BOOKS: Smokin' Seventeen by Janet Evanovich

I'm stuck on the horns of dilemma. I promised a review of the latest Stephanie Plum book by Janet Evanovich, Smokin' Seventeen. And I said I'd be trotting out five-star reviews this month. And Smokin' Seventeen is not a five-star book. Closer to three than five, in fact. What to do, what to do? Well, since I've reviewed the last three books in the series in a timely fashion, I guess I have to keep up that tradition.

So, why is Smokin' Seventeen a downturn from last year's five-star Sizzling Sixteen? Well, there's the obvious who dunnit. At least to me. And the fact that no real progress is made in the eternal Plum triangle with Joe and Ranger. In fact, the whole book revolves around the Plum ladies (Mom and Grandma Mazur) doing their level best to fix our erstwhile bounty hunter up with the anti-Joe/Ranger. The recently divorced Dave Brewer.

Dave Brewer was the big man on campus during their high school years. He's basically flamed out in adult life, getting caught up in some illegal shenanigans that cost him his wife, house, job and employment opportunities down in Atlanta. He's moved back in with his mother and is into real estate and trying to escape his current living arrangements. Dave seems friendly enough, but he has a skill that the Plum ladies, except Stephanie, swoon over. He's a great cook. And he's fond of invading people's homes and cooking for them. Unasked. A trait Stephanie finds off-putting. That and the time he tried to join her unasked in the shower.

Yep, Stephanie is pretty sure she doesn't want Dave to join her little band of potential husbands. At the same time, she's having difficulties stemming from Joe Morelli's grandmother having given her the eye. In this case, the troubles the little old lady in black has sent her way involves heat. From the general area of loins. About the only guys Stephanie isn't lusting over is Dave. And it doesn't help that cousin Vinnie has been slapping 'graphically enhanced' pictures of Steph and Lula on buses all around town.

Forced into a trailer temporarily while the recently demolished Bails Bond office is being rebuilt, Vinnie starts an advertising campaign built around the somewhat idealized pictures of Stephanie as a buxom bounty hunter. "If You’re Bad We’ll Send our Girls out to Get You." Needless to say, this leads to a lot more business. All the while, Stephanie is dealing with a series of corpses that show up in the lot once occupied by the office, and then in car dumps around town. And the killer has taken to gifting them to Stephanie.


All in all, the book seems like a holding pattern. Nothing much gets done and cars get lost, not blown up. T'is a disappointment to a veteran Stephanie Plum reader. No explanation for homicidal Regina Buttle, who prefers using cars to mow down victims, not getting jailed for the first of her multiple attempts to smash Stephanie. And the Boris the Bear story-line really just petered out. Meanwhile the vampire story-line just seemed never to end.


There are chuckles in the book (the lottery results especially). There always are chuckles aplenty in these books. And there's just about the right amount of Grandma Mazur for the second book running. But otherwise, the feeling I got when finished it at the North American Bridge Championships was ... meh!


All that said, looking forward to next year's birthday and the eighteenth book. It IS a tradition for a good reason, after all.

BOOKS: Seven Seconds or Less by Jack McCallum

There once was a team in the NBA that strived to shoot as often as possible, as quickly as possible.

Actually, there's been several, but the most recent team to give a try and come close to the  fairy-tale finish of winning the holy grail of the sport, a world championship, were the Phoenix Suns. And, as it happens, the last time 'Phoenix' and 'title contender' were uttered in the same breathe with some sincerity, Sports Illustrated's Jack McCallum was on hand to detail the day-to-day events of one of the most exciting teams the NBA has seen in quite a while. The result, Seven Seconds or Less (aka :07 Seconds Or Less).

Why am I bringing up a five-year old book now? Well, there's the depressing thought that reading about old-time basketball will be as close as we will get to the pro game for the rest of this year. It's not like anybody's got any enthusiasm for the way the negotiations are going on between the owners and the players. The over-under on the lockout right now sits at some time in December, perilously close to NEXT year.

But, the fact is that McCallum's a great writer, having headed S.I.'s NBA coverage for years. And he picked an outstanding year to take a sabbatical and work his way into the inner workings of one of the NBA's most fascinating teams. And subsequent developments have made the book even more interesting.

There was a large cast of colourful characters hanging around the Suns' dressing room back in the 2005-06 season. The coaching staff, replete with the Clan D'Antoni. Guard Steve Nash, forever Captain Canuck. Mercurial Shawn Marion, later a Toronto Raptor and, almost incredulously, later a key cog in a Dallas world championship victory. The 'other' foreign element for the Suns, Leandro Barbosa (also later a Raptor) and Boris Diaw (later ALMOST a Raptor). Did I also mention ex-Raptor assistant coach Marc Iavaroni yet? Amongst the angsty guys never to have been Toronto property, even in spirit, it's hard to get more interesting than man-child Amar'e Stoudemire and NBA gypsies Tim Thomas, Eddie House and Raja Bell.

With THAT cast of characters, it wasn't hard to see why McCallum picked the Desert Stars to cover for his NBA version of John Feinstein's A Season on the Brink (the lauded look from the inside during a year with Bobby Knight's Indiana University college team).

You come to like a lot, if not all, of the Suns during the book. McCallum makes them all seem real. And that's sometimes hard in the bigger-than-life world of the NBA. It's hard to feel sorry for millionaires, all with the genetic advantage most of you readers don't have. But McCallum succeeds for the most part in doing exactly that.

It's not giving away the ending to note that the Suns didn't win the championship. And that collection was broken up not too long after, and never did win the title as a group. But after reading the book, betcha want more of them to find the way to do what Marion did, eventually win it all in a different uniform.

This isn't just a version of A Season on the Brink, it's a worthy companion to sit along side it on the shelf of top-notch basketball books.

SPORTS: AA Is As Smart As You All Think

Last week, I pondered the preponderance of outfield talent in the Toronto Blue Jay outfield, a fact I thought would never come to fruition at the start of the year. Back then, the local heroes of the diamond seemed ready to trot out an outfield of Travis Snider, Rajai Davis and Juan Rivera. And it got worse quickly as Davis got hurt and Corey Patterson was inserted into centre field. Yuck!

I thought Alex Anthopoulos would address the situation by trading one of five (supposedly) decent major league outfielders for a pitcher before the trading deadline. And I was wrong. With the impending call-up of Brett Lawrie, I worried there wasn't enough playing time for Jose Bautista, Cody Rasmus, Snider, Eric Thames and Davis, let alone Mark Teahen. I worried that Thames would be on the plane to Las Vegas and that didn't seem fair to the then .300-hitting rookie. Boy, did I want Snider traded instead of anointed as the left-fielder by default. I expected to be wrong.

And yet, AA's made my day by sending out Snider, an AAAA player if there ever was one, down to AAA. Oh, and he called up Lawrie. Yippee!

Look, EVERY person who knows Snider likes the guy. He's reasonably powerful and moves pretty good. But, if you added up all of his good weeks in the majors over the last four years, it STILL doesn't add up to a half-season of 'good team starter' performance. I get it. He's a hard-worker and he's likable. Manager John Farrell event floated the "Snider in centre field" balloon and pronounced himself happy with the handful of games Snider played there. Given the fact that he's inadequate in right and barely adequate in left, Farrell sounded an awful lot like he was whistling past the graveyard when he tried to publicly back the experiment.

Snider tears up the minors, or has the last year and a half. He pouted upon being sent down a couple of years ago and pouting players don't perform well. But otherwise, he's proven he can hit in Las Vegas. What he's also proven is that he can't make the adjustments needed to hit in the majors. Las Vegas batting coach Chad Mottola did adjust Snider slightly during Snider's first foray in the desert this year. That resulted in a hot start in July for Snider upon his recall. It lasted two, maybe three weeks. Then the scouts from the other teams figured out the new hole in Snider's swing and once again, we saw Snider flailing away. He couldn't make the re-adjustment.

But despite all of that, I still figured Toronto would continue to treat Snider as the fair-haired boy, the future stud project. But he's approaching his mid-twenties--really he's already there. And I think he's a GM killer, a highly-drafted AAAA player with a hole in his swing. He was the only high schooler the previous GM ever deigned to take a first-round chance on. And, in a way, he's sort of proved J.P. Ricciardi was right to pick college guys. He just didn't have the eye for high school talent.

When it was announced that Lawrie was coming up to start against Baltimore, that Bautista was headed back to right field, that Thames was headed to left and Snider to Vegas, I uttered a little yelp of joy and surprise. Then I tempered it a little bit. Thinking through the implications, I had to ask a question.

Although he'll be back when the September call-ups join the Jays, have we seen the last of Travis Snider as a Toronto Blue Jay in meaningful games? I can't help thinking the good guy is gone. And as good as that is for Toronto going forward, it's always hard to lose a universally well-liked man.

But it had to happen.

