay. But the suitcase full of drugs better come into play sooner rather than later.
By now, if you haven't seen the show, you're probably wondering what Mary and Marshall, the marshals do. They shepherd entrants to the Witness Protection program, trying to keep witnesses and the odd miscreant snitch alive long enough to testify and prosper. Every now and then, the stories veer over into police territory where the very black Bobby Dershowitz ("It's a long story.") runs straight into bureaucratic red tape from Mary. Mary and Bobby D. have chemistry that seems at a higher level than that of Mary and Raphael. A long-term run for the show could end up in a Janet Evanovich-like situation with Mary playing the Stephanie Plum role between two very different, but ardent admirers.
You could do a lot worse. And anything that keeps Mary McCormack on the screen is a good thing.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
BRIDGE: Being a Bridge Snob
I love Bridge.
Made my living at it for awhile. Have played it since I was in my late teens, and hope to be playing it well pass my 100th birthday. Having played with a 100-year old codger or three in my career, I know that's possible. The trick will be getting to 2056 outside of the pine box.
But I don't play locally much anymore. And the reason I don't is because the local game has become much more of a social outing than a true rousing Bridge game. At least that's my perception. It might be that it was always that way, but I was more socially-inclined back in the day. Now that my anti-social proclivities are no longer a secret, it seems I'm less likely to try hide them.
I was reminded of this while reading the editorial from the October 2005 issue of The Bridge World. (I'm currently going back and re-reading my stacks and stacks of older Bridge magazines, while eating alone at the dinner table). In it, it was mentioned that the then editors of the magazine once went to a club one night and passed their hands throughout. I don't have the issue in question, but it bears directly on my reason for not playing locally.
It happened to me ... at least for a single round. And that's when I quit playing anything resembling regularly at local clubs. I've practiced with Ed Hills or Danny Ioannidis on nights before big tournaments. But that's it.
The night in question was like any other at the Brampton Bridge Club. Danny and I were partnered. We would win the night by a fairly substantial margin despite what happened on the two hands we played with Mike and Pat Fernane. I had played with Mike at an Epson World Pairs and thought at the time that he had the potential to be a pretty solid player. Thoughtful, even-keeled and technically sound, we had a good game (albeit not a winning one). But Mike wasn't all that interested in going all out and was satisfied with playing regularly with his dad, Pat. Both of these guys are real gentleman.
On the first hand of the round, Pat, Danny and Mike passed to me. I opened one spade and ended up a couple of rounds of bidding later in a four spade contract. I played the hand well, getting a big fat ZERO for my expert play. I went wrong on a two-way finesse for a queen when Mike, who had already shown up with almost an opening hand, turned up, improbably, with the queen. He had passed an opening hand.
The second hand was eerily similar, with Mike passing in first seat and Danny ending up in four spades. Once again, Danny played to count out the cards and points. It then became obvious that Pat had to have the queen Danny was looking for. He finessed through Pat, only to find Mike had passed an opening hand again and had the queen in question. Another BIG FAT ZERO for being a good declarer.
I hit the roof. I snarled a "Why'd you pass two opening hands in a row?"
"You guys are good defenders. So I just decided to pass here," responded Mike guilelessly. It was true. Danny and I are amongst the best defenders in the area, rarely giving away tricks and finding inspired leads more often than average. It's something I take pride in.
"So, let me get this straight," I started. "You decided to quit playing Bridge and instead decided Poker was your game of choice at this table ... without telling us!"
I got up and left the table to cool off. I came back, finished the game. And never went back regularly.
Bridge is a game that requires full disclosure. Any first year novice can close his or her eyes and just finesse through the left-hand opponent because they like the clock-wise direction better. Or the other way, cuz the wind was blowing from that direction on the way to the game. Or whatever non-reasoning thought makes them make any particular play.
A GOOD declarer listens to the bidding and to the LACK of bidding and forms ideas of the shape and point counts of the opposition hands. The declarer watches what is played, in what order, and what is NOT played, and that adds to his or her information store. As long as EVERYBODY at the Bridge table is playing BRIDGE, then those clues are legitimate and help form the pictures of what each of the two opponents are holding in their hidden hands. When one side breaks that covenant and decides NOT to play decent Bridge then the expert declarer's advantage is eliminated, if not reversed!
That's why I don't play local clubs much any more. It's not like everybody plays well at the best of times. But when they give it up totally at my table, it's no longer worth faking being nice and civil to get in a few hours of pushing cards.
No Bridge, no Gary.
Made my living at it for awhile. Have played it since I was in my late teens, and hope to be playing it well pass my 100th birthday. Having played with a 100-year old codger or three in my career, I know that's possible. The trick will be getting to 2056 outside of the pine box.
But I don't play locally much anymore. And the reason I don't is because the local game has become much more of a social outing than a true rousing Bridge game. At least that's my perception. It might be that it was always that way, but I was more socially-inclined back in the day. Now that my anti-social proclivities are no longer a secret, it seems I'm less likely to try hide them.
I was reminded of this while reading the editorial from the October 2005 issue of The Bridge World. (I'm currently going back and re-reading my stacks and stacks of older Bridge magazines, while eating alone at the dinner table). In it, it was mentioned that the then editors of the magazine once went to a club one night and passed their hands throughout. I don't have the issue in question, but it bears directly on my reason for not playing locally.
It happened to me ... at least for a single round. And that's when I quit playing anything resembling regularly at local clubs. I've practiced with Ed Hills or Danny Ioannidis on nights before big tournaments. But that's it.
