What kind of bracket are you in?

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Away With Words has a nice March Madness diversion, looking at the new book, The Enlightened Bracketologist: The Final Four of Everything. The book posits that many of the great debates of our times can be resolved by methodically breaking these down into a series of one-on-one matchups culminating in a categorical “Final Four.” She links to Slate.com’s article about the book, which features four sample brackets: the greatest “Where Were You Moments”, “Ad Slogans”, “Marital Arguments” and “Film Deaths.”

In these samples, 32 candidates in each category are listed in Round 1 and you proceed to “face-off” each match-up into the next bracket. For example, in the “Film Deaths” bracket I found a lot of bona fide contenders that were hard to choose from, but when it was close I went with the death that was most central to the story. Thus the “Psycho” shower scene made it to my final four despite a strong first round challenge from the opening shark attack in “Jaws”. The rest of my final four ultimately included King Kong falling from the Empire State Building, Tom Hanks’ death in “Saving Private Ryan” and the Wicket Witch melting in “The Wizard of Oz.” (King Kong won.)

Deaths also figure prominently in the “Where Were You When” (Boomer Division) bracket with JFK, RFK, Martin Luther, Princess Diana, John Lennon, Dale Earnhardt among those featured, though these also compete against the fall of the Berlin Wall, Woodstock and the Miracle on Ice. In the Ad Slogans bracket you’ve got “Where’s the beef?” going up against “It’s finger-lickin’ good” in the first round, while “Does she or doesn’t she?” could conceivably fight it out with “Just do it” in one of the later rounds.

You can check out these sample brackets for yourself from the Salon link. While I don’t see that we could resolve many disputes by having a world-wide “Greatest Religions” bracket, this is a fun way to hash out your favorites — and all without having to listen to Dick Vitale (I didn’t notice if there was a “Most Obnoxious” bracket covered in the book).

When you’re finished you can check with your friends and acquaintences who also completed the brackets and then make a bracket to determine which of you is most compulsive.

Go tell the Spartans Rams

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There were two brave, defiant and ultimately glorious campaigns on display this past weekend featuring determined underdogs rising up to give their much larger foes all they could handle and more. One was in the new movie, “300” (see previous post) — the story of 300 Spartans standing against the massive Persian army and the elite Immortals at Thermopylae to defend their way of life. The second was tiny Roseau High School demonstrating its way of life by rising up against greater numbers and big school hockey powers with their monstrous enrollments to win the 2A (highest) state hockey title.

For the Roseau Rams, “The 300” might refer to the school’s enrollment (342 in 2006, to be exact), but like the Spartans they proved that when you get your opponent in a confined space you can triumph through heart, spirit, discipline and skill. What makes it all the more inspiring is that it’s not just a Cinderella story of a small school winning out against long odds, it’s a story of Cinderella saying “Forget about the ball, I want to be on ‘Dancing With the Stars.'” Roseau had the option of playing in Class 1A, created back in 1992 to make things “fair” for schools with smaller enrollments from which to draw their teams. Like the Spartans, they sneered at any such accomodation by themselves or their opponents, especially since in the days of the one-class, all-sizes tournament they had made 29 trips to the state tournament and won five titles.

In “300” Leonidas forcibly rejected the Persian ambassador’s request for a token sign of obedience and submission to King Xerxes. “This is madness!” the ambassador said, seeing the hostile intent. “This is Sparta!” shouted Leonidas as he kicked the man into a pit. Similarly back in ’92 the State High School league came to northern Minnesota with a similar, reasonable proposal to bow to the forces of reason and warm, fuzzy feelings. “This is Roseau!” was the response, with the authority of a slapshot from the blue line, and the small school with the proud tradition insisted on competing against the biggest schools at the highest levels, going on to win the 2A title in 1999 and again this year, persevering over teams in the field with as much as eight times their enrollment.

In ancient Sparta, young boys were taken from their families at age six and sent to the agoge, to learn fighting and endurance, to develop a love for freedom, self-government and responsibility, and to never retreat or surrender. In Roseau the children start skating even earlier, learning to forecheck, backcheck and keep their egos in check and to never, ever stop skating.

There were two brave, defiant and ultimately glorious campaigns on display this past weekend — I hope you enjoyed and appreciated them both.