BOOKS: The Fifth Witness by Michael Connelly

The Fifth Witness, Michael Connelly's fourth entry in incredibly enjoyable Mickey Haller series of legal thrillers, is a book for the times. Torn, in part, from the financial headlines of the last three years, the book shows that something of a good eduction can be obtained from reading fiction.

Connelly takes great pains to take the pain out of explaining the nasty business of home foreclosure in such a way that you will learn a thing or two about how completely scummy some of the purveyors of the art are. And enough to warrant getting behind Lisa Trammel, a wacko accused of murder. The victim? Mitchell Bondurant, a mortgage banker.

Mortgage bankers have the kind of reputation Hollywood and the book industry needs for the current century. They've run out of bad guys from foreign lands and have to look internally for villains to put up against the good guy or gal. And Bondurant and his 'associates' serve as ideal fodder for an angry reader. While Trammel's a bit much, and ultimately unlikeable, the fact is we're hoping the 'Lincoln Lawyer' will carry the day.

And Haller's up to the task. Connelly also spends more time IN court this time around and we get to see Haller as a Very Good Lawyer rather than as the sharp guy flitting from client to client, appearance to appearance in the Lincoln, as seen most of the way through the series. Connelly's ability to hint at, but not give away the winning strategy is what sets this book apart from the others in the Haller series.

The regular cast of characters is around for this one and there is the derigeur out-of-the-blue tack-on finish that gives you an even warmer and fuzzier feeling at the conclusion. But even if some of it feels familiar, this is good Connelly. And good Connelly is worth buying. All the time.

LIFE: A NEW Way To Screw Up Renewing License Plates

Regular readers, or make that, the regular reader in Europe, will be familiar with the travails of my annual renewal of the license stickers for my car. I've had my car break down in the Ministry of Transport parking lot (numerous times) resulting in car-tows (numerous times). I've been sick enough that I placed the newly-purchased sticker on the wrong car. I've arrived with the form from the year before. I've left the car emissions test certificate at home. I have honestly come to the belief that that little strip mall office is, in fact, the entrance to Purgatory and that I'm sure Dante and his old pal Nick Scratch lurk in a back room laughing themselves silly as I perform my latest tragedy.

Which brings me to this year and yet another example of why I shouldn't drive. Just having a car is a danger to your life. The fact that my blood pressure hits stratospheric heights whenever the thought of pouring money into the car, when combined with giving the government money. I really should be considering taxiing everywhere. At least I know the cost of that these days. It's ten bucks to get to, and then another ten bucks to get back from, that office on the outskirts of Hell.

Why do I now that? Unhappy you asked. Turns out, I didn't do the wrong/old form trick this year. I couldn't find where I left the form for safekeeping. After one cleaning of the house and one spelunking expedition through the piles of paper that congregate around the house. And after a second cleaning and a MORE careful pawing through the paper piles. Gone. Disappeared. Most likely with the trash.

So, on Saturday, I steeled myself for the inevitable hectoring and drove over to get my stickers. It was the second-last day of the month and the start of a long weekend. The place was closed. Apparently it's never open on Saturdays. So I drove on to the main testing centre a few miles away. It closes for sticker biz at 1 pm on Saturdays. It was now 1:10 pm. As of Monday morning, my car would be obviously being driven around with an expired sticker. 

I've not been feeling all that great, so it took me until yesterday to phone the Ministry and enquire about the routine (and eventual cost) of replacing the form. Turns out, you don't NEED the form at all. Nice to have, but unnecessary. In Tyler's words, "It's more of a reminder." I responded by going back to bed and sleep off all of that unnecessary work cleaning up the place, TWICE, to find the unneeded paperwork. Today, I paid for the taxi rides to and fro and now have a year's worth of time ticking away until, once again, I have to face the Gates of Hell.

It won't be pretty. Not sure how I'll screw it up next year. But something will happen.

It always does.

BOOKS: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

It's going to be a movie in a theatre near you not too long from now. If you're my friend Patrick, you probably won't be going, because it can't possibly represent the whole book. But I have to admit, I'm looking forward to seeing Oscar nominee (and sexy blue X-Men) Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss, the start of Suzanne Collins' wildly popular novel, The Hunger Games.

This review will also serve as a drive-by review of the other books in the Hunger Games Trilogy: Hunger Games is a five-star book, completely worth the world-wide renown Collins has been engulfed in.  It's brilliant. On a level of the first two Harry Potter books, albeit more related to Rambo than Disney movies. The second book? Catching Fire is pretty good, a four-star rating in my database. The third? Well there has to be a third to make a trilogy and bluntly Mockingjay gets three stars cuz Calibre won't show 2.5. Not horrible, but no better than an average wrapping up of all of Collins' brilliant ideas.

But we are here waxing prosaically about The Hunger Games. It's science fiction, but it's the kind of SF even my parents can get around. It's just an extrapolation of the old idea of the Roman Games in the coliseum, stretched out past an apocalyptic period, going left, rather than right (and into Mad Max and Thunderdone territory).

Life isn't great in Panem (loosely, the USA after the fall). Split into 12 (approximately) regions, the people find themselves hungry. The rulers, living in luxury in the capitol city, have managed to keep most of the people thinking about entertainment, rather than their own empty bellies or well-being in general. Representatives from each district congregate in the capitol city once a year for the Games. The winner gets extra food for his or her district for a year and a good life ... well, for life. 'Cept it might not be so good. A past winner from Katniss's region is thought of as a drunken waste of a big mansion. He and Katniss (who talks herself into representing the district, rather than allowing another to go) end up in the Capitol city after a solid demonstration of creating characters and world-building. You can see and feel the desperation of Katniss and her family and friends.

Unlike American Idol, there's a bit of a downside in competing in the Games and not winning the big prize. It's a battle to the death. Last person alive wins it all. Katniss has a skill that will serve in good stead. She's an ace with a bow. She's been surviving by poaching for a long time.

There's pageantry and intrigue before Katniss enters the field of battle. And, since this is a trilogy, it's not surprising that she does, in deed, win the day. But nothing's pre-ordained and the victory is somewhat Pyrrhic. The gloss of the Games hides an ugly truth that gets explored further, to good effect, in Catching Fire. The flaw in that book is Katniss's handling of the two boys/men in her life. It's a rather large wart on her heroic character. The concluding volume brings in surprises from a previously hidden party and a battle to end all battles. Collins' grip on the literary conventions of thrust and parry war is a little sloppy. But a conclusion you do get.

You COULD read The Hunger Games and be done with it and not feel you've been done ill by. IF you decide to go for the whole trilogy, either wait for the movies as they come out or read the books as one big door-stopper of a novel. Reading it back-to-back-to-back will help you keep the ever-ballooning cast straight as you go along.

BOOKS: The Devotion of Suspect X by Keigo Higashino

Keigo Higashino's The Devotion of Suspect X is my new favourite book. I tell everybody I know to read it and so far, everybody has the same complaint that I do. Why haven't the other books in the series been translated into English?

The mystery takes place in Tokyo and matches the wiles of a high school math teacher with an assistant professor, nicknamed Detective Galileo. The whole series is built around the observant and brilliant Yukawa, who's actually a former college chum of his opponent in this book, Ishigami. 


One level of this book is a kind of chess match between Yukawa and Ishigami. One has committed to covering up a murder. The other trying to piece together why a seamless cover-up shouldn't be believed. Back and forth they go until Ishigami gives up the 'game' late in the book revealing why the iron-clad alibi of the murderers is so soft. Even that late in the book, he moves forward with a Plan B that achieves its aim, if not the reader's.


The other level of the book is straight out of the crime mystery handbook. Mother and daughter Yusako and Misato kill Yusako's ex-husband, a nasty piece of work that you'll probably agree had it coming to him. That said, there's enough moral ambiguity that you can't even be sure of that. Not too much later, actual detectives, Kusanagi and Kishitani show up. And now there's the battle between those two sides to resolve the murder. But Ishigami, who has a quite unrequited love for Yusako, has interfered and is plotting the cover-up with almost perfect abilities to predict what comes next from the detectives.


In fact, the younger detective, Kishitani, doesn't think Yusako (or Misato) are involved. But something doesn't sit right with old veteran cop Kusanagi. And so, he goes off and starts talking through the case with his old friend, Yukawa. As the case goes on, even Kusanagi starts wondering if he's off track here. It's Yukawa, playing amateur detective, who keeps moving things along. Even to the point of showing up and socializing with his old Imperial University classmate.


I have no idea if this could be converted into a movie. I don't think so, although I've mentally cast all the parts. Part of what makes this whole thing work is the misdirection of having to see things in your mind's eye ... and missing a clue or two. There's no car chases, just sad people bicycling to and from between their houses, the sandwich shop, the high school and the university. It's tiny, contained, moody and just right. You'd need thought bubbles to get across all the mental gymnastics at play.


For the record, I didn't 'solve' the big reveal before it happened. Wasn't for the lack of trying. And while there's not really a happy-ever-after ending, you do get the idea that Yukawa isn't the happiest after everything is resolved. 


And I'm not happy either. Although I could be. If Alexander O. Smith would just hurry up with the translating work.

