HiR:tb Toots (@warwalker)
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By junior on December 14, 2007, at 11:16 pm From Bill Simmons’ December 14th column on, among other things, the Mitchell Report on illicit substance use in Major League Baseball:
The greatest hitter and pitcher of the past 50 years both cheated to get where they were … and if that’s not enough, our all-time hits leader was a convicted felon who bet against his own team. Ladies and gentleman [sic], America’s pastime! Is it time to remake “Field of Dreams” and include a scene where Shoeless Joe sells $3,000 of HGH to Moonlight Graham?
These revelations come in the same week that a former Prime Minister of Canada testifies under oath that, while still sitting as a member of Parliament, he received $225,000 -in the form of a series of envelopes stuffed with cash – from a man now accused of bribery and fraud in Germany. He swears that this money was paid to him as a retainer for legitimate services to be rendered, yet he issued neither a receipt for the cash nor any invoice detailing the work done. He tells a parliamentary committee that he put this cash in safe deposit boxes, strangely eschewing the more conventional (but alas, less invisible) choice that an experienced man of business might make – depositing the funds in an interest-bearing account at a financial institution. He further admits that he neglected to declare these monies as income and to pay tax on them for something like six years, an oversight that was not remedied until such time as his generous benefactor was arrested and charged with various crimes. This man then looks with all the apparent sincerity he can summon into the virtual eyes of his former constituents and claims that there was nothing improper about this transaction. He seems almost indignant that anyone could be suspicious.
I suspect there is something of the same malaise in evidence from these two storylines as is detailed in Lewis Lapham’s excellent lament (in the January issue of Harper’s ) for the demise of the virtuous public servant. Comparing the presidential hopefuls advancing upon Iowa to merchandise of expensive, if not quality, manufacture, Lapham says:
The media showroom salesmen rummage through the season’s political piece goods as if through an unsatisfactory shipment of summer hats – this one the wrong color, that one too wide across the forehead, these other ones lacking the moral fiber of genuine Panama straw. The candidates on tour with the balloons and the gospel choirs compare their rivals to defective Christmas toys – Senator Hillary Clinton wobbles; Senator Barack Obama comes with no directions in the box; Rudy Giuliani makes strange clanking noises.
It seems that the more we commoditize our pubic figures, whether southpaws or senators, the more we get mass-market merchandise instead of a nicely knit sweater.
By junior on December 10, 2007, at 11:02 pm Things are busy at work, and aside from three glorious hours in front of the Patriots/Steelers games last night (I had the game recorded on the DVR, enabling me to charge through all the commercials) the weekend was indeed full of merry-making, festivicating and celebratizing. I was looking forward to sitting down and writing a little something for the ol’ blog tonight while sitting in front of the Leaf/Lightning game (a contest, by the way, that the Maple Leafs are currently leading 4-1 early in the third period).
One of the topics that came to mind is how I appear to have been wrong about the imminent demise of Paul Maurice – but who wants to spend the evening trying to find different ways to say “I really blew that one”? Other news developments of recent note include the Ticats signing Bob O’Billovich as General Manager, and the end of the Pickton mass murder trial in British Columbia.
Instead of writing about any of those things, though, I somehow managed to get myself into a discussion with Daniel Radosh about journalists possessing child pornography. Of course I did. Briefly stated, there has been some discussion on Radosh’s site about journalists needing an “exemption” from the laws criminalizing the possession of child pornography in order to effectively write about the issue. That notion struck me as wrong, so I posted a quick comment or two this afternoon that sparked a bit of back and forth. Radosh is a good writer and I often find myself in general agreement with much of what he has to say, but I think that he is on the wrong side of this issue; essentially, he is saying that it is impossible for the journalist to do his job (as it relates to raising questions about the manner in which our society is dealing with this problem) without actually accessing the offending material himself. I spent much of the evening thinking about how I would respond. Click here to continue reading What I’ve been doing today instead of posting here.
By junior on December 10, 2007, at 1:08 am Wow. Yo, Anthony Smith – I suggest you start working immediately on a time machine, so that you can take that stupid guarantee back.
By junior on December 7, 2007, at 8:48 pm There are a few minutes available to me before Spouse and I jet off to Christmas party The First (Office edition) this evening. The logistical problem I should be trying to solve right now is “how to keep seven pounds of perogies warm prior to transport and consumption at a remote festivity” – the office party is always a pot luck affair. What I am doing instead of that is sitting down to quickly rap out a quick bit about an article by Neal Stephenson entitled Mother Earth Motherboard.
The article was originally published in Wired in 1996; an archived online version may be found here.
Stephenson is the guy who wrote the popular novel Cryptonomicon; I haven’t read that book – yet (please, Santa, please!) – but according to at least one source, the subject matter of that novel was strongly influenced by Stephenson’s work on Mother Earth Motherboard (which he wrote first).
