Category Archives: Night Writer

More than sports … as opposed to “more-on” sports

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One of my favorite on-line sports features is the Tuesday Morning Quarterback (TMQ) on ESPN.com I’ve linked the author, Gregg Easterbrook before because he has a creative and insightful take on sportswriting often makes me say, “Yeah, why is that?” (Today’s main feature on why the NFL should abolish Injured Reserve and the 53-man limited roster is breathtaking.) What I really like, however, is his tangential observations on our culture, and today’s (always) lengthy entree had several zingers.

Here’s his take on the dueling attack ads in Virginia senate race:

REPUBLICAN ATTACK AD
Soft, lilting female voice. Because voters worry that Republicans are too right-wing, the voice-over in Republican attack ads is always a sweet, reasonable-sounding woman.

“Did you know that Jim Webb reads novels? That he thinks about sex? Jim Webb has never denied thinking about sex! Jim Webb has been known to receive money. The exact amount of money he has received has never been disclosed! Many drug dealers drive their cars on highways, and Jim Webb drives his car on highways. So what’s the difference between Jim Webb and a drug dealer? While serving in the Vietnam War, Webb frequently used profanity, and is rumored to have thought about sex. When five brave firefighters died trying to stop the California wildfire, Jim Webb did nothing to rescue them — nothing! As a Democrat, Jim Webb advocates mandatory homosexuality, tax-funded Cadillacs for welfare recipients, the abolition of religion, surrendering our country to the United Nations and letting Saddam Hussein out of jail on a technicality. If Jim Webb is elected, Osama bin Laden will be placed in control of the United States military. Why won’t Jim Webb release the details of his thoughts?”

DEMOCRATIC ATTACK AD
Booming, macho voice. Because voters worry that Democrats are too squishy, the voice-over in Democratic attack ads always sounds like a steroid-swilling bodybuilder.

“Maybe George Allen is no longer a Satan-worshipper, but many Satan-worshippers are skilled at hiding their true allegiance. The postman, the school principal — can you be sure they are not Satan worshippers? Can you be sure George Allen is not? As a Republican, George Allen favors mandatory pregnancy, nuclear war against Canada, and the resumption of the Atlantic slave trade. George Allen never has explained adequately where he was on May 23, 1983. Investigators have found many documents related to George Allen. George Allen has been observed leaving meetings. Some of these meetings occurred in private! If George Allen is re-elected, major oil companies will charge for gasoline. George Allen has never denied that George W. Bush is President of the United States. George Allen, George Bush. Powerful insiders don’t want you to know that both have the same first name!”

Speaking of elections, here’s this (I think) satirical note:

Washington, D.C. — Nov. 7: Former president Jimmy Carter leads a team of international observers that will monitor elections in the United States today. Observers from Nicaragua, Guatemala, North Korea, Mexico, Congo, Nigeria, Pakistan and the West Bank will watch polling places for signs of fraud or suppression of the vote. In recent years, Carter has led many international teams to monitor elections in fledgling democracies plagued by voting scandals. This is Carter’s first election-monitoring mission to the United States itself. International observers wearing blue armbands will be stationed at polling places across Florida, Ohio, Illinois and Nevada. “We hope to help the American people vote freely and see their votes counted,” Nicaraguan team member Daniel Ortega told the Associated Press. Observation team member Olusegun Obasanjo of Nigeria said, “Once America learns to hold elections without irregularities, further intervention by the international community should no longer be necessary.”

He also had an interesting proposal on how to clean up the abuse of the public trough in Washington, D.C. that comes from lobbying and earmarking. Somehow his idea sounds kind of un-American, but I like it:

Related point: Jodi Rudoren and Aron Philhofer of the New York Times recently reported that 1,421 state and local governments have hired Washington lobbyists, who in 2004 spent $110 million on lobbying in order get more than $60 billion designated as “earmarks,” or special budget favors to specific places or programs. That is to say, $110 million in state and local tax money was expended to divert $60 billion in federal tax money — most of which came from people who live in states and cities, state and local taxpayers being the sources of most federal taxes. To get these favors, state and local governments hire as lobbyists former members of Congress or former congressional staffers, who then use their insider status to fleece the taxpayer. This is a classic “sliver strategy” — Congress hands out $60 billion in favors so that cronies of members of Congress can rake in $110 million in lobbying fees. Because what goes directly into the cronies’ pockets is only a small sliver of the overall waste, the sliver goes unnoted. I bet there is bipartisan consensus that Republicans and Democrats alike both don’t want this investigated, either!