The night in question was like any other at the Brampton Bridge Club. Danny and I were partnered. We would win the night by a fairly substantial margin despite what happened on the two hands we played with Mike and Pat Fernane. I had played with Mike at an Epson World Pairs and thought at the time that he had the potential to be a pretty solid player. Thoughtful, even-keeled and technically sound, we had a good game (albeit not a winning one). But Mike wasn't all that interested in going all out and was satisfied with playing regularly with his dad, Pat. Both of these guys are real gentleman.
On the first hand of the round, Pat, Danny and Mike passed to me. I opened one spade and ended up a couple of rounds of bidding later in a four spade contract. I played the hand well, getting a big fat ZERO for my expert play. I went wrong on a two-way finesse for a queen when Mike, who had already shown up with almost an opening hand, turned up, improbably, with the queen. He had passed an opening hand.
The second hand was eerily similar, with Mike passing in first seat and Danny ending up in four spades. Once again, Danny played to count out the cards and points. It then became obvious that Pat had to have the queen Danny was looking for. He finessed through Pat, only to find Mike had passed an opening hand again and had the queen in question. Another BIG FAT ZERO for being a good declarer.
I hit the roof. I snarled a "Why'd you pass two opening hands in a row?"
"You guys are good defenders. So I just decided to pass here," responded Mike guilelessly. It was true. Danny and I are amongst the best defenders in the area, rarely giving away tricks and finding inspired leads more often than average. It's something I take pride in.
"So, let me get this straight," I started. "You decided to quit playing Bridge and instead decided Poker was your game of choice at this table ... without telling us!"
I got up and left the table to cool off. I came back, finished the game. And never went back regularly.
Bridge is a game that requires full disclosure. Any first year novice can close his or her eyes and just finesse through the left-hand opponent because they like the clock-wise direction better. Or the other way, cuz the wind was blowing from that direction on the way to the game. Or whatever non-reasoning thought makes them make any particular play.
A GOOD declarer listens to the bidding and to the LACK of bidding and forms ideas of the shape and point counts of the opposition hands. The declarer watches what is played, in what order, and what is NOT played, and that adds to his or her information store. As long as EVERYBODY at the Bridge table is playing BRIDGE, then those clues are legitimate and help form the pictures of what each of the two opponents are holding in their hidden hands. When one side breaks that covenant and decides NOT to play decent Bridge then the expert declarer's advantage is eliminated, if not reversed!
That's why I don't play local clubs much any more. It's not like everybody plays well at the best of times. But when they give it up totally at my table, it's no longer worth faking being nice and civil to get in a few hours of pushing cards.
No Bridge, no Gary.
SOFTWARE: Getting Rid of Powerdesk!
I've touted PowerDesk and its brother-in-code ExplorerPlus for years. In fact, since I don't know WHICH is on any one computer, when I talk to somebody over the phone, I call it "PowerDeskExplorerPlus" just to eliminate the question at the other end of the phone.
But, fer gawdsakes don't install version six of either product on Vista.
If you take my advice on purchasing PowerDeskExplorerPlus (see?), then why, oh why, are you not taking my advice to stay away from that bloated, PITA piece of software called Microsoft Vista Windows? No good answer? Yeah, I thought so. But let's deal with the issue you are now facing.
Depending on how you check off boxes during the install, it is possible you COULD end up without getting any access to your control panel after installing PDEP (too tired to write it all out, or even cut and paste) version 6.x! I discovered that very problem when a pal in the newspaper business phoned me for some help.
Using CrossLoop, I was able to log in and get enveloped in the horror of his situation. He couldn't uninstall PDEP, because there was no Uninstall choice in the menu. And accessing the Control Panel merely opened up PDEP, so he couldn't gain access to ANY applet in the Control Panel. This was a pain in the butt on steroids. I tried a suggestion from The How-To Geek and set up a shortcut for direct access using:
That failed, PDEP showing up. I'm sure you know when exactly I tried it. The AARGH! you heard was me expelling a lot of anguish.
Eventually, I figured out I needed third-party help. I downloaded the trial for Your Uninstaller 2008! and got the job done in about five minutes. It's a pretty good piece of software and you might very well decide to end up buying the product. On the other hand, IF you really only have one program to be made gone, then the trial will do that job with aplomb. It was SO easy, it made me madder about the wasted hour before that, but that will pass. To ease the pain of now being without PDEP, I downloaded 7-zip from its website. That handles compressed files within Windows Explorer. There is NOW a Vista-enabled version 7 of PowerDesk from Avanquest. It's up to you to test it out.
Once PDEP was gone from the machine, trying to access the control panel was easy. I switched it to Classic View (I mean, what idiot thinks ProgramsAndFeatures is easier to understand than Add/Remove Programs?).
While in there, I was able to go into the Power Options settings and change the settings to turn off sleep mode while he his laptop was plugged in. He was fed up with having to take the laptop OUT of the base and open it up, just to turn off sleep mode. Total time to fix the issue? Twenty-one seconds.
That was the problem he originally called me about. The delightful wasted ninety minutes solving the OTHER problem he didn't even know he had was a side issue!
But, fer gawdsakes don't install version six of either product on Vista.
If you take my advice on purchasing PowerDeskExplorerPlus (see?), then why, oh why, are you not taking my advice to stay away from that bloated, PITA piece of software called Microsoft Vista Windows? No good answer? Yeah, I thought so. But let's deal with the issue you are now facing.