300 reasons

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I was among the 90 percent male audience at a 9:00 p.m. showing of 300 over the weekend. Some of the guys there were younger men and a few looked a little geeky and there were one or two older ones I might have pegged for still being in residence at their mom’s house, but most appeared middle-aged and normal — a category I hope the others thought that I fell into. Having read Steven Pressfield’s “Gates of Fire” and Frank Miller’s graphic novel that the movie was based on I’d been eagerly awaiting the release of the latest movie version of the Battle of Thermopylae (I even rented 1961’s The 300 Spartans, made when Hollywood thought “epic” also had to mean “plodding”). Here’s my brief review of the movie and some thoughts that have occurred to me since it ended.

Overall the movie was very good. The look of the film was definitely unique and strongly resembled Miller’s book, which was the intention. The “graphic novel” artistic treatment (and it is artistic) mitigated the gruesomeness of the ultra-violence to some extent, and while it was bloody (and came close to over-using the slow-motion) I felt it was a believable rendition of what hand-to-hand combat in close confines with sharp-edged weapons would be like. It’s definitely not a date movie unless your girlfriend also happens to like field-dressing roadkill, but there is a discernible plot and some inspiring and intense performances that makes this a good story. Additionally, it is a thought-provoking examination of duty, honor and patriotism that’s short on speeches and long on demonstration.

I was disappointed with the gratuitous scenes with naked women; the scenes fit within the story but appeared to be driven more by a marketing formula for the target audience than from story-telling license. The scenes between King Leonidas and his wife, and in the seductive blandishments offered by King Xerxes to the traitor Ephialtes, easily could have been shot with a bit more discretion. Not that this is a movie for younger teen males anyway, but the nudity definitely would be a distraction from the more laudable themes in the film. Otherwise “300” is an inspiring and entertaining movie for action film fans and those who will draw some conservative political allegories from the story.

While much is made of the battle being between a small group of free men and an invading slave army of a couple hundred thousand, I thought there was little effort to frame the historical significance of the effects on Western Civilization if the fledgling Greek city-state democracies had been absorbed the Persian empire. Ironically, Spartan society was probably less “free” than the Persians; while it is portrayed as an egalitarian meritocracy, it was also rigid in its laws and cruel — some might say eminently practical — in its single-minded warrior ethos. At the same time it made a religion out of exalting honor, duty and courage and “300” makes that point with all the subtlety of a Spartan xiphos.

King Leonidas is the standard-bearer and champion of this creed, even to the point where he breaks the rigid letter of the law in order to ultimately defend its spirit, standing firm against the alternating threats and flattering of his foreign enemy and standing in disgust at the treacherous collaboration of his own Council of Elders that sought accommodation and surrender to the apparently overwhelming enemy (based on the portrayal of Council, duty and honor weren’t universally revered in Spartan culture as the politicians manipulated events for their personal gain and grudges regardless of the cost to their country). For Leonidas, while freedom may be ripped from a Spartan’s dead fingers, it must never be willingly released due to fear, complacency or indolence.

The movie also helped me see another important point. The Spartan warriors are all very fit and well-muscled, conditioned to their “Spartan” existence of war and striving. While my own body bears little resemblance to theirs, I know that I was born with the same number of muscles in my body as they had; the difference is in how they developed what they were given. Similarly, I think we all start with the same capacity for faith, duty and honor within us and these, too, can be trained, exercised and built up to astonishing and awe-inspiring levels. When we do, even just a handful can change history.

My painful life

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It’s just not easy being me. Here’s the dealio:

Last weekend my parents had some golfing buddies over to play cards, and I got to play too! Somehow the talk turned to icky things that make me want to yell, “Go get a secret, secluded room!!!” I’ll just give you one line, and leave it to your imaginations: “Oooh! Is that Latex?” *Tiger Lilly sobbing in the backround.* Why me?