Wouldn’t taxpayers come out way ahead if the salaries of members of Congress were raised to, say, $1 million per year, but in return all forms of outside income were banned for senators and representatives while retired members were permanently banned from lobbying? Raising congressional salaries to $1 million per year would cost the federal taxpayer $535 million — a bargain compared to $60 billion in earmarks and other wasteful spending that Congress approves for reasons of cronyism.

Finally, after seeing this item in TMQ, I’m predicting a surge in new email spam offers for the following “enhancement”:

Dear, the Garage Enhancement Truck Is Here: Recently TMQ included an item about fancy garage appliances as the new frontier in suburban acquisitiveness. How soon, I asked, until garage renovation strikes? Answer: not long! Many readers, including Jayne Mulholland of Charleston, S.C., alerted me to this new company, Premiere Garage, which calls itself “The Leader in Garage Enhancement.” Let’s hope that’s natural garage enhancement! Check the company’s photos, which showcase spotless garages unlike any that have ever existed in human history. These garages remind you of car ads that feature a guy in a convertible roaring down the open road with not one single other vehicle anywhere for miles around. The Premiere Garage FAQs page has this exchange:

“Q. My garage is full of stuff. What do we do with it while the floor is being coated?”

“A. It is the homeowners’ responsibility to remove all possessions from the garage.”

This may look like I’ve lifted his whole column, but it’s probably only about 25% of his weekly exposition. Read the whole thing to find out more about smart is it, really, to have the world’s largest container ship (191,000 tons, more than twice that of a Nimitz-class supercarrier) crewed and controlled by just 19 people, plus sections entitled “News from the Edge of the Solar System” and “News from the Edge of the Universe”, plus a heaping-helping of inside-football tactics and the ever-popular “NFL Cheerleader of the Week” offering.

Pants for the Victory Dance

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I have a new favorite tv commercial. It’s for Haggar slacks with the flexible waistband. Granted, that’s not a new concept, but the way the pants were advertised yesterday is new. The commercial starts out looking like a home improvement show with a couple of average-looking guys my age welcoming us back to the show and today’s project: How to get rid of your daughter’s worthless boyfriend (some young slob with a game-controller in his hand is shown sprawled across Dad’s couch).

Of course, the guy-mantra I grew up with is “the right tool for the right job” and in the case of this commercial that means you’re going to want the Haggar slacks with the (whatever-they-call-it) waistband, that stretches and flexes with you even if you’re moving vigorously, as one of the guys demonstrates by grabbing the slob and propelling him through a large open window, saying that the flexible waistband comes in handy “when you gotta grab a squirmy one.”

While the commercial is funny, the thing that really caught my attention is that Haggar is embracing its image as being “older-guy” pants. This is a daring strategy. Even though there are a lot more older guys around now than there are young skinny-waisted whippersnappers, it doesn’t necessarily mean that we embrace the physical changes in our lives, especially being part of the generation that has been sold youth for the the past 30 years. That’s why you don’t see a lot of prime-time commercials selling ear and nose-hair trimmers, and why ads for Viagra and Cialis feature robust, virile-looking men with a touch of gray throwing footballs or, I don’t know, gutting a grizzly bear or something and not some balding, paunchy guy struggling to twist the cap off the bottle with his Cheetos-stained and arthritic fingers.