Depending on how you check off boxes during the install, it is possible you COULD end up without getting any access to your control panel after installing PDEP (too tired to write it all out, or even cut and paste) version 6.x! I discovered that very problem when a pal in the newspaper business phoned me for some help.
Using CrossLoop, I was able to log in and get enveloped in the horror of his situation. He couldn't uninstall PDEP, because there was no Uninstall choice in the menu. And accessing the Control Panel merely opened up PDEP, so he couldn't gain access to ANY applet in the Control Panel. This was a pain in the butt on steroids. I tried a suggestion from The How-To Geek and set up a shortcut for direct access using:
control.exe /name Microsoft.ProgramsAndFeatures
That failed, PDEP showing up. I'm sure you know when exactly I tried it. The AARGH! you heard was me expelling a lot of anguish.
Eventually, I figured out I needed third-party help. I downloaded the trial for Your Uninstaller 2008! and got the job done in about five minutes. It's a pretty good piece of software and you might very well decide to end up buying the product. On the other hand, IF you really only have one program to be made gone, then the trial will do that job with aplomb. It was SO easy, it made me madder about the wasted hour before that, but that will pass. To ease the pain of now being without PDEP, I downloaded 7-zip from its website. That handles compressed files within Windows Explorer. There is NOW a Vista-enabled version 7 of PowerDesk from Avanquest. It's up to you to test it out.
Once PDEP was gone from the machine, trying to access the control panel was easy. I switched it to Classic View (I mean, what idiot thinks ProgramsAndFeatures is easier to understand than Add/Remove Programs?).
While in there, I was able to go into the Power Options settings and change the settings to turn off sleep mode while he his laptop was plugged in. He was fed up with having to take the laptop OUT of the base and open it up, just to turn off sleep mode. Total time to fix the issue? Twenty-one seconds.
That was the problem he originally called me about. The delightful wasted ninety minutes solving the OTHER problem he didn't even know he had was a side issue!
TV: Bye-Bye Russell T Davies
Russell T Davies sure knows how to write a send-off ... his own.
Davies is leaving Doctor Who with the conclusion of this year's series 4 of the revival of Britain's most loved Science Fiction show. It was a season that really got off to a rousing start with last Christmas' Doctor Who Special, Voyage of the Damned. A tear-jerker send-up of the Poseidon Adventure with singer Kylie Minogue standing in for the as-yet-not-here Doctor Who companion. It was first-rate TV fare.
The new companion that debuted this spring was Donna Noble, played by Brit comedic treasure Catherine Tate. She first surfaced as The Runaway Bride in the 2006 Doctor Who Christmas Special. A little bit older than typical Doctor companions have been (With the exception of Elizabeth Sladen's Sarah Jane Smith), Donna was more than a bit contrary. As written, Donna was a little aggressive, a little shrill, and beat down by a disapproving mother who spared praise, but rarely criticism.
All in all, it made Donna just a little bit unlikable. And that made for a difficult series 4 of Doctor Who until the concluding trilogy. The first ten episodes weren't completely devoid of good material. And Donna's inner good nature and native brilliance had occasion to shine. The best of the lot was probably the Fires of Pompei (#2) and the second-half of a two-parter, Forest of the Dead (#9). There had been lots of entertainment value in The Doctor's Daughter (#6), although it depended on so many co-incidences and startling bursts of insight by Donna, that it strays from the best-of list.
The annual literary figure interaction of the year featured a trip to visit Agatha Christie in the dreadful The Unicorn and the Wasp (#7). It was almost as bad as the largely Donna-less Midnight (#10). That featured a group of the most unpleasant people ever put into a locked room on TV. A wasted hour.
I thought the follow-up, Turn Left (#11), was almost as bad. It reversed the prior episode by being almost purely Donna, with only brief glimpses of the Doctor at beginning and end. It was a butterfly episode, showing what would have happened had Donna Noble turned right at a key time and ended up not meeting the Doctor at all. The distopian future of the Earth was decidedly unpleasant TV. And that was two episodes in a row of non-entertaining TV. I didn't hold out much hope for Davies to turn the season around.
How wrong I was.
The Stolen Earth (#12) and Journey's End (#13) are fabulous TV. All the little threads are tied up from the whole season, dating all the way back to Minogue's character's heroic self-sacrifice last Christmas. In fact, it's hard to think of a major character from the revival of the show that does NOT make an appearance over the last two hours. Rose Tyler, seen briefly in two previous episodes, is all over the finale. There's the reunion, the breaking of that reunion and a parting of the ways that harkens back to her last departure from the Whosian universe. Not completely as sad as the original, but heart-string tugging.
Not to try to compare it with the good-bye The Doctor gives Donna, but that wrenching departure might be sadder. It is no longer his own private hell to have to say good-bye to the lady who saved the universe. Others know, and the sadness on their faces makes the moments all the more poignant.
There is a virtual blank slate for Davies' successor as Doctor Who show-runner to begin with. Steven Moffat, who wrote the outstanding episode Blink (series 3 #10), moves into the creative directorship of the show, which will take 2009 off. There will be a Christmas special this year and probably a special or three next year. But spring 2010 looks interesting now for more than the Winter Olympics in Vancouver.
Moffat will probably need a new Doctor by then. David Tennant has been brilliant after replacing Christopher Eccleston, who headlined the first year of the revival. But three years of Tennant might be enough. His ability to show goofiness and sadness, brilliance and smack-the-head forgetfulness, is exceptional. He will be missed. But I think it's time. Davies dallied with a regeneration of The Doctor in The Stolen Earth. Instead of a new Doctor, we briefly ended up with three. By series end, we were back down to just Tennant's solo Doctor.