After that, the talk turned to celebrities. Mainly, how stupid it is that all the TV talks about is Anna Nicole Smith and Britney. Zzzz… I’m sorry, how stupid is it to talk about how stupid the TV is? I just don’t an attention span for that. To be fair, there was good stuff, too. We had Chocolate Turtle Cake! *Hallelujuah Angel chorus in the backround.*

Then, last Tuesday I had double Tae Kwon Do. The first class was the normal one: running, hitting, kicking, sparring, practicing forms. The second class was the Special Martial Arts Training Program (SMATP). No, that doesn’t describe the sound we often make, and it’s not ‘special’ as in mental, but special as in WEAPONS!!! (No, Kevin, not guns.)

There are only three people in the SMATP because the test to get in is really hard. But one of our people has not shown up for about 5 weeks. He has Bronchitis. ANYWAY, in the second class I practiced my sweet Boe Staff formation. Then I got to throw the other student. Who is 16. And is a black belt. But Master Yu decreed it, and it’s best not to upset Master Yu (sixth degree black belt and all that). There are actually a few techniques to throwing people, and most of them involve your shoulder. Somehow I strained my thigh muscles. We were training for the demonstration that we have to do at the promotion test next Saturday. Yep, that’s right, I’m on a Demo Team!

Ciao for now, peeps!

They’re animals!

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I don’t follow the animal kingdom news quite the way KingDavid does but a couple of stories have caught my eye. I’ve really been pressed for time the last couple of days but here are some quick takes:

Mmmm, tastes like…chicken
A farmer in India has discovered that the mysterious predator eating his chickens was one of his very own cows. This may be a breakthrough in bovine cuisine. I’ve sometimes wondered who the first person was to eat an oyster, and how much trial and error went into that process (shell on or shell off, I can’t fathom what would make someone think of putting these in his mouth.) This carnivorous cow may be opening up new food frontiers for its kind; perhaps no cow has ever looked up from her clover and thistles before and thought, “I’d like a drumstick!” We’ll probably never know the reason for this sudden change in diet (maybe this cow is the reincarnation of Col. Sanders?), but what really puzzles me is how the cow caught its prey in the first place.

Chickens are quick and agile; does the cow run down its prey like a cheetah, or is it an “ambush” predator like a crocodile? Either one conjures some images my mind isn’t quite ready for.

Coyote union protesting unsafe conditions?
Coyotes have been causing problems at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport, diverting flights by running out onto the runways. It’s not a recent phenomenon either, as the FAA says planes have hit coyotes at Illinois airports 26 times since 1990. I’ve never pictured Abraham Lincoln or Richard Daly bedding down for the night to the mournful sound of coyotes howling at the moon, but I’m not shocked to learn there are coyotes in Chicago. Anyone who has traveled knows it’s next to impossible to get across the midwest without getting sucked into O’Hare. Given that it’s Chicago, what would surprise me is if these coyotes weren’t already unionized. Perhaps these incidents aren’t about animals randomly running out on the tarmac, but a picket line? I also think it might warrant a closer look at the voter-registration rolls over the past ten years.

Update:

Ooops! I see that KingDavid is already on these stories. Oh well, warped great minds think alike.

Gaming the name

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Hey, do you know that professional football game that they play at the end of each season? The one with all the expensive commercials and the all-day pre-game show? The one that sounds like something Clark Kent might use to eat two gallons of Rocky Road ice cream? Yeah, that one.

You may already know that the NFL is like Terry Tate, office linebacker, fresh out of law school, going after people and businesses who use its trademarked name for this game. I learned this more than a decade ago when I was writing an advertising and promotional campaign for a brand of microwave popcorn that was being launched in the U.K. Part of the promotional campaign was that by trying the new snack you’d get a chance to win an expense-paid trip to the U.S. for the … well, the Big Game. We had planned to use the real name of the event, but we were threatened with an “illegal procedure” call so we used the BG alternate wording.

Many other businesses have done the same as they annually promote their snacks, HDTVs, adult beverages and recliners leading up to the “Big Game”. Now the NFL is trying to call “Encroachment” on these sideline retailers by seeking to trademark the Big Game audible as well (HT: The Trademark Blog and Likelihood of Confusion).

It’s kind of reminiscent of those NFL commercials from a year or so ago where players such as Jerome Bettis and Daunte Culpepper would suddenly appear, uniformed, in business meetings or warehouses to penalize people who misused football cliches. If this registration goes through you’ll have uniformed NFL lawyers laying crackback blocks on any sports bar putting “Watch the Big Game here!” on their marquees.