Through humor and attitude I think I’m coming to grips with my faithful but aging and sometimes gimpy body, and it’s kind of fun to see Haggar doing the same and talking right at me instead of down to me or telling me I can still make people think I’m young by wearing the right kind of stylish pants. I don’t remember the last time I had any Haggar pants — it might have been a pair my mom bought me when I was in high school. Before this commercial I wouldn’t have thought of Haggar when it was time to buy pants, but now I think I might buy some. Better yet:

Note to the Mall Diva: since you’re concerned about my pants (see post below), you might want to get me a couple of pair of these for Christmas. Darker colors, please, because the blood stains don’t show up as much.

Do you think Aesop might be Over Their Heads?

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The family watched Over the Hedge the other night. It was amusing enough, but I couldn’t help but notice a certain fable-like quality to the story. I wouldn’t exactly put this movie into the Fundamentals in Film series, I thought I’d share my observations.

If you haven’t seen the movie, the latest animated film from the people who brought us Shrek, it’s the story of a rather amoral raccoon, RJ (voice of Bruce Willis) who’s snack-thieving ways get him in big trouble with a large and implacable bear when he accidentally causes the bear’s food stash to be destroyed. To save himself, RJ must replace everything by a (literal) deadline. While on his quest he comes across a collection of naive woodland animals gently led by a turtle named Vern (Gary Shandling).

Vern and his friends have just awoken from their winter hibernation to find that their forest home has been encircled by a suburban housing development. Initially confused and terrified, they don’t know what to do. RJ, well-acquainted with the appetites and excesses of humans and seeing a way to con the other animals into helping him with his mission, convinces them that the easy life is at hand and all the delicious food they could ever want is literally on their doorstep.

Vern is slow but sensible and doesn’t trust RJ or the new life he promises, even though RJ initially delivers and the other animals are thrilled with the potato chips, cookies and pizza scraps they’ve tasted (“It tastes good, so it must be good for you!”). Vern wants to keep to their old ways and food, but he is ignored and even becomes the butt (literally) of the movie’s humor. The rest of the animals are soon enthusiastically racing through the neighborhood gathering food and following RJ’s directions without knowing his real purpose. Of course, disaster ultimately looms and is narrowly averted but not without everyone learning what is Really Important, blah-bitty blah blah.

I doubt that what I got out of this is what Hollywood intended, but I saw RJ as an allegory of liberal leaders eager to sway the people with goodies, tickling their ears with bright words and stuffing the public’s face with all manner of tantalizing junk to get them to vote with their stomachs while the liberals pursue their unadvertised, self-serving agenda. Vern, on the other hand, is the conservative advocating for the traditional, healthy ways of doing things, even if it’s more work and not as tasty. Just to make the allegory even more realistic, at one point Vern even temporarily gives in and goes along with RJ’s plan, thinking that if so many of the others want it it must be okay. In the end, tradition triumphs and RJ is converted.

Again, that’s probably not exactly the message the movie was trying to send (and someone with a different political view from me might be able to construct his or her own opposite allegory). Overall, though it is a funny and entertaining film that humorously skewers a lot of human foibles by presenting them from the animal’s viewpoint. It’s a little preachy, but well-leavened with physical humor and sight gags and clever references to everything from A Streetcar Named Desire to Pepe LePew. It also steals (RJ might say “borrows”) heavily from the earlier but lesser-known animated film, Hoodwinked (which I also recommend). Rent the movie and I’m sure you and your kids will enjoy it — and if you present it in the right way, they might even learn something, too!

Ve haf vays….

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Stones Cry Out excerpted a story last week about German police forcibly delivering homeschooled children to the local state schools.

A Nazi-era law requiring all children to attend public school, to avoid “the emergence of parallel societies based on separate philosophical convictions” that could be taught by parents at home, apparently is triggering a Nazi-like response from police.

The word comes from Netzwerk Bildungsfreiheit, or Network for Freedom in Education, which confirmed that children in a family in Bissingen, in the state of Baden-Wuerttemberg, have been forcibly hauled to a public school.

“On Friday 20 October 2006 at around 7:30 a.m. the children of a home educating family … were brought under duress to school by police,” the organization, which describes itself as politically and religiously neutral, confirmed.

A separate weblog in the United States noted the same tragedy.

Homeschoolblogger.com noted that the “three children were picked up by the police and escorted to school in Baden-Wurttemberg, with the ‘promise’ that it would happen again this week.”