And he is solo. No current companion. Rose Tyler is back in her unreachable dimension. Martha Jones is engaged (and probably Torchwood-bound). Donna is, well, not available. And Sarah Jane Smith has her own adventures (and son) to worry about. A future companion, Alex Kingston's Professor River Song from Forest of the Dead, awaits a different Doctor. She's not getting any younger, yet supposedly meets The Doctor when she's younger. With 2010 still a year and some months away, wouldn't be surprised if they decide to make that pairing happen rather quickly. And that's okay with me. Professor Song seems a delight and a match for the manic pace of being a companion.
It's funny, but the after-taste is always the way you rememeber something. Forget the good if it ends badly, or vice-versa, a good finish sends a bad start into obscurity. It's the latter way I will remember Russell T Davies.
Just like he probably planned.
Davies is leaving Doctor Who with the conclusion of this year's series 4 of the revival of Britain's most loved Science Fiction show. It was a season that really got off to a rousing start with last Christmas' Doctor Who Special, Voyage of the Damned. A tear-jerker send-up of the Poseidon Adventure with singer Kylie Minogue standing in for the as-yet-not-here Doctor Who companion. It was first-rate TV fare.
The new companion that debuted this spring was Donna Noble, played by Brit comedic treasure Catherine Tate. She first surfaced as The Runaway Bride in the 2006 Doctor Who Christmas Special. A little bit older than typical Doctor companions have been (With the exception of Elizabeth Sladen's Sarah Jane Smith), Donna was more than a bit contrary. As written, Donna was a little aggressive, a little shrill, and beat down by a disapproving mother who spared praise, but rarely criticism.
All in all, it made Donna just a little bit unlikable. And that made for a difficult series 4 of Doctor Who until the concluding trilogy. The first ten episodes weren't completely devoid of good material. And Donna's inner good nature and native brilliance had occasion to shine. The best of the lot was probably the Fires of Pompei (#2) and the second-half of a two-parter, Forest of the Dead (#9). There had been lots of entertainment value in The Doctor's Daughter (#6), although it depended on so many co-incidences and startling bursts of insight by Donna, that it strays from the best-of list.
The annual literary figure interaction of the year featured a trip to visit Agatha Christie in the dreadful The Unicorn and the Wasp (#7). It was almost as bad as the largely Donna-less Midnight (#10). That featured a group of the most unpleasant people ever put into a locked room on TV. A wasted hour.
I thought the follow-up, Turn Left (#11), was almost as bad. It reversed the prior episode by being almost purely Donna, with only brief glimpses of the Doctor at beginning and end. It was a butterfly episode, showing what would have happened had Donna Noble turned right at a key time and ended up not meeting the Doctor at all. The distopian future of the Earth was decidedly unpleasant TV. And that was two episodes in a row of non-entertaining TV. I didn't hold out much hope for Davies to turn the season around.
How wrong I was.
The Stolen Earth (#12) and Journey's End (#13) are fabulous TV. All the little threads are tied up from the whole season, dating all the way back to Minogue's character's heroic self-sacrifice last Christmas. In fact, it's hard to think of a major character from the revival of the show that does NOT make an appearance over the last two hours. Rose Tyler, seen briefly in two previous episodes, is all over the finale. There's the reunion, the breaking of that reunion and a parting of the ways that harkens back to her last departure from the Whosian universe. Not completely as sad as the original, but heart-string tugging.
Not to try to compare it with the good-bye The Doctor gives Donna, but that wrenching departure might be sadder. It is no longer his own private hell to have to say good-bye to the lady who saved the universe. Others know, and the sadness on their faces makes the moments all the more poignant.
There is a virtual blank slate for Davies' successor as Doctor Who show-runner to begin with. Steven Moffat, who wrote the outstanding episode Blink (series 3 #10), moves into the creative directorship of the show, which will take 2009 off. There will be a Christmas special this year and probably a special or three next year. But spring 2010 looks interesting now for more than the Winter Olympics in Vancouver.
Moffat will probably need a new Doctor by then. David Tennant has been brilliant after replacing Christopher Eccleston, who headlined the first year of the revival. But three years of Tennant might be enough. His ability to show goofiness and sadness, brilliance and smack-the-head forgetfulness, is exceptional. He will be missed. But I think it's time. Davies dallied with a regeneration of The Doctor in The Stolen Earth. Instead of a new Doctor, we briefly ended up with three. By series end, we were back down to just Tennant's solo Doctor.
And he is solo. No current companion. Rose Tyler is back in her unreachable dimension. Martha Jones is engaged (and probably Torchwood-bound). Donna is, well, not available. And Sarah Jane Smith has her own adventures (and son) to worry about. A future companion, Alex Kingston's Professor River Song from Forest of the Dead, awaits a different Doctor. She's not getting any younger, yet supposedly meets The Doctor when she's younger. With 2010 still a year and some months away, wouldn't be surprised if they decide to make that pairing happen rather quickly. And that's okay with me. Professor Song seems a delight and a match for the manic pace of being a companion.
It's funny, but the after-taste is always the way you rememeber something. Forget the good if it ends badly, or vice-versa, a good finish sends a bad start into obscurity. It's the latter way I will remember Russell T Davies.
Just like he probably planned.
HARDWARE: I'm Back!
I have a complicated setup here at the Castle of Confusion, what with a Rogers Modem leading to a Linksys router leading to a D-Link Wireless router leading to most of the computers in the house. On Friday, the D-Link more or less died. Not for the first time. But for the final time.
