Where’s the Beef
On the whole, the Super Bowl ads were quite disappointing. They struggled so hard to connect with a certain demographic that it was almost exhausting to watch. These ads desire so to shock, amuse and titillate, but in the end mostly flop into a pathetic spot of lost ad revenue.

I don’t even remember many of the others. Commercial breaks were mostly spent trying to tame the 20 children amassed in the basement of our fine hosts.

My column last week was my first ever to be syndicated. Although I’m proud of this piece, apologies must be extended to the people of Norwood, Mass, who were assaulted with this.

Were I ambitious, I would take the signature line from this column (Today, I will wear my underpants backwards!) and turn it into a self-empowerment philosophy that would spawn a series of books, a line of merchandise, and a regular spot on Oprah.

I also wrote a feature on some very talented local musicians.

Flying With Pigs

On Wednesday, it seemed conceivable that Tammy and the kids’ trip to Vermont this summer might have to be canceled. Being herded through an airport and then incubated in a plane while deadly viruses abounded seemed a tad risky, given the dire warnings. By Friday, the fear had subsided and I scoffed at the folly of my concern.

The media is partly to blame for fueling my hysteria, but I do think that much of the hubbub was just precaution in the face of the unknown. Had this flu been more plague-like, the quick quarantines and closings may have helped stave of the catastrophic. Of course had news broke last week that the Octamom was again knocked-up, most of us may have never heard of swine flu.

British Fans Would Have Stoned Me By Now

The Shamrocks fell again on Saturday. It’s only matter of time before parents start clamoring for a coaching change. If I’m going to wear the brown hat over our one-and-three record, then I’m going out on my own terms. I may pull a Buttermaker and start bringing a cooler of beer to practice.*

Mark’s game was rained out, denying him the opportunity to flop in the mud and then look around to see if any girls might be impressed by it.

And after a so-so effort during a make-up game on Thursday, Maria turned in a stellar performance on Saturday, scoring a goal and earning an assist in her team’s 3-1 victory. Nothing makes me prouder than to see the look of determination on her face when she goes on the attack.

Smarmy

When those on the left declare that R. Limbaugh is pompous, condescending and a manipulative partisan, I can not argue. But when those same people swear admiration for this smug clown, then their objectivity is clearly suspect. They are, afterall, birds of a feather.

Let’s Kill Saturday Night (after injuring it on Friday)

For you Facebookies, the lineup for the American Music Show is available here. Robbie Fulks and Dave Alvin (formerly of the Blasters and X) headline the two-day weekend affair. I was listening to some tracks by the Cynics and the Handcuffs this afternoon to get a feel for the rest of the lineup. This most definitely will be a kicker of the highest kicking order.

*Name the TV show and the movie referenced in this paragraph.

For some, it’s scaling a mountain summit; for others it’s kicking heroine. As for me, I conquered one of my life’s goals by completing a Sunday New York Times Crossword Puzzle. I’ve come close many times, even completing it once, only to discover an error. But this time, I was perfect. Granted, it was fairly easy for a Sunday puzzle. There was only one word I’d never heard of (Ypres – a city in Belgium), and the theme was pretty straight-forward. But none of this distracts from my feeling of triumph. Does this make me a nerd?

As Sure as the Moss Grows in Killarney

Enjoy the warm weather while you can. Next Saturday is the St. Pat’s Day parade, an event that annually lures  cold fronts down from Canada and sends temperatures plummeting. We always have temps in the 50s and 60s during the week leading up to the parade, only to have them pulled out from under us by the time we take our place on the 5^th Street curb. So predictable is this phenomena that my dad is making a batch of chilli next Saturday, a dish he only makes in chilly weather.

Lights That Flash in the Evening

The weather outside will be inconsequential after the parade, as Justin Townes Earle (Steve’s boy) and Jason Ringenberg take the stage at the Hoogland as part of the Bedrock 66 concert series. You may be familiar with Ringenberg from his Jason and the Scorchers days. I’m less familiar with Earle, but I’ve been listening to songs on his MySpace page and he does a mandolin-accompanied cover of the Replacement’s “I Can’t Hardly Wait,” of which I highly approve.

Speaking of hot shows at the Hoogland, Sarah Borges and the Broken Singles released their first single and two non-album tracks as an EP on iTunes last week. The album will be released later this month. It’s more indie-rockier than previous cuts. Their supporting tour hasn’t been announced yet, but I’ll post when they get near to thee.