The Network for Freedom in Education, through spokesman Joerg Grosseluemern, said the Remeike family has been “home educating their children since the start of the school year, something which is legal in practically the whole of the (European Union).”

It kind of makes you wonder about a government that’s afraid of what parents might teach their children…or that believes it is the rightful parent of the nation. Perhaps they’ve read their William Ross Wallace and know that “the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world,” and they find that discomforting. I’m also amazed that this “Nazi-era” law is still on the books in Germany; it is all für der Kinder, no doubt.

This all reminds me of how the roots of the U.S. education system go deep into the Prussian model of the early 20th century (believe me, we got more than just “kindergarten” from this influence). I had started digging into this topic for a post a long time ago and got sidetracked; it might be time to resurrect this effort. For now, at least, we can appreciate that our money is the only thing the state forcibly takes from our homes and sends to public school. Vote Tuesday!

They once let this guy have access to automatic weapons?

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So many people have been writing about John Kerry’s “botched joke” and butchered apology that I won’t elaborate on what he said, or what he later tried to make us think he said. For the record:

You know, education, if you make the most of it, if you study hard and do your homework, and make an effort to be smart, uh, you can do well. If you don’t, you get stuck in Iraq.

Seems like a pretty straight-forward and direct statement, with no mention of President Bush, who he was supposedly really trying to insult. It may be that I’m just not on his mental wavelength, or sophisticated enough to understand his humor.

What I find interesting about his flatulent glibness is that many people enlist in the military so they can get the money for college that the military provides. College is a very expensive proposition and financial hurdles, more than intelligence and diligence, can be the most daunting barrier for a great many. While many aspire to achieve this education, there are relatively few who can take college admission for granted, as if it were a birthright. For the soldiers who take advantage of the tuition benefits, the discipline and appreciation for the experience no doubt serves them well. I believe that employers, too, look favorably upon the aptitude, confidence and intelligence of ex-soldiers, whether they went on to college or not.

John Kerry’s has shot himself in the foot so many times it is amazing that he can still get both of them into his mouth.

What in the Samhain is going on around here?

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It’s “All Hallow’s Eve”, or Halloween, and I’m manning the door with treats and hot cider. Since 2001 I’ve set up a fire pit in my front yard and served hot cider along with the treats to warm the kids and their parents that come by. Tonight however it’s cold and very windy, and while the idea of a fire sounds good in concept I know that in practice it would be colder than a witch’s mittens.

This year then I’ve set up in the house, but I’m still offering hot cider, which has been enthusiastically received for the most part. A couple of people have looked at me like I was some kind of weirdo for offering a hot drink, as if it might be spiked or something. Well, I guess if you have a holiday that revels in the scary and even demonic then people are right to be a little paranoid.

We didn’t have a lot to do with Halloween when our girls were little because of the occultic overtones, especially since these have seemed, to my eye, to be even more pronounced in later years. More recently however I’ve come to the conclusion that what is really being celebrated is the profit motive as Halloween has become one of the most lucrative merchandising opportunities in our culture. I’m not sure how it ranks in comparison to another emerging holiday — Super Bowl Sunday — but I know they sell more Halloween paraphernalia than they do for Thanksgiving. And at that some part of me takes a certain satisfaction in knowing that those who take the Samhain traditions and meanings seriously can now be just as offended at the commercialization of their holiday as I may be during Christmas.

For the most part, then, I’m not as concerned that people are being lured to the dark side by Trick or Treat. At least, I’m sure it doesn’t happen any more often than somebody becomes a Christian by watching “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” I know there is real darkness out there, however, even more chilling than tonight’s wind and much more destructive. I also know darkness hates the light, so I’m not going to lock the doors and turn the outside lights off while hiding in my basement tending my own little beacon. No, the darkness likes to be where the people are, and that’s where I need to be as well. I am not willing to cede an inch of ground.

So, while the girls are at Hallelujah Night at church I’ve spent the last few years stoking the fire and heating the cider and smiling at and making eye contact with each visitor, complimenting their costumes, and dispensing goodies with a liberal hand — and no one leaves without hearing a heartfelt, “God bless you.”