Sooooo, it was time to replace it. Putting it into the hands of my hardware guru Patrick, the decision was made and it will be an all Linksys router house from now on. I replaced the D-Link with a Linksys WRT350N. This simultaneously gets me access to version N wireless technology and upgrades the internal network to 1 gigabit speed (yes, I had to upgrade two cards at the same time).
The new router sprouts THREE antennae, one of which serves the dual function of being Norad's southernmost station. Just kidding. It DOES have some heat issues, but I've redone the office and it has plenty of space around it. That and a couple of external terabytes of storage in the same area. I'm now approaching three TB around the office and I suspect that will be enough to see my way through the end of this year and well into 2009.
A lot of that storage is for overnight backing up. The new TEN-fold increase in speed really means I don't make much in the way of judgements in what to back up overnight anymore. All of it goes to one or the other of the external boxes each night. That gives me a two-day grace period for material I just make one backup of. The daily changed stuff gets separate daily folders on each volume, so I have 14 distinct days worth of backups, plus the occasional monthly snapshots that move off to DVD. I'm starting to feel a lot safer already.
I've even pulled out the laptop a couple of times. Even though it only has version G networking, it's proven to be able to connect at the full speed it's capable of anywhere in the house. Even in the backyard, not that I spend time out there in that grass pollen-laden environment.
All in all, I hate spending money. I'm a known skinflint. But for a couple hundred bucks, this is one sweet router.
Sooooo, it was time to replace it. Putting it into the hands of my hardware guru Patrick, the decision was made and it will be an all Linksys router house from now on. I replaced the D-Link with a Linksys WRT350N. This simultaneously gets me access to version N wireless technology and upgrades the internal network to 1 gigabit speed (yes, I had to upgrade two cards at the same time).
The new router sprouts THREE antennae, one of which serves the dual function of being Norad's southernmost station. Just kidding. It DOES have some heat issues, but I've redone the office and it has plenty of space around it. That and a couple of external terabytes of storage in the same area. I'm now approaching three TB around the office and I suspect that will be enough to see my way through the end of this year and well into 2009.
A lot of that storage is for overnight backing up. The new TEN-fold increase in speed really means I don't make much in the way of judgements in what to back up overnight anymore. All of it goes to one or the other of the external boxes each night. That gives me a two-day grace period for material I just make one backup of. The daily changed stuff gets separate daily folders on each volume, so I have 14 distinct days worth of backups, plus the occasional monthly snapshots that move off to DVD. I'm starting to feel a lot safer already.
I've even pulled out the laptop a couple of times. Even though it only has version G networking, it's proven to be able to connect at the full speed it's capable of anywhere in the house. Even in the backyard, not that I spend time out there in that grass pollen-laden environment.
All in all, I hate spending money. I'm a known skinflint. But for a couple hundred bucks, this is one sweet router.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
MAGIC: Metamorphoses
Mark Evanier is running a series of articles over at his daily blog, detailing the comeback of the magic act, The Pendragons. It's a heart-warming tale that involves Arthur Pendragon's recovery from a training accident that results in him getting impaled by an arrow. The scare is VERY impressive. At any rate, Evanier has opined that the Pendragons' version of the magical trick, Metamorphosis, is the best he's seen. Not the least of reasons is that Charlotte Pendragon changes costumes mid-trick.
By the way, you probably have seen Metamorphosis performed if you've watched any magic at all. Magician puts assistant into a bag inside a locked wooden box. Magician bounds to the top of the box and raises a four-sided shroud above his or her head and then immediately drops it. Standing there is the assistant. They go into the box and into the bag and it's there that we find the magician. The fastest metamorphosis on record from the time the shroud goes up until it comes down to reveal the switch is something under a second. It is ALWAYS impressive.
Today, Evanier added to the thread by showing a Doug Henning version of the trick. He still thinks the Pendragons do it better. But that's why there's vanilla and chocolate ice cream. And in this case, I prefer Henning's version. And part of the reason is that I was there when the clip in the YouTube video was being filmed!
Yeah, back in the late 70's, The Magic Show was hot on Broadway. Canuck Henning was this little chipmunk of a fellow who managed to take a lot of mystery out of magic and replace it with whimsy instead. Little kids (and little kids at heart) flocked to his shows, making him probably the English-speaking world's most popular magician at the time. They eventually decided to make a movie out of The Magic Show and they filmed a lot of it here in Toronto. Ken Koyama and I decided to take in a taping of the show, for which tickets were very moderately priced, less than ten bucks. The reason for the cheap price was that it wasn't ACTUALLY The Magic Show, it was a taping of segments.
Anybody who's ever been on a film shoot knows that there is a LOT of waiting on set. This was no different. Some material would be repeated multiple times, others were done in one. Very few segments lasted longer than three or four minutes. After which, the director would yell "Cut!" and the cameras would be reloaded with new film. All told, I think we were there for four hours, and probably saw 40 minutes of actual magic.
That was okay with me. I loved Henning's take on magic. And his Guest Star assistant was Didi Conn, who I had a crush on. Plus, it was fascinating to watch the whole process (for about the first hour, hour and a half). I would learn much more about the movie set life later, but back then it was new and fresh.
And I figured out one trick.
THAT made it all worthwhile. I KNOW people want to believe in magic, but I don't think anybody of legal voting age doesn't look to see if they can figure out the illusion. When a slight malfunction of the motorcycle trick occurred, I suddenly knew how it was done. I left the old theatre down at the CNE pretty happy that night.