A Plea of Redemption/A Call for Justice

Last week I was rightly taken to task by Yellowdog for being part of a team that purchased mulligans* at a trivia contest. I defended myself by stating, correctly mind you, that it simply isn’t possible to win without them if they are offered. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel dirty about it.

Mulligans, even more than vague or inaccurate questions/answers, are threatening the sport that I love. Organizers simply must find another way of raising additional funds without sullying the sanctity of the contest. I may have to resort to the most radical form of protest against social ill currently available to us. That’s right, I’m starting a Facebook group: Citizens For the Purity of Trivia Nights. Join the fight, won’t you.

Krauthammer

While I remain liberal on many social issues, this is why my fiscality tends to be conservativy.**

I Am So Not Unconflicted Over Jennifer Aniston

I’ve not been a Jennifer Aniston fan. Most of this stems from her association with the show, Friends, which I abhorred for its one-note characters, base sexual innuendo and the gross cliche-ing of the word "so." She also ended up on the wrong side of a tiff with Angelina. I am nothing if not loyal to Angelina.

Yet my Aniston aversion has softened as of late. She appeared in two movies that I really like, Office Space and The Good Girl, and although she wasn’t really the reason I like those movies, she did bring something to her roles.

The other reason I’ve come to admire her more is because she is popping up quite frequently in magazines and on Web sites and, quite frankly, she looks amazing. The problem is, that seems to be the entire point of her celebrity at this point.

I don’t recall accolades for any recent performances, but the press is relentless in telling us how incredible she looks. There’s that, and her courage in the face of being perhaps the most celebrated female cuckold of all time.

It’s pretty amazing how her publicist has been able to keep her on the A list and the covers of supermarket tabloids.

Saturday Chore Watch

Hats off to my kids for picking up twigs and pieces of bark from the yard and putting them in a yard waste bag. Then pouring the bag into the wagon. Then dumping the wagon into the yard. Thanks for the effort.***

*For those not familiar with this practice, teams are allowed to purchase a set number of mulligans (usually ten) which are used in lieu of correct answers to win points on difficult questions. As I posted on Facebook: "they’re bullcrap. Imagine facing fourth and long on your on 25 and being able to buy yourself a first down. Or if your worst free-throw shooter gets fouled in the waning seconds of the game and you can decide to just purchase the winning buckets. Who could be proud of that. It’s a g-d travesty. Pure, unadulterated greed and it’s ruining trivia nights across the country."****

**Our previous administration wasn’t good at this either, so offering up their record as a defense for the current is no defense.

***Victor did go on to put in a good day’s work and earned five points towards the 30 needed for a new DS game.

****You know you’re important when you can quote yourself.

Well, it looks as if I didn’t win Best Columnist in the SJ-R’s Reader’s Choice Awards. When my last column inspired one reader to leave an online comment, I thought I might be able to ride that wave of popularity all the way to the award, but apparently I fell a little short. Congratulations to Bernie Schoenburg, Dave Bakke and Jim Ruppert for narrowly edging me out in what had to have been a close vote. Although it’s entirely possible that I didn’t receive a sigle vote, I prefer to preserve my esteem in delusion.

Uncle Raymond Pulls a Fast One

When I see pictures of Roland Burris, I’m not immediately filled with contempt and disgust, as I am when I see Blagojevich’s lipless visage. In fact, I sometimes feel a bit of pity for Burris, who has the look of a kindly gent. Yet it’s clear that he’s just another self-serving politician who slithered and connived his way into a position he did not merit. He should go, but some other folks have some explaining to do.

All of those who said the Senate should never seat a Blago appointee, and then let themselves be played into embracing Burris as a man of honor, should come forth and say how honorable they think he is now. They had it right the first time, the Senate leadership did, but instead of sticking to what they knew was the right thing, they gave into prejudices and political perceptions.

An Idiotic Front is Descending from the North

I’m not sure who such matters could be taken up with, but I want the word "stupid" to be added to weather forecasts, as in, "it will be windy, cold and stupid tomorrow and into the weekend." The term will only be allowed in February and March when the cold weather has gotten really annoying, and, stupid.

*Apropos of Nothing

Name the song that this lyric was taken from. Then name the sisters who play in the band from whence this song originated. To the winner: A free, lifetime pass to BFS, should this ever become a subscription-only site.