Update:

Hey, I even got a couple of “God bless you’s” tonight in return! A couple of people have even said they miss the fire and hope I’ll have it back next year.

We haven’t had much traffic for 30 minutes or so, and it’s been a pretty slow evening. I didn’t think a little thing like the weather could slow kids down from the annual candy crawl, but maybe people really are getting smarter. I think I can turn off the porch lights and settle down to some real work on the laptop. I know, of course, that just as soon as I get everything just so, the doorbell will ring (lights on or not).

A day in our life, the life in our day

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What a great day we had yesterday. We didn’t start with the usual smush of mother and daughters on the Big Comfy Chair for breakfast and the comics since the Mall Diva had to leave for church early to rehearse with the band, but I did get the joy of opening my eyes to the smells of fresh bread and hot coffee. That, plus being fortified with an extra hour of sleep after “falling back” to Standard Time was a good head start on a lovely autumn day.

We got ourselves organized and off to church (sans Bonita, who was spending the day with her friends and youth group) to hear the Reverend Mother preach for the first time since being ordained late last year (ministry is so much more than preaching and teaching). With her at the lectern, the Mall Diva singing during Praise & Worship, Tiger Lilly working the slides with the song lyrics and me ushering it might seem as if the church couldn’t survive without us, when in actuality just the opposite is true. Afterwards we went over to our friends’ house for brunch where we were gloriously overserved with pumpkin pancakes hot off the griddle with spiced butter and real maple syrup, sausage and egg casserole, croissants, lox and bagels and more coffee in cups as big as our heads. “Uncle” Ben accompanied us, learning that membership does have its privileges (sorry, inside joke), and it was tremendous fun to sit around the table afterwards as the conversation seamlessly wove between the Bible and Monty Python (yes, it can be done).

When we at last took our leave it was then time to head over to St. Paul to hear Ben’s sister play in a wind ensemble. It was a delightful and stirring musical performance that caused me to remember my own school days of playing tenor saxophone in school bands and the satisfaction, and even the thrill, of being part of a large group of people all playing in perfect rhythm and synchronization (well, maybe less than perfect in my case). The best part, however, was meeting Ben’s parents for the first time — and *blush* then hearing how much they had been looking forward to meeting us (and how much they already knew about us). After Marjorie and I were introduced to Ben’s dad, Chris, I started to introduce my daughters but there was no need. Chris turned immediately to the red head and enthusiastically said, “You must be Tiger Lilly!” Then, turning to my other daughter, “And the Mall Diva, of course — and are those wrist sweaters you’re wearing?” I’m used to being addressed in blogging circles by my blog-handle, but it is kind of a strange sensation to hear your children recognized by their aliases, especially by non-bloggers. Maybe it’s just one of those little things that sneak up on parents from time to time to tell you that your children are on about the business of making their way.

Events up to this point would have made for a full and memorable day, but there was still more to come. After the concert and a brief visit with Ben’s folks it was time to head over to Minneapolis for a costume party with Surly and Sweeter Half. Since the Reverend Mother is on-call as a police chaplain this week, that became her “costume” (if she received a call it might be less than effective to arrive on the scene in her official capacity but wearing a fright wig or bunny ears.) The Mall Diva easily reprised her birthday gown and tiara into “Ice Princess” regalia, and Tiger Lilly enthusiastically donned pirate garb with a plastic sword being a satisfactory, temporary trade-off for her new nunchaku which otherwise seldom leave her hands of late (believe me, it pays to keep your eyes open when walking around my house). I went as the unoriginal guy-too-busy-to-create-a-costume, but this was remedied upon my entrance to the party when I was presented with a rakish musketeer hat that I was later loathe to part with.

We met some more new, fun people and had more great food and the Rev. Mother even found the desire of her heart — a baby to hold. This one in particular was special because, even though he was a male infant, his long, dark hair and round cheeks bore a strong resemblance to the very young Diva. I double-clutched when I came into the room and saw the baby cradled in her lap; it was like looking through a rip in the time-space continuum. As discombobulating as it was for me, I think it’s more of a challenge for the Diva, who, beneath the pointed, longing, “When are you going to give me grandchildren” looks of her mother, usually responds with something along the lines of, “What are you looking at me for? You don’t even let me date!”