BOOKS: Mr. Monk on the Road by Lee Goldberg

Don't even think about reading this book if you haven't watched at least the eighth and final season of  the Monk TV series. It's probably a good idea to read at least some of the preceding ten books in the Adrian Monk series by Lee Goldberg. Assuming you've had all that fun (and I dearly loved the TV series and continue to love this book series), then read ahead in this review. You've been warned.

The odd thing, after saying you have to have the background to enjoy Mr. Monk on the Road, is that Goldberg immediately starts weeding out many of the long-term characters that inhabit the Monk universe. Not before the first, rather mundane murder is solved. But after that brief fling at standard Monk novel developments, we don't see much of Capt. Stottlemeyer. Lt. Randy Disher is off-stage, having gotten together with Sharona, Monk's ex-assistant back in New Jersey. And even delightful Molly Evans, Monk's almost-daughter (her mother was Monk's long-deceased wife), gets off-stage PDQ.

Goldberg takes full advantage of throwing off the shackles and restraints of the Monk TV canon, by immediately taking Monk on another road trip. With his brother Ambrose and his assistant Natalie Teeger. As always, the book is written through the viewpoint of Natalie, who's developing despondency about her pending empty nest syndrome. So, she's a little more neurotic than normal in this book, although not in a league with the obsessive/compulsive Monk brothers. Especially, initially, Ambrose. He's more or less kidnapped and hauled out of his house and into the RV. And off on a trip through southern California and then back to San Francisco.

And here's why this book is probably the best of the Monk novels to date. It has heart. Actually Heart with a capital H. And Hope. And Happiness.

Now, it's never easy to throw words like heart, hope and happiness around in a Monk book. The books are, in many ways, about his eternal suffering. Schadenfreude allows us to enjoy him solving problems, giving us some laughs, and generally making us happy that we are neither him, nor the suffering Natalie. There but for the grace of God ... and all that.

But this book has Heart. The newest Monk is one who can see past his own problems to want to do something good for his brother, no matter how discomfited he knows he's going to be. He engages in the kidnapping, not wholeheartedly, but with enough enthusiasm that you can see him straining to think of others before himself.

And the result is Hope. Not thr kind that had him longing, and then succeeding, to get back onto the police force as a full-blown detective. No, that was fool's gold all along. And he realized that not long after getting his wish. No, the hope here is of a re-kindled relationship between the brothers. Of a life that might get Ambrose out of his house more often. Of a Monk who can allow himself the thought of being normal, if even for the briefest of times.

Lastly, we get to Happiness. On the face of Ambrose. More than once. Monk might generate more than his share of chuckles. But smiles? Smiles of actual happiness beyond solving the crime and the chance to wrap up a crime. Ahh, not so much. There were the happy times cleaning up the streets of Paris. But that was another time and another book. But you know,  a little sunny disposition is refreshing in a Monk book.

I should note that some potential recurring characters make their debuts in this book. I don't expect to see Dub Clemens again, but this latter day Mark Twainish detective type would be welcome back, healthy or otherwise. That said, Yuki looks to be a keeper. At least Ambrose thinks so. And Randy's replacement, Lt. Devlin, shows some promise. I hope Goldberg keeps her waffling between being a friend and being a foe for Natalie and Adrian.

In a lot of ways, Mr. Monk on the Road is like the other road trip books in the series. Entertaining, informative about the locales and funny. This one adds just a little Heart and becomes endearing.

BOOKS: The War for Late Night by Bill Carter

I'm envious of anybody who can write about both sides of a skirmish and have the sides each think the writer was supporting their side. I think Bill Carter's done that with his latest investigation into the phenomena known as Late Night TV.

Carter's original examination, The Late Shift, detailed how Jay Leno won the coveted spot as successor Johnny Carson over David Letterman. I read SO many excerpts from that book that I thought I had read it, but I hadn't. So, to a certain degree, Carter was a kind of unexplored author for me when I sat down to read The War for Late Night. I am delighted to say that I intend on seeking out Carter's other book, Desperate Networks, and read that. He's that good of a writer.

The War for Late Night also features Leno, this time in 'battle' with Conan O'Brien. I've stated my position on this before, but it pays to repeat it for those disinclined to search through the archives here. I'm a Leno guy. I enjoyed The Bowery Boys and The Three Stooges when I was just a kid. Like all kids, I liked silly slapstick. But I grew up and came to appreciate Carson and Bob Hope, and the talents of joke-tellers, more than prat-fallers. I treasured Carlin and Brenner and the host of comics who made me laugh with words. I'll still laugh at the odd sight-gag. I'm human. But a diet limited to silliness? Ahhh, not so much. And Carter gets O'Brien to admit that that's his schtick. He wanted to bring silliness back.

So, I had an axe to grind through much of the early part of this book, which reads in a lot of ways like PR material for Team Coco. The fact is, that I do come to like O'Brien and his executive producer Jeff Ross. Everybody else, not so much. I do think O'Brien was incredibly naive and the foundation of his anger with Leno does appear to stem from one gigantic, idiotic idea--that Leno was happy and eager to end his run as Tonight Show host and hand it over to him. Everything else O'Brien gets angry about is based on that premise. And only somebody completely clueless could assume Leno accepted being pushed out with equanimity.

For his part, Leno made mistakes. Again. He let other people talk him out of contacting Conan O'Brien during the early stages of last year, when the 10 pm experiment Jeff Gaspin had concocted failed. Spectacularly. Gaspin then had created the idea of a half-hour of Leno jokes leading into an O'Brien fronted Tonight Show, which could have been the equivalent of a game-winning homer in the bottom of the ninth, had O'Brien only embraced the concept. He'd only started doing a longer monologue because that's what Carson and Leno had done before him. Had he thought it through, he might very well have decided to cut back on HIS monologue and then get into the kind of show he was bringing from the East Coast and his old time slot. The mix would have worked, had he let it work.

He certainly can't deny that it would have worked because he never tried. At least he shouldn't from his nightly slot at TBS. You know the one that used to be occupied by George Lopez, until Conan arrived and pushed him back an hour. All voluntary of course (and I can sell you some high-yield Greek bonds if you want. ALL you want to buy). The irony completely escapes Team Coco.

In the end, you see experienced TV legends like Lorne Michaels and Dick Ebersol try to make sense out of the carnage created by Gaspin's short-term plan with the long-term disastrous consequences. And let me say, hurrah for our side.


Most of the late night yakkers get some time in the spotlight in the book. My opinion of them doesn't change except the strengthening of my resolve never to spend a second of my life viewing anything with Jimmy Kimmel in it. I almost gagged at the niceties to Kimmel in the acknowledgement. Kimmel's viciousness during the worst parts of the fight was beneath contempt. He's the kind of slime you wipe off before stepping into mud. 


Leno is NOT the favourite of drunken/tired frat boys and the group of internet voices that have only recently graduated from the same institutions that now houses the next generation of their ilk. So he gets skewered with little push back from fans who don't live on the internet or older guys like me, who like a familiar face with familiar jokes on the way to sleep. I never was quite sure why I preferred Leno to O'Brien beyond that monologue.


Now I know. 


Go ahead and read the book, even if you're a Team Coco member. I'm sure you'll read the book your way too. Carter's THAT good!

BOOKS: August is a Review Month

I've got one editor stomping his foot at me to write. I've got companies wanting me to write program code. I've got books to read and TV DVD's to watch.

Naturally, I've decided to get out a bunch of five-star book reviews over the next four and a half weeks.

Really, I've got 106 books listed as five-star entries in my Calibre database and I've only reviewed 26 of them in this blog. So, I'm going to cut a third off that list of overlooked books before September dawns. Or so I hope.

I'm writing them in batches and plan for one a day. But if I miss, I'll do my best to get a multiple day soon to catch up.

SPORTS: Congrats On Retirement and Hall for Watson

If you're going to retire and want to go out on a bang, it's hard to argue with the denouement of Bob Watson's pro lacrosse career. Earlier this year, Whipper Watson led the Toronto Rock to the National Lacrosse League championship, avenging last year's final loss to the Washington Stealth. For Watson, it was a chance for a ring for his other thumb, having earlier lead the Rock to five titles. He's been the league's top goalie twice and finals MVP twice. And in this century, his team actually finished just short of winning the title twice more, losing in the finals.

In other words, Watson's been really good and so, as a result, have been the Rock.

Watson retired immediately after the title game and it took all of a few months for the electors to the Canadian Lacrosse Hall of Fame to vote him in as their newest member. With a voting total of 84 percent. Watson didn't just ride the Rock to the Hall, he also summered frequently with my hometown Brampton Excelsiors. The Excels' frequent participation in the Mann Cup over the years was also part of what made Watson so Hall-worthy. In fact, Rock owner Jamie Dawick went so far as to say Watson was the greatest goalie of all time.

Uh, hold on a sec. Greatest NLL goalie of all time? I think the case for that is pretty solid. Greatest goalie in Brampton Excelsior history. Uhhhhhh, not so much.