This article is the most fascinating thing I’ve read in any magazine ever. High praise, yes – but all the more astonishing when you consider the subject material: the article is about the history of very long wires. Stephenson turns quite a trick, making the material compelling and astonishingly interesting. The piece is lengthy and involved – the self-described “hacker tourist” author is nothing if not thorough – but this article is unique in my experience in that I can remember it very well more than ten years after I read it for the first time. Just mull that over for a minute or two; can you really remember in detail the subject matter of any magazine article you read eleven years ago? Click here to continue reading Mother Earth Motherboard.
By junior on December 6, 2007, at 11:44 pm Things are crazy busy for me at work right now (like, Unabomber crazy, not just regular crazy), and added on top of all that earning-a-living stuff are some social obligations. Now, Spouse and I are not exactly society page material, but it so happens that this holiday season we have been invited to three Christmas parties. The three parties are scheduled for Friday night, Saturday night and Sunday afternoon. End result: over the next few days I’ll be mega-busy either bustin’ my hump or making merry like there’s no tomorrow. The fact that I will be spending so much time with meat-space people will definitely be limiting the available blog-writing opportunities, so I expect it to be a little quiet around here over the next week or so.
Feel free to tidy the place up a bit while I’m away.
Note to self: I would like to write a bit longer piece on the subject brought up by Mike in his comment on Tuesday’s post. Also, it is about time for a Fantasy Hockey update, and I can’t just avoid doing that post because my teams are beginning to sink like a stone in all three leagues.
By junior on December 4, 2007, at 10:53 pm Has anyone else noticed a recent trend in the world of television advertising? I know that viewers in different physical locations will see different advertisements, depending upon advertising time sold locally by one’s cable company, but it seems to me that no matter where you are, companies have recently been attempting to beat you into submission by playing, replaying and replaying a specific commercial interminably during a particular program. During CFL telecasts this past season, for example, the undisputed worst corporate offender was Wendy’s: their spots featuring a “training knave” who is dispatched to replenish the supply of burger patties, only to discover (evidently crack-addled) actors rehearsing some sort of play in the restaurant’s freezer drove Spouse and I to distraction. It was easy to tell when one of those spots came on at our house, no matter where you were in the building – shouted profanities and the unmistakable sounds of someone leaping for the remote control and the sweet relief offered by the “mute” button were a dead giveaway. Even when you were in the bathroom, you could totally tell when the damn thing was on in this way. Other advertisers have offended using this method as well: Future Shop and its current series featuring the lanky doofus croaking some horrendous song purportedly authored as a Christmas gift for his girl spring to mind, as do any Coors Light ad and those bowel-movement inducing “This is ouuuuuuuuuuuur” country truck advertisements.
During Monday Night Football last night, I saw for the first time a Taco Bell ad in which Dork #1 harasses Dork #2 about the inadequacy of spicing in the fast food that Dork #2 has selected to purchase from Taco Bell (some sort of chipotle-flavoured cat food wrapped in a tortilla). The ad concludes when Dork #1 suffers the indignity of his own fast food purchase (from a fictional competitor) igniting in the paper bag he is holding in his hand. I should perhaps say more accurately that I saw this spot for the first thirty times last night – and then it was halftime.
I can’t understand the thinking behind this ad-buying strategy. If Taco Bell wants to annoy me beyond the bounds of civility and then remind me every six minutes of their institutional policy concerning callous disregard for my continued sanity, well then mission accomplished. What I need to know is why they are doing this to me and what commercial rewards they expect to reap from propelling me into madness. I know that there are some who will say, “Ah, but you REMEMBER the ad; that’s why they do it!” To this, I simply say that I have adopted a firm policy, as of last evening, of purchasing absolutely nothing from Taco Bell unless and until that ad is discontinued. Also, if I flip my lid and lose my job, then I’ll just be wandering the street in a bathrobe muttering about how the radio waves are controlling my mind and – this is important, you “Run for the Border” types – not bringing home the bling, which seriously affects the amount of disposable income I have available to drop on overpriced and under-nutritious foodstuffs.
For me, the continuous re-emergence of this particular commercial last night definitely adversely affected my evening; what was a very entertaining and compelling Monday night tilt between the undefeated Patriots and an insanely motivated bunch of Ravens kept getting intruded upon by the idiotic repetition of this stupid ad, to the point that I was finding it difficult to simply enjoy the game. To be clear, it is not so much the content of the spot that I object to – although the ad is dumb, it would probably be otherwise unremarkable if I didn’t happen to see it something like forty times in a little more than three hours. Yo, Taco Bell, how come you harshin’ on my pigskin buzz?
I know, I know, this is hardly the most controversial topic ever broached, but I need to vent on this subject. Seriously.
By junior on December 1, 2007, at 9:08 pm Remember the stoning scene in Monty Python’s Life of Brian ? In it, Matthias, son of Deuteronomy of Gath has been found guilty of blasphemy and is about to be stoned by a bunch of questionably masculine gents in silly beards. He explains his crime thusly:
Look. I– I’d had a lovely supper, and all I said to my wife was, ‘That piece of halibut was good enough for Jehovah.’