It was a very pleasant evening and then we had to leave early because it occurred to us that no one had told Bonita the security code for getting back into the house. Later, when Bonita arrived she curled up with the Rev. Mum to download the events of her weekend as well. When it was my turn to bid Marjorie good night we talked about what a fun and full day it had been, but how, strangely, it hadn’t felt stressed or hurried. We decided that it was because other people had done all the work and all we had to do every step of the way was just show up!

I could almost get used to that!

Say what?

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A commenter here (with whom I share a close blood relation) introduced a word to this blog the other day that, while very familiar to the two of us, may befuddle some readers. Here’s the word:

Pee-wadding.

That’s probably the proper grammatical spelling of the construction, but in its actual use it comes off as a single word, peewaddin (pee’ wad din, noun). You’d be hard-pressed to find an actual definition of it anywhere, but it is one of those special words that when you hear it in context you are immediately able to understand the meaning, if not the definition — even if you’re very young when you first hear it.

When I was a kid and we got together with all of our cousins we’d often end up with five boys within about three years of age of each other. This was an invariably loud and often quite physical conglomeration. One time when we were creating a cloud of dust in my aunt’s front yard she flung the front door open and silenced the assembly by threatening to “slap the peewaddin out” of us if we didn’t knock it off. This was also the aunt that frequently vowed to “snatch a knot” in us, so we took her seriously. (She was much more likely, however, to make us home-made doughnuts or cake.)

Even though I was only seven or eight at that time, I knew instantly that my peewaddin was something I definitely wanted to hold onto.

How to do those things you were too embarrassed to admit you didn’t know how to do

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No post yesterday, and light posting today as I’m preparing a teaching for church tonight. Thanks to an article in the Wall Street Journal (subscription required), however, I am happy to direct you to a new video site chock-full of helpful videos of how to do those supposedly basic things that you may not have picked up on life’s journey. You know, things like folding a tee-shirt, boiling an egg, taking a shower. There are also more arcane topics as well, such as how to care for Emperor Scorpions, or how to eat sushi and, just in time for Halloween, how to carve distinctive jack-o-lanterns and how to make marshmallow and popcorn “brain balls”.

The site is called VideoJug, and at the time I visited the “10 Most Watched Videos” in the past hour were as follows:

  1. How To Fold a Tee-Shirt in 2 Seconds
  2. How to Tie a Half-Windsor Knot
  3. How to Use the Shower
  4. How to Kiss Someone Passionately
  5. How to Tie a Full Windsor Knot
  6. How to Become Breast Self Aware
  7. How to Iron a Shirt
  8. How to Perform the Perfect Golf Swing
  9. How to Get Out of a Car Without Showing Your Knickers
  10. How to Clean a Window

Personally, I didn’t even know you were supposed to fold tee-shirts. Even at just two seconds a pop, I estimate I’ve probably “freed up” nine and a half months out of my life so far. Time, no doubt, that I probably should have been utilizing by watching the other videos.

Anyway, other similar and helpful sites mentioned in the article include eHow, ViewDo, WikiHow.

If you want to know how to create a quick blog post when you’re otherwise very busy, go back to the beginning of this article.

What, Friday already?

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I was going to do a follow up on the conscience post from earlier in the week, but that’s going to be a rather serious and reflective effort. It just doesn’t have the right feel for a Friday post.

Friday’s are more for things like this:

This is one of the images from www.Despair.com, a site that looks at all those beautiful, inspirational posters with motivating sentiments liberally scattered throughout corporate America — and gives them a big raspberry. This is one of the funniest web-sites I’ve ever visited, especially if you work in an office. It’s like reading Dilbert but with production values. Check them out; you can even create your own customized 12 or 16-month demotivation calendar. (To view the dozens of images available go to the “Demotivators (by name)” tab.)