First, let me say that I admire Watson greatly. I know he looks gargantuan in his goalie gear when you see him on TV or in person. But truth be told, he's not much bigger than me, or at least the pre-middle aged me without the spare tire. His ability to get in the way of shots for the last 15 years in the NLL and through the summers in the Ontario Major Lacrosse League was tantamount to will (and later experience), being vulcanized with all that rubber being hurled at him. A pleasure to watch and a good guy to boot. Nothing I'm about to say takes away from that.

BUT, in my opinion, Watson's only the third-best goalie I ever saw wear the Excelsior maroon and white. Who was better?

Larry Smeltzer was one. They say the golden age for every child is when they were 12. Back in the late sixties, right about that age for me, the Junior A Excelsiors swung possibly the greatest trade of the franchise's long and storied history by obtaining Ron Weatherhead, Murray Shannon and Smeltzer from the Elora Mohawks for some kids (and I'm sure, some of Ev Coates' money). Weatherhead was a big centreman who reminded one of Jean Beliveau off skates. Shannon was a good defensive wing-man (this was back in the day when teams had lines rather than offensive and defensive units). And Smeltzer was simply awesome in net. The trio was the secret to serious Excelsior contention for the Ontario title and the Minto Cup.

Between Brampton and the title(s) were the Lakeshore Maple Leafs starring Paul Sugate, Bill Coghill (later an Excelsior head coach) and Joe Timpson. The Leafs were the favourites, but Smeltzer didn't care. A burly guy with a brush-cut sprouting some curls, Smeltzer was the wall that wouldn't break. Smeltzer was the difference in the end as the Excelsiors did manage to knock off the Leafs.

Smeltzer had a decent career in senior lacrosse. But it came at a time when there wasn't a pro loop to keep him going. So he retired young. And he didn't retire as an Excelsior. But in the maroon and white? Almost the very best I ever saw.

Which brings me to Dennis Maruk's little brother Barry. Dennis might have been a scoring sensation in the NHL. But he wasn't the best athlete in the family. That honour belonged to Barry, the acrobatic little guy who led the Excelsiors to the Mann Cup championship back in the early 80's. He played for John McCauley's last team, a title winner back in 1981 (if I remember correctly). He stopped shots, he passed as well as any goalie in the game ever did ... and he scored goals. Not infrequently. Rather regularly in fact.

Maruk won the Mike Kelly award for the finals MVP in that Mann Cup final. Guys like Terry Sanderson, current Rock GM and assistant coach, were on that team. The club imported the Wasson brothers from Peterborough for the national championships, adding them to a team that had Bobby Burke, Tom Patrick at his prime and the one-man runaway train, Gord Keates. Steady Barry Richardson played one side on defence, Ian Douglas the other. 'Course, Barry was in charge of hitting Patrick in a sideline scrum early in the game to get the big guy going. (on orders from Gus, the head coach). But with all that offensive firepower, Maruk was the star. There wasn't a single facet of the game he didn't excel in. Diving acrobatic saves? Check. Racing, stumbling back to cover the net after one of his forays up the floor? Check. Passes right on the nose for breakaway chances? Check. Handling the ball killing penalties? Check. Assisting AND scoring? Check, check, check.

I spent that Mann Cup up in the press box doing the TV broadcast of the finals in a sweaty Memorial Arena. Dead of the hottest part of summer. No air conditioning. The kind of heat that just naturally takes your breathe away. That's the environment that Maruk rose to the occasion in, while wearing that sweat-creating goalie gear.

As good was Watson was this spring and as good as he's been in a long, illustrious lacrosse career, he still wasn't the best goalie I ever saw. One other thing? Dawick can be excused for waxing profusely in declaring Watson the best ever.

But Terry Sanderson, who saw Barry Maruk, didn't say a thing. Why spoil the moment when only we old codgers know better?

SPORTS: Waiting For The Other Shoe

Today's trades by the ever-interesting Alex Anthopoulos have certainly created a most surprising situation in Toronto. The Blue Jays now have too many outfielders of decent quality!!

That was my concern earlier this year when I contemplated an outfield of Travis Snider, Rajai Davis and Juan Rivera. I just shuddered thinking again of the defensive inabilities of that particular trio would have been. I understood not getting too much more in the way of outfield depth, with the assumption that Jose Bautista was eventually going to move back to right field. But I still worried about Snider, who I've been very public about not impressing me much.

Out of the box, Davis impressed me offensively, but I hate his catching motion and he got hurt, forcing Corey Patterson into the line-up. When Davis came back, he didn't bring the stick with him, and we found out that Davis doesn't possess the instincts of a centre-fielder. Sure, he'd run down balls with his magnificent foot speed. But those, and ones he missed, were made much harder by ... let's call them circuitous routes to fly balls. We instantly put updates on Anthony Gose on our daily newsfeed.

Patterson certainly did better than be a fifth outfielder for the first half of the season. He was a danger to his teammates out there, but, in general he contributed as much as we should have expected from a fifth outfielder who suddenly was starting because Bautista's triumphant return to right was followed by an emergency u-turn back to third base. Hitting in front of Bautista, Patterson produced quite credible numbers.

But all mirages eventually go away and Patterson was revealed to be the fifth kind of guy he was. Eric Thames was brought up from the minors and installed as a starter, including being put into the same safe hammock between Yunel Escobar and Bautista as Patterson had occupied. Less speed, more power, higher average and a chance to see what kind of defensive proclivities Thames had. In a year of testing, not bad.

Then today, AA pulled the trigger on acquiring a CF who was one of the top 20 players in the game last year, but had been on the outs with his poor performance this year and an active social clash on-going with Tony LaRussa, one of the last "My way or the highway" managers. Colby Rasmus' act has been seen in these here parts before. Last year in fact. The same script had been applied to Escobar. And really, Escobar wasn't the first. Go back to the first (and only) Blue Jay dynasty. Sure it was fueled by the trade to acquire Joe Carter and Robby "The Human Rainstorm" Alomar. But the engine turned on thanks to former California Angel devil-child Devon White. Clarence Gaston took White under his wing, told him he started no matter what. The result, like it looks like Escobar is going to end up, was an all-star player. Despite the Ricciardi Interregnum that blemished a once-proud franchise, the fact is that these guys historically know how to get the best out of other team's discards.

Since I stumped in this blog for getting Rasmus (although back then, I hoped the price would be Snider ... which I still would have preferred), I'm hardly going to complain at the price AA paid to acquire Rasmus. He had to take on the contracts of a three relievers, two of which have Blue Jay backgrounds and the contract of Teahen, while giving up a bunch of relievers and semi-well-liked pitching prospect Zach Stewart. So, we are talking money, lost supplemental draft picks that Jason Fraser and Octavio Dotel would have brought back and not a single player who was necessarily in the plans for next year, let alone the succeeding few years when the Jays hope to be the beasts of the A.L. East. The only guy I have a twinge about is Marc Rzepczynski, who I think is going to be a good left-handed reliever in the majors for the next decade and change. But his most recent swoon has induced doubts into my mind.

So, a steal for the bright young mind running the Blue Jays. Right? Well, there are warning statistical indicators that Rasmus' offence last year was based on a bit of smoke (a very high batting average on balls in play, which was above norm for the league). And the good defensive rep hasn't been mirrored in the new-fangled defensive stats. It's a question of do you believe your eyes or what I tell you? Baseball people think he's got it all, needed a fresh start and will get in Toronto. Shame he's not Latino and can be enveloped into the Bautista group. But for the nonce, I think we will enjoy the moment. I like the trade, right or wrong. All it really cost was money. And if it does go south, Gose has a spot lined-up in about 20 months.

Which brings me to the current miasma that is the Blue Jays outfield. We're a few weeks away from Brett Lawrie coming up and moving Bautista to the outfield. Maybe less. Maybe days! But the Jays need to find playing time for Bautista, Rasmus, Snider (the currently presumed starting outfield, right to left). What to do with Thames? What to do with Davis, especially since he's actually been a contributor since surviving the June Troubles (went nearly a month without a steal, yet ended tonight tied for the league lead in steals). As for Teahen ... well, not many teams need a sixth outfielder slash fourth third-baseman.

Davis stays as the fourth outfielder, playing in left on days when the Jays play a tough left-hander. Which leaves the Thames situation. The guy is batting .300 since he came up for his second tour. And THIS is the guy who will have to be sacrificed to the heat of Las Vegas to delay the Snider/Edwin Encarnacion question? I belabour the obvious when I say I would end the fascination so many have over Snider and make him an ex-Blue Jay. But I'm in a very, very small minority.