A Face for Blogging

Every now and again I’ll do a Google image search to find out what someone looks like. Usually it will be someone in the media, either print or radio, whose name and work I come across regularly, but who I have never seen in person.

Anyway, I’ll type in their name and whatever pictures show up, especially if it’s a headshot, I assume that’s them. But recently, in an act of egoism, I did an image search of my own name. And one of the first results is a head shot of my wife’s friend Tara. So, should anyone, say maybe a reader of this blog, be curious as to what I look like, they very might well get the impression that I try to pass as a woman.

Your Phone’s Off the Hook, But You’re Not

Last week I happened to look in while the kids were watching one of their kids shows. "Wow," I thought to myself, "that Superintendent Spellman character looks a lot like John Nommensen Duchan, whose heart is made of glory and his voice is made of gold."

I knew that Duchan, aka John Doe, had acted in the past. I remembered him from Roadside Prophets, a counter-culture road movie he starred in with Adam Horowitz, whose voice is kind of squeeky and his chains are made of gold. But clearly Doe, one of the coolest guys in rock and roll, wouldn’t be doing a guest spot on the Wizards of Waverly Place, would he?

Well, the closing credits proved me wrong. That was Doe. I suppose there’s no shame in the TV gig, as long as he keeps putting out songs like this:

My column this month is on practicing etiquette in everyday situations. The proper thing for you to do, gentle reader, after carefully considering my words, is to write a comment congratulating the newspaper for publishing such wisdom and suggest that your life has been made the better because of it and perhaps even offer some sort of monetary tribute to the author. It is, the right thing to do.

The blogs remains the same

The tax-evading Obama cabinet appointees were a big deal to Republican bloggers who probably wouldn’t have cared that much had they been McCain appointees, which, if they had been, Democrat bloggers would have had a field day with, but as it stands, under Obama, they really don’t find it worth mentioning. It’s a relief, really, that despite all of the historic change, the blogosphere remains the same.

Commercial Real Estate Mystery Theatre

Since Damon’s closed (I believe it was after the infamous tornadoes), a restaurant only a half block away has transitioned from LaSorella to the Club House and now Kiku. Yet Damon’s former structure remains vacant. Why would that be?

Is the asking price too much? If so, why?

Is there something about the building’s configuaration that makes it unsuitable for other proprietors?

Or is it, as I suspect, HAUNTED BY SOMETHING SCARY OR OTHERWISE OTHERWORLDLY!?!?!?!?!?

Seriously though, I do wonder why it hasn’t been purchased and refigured or demolished.

I told you they would rock

Since I haven’t been blogging much, I haven’t yet mentioned what a totally rocked-out performance Sarah Borges and the Broken Singles gave at the Hoogland last month. It was great to see them play to a packed room and their performance most definitely surpassed expectations. After the show, I pardoned myself from a 15-year self-exile from the Curve Inn* to hang out with the band for a bit. I can’t wait for their triumphant return after their new album comes out.

I think that’s called stage presence.

The incomparable Binky, the irresistible Tammy, and some homeless guy.

Headline comprehension 101

If you saw the headline, "Tiger Wood’s Wife Has a Son," would you be under the impression that said wife gave birth recently? Would you be under the impression that Tiger was the father?

For some reason, when I read this headline I thought the story was going to be that it was discovered that Mrs. Tiger had a son from a previous coupling. Was I wrong in interpreting this way?

Although, biologically speaking, the women do the "having" when it comes to child birth, when speaking of couples who go cooperatively into the reproduction process, however, it’s common to say that "they had a son" when announcing the blessed event. And since it is Tiger who makes the birth newsworthy, then couldn’t the headline have read: "It’s a boy for Tiger Woods." It would have made clear that Tiger is the father and I doubt anyone would be confused as to who did the actual birthing.

Clearly, it’s a matter of perception and perhaps mine is faulty in this instance. But it isn’t on this one, found on Slate:

"Would the mayor of Portland be out of office if he were’nt gay?"

My initial interpretation was that the mayor was out of office, and discrimination may have played a part in his dismissal. That was wrong.

The mayor is still in office, and the author is suggesting that if the mayor were a heterosexual, he would have been thrown out. (With out getting into a debate of the case, the mayor is accused of having had a sexual relationship with an underage male. The author makes the argument that if a heteorsexual male mayor had a relationship with an underage girl, he would have been dumped immediately.)

Obviously, the headline can be read to convey either meaning. So how could have this been written to avoid confusion?