Now, as it turns out, the trip to the theatre happened during the aftermath of the great Mississauga Train Derailment. The gas-bearing train went off the tracks just down the road from the composing room where The Brampton Guardian was normally assembled. With much of that part of Mississauga evacuated, we had to change our routine that week. And it was just my luck that it was MY turn to go down and proofread the Sports Section (I was Assistant Sports Editor at the time). And Ken, being the Manager of Advertising, had to go and proofread the ads. But that week, were were going to have to go to Pickering and take the early morning slot there (3am).
So, we decided to just kill some time before heading out the Pickering. At the time, 3am was a fair bit early in the day (or late at night) for me being up and about. We had two or three hours to kill and Ken decided we'd do it at a noted Brampton landmark, the strip club. It was the only place in town then open and serving food I would eat (french fries). As it happens, this was the only time in my life I ever went to a peeler palace. I got my eyeful, my full stomach, and enough energy to make it through the trip to and fro from Pickering, doing the proof-reading inbetween.
And to my knowledge, I didn't let a single typo go uncorrected. And that, dear reader, is true magic.
By the way, you probably have seen Metamorphosis performed if you've watched any magic at all. Magician puts assistant into a bag inside a locked wooden box. Magician bounds to the top of the box and raises a four-sided shroud above his or her head and then immediately drops it. Standing there is the assistant. They go into the box and into the bag and it's there that we find the magician. The fastest metamorphosis on record from the time the shroud goes up until it comes down to reveal the switch is something under a second. It is ALWAYS impressive.
Today, Evanier added to the thread by showing a Doug Henning version of the trick. He still thinks the Pendragons do it better. But that's why there's vanilla and chocolate ice cream. And in this case, I prefer Henning's version. And part of the reason is that I was there when the clip in the YouTube video was being filmed!
Yeah, back in the late 70's, The Magic Show was hot on Broadway. Canuck Henning was this little chipmunk of a fellow who managed to take a lot of mystery out of magic and replace it with whimsy instead. Little kids (and little kids at heart) flocked to his shows, making him probably the English-speaking world's most popular magician at the time. They eventually decided to make a movie out of The Magic Show and they filmed a lot of it here in Toronto. Ken Koyama and I decided to take in a taping of the show, for which tickets were very moderately priced, less than ten bucks. The reason for the cheap price was that it wasn't ACTUALLY The Magic Show, it was a taping of segments.
Anybody who's ever been on a film shoot knows that there is a LOT of waiting on set. This was no different. Some material would be repeated multiple times, others were done in one. Very few segments lasted longer than three or four minutes. After which, the director would yell "Cut!" and the cameras would be reloaded with new film. All told, I think we were there for four hours, and probably saw 40 minutes of actual magic.
That was okay with me. I loved Henning's take on magic. And his Guest Star assistant was Didi Conn, who I had a crush on. Plus, it was fascinating to watch the whole process (for about the first hour, hour and a half). I would learn much more about the movie set life later, but back then it was new and fresh.
And I figured out one trick.
THAT made it all worthwhile. I KNOW people want to believe in magic, but I don't think anybody of legal voting age doesn't look to see if they can figure out the illusion. When a slight malfunction of the motorcycle trick occurred, I suddenly knew how it was done. I left the old theatre down at the CNE pretty happy that night.
Now, as it turns out, the trip to the theatre happened during the aftermath of the great Mississauga Train Derailment. The gas-bearing train went off the tracks just down the road from the composing room where The Brampton Guardian was normally assembled. With much of that part of Mississauga evacuated, we had to change our routine that week. And it was just my luck that it was MY turn to go down and proofread the Sports Section (I was Assistant Sports Editor at the time). And Ken, being the Manager of Advertising, had to go and proofread the ads. But that week, were were going to have to go to Pickering and take the early morning slot there (3am).
So, we decided to just kill some time before heading out the Pickering. At the time, 3am was a fair bit early in the day (or late at night) for me being up and about. We had two or three hours to kill and Ken decided we'd do it at a noted Brampton landmark, the strip club. It was the only place in town then open and serving food I would eat (french fries). As it happens, this was the only time in my life I ever went to a peeler palace. I got my eyeful, my full stomach, and enough energy to make it through the trip to and fro from Pickering, doing the proof-reading inbetween.
And to my knowledge, I didn't let a single typo go uncorrected. And that, dear reader, is true magic.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
LIFE: Brushing Up Against That Ol' Rage
It's my brother Wayne's birthday today, starting that 16-day period once a year when he can claim to be only a year younger than me. It also happens to be his 50th birthday. I think he thinks the latter is the more significant fact today.
I gave Wayne his gift three days ago. It seemed meritorious of a 50th birthday. The acquisition of it almost made me commit murder. Yeah, there is a story.
Last winter, Wayne mentioned he'd really love a brush for washing cars. "Why?" I asked, since I couldn't imagine why I'd be buying the local carwash (used once every three years) equipment. Turns out, Wayne likes to handwash his cars. Weekly. The way he sounds when describing the process can not be repeated here. It's almost pornographic.
Okay, I asked. Details.
Turns out, he once was given a brush from the local wash. He loved it dearly, for the one time he used it. He left it outside to dry after using it that first time. And hasn't seen it since. "I live in a neighbourhood with old farts, all 70 years old and up. And I can't trust even them not to swipe my stuff?" he asked, with tears welling up in eyes, describing the long-missing brush. He wanted that brush replaced. But it was a 'tad' expensive. Eighty bucks.