But I think another shoe's going to fall to relieve the bursting outfield issue before Bautista returns to the outfield. It says here that the Blue Jays will trade Thames and a decent pitching prospect at the A League level to Houston for Wandy Rodriguez. It's a salary dump for the Astros who get somebody who might be able to start in right or left (depending on whether they trade Hunter Pence) plus a pitcher under their control for the next seven years who might just turn out to be the second coming of Rodriguez. What Toronto gets out of this is moving excess talent for a solid innings eater who resolves the question at the tail end of the starting pitching staff brought on by the designation for movement of Jo-Jo Reyes.  He's got a big ticket for a back-end starter. But it's only for the two or so years the Jays need somebody like him until the first wave of Toronto pitching talent starts to hit the big leagues.

The old saw is that you can never have enough talent, that too much is the best kind of problem to have. But with young kids needing playing time to determine their future on the Blue Jays, the idea of sitting major league outfield talent or sending kids hitting .300 (albeit in one of the nicest order spots in the bigs) back to the minors, is probably NOT in Toronto's best interests. If it isn't Rodriguez, then it should be somebody else. Toronto needs an innings-eating pitcher to get the kids through the last third of the season and possibly to provide a 2012 cushion too.

Until then, as much as I like the trades AA pulled off today, I sure as heck hope he isn't finished.

BRIDGE: When Is A Win Not A Win?

Danny Ioannidis, The Golden Macedonian, pulled me out of retirement for a day of pairs play at the North American Bridge Championships going on this week (and last) in Toronto at the Royal York and the Sheraton Hotels.

And, while the results showed we topped the C Flight in both the opening Open Pairs and the Education Foundation Pairs last Thursday, the fact is Danny and I had our first below average sessions this century. Now, that needs qualification. I've been largely retired through most of this decade and even at that, Danny and I tend only to play major events together. It's been a long time since we are regular partners. He now has a successful partnership going with Steve Young, who he partnered into the finals of the Life Master Pairs this past weekend.

The last time Danny and I even came close to finishing on the wrong side of average was our last session at the World Championships in Montreal nine years ago when a clear top on the last hand of the afternoon got us to a half-point over average, a 50.1 per cent effort. We promptly left town.

So it was a little disconcerting Thursday to turn in a 48 per cent afternoon in the Open Pairs single session event. The score was deserved. We didn't play well, including on a hand I will get to shortly. We scurried off to find the McDonalds down in the bowels under the Train Station (we were playing across the street at the Royal York), and then returned to gawk at the scores. And right there beside our names was a C-1, indicating our position in the flighted events.

Imagine how I felt. Unworthy at any first-place result, for sure. Surprised too. Sure, it was an opening event. But how could so few C Flight players show up? Afterall, that had to be the reason Danny and I placed so high. (For the unfamiliar, in flighted events, they throw all the flights into the same event. You play A's, B's and C's, supposedly in the same ratio. A's can only place in their flight, while the lower flights can place in their own flight AND in any higher flights. I have seen B's win the A AND B Flights. I can't ever remember a C winning the A Flight, but I'm sure it's happened).

While Danny and I grumbled about the afternoon and I had some sharp questions for a couple of plays, Danny gave me a pass. The shoulder was an issue, but the bigger problem was the fact I wasn't sharp. I hadn't faced real opponents at the table since the qualification round for the Canadian National Teams two years ago (which we won by the way). He went off wandering about and I retired with my Kindle to finish off Janet Evanovich's Smokin' Seventeen and to start Bill Carter's The War for Late Night (Both will get reviewed when I do a book review month in August. Here's a hint, if you like any one of the late night chat show hosts, GET CARTER's book).

The evening looked like a repeat of the afternoon. More mistakes on my part and a 46 per cent game at the finish line. But the same result, a C-1. In a field as big as that that played in the ACBL's charity game for the Education Foundation? Well, the same feelings manifested themselves. I hated 'winning' playing soooooo poorly. I did get a chance to see and talk to some old friends, some of whom had conventions named after them that graced my convention card. And, I did see Matt Granovetter and can confirm he's got three feet of beard now. That and that his wife Pam is still lustworthy. She's one of the nicest people I've ever dealt with.

After the game, the whole night continued to turn into a surreal nightmare. When we went to the car lot to retrieve Danny's car, we discovered the attendant had called it a night about ten minutes before we'd emerged from the Royal York to go home and lick our war wounds. We didn't even stop and gawk when we passed the Nikita television crew shooting an episode for the upcoming season in an alley-way between the Royal York and the car lot at the corner of Front and Simcoe (just so you NEVER EVER BLEEPIN' EVER USE THAT BLEEPIN' LOT). Danny talked to one of the crowd control officers, who called in a squad car to see what could be done. Not much, as it turned out. They (the officers) did inspect the booth as closely as one can inspect the booth, but no keys. They called the corp. number on the side of the mini-building and got the same voice mail Danny had gotten when borrowing a phone to make the call (Did I mention that Danny left his wallet AND cell phone in the car, too!).

The officers were all doing their absolute best. But it wasn't good enough. After two and a half hours, CAA finally showed up and broke into Danny's car to retrieve his wallet and keys (after a funny 20 questions to ascertain Danny was Danny).  I tried to hang in, but I eventually got into a taxi and paid 90 bucks to get home to my own bed. I assumed Danny would try for a room at the Intercontinental, but he actually stayed at the lot until the idiot showed up. At this point, I'm not confident I'll see the taxi money. One of the officers told me that this situation was NOT unusual and the matter was a civil one. Well, it wouldn't be as long if Danny exacted physical retribution. But not having my temper, he didn't. If I do see any money, it will be a long time coming. Did I mention the lot was at Front and Simcoe? And that it charges 20 bucks for parking and maybe you'll get your keys back if the operator feels like it? Front and Simcoe. You've been warned.

Okay, okay, a bridge hand for those that have stayed throughout (the hand comes from inputting it into JACK):

 

I held the South hand at all Vulnerable. I assure you both of the bids in front of me were legitimate, leaving me with a bit of a quandary. Either I negative doubled now, or forever held my peace. I 'could' bid a negative two diamonds, but that would lose hearts forever, if even a 5-4 fit existed. Or I could pass, since I was on the lightest edge of legitimacy for that bid. Even though I play the rock (disciplined bidder as adverse the shooter or aggressive bidder that is Danny's job), I opted for the negative double. Needless to say, the four heart call was a surprise. But there was Danny to affirm that he had a good hand with spades. And then the original overcaller thought he had enough cards to call five clubs, without support. I asked at that point if we were all playing with blue-backed cards. Didn't seem possible.

Having the worst hand at the table, I had an easy pass, the auction's first such call. It continued pass before Danny realized he had some diamonds and called five diamonds. Gulp. This was a bid I didn't really want to hear with my dearth of actual, you know, points. THEN, even more shockingly, I had to contend with a six club continuation by the original overcaller.

This started me thinking, an always dangerous thing. What hands could surround the table and produce the bidding I'd seen (not heard, we were all using bidding cards and the only noise had been my poor attempt at table humour).  Go ahead, decide for yourself. I'll be right here when you're finished ruminating.

First, there seemed to be something of a misfit, or conversely a double-fit for the opponents. Either they had long rounded suits each or a bit of support for each other while holding a semi-long suit. Danny had spades and diamonds, eleven minimum and more probably 12. It was barely possible he had 13 cards, split 8-5 between spades and diamonds. But I thought it rather more likely that he had 8-4 or 7-5 with a singleton. Surely, he had a couple of aces in that lot to explaining bidding while red. If so, six diamonds would be safe and the opponents would have to guess the right suit to lead and cash the one ace they did have coming to them. It was possible a heart over and a spade to ruff might set six diamonds, but that was tough defence. On the other hand, this WAS the North American championships. And what if I didn't continue this mad bidding. What if the same wacky distribution meant there was a slam their way too. Barring a Lightner Double, I was planning to lead my spade singleton. I finally broke in favour of the safety of being dummy. I bid six diamonds. Which was followed by three passes.

The play? The opening leader cashed the club ace and then led to his partner's ace for the setting trick. Had they not cashed out, Danny makes (He holds six spades to the AKQ and the AJxx of diamonds with his two singletons. The DUMMY's hearts all go away on spades on the 3-3 break. Or the clubs, depending on what wasn't cashed). Had I not bid and Danny passed, we beat their contract three tricks (three spades and a diamond). Had I not bid and Danny doubled and I had assumed it to be a Lightner Double, THEY would have made the hand on a heart lead, discarding spades and losing diamonds on the dummy's hearts.

And you wonder why I'm headed back into retirement!

HARDWARE: And The Winner Is ...

My search for a tablet/pad has taken more than a year to come to an end. But the end is in sight. Within a month (not THE month), I will finally buy a tablet to add to the computer population here at the Castle of Confusion.

A while back, I basically came to the conclusion that I would await the arrival of the Samsung 10.1 Galaxy Tab come hell or high water. I didn't want an Apple iPad2 for reasons mentioned before--chiefly censorship and the lack of flash support. I did like the curated App store and the gazillion TV shows and magazines that supported the product. Plus, it was light, and I'm too old (alright, too lazy) to lug around something heavier. But as time went by and the Samsung didn't appear (it ships in Canada in August), other contenders had their chance to make me re-think.