Ridiculous, right? Wrong: consider this.
By junior on December 1, 2007, at 3:59 pm As advertised on TV, I was away from the ol’ homestead for a few days earlier this week while – cue the high pitched scream offstage – at a conference for work. There were a series of odd little incidents and observations that I’m pretty sure Larry David could quickly turn into a half-decent episode of Seinfeld or Curb Your Enthusiasm. Since the hotel room in which I was staying did not have operational high-speed Internet access, I have been virtually bursting at the seams to share them all week long.
When I arrived at the hotel, I noticed that it was apparently still being constructed, or allegedly improved or something. This was not difficult to notice because there were all kinds of gigantic bulldozers, erratically placed orange fences and massive piles of dirt sitting next to giant holes (correlation? hmmm…). The first significant consequence of this construction was that the hotel had “valet parking only”. This means that the hotel does not have enough on-site spaces in which to place all of its guests’ vehicles; accordingly, your friendly innkeeper is prepared to offer you the “option” of paying a complete stranger $11.95 for the privilege of having him go hide your car somewhere in the surrounding neighbourhood. I was helpfully informed of this attractive service by a sign near the front entrance of the hotel. I had plenty of time to read the sign, because there was a ten-minute lineup in the parking lot to simply get near the area where you could actually talk to one of the valets. When my time in parking limbo was expired and I approached one of the exalted valets, I rolled down my window and asked him what I should do; he pointed to a spot of open concrete about fifteen feet away and just on the other side of a barrier (which he moved) and said, “Park it here.” I did, gave him my keys – and paid the hotel $11.95. Click here to continue reading On Conferring.
By junior on November 26, 2007, at 11:27 pm Damien Cox has written a bit on his blog today, complimentary to his story in today’s Star about “chopping from the top” of Leaf’s management. The essence of the story and blog companion piece is that the Leafs need to hold everyone in management – coach, general manager and team president/C.E.O./mondo fromaggio Richard Peddie – accountable for the execrable “product” on the ice. Translation: the Leafs stink and everybody who can be fired, should be.
The blog piece boots around a list of names that Mr. Cox invites us to “ponder” as replacements for some or all of the above-described individuals. Here is the list of former players that Cox put out there:
Steve Yzerman, Ron Francis, Mark Messier, Al MacInnis, Doug Gilmour, Glenn Healy, Tom Kurvers, Steve Larmer, Kris King.
I’ll tell you what I’m “pondering”, having read that list. I’m pondering whether Damien drafted that sucker up right on the back of a cocktail napkin and if so, during which year/decade? Leaving aside for a minute the other candidates, can we talk about Tom Kurvers? Kris King? Are you kidding me? Would someone please enlighten me as to what, exactly, Tom Kurvers has done to merit consideration for any type of employment in the Maple Leaf organization (I mean aside from “program salesman”; I can see them slipping a brother that job, if he needs it. I ain’t here to hold the man down if he wants to work hard to earn some scratch, you dig?) I mean, seriously. Is it the many Norris trophies that Kurvers racked up while triumphantly patrolling the Leaf blueline lo those many years? Or is it the numerous division championships and several consecutive Stanley Cups that the Phoenix Coyotes have paraded down – uh, well some big street in Phoenix – during the time that old Tom Terrific has been working as the Director of Player Personnel for the desert dogs?
Kris King? Seriously, where the hell did that come from? That makes about as much sense as the time my wife just yelled out “Meat Lasagna!” Dude, is “Kris King” a written manifestation of some kind of Tourette’s syndrome? Come on, Damien, you can’t give a guy the job if he can’t spell “President.” Actually, having looked south of the border to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., scratch that. You can. My mistake.
Just because you can give a guy the job, however, is no reason to actually run out and do so. I would have thought that this, if nothing else, would be the lesson learned by everyone from the John Ferguson Jr era.
By junior on November 26, 2007, at 10:55 pm I finished Catch-22 yesterday, bringing to an end my active participation in Matthew’s NaNoReMo project. I’m a little bit ahead of the schedule that Matthew set out for those of us in this virtual book club, but I have to go off to a conference for work on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, and I don’t know what kind of Internet accessiblity I’m going to have in my hotel, so I thought I’d put down a few thoughts on this book now. Anybody who happens to be visiting from the defectiveyeti community and browsing, beware: there may be spoilers after the jump and I don’t want to potentially ruin the book for you! Click here to continue reading End of NaNoReMo for Me
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The Barilkosphere
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Two points, two flats and a packet of gravel.
Remember the stoning scene in Monty Python’s Life of Brian ? In it, Matthias, son of Deuteronomy of Gath has been found guilty of blasphemy and is about to be stoned by a bunch of questionably masculine gents in silly beards. He explains his crime thusly:
Ridiculous, right? Wrong: consider this.