Well, eighty dollars is indeed a ridiculous amount to spend on a brush. But for a 50th birthday present? Seemed reasonable to me. I got the company name and the part numbers. I started to get a tickle when I found out the brush handle was a separate item for purchase. Hmmm, this might be more trouble than it's worth. Oh, and by the way, I couldn't purchase the brush anywhere around here. The company in question, was in the USA.
Now, Wayne might want to do business with this company in the future. Since he shares my last name, to keep the chance they won't turn him away at the phone, I won't name the company. Other than to say it sells brushes and is named after, either a Great Lake or a town in Pennsylvania.
I went to the company's web-site and found one of the two part numbers I had been given. The brush itself. The other part didn't exist. Not wanting to bother Wayne, I sent an email describing my plight. Five weeks later I still hadn't gotten a response. So I broke down and called.
A very nice lady answered the phone and helped me with my purchase. The FIFTY dollar brush needed a handle. She walked me through my choices and I chose a ten-dollar model. The total came to 60 bucks, Canadian or American, since the local loonie had just that day, gone back over par with the America peso. Not only was Wayne going to get a gift he wanted, it was going to be a sawbuck less than he and I expected.
I asked about expected delivery times, knowing I could afford 5-6 weeks, but not 6-8 weeks. "Oh no, you should have this by the end of next week," she said. I was calling on a Thursday.
Remarkably, she was telling the truth. And that's the end of the good part of the story.
The knock on the door the following Friday was an ungodly early hour of the day. It was about two hours before I normally get up. It was UPS with a four-foot long box... And a demand for 40 bucks. Of that extortionate amount, 30 dollars was for brokerage fees and a further 10 bucks was GST. Whether it was too early or I figured this was penance for not asking about shipping costs (which I hadn't and the lady hadn't offered), I got the money and paid off the delivery man. The box was moved over into a corner, to await the long month before Wayne's birthday.
Before the weekend was out, curiosity got the better part of me. I had to see this brush. Turns out, it might be worth the loot. A flat plastic panel, about the size of a good omelet pan, topped eight inches of long soft hog's hair. I was expected mink, but the hog's hair was plenty soft, yet rigid enough not to flatten out to the plastic base. Impressive.
On the following Tuesday, the paid invoice arrived from the company. The invoice amount was for the stated 60 dollars. Brightly in yellow in a far off corner from where total amount was figured, was the annotation. "Charged to VISA: $80." I'm rounding off the pennies. And I was also rounding into form.
The $60 brush-and-handle had now cost me $120.
I was seeing green spots. The invoice, and I had pink, white and blue copies, all showed cost, shipping being zero and a total amount of $60. On the top one, a white copy, was the Visa charge annotation. I called down there to ask what was going on.
"The extra charge is shipping, sir," a different lady assured me. "But I have THREE copies of your invoice and there is no shipping amount listed," I answered, somewhat calmly. This ping-ponged back and forth until the "Please fax it to us" request was made. I told them that I would email it later.
I continued that it was very wrong for me not to ask about delivery methods and charges (Remember, I DID ask about delivery date), but that it was wrong for their clerk not to tell me the charges, or ask me my preferences. I hate using UPS because they show up early (I'm close enough to be first or second on their delivery route) and they try once. After that, you have to haul butt TO their place and sometimes what you get is a pain in the same butt to get into your car and to the house. They also use the most piratical of the brokerage houses. Thirty bucks. FIFTY percent of the value. Forget gas executive, you should want your progeny in the brokerage business. I would have vastly preferred getting the Post Office to deliver the item. It would have saved me nearly 22 dollars.
In summation, because of the brokerage house and delivery method, plus the non-informed shipping charges, I told her, "Frankly, I won't ever do business with your company again."
That's when she replied, "Well, sir, you could have saved the brokerage fees at least, by ordering from our Canadian distributor."
WHAT!?!?! "Are you kidding me?" I asked in a screech guaranteed to wake up the West Coast. Turns out, the company has TWO, count 'em, TWO Canadian distributors. Both are in B.C. And neither will ever see my business ever again.
A week later, amended invoices arrived. This time, the white, blue, pink AND green sheets all showed shipping and a total amount of 80 dollars.
I gave Wayne his gift three days ago. It seemed meritorious of a 50th birthday. The acquisition of it almost made me commit murder. Yeah, there is a story.
Last winter, Wayne mentioned he'd really love a brush for washing cars. "Why?" I asked, since I couldn't imagine why I'd be buying the local carwash (used once every three years) equipment. Turns out, Wayne likes to handwash his cars. Weekly. The way he sounds when describing the process can not be repeated here. It's almost pornographic.
Okay, I asked. Details.
Turns out, he once was given a brush from the local wash. He loved it dearly, for the one time he used it. He left it outside to dry after using it that first time. And hasn't seen it since. "I live in a neighbourhood with old farts, all 70 years old and up. And I can't trust even them not to swipe my stuff?" he asked, with tears welling up in eyes, describing the long-missing brush. He wanted that brush replaced. But it was a 'tad' expensive. Eighty bucks.
Well, eighty dollars is indeed a ridiculous amount to spend on a brush. But for a 50th birthday present? Seemed reasonable to me. I got the company name and the part numbers. I started to get a tickle when I found out the brush handle was a separate item for purchase. Hmmm, this might be more trouble than it's worth. Oh, and by the way, I couldn't purchase the brush anywhere around here. The company in question, was in the USA.