Finally, I did a spreadsheet with weighted categories and tried to come up with an objective answer as to which device would be best for me. The contenders were the iPad2, the Samsung Galaxy 10.1, the Acer Iconia 500, the Asus EEE Transformer and the Motorola Xoom.

Weight (Told ya I was lazy): [15] Samsung 13.3, iPad212.3, Asus 10.9, Xoom 10.9, Acer 9.6.

Battery Life: [14] iPad2 14.2, Samsung 12.9, Acer 11.3, Xoom 11.3, Asus 9.2

Curated Store: [14] iPad2 10, Samsung 7, Xoom 7, Acer 6, Asus 5

Price: [13] Samsung 10.6, Acer 10.6, Asus 10.6, Xoom 8.8, iPad2 8.6

Camera: [9] Acer 5, Asus 5, Xoom 5, Samsung 3, iPad21.2

Reading: [8] all got 6

Web Browsing: [8] Samsung 7, Acer 7, Asus 7, iPad2 6, Xoom 5

USB Ports: Acer 7, Xoom 7, Asus 5, Samsung 0, iPad2 0

Storage: [4] iPad2 2.6, Acer 2.6, Asus 2.6, Xoom 2.6, Samsung -2.8

Accessories: [3] iPad2 3, Samsung 1, Acer 1, Asus 1, Xoom 1

Availablility: [3] iPad2 3, Acer 3, Asus 3, Xoom 3, Samsung 1

GPS: [2] Xoom 2, Samsung 1, iPad2 0, Acer 0, Asus 0

NOTES: All were WiFi models as I have no need for 3G/4G network devices. The Samsung model compared to the rest only had 16G of storage, which accounts for the negative score there. Apple exceed the maximum score for battery life because, well it's SPECTACULAR in that regard. My initial enthusiasm dimmed for the Samsung when it went back to the drawing board on the announcement of the iPad2 to produce a bigger, lighter competitor, at the cost of the external ports built in. For me, it was a bad trade.

If you're adding things up, ACER ICONIA 500 finished first with 72, followed by the Motorola Xoom 70, the Asus EEE Transformer 68, the iPad2 66 and finally the Samsung Galaxy 10.1 Tab 57.

Hmmmm, that was NOT what I expected. Although a few things have changed ... the Acer apparently does have GPS and the Xoom's price has dropped a hundred bucks in the States, but not here, and the weight issue has been thrown in disarray because weight DISTRIBUTION is as important, if not more important than dead weight measurements, the fact is I've decided on a different winner.

And the winner is ... The Toshiba Thrive. It's been on sale in the States since late July and will arrive in here domestically in August, almost at the same time as the Galaxy. The 32G version is priced competitively, but I could possibly live with the hundred-buck cheaper 16G version because the Thrive not only has a full panoply of ports, it even has built-in software to use with the devices. It also has a corrugated, easy-to-hold backplate (replaceable with different colours if you are so inclined) AND, this is a first in the product niche, a user-replaceable battery. WIN!

You can read a decent layman's review and a side-by-side comparison with the iPad2 here at the International Business News. As always, for more in-depth, check out www.carrypad.com.

Yes, it's the heaviest of the lot, even tipping the Xoom. But, MOST reviews have mentioned how surprisingly light it did feel (and we are talking a quater-pound difference between the iPad2 and the Thrive). And that, ta-da!, is better weight distribution. You add certain audio and video fine-tuning (which not all reviewers found persuasive) and you can see Toshiba's long history with laptops coming through.  Unfortunately, there's a spate of trialware on the Thrive that will hopefully be disposable. That's one remnant of laptops I wish hadn't been carried over. Still delete or ignore, you don't have to run any of it.

I've also re-thought the app store category. I almost dispensed with it. Despite the gazillion apps Apple has, I have no need for about a bazillion of them. Not interested in social media, tunes, travel apps and most games. What's that leave? Well, I want readers. Readers for books, magazines and comic books. Turns out, Android Honeycomb is okay in those areas. A GPS system for those rare times I venture out beyond my comfort zone is good, but Apple doesn't have an app for that, because the iPad2 doesn't have a GPS. I only have crappy cameras in the house, a standalone 2Mp one and my venerable Sony Clie PDA. The Thrive, like all the rest of the Android tablets at least offer up a 5Mp that instantly becomes the best in the house.

Now, the Thrive is not without issues. The ports have covers and dongly, dangly covers tend to break off or get lost or both. The battery probably is the worst of the lot, but not by much (which is why you buy an extra). Flash is everything that Steve Jobs says it is, resource-stealing and buggy. But it is omnipresent on the Internet, including on the bridge site I like to play on-line at. Flash still gets the Thrive every now and then.

And last week, the Thrive was revealed to have issues with sleep mode. Not a good thing. And a good reason why I don't try to save the six per cent I have as a user of Canadian bucks to buy one down in the States. I'll let Toshiba figure out a fix and have that already done when they start selling here in my back yard.

When I get the Thrive (to be nicknamed Rivet or Ribbit--I'm up to R in my computer naming system), I'll be doing reading that requires a big screen or colour or both (think text books and picture books, magazines, and comics), watching TV through my new Slingbox that makes my TV a broadcaster over my private network, surfing the web and occasionally taking pictures or have it guide me whilst outside the house.

So, really, the winner is ... ME!

LIFE: The Birthday That Was...

... a mixture of the best and the worst.

First, the BEST! An early start with nice words from an editor for my novel. Later, a relatively peaceful and quiet mid-day. Birthday treats in the form of TWO serving containers of lemon tarts (no meringue, naturally). And then I scored pretty good in the gift department, with the O'Neills doing the presentation. Another of the APC Pro 1000 Back-UPS was a welcome sight. And now I have a Slingbox. My TV wherever I want it ... with the Tablet coming in August. Or simply watching Dog Whisperer upstairs instead of traipsing down the stairs to see it on the big TV. And, it's a bit weird to hold a real life book, you know, the kind made out of dead trees, for the first time in a year. And I'm about a third of the way through it at this point. No surprise, it's the (17th) annual mid-year Stephanie Plum book by Janet Evanovich, a birthday tradition at this house. And I even got a Happy Birthday song from Georgia at Comic Warehouse.

But in to each day getting older, like officially older, there must come some doom and gloom. A couple of phantom unreproducible errors at two clients caused some consternation, although I found almost a reason for one of them. Then, I found out one of my clients screwed over a friend. I had to be talked down from firing the client right there and then. I'm still mad about it, but all that's going to happen in the short term is that the client has lost favoured nation status and the client's needs will be met when all else is done for everybody else. My upset eventually let to a fairly bad asthma attack right after the O'Neill's left. I could give you the details, but I'll simply say that it was unpleasant, as most stress-induced asthma attacks are. Lastly, one of the two terabyte drives in one of my network array of storage boxes is giving signs of giving up the ghost. I naturally missed the earliest signs last night and this morning. Soooo, after recovering (and cleaning up) from the asthma attack, it was a little disconcerting to see the big list of files on the backup drive disappear. From any computer connected to it. Patrick talked me through rebooting the NAS box and then rebooting Popeye and shutting down file managers on the other connected computers. After all of that, everything LOOKED normal. But, it's still clicking and clicking is NEVER good for hard drives. So, the backup is being backed up. Hope it lives that long.

Today is Angela's BFF Megan's birthday. I guarantee her's won't be like mine. Or at least I hope not. We are talking about an 'ornery' old guy (as I was described about 28 hours ago) and a 15-year old girl. Enjoy yours Megan.

The Top 25 Shows of the Past 365 Days, Part 3

The ten shows that made my day when they were on the air. Not necessarily the best ten shows. Just the ones I watched and got the most enjoyment out of.  Dontcha just love the tortured syntax of that last line? Without further ado, my Top 10 (in reverse order):

#10 Burn Notice (#6 2009-10, #6 2008-09, #5 2007-08)

It's tough on heist shows, even when disguised as spy romps, to introduce new blood, especially when ending the season on a status-changer. Burn Notice pulled it off, with Colby Bell's Jesse being a fine addition to the little band of do-gooding spooks on the outs with the official spooks. The secret to Burn Notice is Jeffrey Donovan's hilarious deadpan voice-overs while his Michael Weston is doing something noteworthy. That and the great Bruce Campbell and Sharon Gless tossing in bon mots for our age group (middle-aged and closing on senior citizenship, thank you very much). I've never been a big fan of Gabrielle Anwar's Fiona, but a girl's gotta do what a crazy girl's gotta do every now and then. Jesse basically took the place of Michael's brother Nate being around too much in earlier seasons. That said, it was actually good to see Seth Peterson (Nate) towards the end of the year. Amongst interesting developments, The Mentalist getting Red John, Fringe going Pilot 2.0 and Burn Notice becoming Not Burned Notice (in effect) are amongst the most interesting developments to look forward this fall/next summer.