How about: "Was Portland mayor saved by gayness?"

I think that’s clear.

Gimmee an M Gimmee an A Gimmee an R Gimmee a K

There was apparently a high school cheerleading competition in town this weekend. I know this not because I’m perverted, but because at mass at Little Flower last evening there were rows of warmup-suited girls from Catholic high schools north of I-80. We happened to sit behind one such row. This afforded Mark, our youngest, the opportunity to hit on them.

He started shyly, peaking over the pew, shyly smiling when would one would turn around and notice him. But once communion was over, and he hadn’t made sufficient headway, he became more bold: "Hey girls," he announced, "look at this." When they turned, he held back his jacket to reveal his new St. Patrick’s Day T-shirt**, that, as luck should have it, read: "I’m not lucky. I’m good."

This of course caused much laughter, but one girl must have caught his eye because Mark whispered to me that she was going to go on a date with him. After mass ended, Mark made a point of walking up to the girls’ pew and waved goodbye to his chosen one. As we made are way out of the church, he spotted her again in the vestibule. Stopping behind her, Mark tugged on her jacket and again waved when she turned around. He then proceeded on to give an exhibit of karate moves and break dance spins. I’ve seen him do this before, also when trying to showoff for an older girl. They seem to like it.

They say that the nut doesn’t fall too far from the tree, but in Mark’s case, the nut was swept away by a heavy gale and somehow landed under Matthew Mcconaughey’s tree.

Well, that’s it. I’ll write again in another month or so. Keep answering those trivia questions.

*I wasn’t banned or anything, it was mostly due to good taste.

**It could have been worse, believe me.

So anyway I thought I’d weigh in on this whole Blagojevich thing.

Many people are shocked that the governor would continue his nefarious ways even though he knew the Feds were watching. His actions are being attributed to stupidity, arrogance or any number of mental disorders. I agree that all of these are possibilities, but the extent to which they are attributable is limited.

I think the main reason he carried on in such a brazen fashion is because that’s the way he’s always done it. That’s the way he was taught to do it. Everything is for sale. Everything comes at a price. And a little bit of every deal needs to go to line his own pocket.

Blagojevich wasn’t alone here. Many other people were willing to listen to his demands. Reading the criminal complaint, there didn’t seem to be anyone who thought that their strategy to sell the Senate seat was out of line. It was, to borrow a phrase from the governor, business as usual.

So I’m not surprised that Blagojevich was surprised by his arrest. He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong, because to him, that’s the way that politics is practiced.

I think that any governor would have expected something in return for the Senate seat. They probably wouldn’t have been as greedy or coercive as Rod, but they would have expected that somewhere down the line they would have a marker to call in.

Even Obama’s offer of appreciation for appointing his preferred candidate probably came with the tacit understanding that “we owe this guy one.” It wouldn’t have been a cabinet position or ambassadorship, as Obama didn’t even want to appear in the same room with him, but I would guess that if Blagojevich had played ball and managed to avoid indictment over the next two years, that he would have found himself with a cushy job courtesy of a friend of Obama. That’s just the way politics goes.

What did Blagojevich in was super-sized ego, ambition and greed, which caused him to cross the line from political gamesmanship to outright bribery and fraud.

Bernie Schoenberg made an interesting comment on Sam Madonia’s show this morning. He said that it wasn’t surprising that Blagojevich didn’t like Obama – as evidenced by the extremely off-color descriptor he used to identify the president-elect – because Blagojevich thought he was going to be Obama.

Blagojevich apparently believed he was the political wunderkind who would rise from the prairie of Illinois and be swept* into the presidency. He was the son of an immigrant with a funny-sounding name who would capture the nation’s heart and inspire YouTube odes of fascination from comely young ladies.

It was always a fool’s dream, of course. Where Obama is intelligent, Blagojevich is obtuse. Where Obama is smooth and savvy, Blagojevich is tone-deaf and ham-handed. Where Obama is generally well-liked, Blagojevich is almost universally despised. It’s really no wonder then that Obama is headed to the White House and Blagojevich, the big house.

*Sorry Becky, I used that word again.

 
The Yankees of Trivia Fall
For the first time in memory, we didn’t win the Firefighter’s trivia night. Sure we did mount a late-round comeback to finish in second place. And we did leave several correct answers “on the table”, as it were. But still, second place? We have some soul searching to do before the next event.