Now, Wayne might want to do business with this company in the future. Since he shares my last name, to keep the chance they won't turn him away at the phone, I won't name the company. Other than to say it sells brushes and is named after, either a Great Lake or a town in Pennsylvania.
I went to the company's web-site and found one of the two part numbers I had been given. The brush itself. The other part didn't exist. Not wanting to bother Wayne, I sent an email describing my plight. Five weeks later I still hadn't gotten a response. So I broke down and called.
A very nice lady answered the phone and helped me with my purchase. The FIFTY dollar brush needed a handle. She walked me through my choices and I chose a ten-dollar model. The total came to 60 bucks, Canadian or American, since the local loonie had just that day, gone back over par with the America peso. Not only was Wayne going to get a gift he wanted, it was going to be a sawbuck less than he and I expected.
I asked about expected delivery times, knowing I could afford 5-6 weeks, but not 6-8 weeks. "Oh no, you should have this by the end of next week," she said. I was calling on a Thursday.
Remarkably, she was telling the truth. And that's the end of the good part of the story.
The knock on the door the following Friday was an ungodly early hour of the day. It was about two hours before I normally get up. It was UPS with a four-foot long box... And a demand for 40 bucks. Of that extortionate amount, 30 dollars was for brokerage fees and a further 10 bucks was GST. Whether it was too early or I figured this was penance for not asking about shipping costs (which I hadn't and the lady hadn't offered), I got the money and paid off the delivery man. The box was moved over into a corner, to await the long month before Wayne's birthday.
Before the weekend was out, curiosity got the better part of me. I had to see this brush. Turns out, it might be worth the loot. A flat plastic panel, about the size of a good omelet pan, topped eight inches of long soft hog's hair. I was expected mink, but the hog's hair was plenty soft, yet rigid enough not to flatten out to the plastic base. Impressive.
On the following Tuesday, the paid invoice arrived from the company. The invoice amount was for the stated 60 dollars. Brightly in yellow in a far off corner from where total amount was figured, was the annotation. "Charged to VISA: $80." I'm rounding off the pennies. And I was also rounding into form.
The $60 brush-and-handle had now cost me $120.
I was seeing green spots. The invoice, and I had pink, white and blue copies, all showed cost, shipping being zero and a total amount of $60. On the top one, a white copy, was the Visa charge annotation. I called down there to ask what was going on.
"The extra charge is shipping, sir," a different lady assured me. "But I have THREE copies of your invoice and there is no shipping amount listed," I answered, somewhat calmly. This ping-ponged back and forth until the "Please fax it to us" request was made. I told them that I would email it later.
I continued that it was very wrong for me not to ask about delivery methods and charges (Remember, I DID ask about delivery date), but that it was wrong for their clerk not to tell me the charges, or ask me my preferences. I hate using UPS because they show up early (I'm close enough to be first or second on their delivery route) and they try once. After that, you have to haul butt TO their place and sometimes what you get is a pain in the same butt to get into your car and to the house. They also use the most piratical of the brokerage houses. Thirty bucks. FIFTY percent of the value. Forget gas executive, you should want your progeny in the brokerage business. I would have vastly preferred getting the Post Office to deliver the item. It would have saved me nearly 22 dollars.
In summation, because of the brokerage house and delivery method, plus the non-informed shipping charges, I told her, "Frankly, I won't ever do business with your company again."
That's when she replied, "Well, sir, you could have saved the brokerage fees at least, by ordering from our Canadian distributor."
WHAT!?!?! "Are you kidding me?" I asked in a screech guaranteed to wake up the West Coast. Turns out, the company has TWO, count 'em, TWO Canadian distributors. Both are in B.C. And neither will ever see my business ever again.
A week later, amended invoices arrived. This time, the white, blue, pink AND green sheets all showed shipping and a total amount of 80 dollars.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
LIFE: Bridges Freak Me Out
I have one ongoing nightmare, one that I've experienced off and on for maybe 40 years. I'm in a car. I'm driving now, but it started as a back seat passenger. We are going up a steep embankment leading up to a bridge over some vast expanse of water. The incline is steep. At one point, we stall and start sliding backwards. Later, the dream got more detailed. In fact, the car falls off the face of the cliff that was the bridge embankment, flipping muffler over hood.
Then I wake up.
I hate bridges. I've been known to take the long way to Buffalo, just to avoid the Hamilton bridge. Even if I survive the embankment travel (never done without holding my breath), just the clattering over the water itself sets my nerves a-jangling. All kinds of irrational fears of sudden bridge bucklings dance through my head until I'm safely on level land again.
What brought about this need to fess up over the sensible fear of bridges? Today's Dvork Uncensored site had a picture of a vast bridge in Jiangsu, China. Now, my odds of driving in China range in the infinitesimal range. The odds of me ever being on the Sutong Bridge? Zero. Not going to happen. A mathematical certainty. Literal definition of impossible.
But it's a pretty picture.
Then I wake up.
I hate bridges. I've been known to take the long way to Buffalo, just to avoid the Hamilton bridge. Even if I survive the embankment travel (never done without holding my breath), just the clattering over the water itself sets my nerves a-jangling. All kinds of irrational fears of sudden bridge bucklings dance through my head until I'm safely on level land again.
What brought about this need to fess up over the sensible fear of bridges? Today's Dvork Uncensored site had a picture of a vast bridge in Jiangsu, China. Now, my odds of driving in China range in the infinitesimal range. The odds of me ever being on the Sutong Bridge? Zero. Not going to happen. A mathematical certainty. Literal definition of impossible.
But it's a pretty picture.
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