I really can’t see how the NFL is harmed by these enthusiastic but unauthorized efforts; referring to the Big Game doesn’t give anyone the impression that the sale, happy hour or sofa are sanctioned or licensed by the NFL or detract from the allure of the game. If anything it probably just adds to the hoopla that has practically turned that Sunday into a national holiday. (It does kind of make me wonder if the real Santa Claus gets a taste from all those copy-cats in the malls and taped to walls). Certainly this move by the NFL could make things a lot worse.

After all, “The Big Game” has a positive connotation. If forced to be more creative retailers and bars might have to resort to saying “Watch the Great Commercials here!” or “Be sure to stock up on drugs before the Steroid Bowl!” or “Your Lame Game Headquarters!”

Who said you can’t go broke betting on the bad taste of the American public?

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Howard Stern talks but the (shareholders’) money walks…

The announcement of a proposed merger between Sirius Satellite Radio (SIRI, news, msgs) and its archrival XM Satellite Radio (XMSR, news, msgs) was treated by most of the media this week as if were just another financial event to be studied through the prism of balance-sheet analysis and the federal regulatory approval process.

But the merger plan actually amounts to the death of a dream for investors who came to believe that shares of Sirius — propelled skyward for a short time by the hiring of snarky talk show host Howard Stern — would make them rich beyond compare.

For while the merger might ultimately save the company from total oblivion, it is unlikely to save investors from billions of dollars in losses incurred over the past several years or, perhaps more importantly, from a loss of faith in stock ownership.

Millions of people bought Sirius shares at $6 to $8 for their retirement accounts, and rode them down to $3.50, never losing faith in Stern. At this point, they need to face up to the fact that they’re screwed. Stern made half a billion. They will make nothing. They can file SIRI stock certificates away under “S” for stupid. They blew it.

Free as a bird

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We had little idea how much personality a bird can have when we adopted a storm-tossed budgie a couple of years ago. Actually we knew very little about budgies at all, including how to figure out if the bird was male or female. We’ve since learned that “budgie” is an abbreviation of an Australian word, and we’ve become well educated in many different aspects of bird-rearing (and determined that our bird’s a sheila).



Now that our cat has moved on to happier hunting grounds The Bird (Tiger Lilly may have a name for it, but everyone pretty much calls her The Bird) has many more opportunities outside of her cage to have the run (or airspace) of the house. She always wants to be wherever her “flock” (us) is, whether she’s in her cage or not. Any companionship appears better to her than none, but she is especially bonded to Tiger Lilly. Anyone will do in a pinch, or peck, however, as I’ve discovered.



Saturday morning my wife and I were up before Tiger Lilly and my wife let the bird out of her cage while we read the paper. The bird loves to shred newspaper, so this was like an invitation to party. Take it from me, it is very distracting to have a bird trying to savage the section of newspaper that you’re reading. This particular morning, however, The Bird decided to share the paper with my wife, probably because the last time she and I “shared” the paper it got to be pretty frustrating for both of us. My wife was clever and thought to offer up a sacrificial section of the paper (probably the one with Nick Coleman’s column in it) to busy The Bird so she could read the comics in peace. Just like the cat, however, The Bird is only interested in the section that you have in front of you. After a couple of tears at the decoy section she hopped over to my wife’s leg and started working at the folded gutter of the paper. My wife is much more patient than I am and gamely continued to read. When she opened the section fully, however, to turn the page she discovered a better-than-bird-sized hole in the middle of the paper (including a missing punch-line from the last panel of a comic).



After the ensuing protest The Bird decided a change of scenery would be beneficial, so she flew across the room and landed on my shoulder. She wisely didn’t make for the paper right away, as I turned my head and we regarded each other like familiar opponents. It so happened that when I turned toward her she was able to see her reflection in my reading glasses.



You know, it is kind of a strange sensation to see a magnified and blurry beak coming at your eye.



Finding herself again airborne, The Bird went on the hunt for more docile prey, or at least another section of the newspaper. I don’t understand why chewing up the newspaper is so interesting to her, but I suppose it’s probably a good source of fiber.



That’s all I need — an unconstipated budgie flying Dawn Patrol in my living room! I never thought I’d miss that cat.