It was nice to finish in the money once again, especially since I lost a double sawbuck in the bar area and the unethical cretin who found it didn’t turn it over to a bartender in case the rightful owner (me) came looking for it. If I found a twenty at the fairgrounds, I’d pocket it without a thought because the chance of it being reunited with the lossee is miniscule. However, at the intimate confines of a lake club, during a quasi-charitable event, among people who share a common love of trivia, you can bet that I’d turn it over to the authorities with the heartfelt wish that it be returned.

My Vicarious Band
Our Sunday Tour of Parks is usually put on hiatus by November, but thanks to global warming we were able to resume activities yesterday. As a change of pace, I took the clan back to Lincoln Memorial Gardens. There was some initial groaning about there being nothing to do (i.e., no swings or slides), but they eventually took to the hike. The favorable rating went up considerably when we came to a small cove and I let them throw rocks and dig for shells in the sand. It was there that I shot this picture:

Join Red Eye Trio for an in-store performance at Apple Tree Records.

If you were a fan of indie rock in the 80s and 90s you’ll recognize this as the standard publicity shot for no-glam, guitar-based bands from the Georgia/North Carolina scene. If the kids ever formed a band, I imagine that it would be called Red Eye Trio, a name Victor came up with for his future restaurant. It’s a classic indie band name – vivid and esoteric, with the requisite ironic twist of calling a quartet a trio. (But is it Cool Band Name worthy?)

In the picture, the kids’ expressions and poses suggest some things about their roles in Red Eye Trio:

Victor: brooding guitarist, main songwriter and band visionary. Most likely to call the interviewer from SPIN an imbecile.

Maria: unpretentious bassist and band mom. Most likely to hang out with fans after shows.

Tessie: sassy lead vocalist and sharp-tongued indie diva. Most likely to take a bit part in a Cameron Crowe movie.

Mark: fun-loving drummer, band prankster and occasional brawler. Most likely to need bailed out of jail.

Abraham Lincoln: the selling of the BBD**
Frequenters of the Gardens are familiar with the benches located throughout the grounds for resting with the family unit. Each one has engraved on it a quote from A. Lincoln. One of these quotes has always intrigued me: “It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.” I’m not sure the context in which this was said, but I’m guessing that this particular bench marks the spot where Abe talked Mary Todd into, you know, for the very first time. Man, those great orators always make out like bandits.

I’m Still Not Feeling It
I’m still not sure how I’ll vote for president, if at all. I’m a fiscal conservative and a social moderate-to-liberal, so neither candidate is really speaking to me right now. Truth is, it won’t matter who I cast a vote for. Obama will carry Illinois in a landslide, and will probably win convincingly overall. Still, I’ll go to the polling place because there are some races where I do have a favorite. I like general elections because I can vote for the candidate and not the party.

Does Baby Want a Con-Con
I also want to vote for a constitutional convention on Tuesday, but no matter how many times I refer to a constitutional convention, I will always say “constitutional convention” and not that baby-fied abbreviation, Con-Con. I also don’t like when a no-hitter is called a no-no.  I do, however, like the name Mimi.

The Second Coming?
After helping to re-anchor a kitchen cabinet, I selflessly spent the rest of last Saturday morning working a tiller on the lawn of the Habitat house. Alternately pushing and restraining the hulking piece of equipment left me with stigmata on my hands, which I think is befitting.

Endeavoring to Eradicate My Pedantic Tendencies
In the off chance that the former Michelle Mayfield is reading this, I was going to use “felicitous” instead of “befitting” in the previous item, but I didn’t want anyone to take umbrage get pissed off.

Would You Like a Slab of Cheesecake With That?
As much as I enjoy a good beer, I don’t much like drinking beer with a meal. It’s terribly bloating and I find bloatation to be one of the more disagreeable physical sensations of the stomach. Strange then that the one food-beer match that I find to be made in heaven is the old roast beef ponyshoe and Guinness combo. I had one yesterday at the Dublin Pub. Washing down the dead-weight entree with a thick stout would seem to be a recipe for serious cement gut, but somehow, their density counteracts each other and I’m left both satisfied and gastronomically spry.

I Know You’re Out There, I Can Hear You Breathing
Or maybe not. If anyone just read this, please leave a comment. I’m getting the feeling that my audience has dwindled and it would be much easier for me to just think this stuff and not have to write it out and post it on a blog.