#9 Hustle (British) (#11 2009-10, #8 2008-09)

Adrian Lester is money in the bank for the long-running British long con show. I am surprised when Dean Devlin swans about, claiming he and the Leverage creative team just knew it was time for a new caper show, but the fact is there were three seasons in the bank over in Jolly Olde England before Leverage hit the tiny screen. The difference between the smooth as silk Mickey "Bricks" Stone (Lester) on Hustle and Leverage's liquor-besotted Nate (Tim Hutton) is the difference between old school and new school. Mickey does more with a raised eye brow than most because Lester's the best at doing that. Robert Vaughn and Robert Glenister are as steady as a rock, to keep the analogy going. And the addition of Kelly Adams last year continues to pay off. I'm not a fan of Matt Di Angelo's hothead Sean, who's a pale imitation of the Danny Blue character played by Marc Warren in the first few season's. But the episode where Sean and Adams' Emma met, and conned, their father was pretty good. Best of the six episodes (have I mentioned how much I like smaller, high quality series yet in this blog?) however, was Mickey losing his mojo, only to have barman Eddie (Rob Jarvis) get a week in the good luck lane.

#8 Chuck (#8 2009-10, #3 2008-09, #3 2007-08)

I promised fealty to Yvonne Strahovski for life and I'm not backing down from that. Especially given some of the outfits the producers of Chuck got her into this year. But the energy of the show took a dip. Not enough of one to drop the show out of the top 10. And next year's final season is fully guaranteed to be back here. But chock that up almost completely to my affection for Strahovski and the various wacky denizens of the Buy-More store. Too many people know too many secrets for my liking. Half the charm of the early seasons of Chuck was trying hard to avoid letting everybody in on what's going on. It brought back fond memories of the days when Superman was bedeviled on occasions by Red Kryptonite--the old kind, not the rage-inducing kind from the TV show. Juking and jiving to keep secrets was what made this show so good, even my brother Rick liked it. And if you think I'm picky, THAT's a whole 'nother level to get to. It doesn't help that I really, really don't like Chuck's mom, Linda Hamilton. But enough kvetching. Fact is, Jeffster's Vik Sahay and Scott Krinsky did good with their time on screen and Adam Baldwin's Col. John Casey is almost always fun. Zach Levi, the title star, wasn't bad. It's just he isn't the callow computer nerd turned reluctant spy anymore. Some say that's progress. For me, at best it means treading water.

#7 Secret Diary of a Call Girl (British)
A supporting character took this sex-comedy from something worth catching and being occasionally titillated about, to a top ten ranking in this (probably) final season. In fact, I thought last year's season three of Secret Diary of a Call Girl was it and was surprised when a fourth series cropped up. Ah, happy surprises! Gemma  Chan's Charlotte took over the show as she took over 'the business' while Billie Piper's Belle was off in America expanding her business interests with a movie and trying to figure out how to handle the delicate question of Ben, the boyfriend, played with feckless determination by Iddo Goldberg. All the while, Charlotte is hilariously running 'the business' like she owns it. In fact, you get the idea she has no idea she doesn't own it. Throw in 'The Next Generation' in the form of Lily James' Poppy and you get a tour de farce.

#6 Endgame (Canadian)

Okay, Endgame has a bit of an advantage. It's homegrown and features a detective that is so agoraphobic, he doesn't leave his hotel suite, which I identify with more than I should. Think Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe or Jeffery Deaver's Lincoln Rhyme. But without the physical excuses not to leave the dwelling. Shawn Doyle's Arkady Balagan is a former World Chess Champion and a bit of a jerk. Like House-level jerk. His world comes apart one day when he witnesses his fiance's death, which leads to his paralyzing agoraphobia. Forced by bills, Balagan decides to make his mark as a puzzle-solver, a detective who doesn't detect, as much as deduce. And the result is well worth watching. The Huxley hotel staff make great de facto assistants and Balagan isn't above using them. Sam (Torry Combs) is the almost Archie Goodwin (you'll have to read Stout to understand) and the gaggle of interesting girls include Katherine Isabele, Melanie Papalia and the criminally underused Lisa Raye. Colin Lawrence plays an exasperated Lt. Evans, the needed cop connection. Like the #7 pick just above, this is not an on-going series. But it's worth catching on Showtime in re-runs, when and if, if you know what  I mean.

#5 Episodes

Rude and crude and oh so funny. This seven-episode Showtime series better be coming back. It’s not the first show that was about the making of a TV show. But Episodes matches the best of its predecessors thanks in large part to the self-mocking performance as himself by Matt LeBlanc. Having Green Wing vets Tamsin Greig and Stephen Mangan play writers of an award-winning BBC show brought to America to duplicate their success State-side was brilliant (as the British say). It, of course, turned into a schmozzle, with LeBlanc forced upon them by dough-headed TV exec Merc Lapidus, played with cluelessness by John Pankow. It all goes predictably wrong, but there are some sharp turns by Kathleen Rose Perkins as a particularly self-absorbed studio exec and Mircea Monroe as Morning Randolph, an actress of indeterminate age, brought on to be LeBlanc’s love interest in the re-make. Morning is suspected of having some ‘work’ done and, despite reputedly having played William Shatner’s wife in a pilot shot in the eighties, is a dead ringer for a young Melany Griffith. Really young Melanie Griffith. The language is filthy, but there is no nudity, an interesting mix. Lots of sex though, if that helps.

#4 Republic of Doyle (Canadian) (#3 2009-10)

I'm not even going to pretend Republic of Doyle's setting in St. John's, Newfoundland doesn't have a part of play in my love of this series. Just hearing Krystin Pellerin's Sgt. Leslie Bennett purr out something or other is music to my hears. And I really do have a crush on the good seargeant as she's easy on the eyes too. But that aside, the Doyle clan's just an entertaining look at what a family detective business might be like. In fact, it's more or less, the Newfy equivalent of the Spellmans of Lisa Lutz's literary fame. And for me, that's pretty high praise.  It took the arrival of slimy and slick new Mayor Clarke (Rick Roberts) to finally get Jake Doyle (series star and creator Allan Hawco) to figure out Leslie's the one. And a whole series to bring Leslie back to the side of good. In the mean-time, Malachy and Rose (Sean McGinley and Lynda Boyd) finally got around the itch played by Rose's ex-husband (Nicholas Campbell) to make the living arrangements official. And even dunderhead Des (Mark O'Brien) made some headway with the headstrong Katherine, the youngest of the Doyles. Katherine aka Tinny, had her own fine moment of the show on the marijuana-growing episode.

#3 White Collar

The premise isn't unique. Heck, even Devlin admitted his show was a modern-day updating of It Takes A Thief. But the true descendant of that show isn't Leverage. It's White Collar. Take a thief out of jail and give him a good guy handler and let other felonious finks fear the result. Happily, the second season of White Collar seems to have shaken all the bugs out of that first run and become appointment TV. Matt Bomer has the Robert Wagner role as con-man turned reluctant partner Neil Caffrey. Tim Dekay has the Malachi Throne role as FBI Agent Burke, Neil's handler. I've professed love in the past for both Marsha Thomason and Natalie Morales, who were the first season eye candy. But I'm a REALLY big fan of Hilarie Burton who's appearance as Sara certainly entertained. She has regular status for the season current underway. (WIN!) And here's a surprise, I think Tiffani Thiessen does a good job here as long-suffering Burke's wife. But, and this is a good but, the show really seems to shine when weaselly Mozzie shows up. There's just something entertaining about Willie Garson and he imbues Mozzie with more personality than a background player should have. He doesn't exactly take over the whole show (hello Fonzie), but it's close. Any show with Mozzie at it's heart seems to work. Sure, it's a caper show with the over-arching "Kate's Death" issue to deal with. But there wasn't a weak episode in the second season, ergo, a third ranking for the year.

#2 Daily Show with John Stewart

I'm sorry Andrew. My pal Andrew has been inveigling me for years to watch The Daily Show so that we can yak about whatever latest comedic brilliance John Stewart et al came up with. I was a Jay Leno man. The almost midnight hour was for watching Leno's monologue. End of most discussions as it takes actually viewing to get across most of the gags you see on The Daily Show. There are puns aplenty on segment headlines and hilarious visuals to go with the comedy and smart social commentary Stewart provides. And Stewart might be the best interviewer around. I discovered this when I finally took a vacation from watching (well, recording and watching later) Leno. And I haven't gone back. I'm a convert. Andrew was right all along. The Daily Show is THE current events comedy show, even eclipsing Bill Maher's Real Time. Funny how that show only comes out on Fridays, the one night of the week Stewart takes off. Could it be ... possibly ... nah, it couldn't be. But when WAS the last time you saw Stewart and Maher in the same place. Ever?  At any rate, despite adding the bafflingly popular Olivia Munn as a reporter, the crew at The Daily Show seems forever capable of raising to meet the mettle of the host. Wyatt Cenac, Aasif Mandvi and John Oliver stand out amongst the correspondents. A little Jason Jones and Samantha Bee goes a loooooong way. Best of all, Lewis Black stops by every now and then for a rant. And that's usually a pretty good way to end the night.