Until next week, if there is a next week.

 *Not even the chair.

**A first-press edition of the BFS-produced debut album from Red Eye Trio to the first person to identify the truly awful 80s movie that introduced this acronym to popular culture.

I’ve no published articles to promote this week. I’m so sorry for you.

Should the Driver Hang Up So the Driver Can Drive
A study by a few guys at the University of Utah – Salt Lake City, confirms what I’ve always expected:

“When driving conditions and time on task were controlled for, the impairments associated with using a cell phone while driving can be as profound as those associated with driving while drunk.”

I’m guilty of this sometimes myself, but being as not many people care to talk to me, I’m most often a careful and attentive driver.

Get a Mammogram, Man!*
I think I’ve covered this before, but I’d like to get the ladies’ opinions on the local Real Men Wear Pink campaign. You’ve seen the billboards and newspaper ads – notable males from throughout the community, resplendent in pink attire, are posed in a row while looking sternly at the camera. The message is to their lady friends, letting them know that breast cancer is serious business and they had better get themselves checked out. You got it!

Of course anything that increases awareness and gets women to seek the medical care they need is good. Yet the concept of the ad seems condescending to women.

I wonder what a similar ad promoting prostate exams would look like. On second thought, I don’t.

Get a Costume, Dude!
Halloween nears. Soon, young costumed trick-or-treaters will assemble on our porches with bags extended, their intent clear. Some, however, won’t be that young, nor will they be costumed. So how does one respond to a teenager, wearing an Albert Pujols jersey, who expects to be rewarded with candy for being immature enough to still go trick-or-treating?

Laziness Reigns When Racing for Spaces
On Tuesday last, I was stopped in a parking aisle at County Market (Fairhills edition) as the car in front of me slowly pulled into a spot. After I started to proceed again, this car abruptly stopped, reversed itself, and took off up the aisle, requiring me to quickly apply the brakes.

"What," I wondered, "did you leave your grocery list on the kitchen table?"

No, the driver spotted an open spot five spaces up and the chance to avoid walking an extra 20 yards was just to good for him to pass up. Did I mention that it was a mild and sunny day? Did I mention that the driver was young and seemed in good health?

I often decline taking the closest spots to the store under the presumption that I’m saving them for the elderly or the newly maternalled. More likely, I’m just leaving them open for jamokes like this to pounce on.

They’re Still Fighting the Big One
The remnants of war last a long time. Even after most of the survivors have passed on and adversaries have mended fences, the aftermath remains ingrained upon the warring factions’ cultures. And it can be more than a stain on a nation’s psyche, sometimes the killing recurs in real time.

I read an interesting article in Spiegel Online last week about a man who recently retired from his job defusing bombs that lay dormant in German tundra. The allies dropped an estimated 1.9 million tons of bombs during WWII, many of them delay-action bombs, some of which never detonated. Today, they’re commonly discovered during construction projects or by children playing in remote areas. Over time, the detonator apparatuses have grown fragile, but the TNT no less potent. It’s not common for someone to be killed by these leftover explosives, although the de-bomber’s retirement was hastened by the feeling that he had been pressing his luck.

Funniest Joke Name on the Flintstones
Stony Curtis

Funniest Thing About Obama?
Will an Obama presidency kill political satire, or just nueter it for awhile?

From what I’ve observed, our nation’s comedy writers can’t seem to bring themselves to skewer the dude. The writers of the Daily Show put together a piece for Entertainment Weekly that at first glance seemed to take equal shots at both candidates and their running mates, but that really wasn’t the case. Although they did poke fun at Biden, the Obama jabs were really making fun of some of the more ridiculous charges made against him by the ridiculous end of the right. Not that this can’t be funny, as demonstrated by this Onion piece:

Black Guy Asks Nation For Change

March 19, 2008 

CHICAGO—According to witnesses, a loud black man approached a crowd of some 4,000 strangers in downtown Chicago Tuesday and made repeated demands for change.

The entertainment industry certainly had no problem satirizing Clinton, but he made it easy for them. If Obama maintains his rarified aura and doesn’t betray his base, I fear for SNL’s ratings.

And is it safe to say that liberals are genuinely funnier than conservatives, or does it just seem that way? (clarification: I don’t mean that liberals are easier to make of, but that they are better at the writing and performing of comedy.)
 