#1 The Good Wife (#2 2009-10)

It got better. Last season's runner-up stands atop the pile of DVD's as this year's best show on TV. And while I'm willing to admit my tastes are eclectic, the fact is, a lot of people agree with me. It might actually BE the best show on television. A little defrosting of the severe-looking Alicia Florrick, as embodied by Julianna Margulies, was more than enough to boost this show. That, and Alan Cumming's fabulous portrayal of a would-be power broker who's nothing more than a girl-besotted horndog. Alicia continued to be torn between duty to husband Peter (always great Chris Noth) and her boss/old college friend Will (Josh Charles). Things in that triangle did move around this year as it developed another side, thanks to ever-mysterious Kalinda, the Emmy-winning role Archie Punjabi owns. The 'is she/isn't she,' 'did she/did she not' mystery continued for Kalinda who never appears at any point to belong to completely one side or the other. It might be TV's best character. Matt Czuchry's smarmy Cary went from Alicia partner-wannabe and in-house opponent to a pretty good in-court opponent. And all the while, Christine Baranski was doing everything with whatever limited time she had as Diane, the head lioness of the law firm until Alicia's arrival. Oh, she's still one of the managing partners. But she no longer operates under the delusion that the firm is just a partnership between her and Will anymore. The second season of The Good Wife might, just might, be as good as the one series of State Of Play. 'Nuff said.

Here's a list of my Top 25 Shows of 2010-2011:

The Top 25 Shows of the Past 365 Days, Part 2

A day to go before the day before my birthday and the official end of the 2010-2011 TV viewing season. Continuing from yesterday’s countdown with the 20-11 ranked shows in giving me entertainment over the last year.

#20 The Mentalist (#15 2009-2010)

I wanted to award this show a higher honour. Afterall, shouldn’t there be something for nailing Red John? Assuming Bradley Whitford’s Red John was RED JOHN. If you know what I mean. I sure hope so. The fact is, we don’t know for sure and that’s the ‘Sylar’ problem with this show. Sylar’s return in Heroes’ second season was the show’s death knell. Nothing against Zach Quinto, but he stayed waaaaaay beyond his best before date. We’ve had three season of Red John being omnipotent in The Mentalist and having tentacles in impossible to reach places. It got a little pedantic. Still, Simon Baker is amusing at worst and enlightening at best. The supporting players never step out of place and into the spotlight for TOO long. We’ll see what Patrick Jane, sans motivation, can do next season.

#19 Lie to Me (#24 2009-2010)

We’re going to miss Lie to Me, now that it’s gone. Tim Roth played Dr. Cal Lightman fairly unlikeable for most of the time. But the human lie-detecting machine Lightman was always worthy of respect. The unfortunate fact was that the premise seemed perennially on the verge of cancellation and the move of Lightman into the field more often, acting like a James Bond wannabe, was more a failure than a success. But the subject was always fascinating at its core and I’m a big Kelli Williams fan. Plus, Hayley McFarland was the second-best TV kid.  I just wish they’d stuck to HQ, brought the cases inside and tried to survive there, rather than out and about.

#18 New Tricks (British) (#5 2009-10, #7 2006-07)

I keep fearing the current season is the last for New Tricks and I keep being wrong. Hurrah for being wrong time and time again.  The cold case squad of geezers continues to amaze me with their ability to look into the past fourty years and find something to bring relevance to their retirement years. Alun Armstrong continues to be the heart of the show as barmy Brian Lane, who makes everyone else tick. That’s not to discount the efforts of Dennis Waterman and James Bolam. Of course, any show with Amanda Redman is going to be worth watching. It still has the best theme song going with Waterman warbling the title tune, It's All Right. Best of all, season eight is airing as we speak (read?).

#17 Monroe (British)

James Nesbitt is merely brilliant. He was the heart of the second or third best show over the last decade (Jekyll, jousting with Life on Mars behind State of Play). And here, he goes after House territory. He plays a neurosurgeon with a sarcastic wit and a crumbling personal life to pair with his professional successes and excesses. The secret with this series, as with all things British, is the limited nature of only having to write six brilliant episodes rather than the American-style 22. Nesbitt and company accomplish this and leaves me hoping we will eventually see more of the quite broken Dr. Monroe.

#16 Warehouse 13

I’m not a Saul Rubinek fan. No reason not to like the fellow Canuck. He just has a habit of playing characters who rub me the wrong way. So, I penalized Warehouse 13 for him in it’s debut season. On the other hand, the lead duo of Eddie McClintock and Joanne Kelly playing Pete and Myka are real drawing points. Add Allison Scagliotti’s Claudia this year and I had to admit, this replaced Eureka as my favourite SyFy show.  Best Christmas show of any series this year. Highly enjoyable.

#15 Candy Cabs (British)

I think Candy Cabs was the shortest series on the list this year. Three episodes. In some ways, this replaced Satisfaction as ‘Girls in Business’ show on the list. Not sex-workers this time out. Just a bunch of women looking to create a female-only cab company.  Now, surprise, surprise, discrimination does have some downsides as the ladies all find. Best intentions and all lead to unusual situations. Really loved the All English Ladies Final that capped the season. And the three-episode length was just perfect, despite a last scene to build another year on. Worth looking for.

#14 Real Time with Bill Maher (#17 2009-10, #12 2008-09, #8 2007-08, #4 2006-07)

Ending three years of decline in my ratings, Real Time gets an uptick in the mid-term elections season. And the reason could be summed up with his reading of Congressmen Anthony Weiner’s emails together with Glee star Jane Lynch. You don’t have to write the comedy. Reality will do it for you. Still, Maher seemed genuinely engaged in this election year, recovering from the prior election-less year. Americans need to listen to this show more often. Maher lets conservatives come on and skewer themselves, although not to the same degree as Colbert or Stewart. The sad fact is, the same happens to the gutless Democrats who come with little else than slogans themselves. Maher’s ripping of former regular Politically Incorrect guest Christine O’Donnell remained fresh throughout the countdown to her election loss.

#13 Community

More or less paired with 30 Rock in the public consciousness, which almost made the list the last two years, Community turned it up a notch in its sophomore year. The humour was more biting and the Britta-Jeff version of Chuck and Diane was largely thrown aside to do a whole series of Mad Magazine-like media send-ups. Alison Brie’s Annie matured immensely and there seemed to be a stand on (Chevy Chase) Pierce’s tomfoolery. Which all led to Paintball II, a brilliant two-parter to finish off the season. While 30 Rock gets the headlines (albeit, of the idiotic kind thanks to Tracy ‘Meathead’ Morgan), Community was the funnier of the two shows this year. And while the gang eventually has to break up (Career junior college attendees are either janitors or teachers), I like the chances of Community going forward.

#12 Not Going Out (British)

I was a little surprised to see Not Going Out hasn’t ever made the list. Neither has Lee Mack’s other starring vehicle, the faux game show Would I Lie To You? Both take advantage of Mack’s comic persona as a under-achieving layabout. In Not Going Out, Lee Mack’s Lee (they do the Tim Allen thing over there, too), actually got married to Sally Bretton’s Lucy, although it was strictly a fantasy piece. Hilarious though. There did seem to be some sensible defrosting of the Lee-Lucy relations, even after Lee let a soft porn production company take over the apartment for a day. Lucy’s brother Tim, aka Lee’s best pal, continued to be a font of comedy thanks to Tim Vine. (And yes, Tim Vine played Tim. Did I mention Tim Allen yet?). Out was Miranda Hart’s Barbara the Cleaning Lady, although that led to more of the dipso antics of Katy Wix’s Daisy. Oh well. (Notice, the ladies were up to using fictional first names). At any rate, Lee Mack is funny. Not Billy Connelly funny. But funny enough.

#11 The Big Bang Theory (#14 2009-10, #1 2008-09, #9 tie 2007-08)

I can hear Jan Brady yelling Priya, Priya, Priya. The girlfriend everybody but Leonard seemed to hate, was a major not-good point this year. Ergo, a slide out of the top 10 for The Big Bang Theory. It was accompanied by an increasing role for dead-pan Amy Farrah-Fowler, as played by Mayim Bialik. A lot of people liked her. For me, I could pair her with Aarti Mann’s Priya and make both disappear without a tear or even a second thought. I liked Johnny Galecki’s Leonard pairing with Kaley Cuoco’s Penny. Still do. And yes, the ick factor of Penny and somebody else (Raj) is something I do NOT want to consider. But it least it wasn’t the rumoured Penny-Sheldon hook-up. And as funny as Jim Parsons is, there’s no recovery from that jump the shark moment. It’s going to be hard to navigate around the Penny-Raj pairing back to normalcy as it is. One highlight: the further humanizing of Simon Helberg’s Wolowitz thanks to the charm of Bernadette, played by Melissa Rauch.

Tomorrow’s Top 10 day and the last day of my 55th year on this planet. Let’s make it a good one.