A Disgraceful Absence of Hooliganism
Soccer season ended on Saturday. Victor had his first goal of the season negated on an offsides call by an official who was mostly ignoring offsides. A true futbol fan would have thrown a whiskey bottle at him. Thinking back, that really would have been the thing to do. Damn my casual attitude towards youth sports.

A-ha for the Literal-Minded
Singing "pipe wrench fight" to the tune of "Take on Me" is funnier than it might seem.

So Long, So What
Well, that’s it for another week, or two weeks, whenever I get around to this fruitless pursuit again. Although if we win the trivia night on Saturday, you can be sure I’ll be back directly to boast.

*A year’s supply of "Pass the Biscuits, BFS" flour to whomever can identify who said this immortal line.**

**What movie inspired this addition to the BFS line of fine products?***

***This question is for entertainment purposes only. No prizes will be awarded.

Although a Cardinal fan by nature, I took no joy in the Cubs’ spectacular flame-out. If I were a gambler, I would have bet good money that this was the year Cub fans have been waiting for.

What I look forward to now is hearing from all of those baseball pundits who picked the Cubbies to win it all to explain how the team was inherently flawed. If that were the case, then why didn’t they pick up on it before the playoffs?

I don’t belief in hexes or superstitions, but I do believe that mental pressure can have dire effects on physical outcomes. Not only did the Cubs have the pressure of being the favorite, based on their record, they also had a century’s-worth of expectations weighing on their bats. I suppose that’s what kept them down. What else could it have been?

Lincolnesque

Next Friday, be sure to catch my feature article in the Heartland. It’s on two local actors and their experience preparing for a play currently running at the ALPLM. I went to the premiere last Thursday and it was excellent. Lincolnesque is a political satire with a tender heart that skewers the culture of our nation’s capital.

With a name like Naumovich, you know we ain’t playing basketball

Victor is coming into his own on the soccer field. Last spring, he picked up the important lesson of hustling at all times. Now in the fall, he’s starting to figure out where he needs to be and where the ball is going before it gets there. He came oh-so-close to netting his first goal on Saturday. His gritty determination on the pitch reminds me of me during my college intramural days. His handsome face and spectacular green eyes remind me of guys that got girls I never could in college.

Maria is also playing great, bringing her toughness and intensity to the midfielder/defender position. Although she’s in a co-ed league, most of the competing teams have genetically engineered their rosters to ensure a Y chromosome in each player. They’re getting to the age where this does make a difference. I’ll have to teach her how to use her elbows and where a well-placed kick can be directed to render her competition useless.

Funny is funny, except when it’s our guy

Without question Joe Biden is a hundred times more qualified to be vice president – and should it come to pass, president – than Sarah Palin. It amuses me, however, that bloggers who are chomping at the bit to poke fun at every gaffe Palin makes saw nothing rib-worthy in Biden’s claim that FDR’s presidential reign and television both existed during the dawn of the Great Depression.

Get the Stray

Local Fetchin’ Bones fans (me) are rejoicing this weekend at the discovery that their Bad Pumpkin and Galaxy 500 albums are finally available for digital download. The Bones came of age during the Athens, GA years and they play a twangy/swing/rock hybrid featuring the strong vocals of Hope Nicholls. If you’d like a primer, I’d recommend "Steamwhistle", "Stray" and "Tag Along."

Might doesn’t make right

Maybe it’s always been this way, but it seems that Police Beat abounds recently with stories of people beating each other up. What gives?

I’m not sure we can solve the problems of ineffectual schools and predatory loans until we get people to realize that you can’t beat up pregnant teenagers while they’re sitting and waiting for an exam.

BFS Sunday Trivia*

Who said quizzically, rather than forlornly, when lunch arrived:  "What am I, chopped liver?"

*BFS admiration could be yours!

Although, I’m not smart enough to figure out how to get rid of that giant space between the title and this first blog item. Something to do with code, I suspect, but completely beyond me. (But not Russ. Space gone. Thanks Russ.)

Smoking ban? What’s a smoking ban?

We went out to a nearby hamlet to hear a band Friday night, although a later-than-posted show time forced me to leave before the music played. I did, however, get to visit two establishments for the first time, and both stirred me with a sense of déjà vu.

Sitting in these bars, the stale smell of exhaled tobacco immediately transported back to 2007, when it was legal to smoke indoors. I won’t be a rat fink and name the establishments, but it’s obvious that ownership isn’t worried about anti-compliance fines.

The smoking wasn’t rampant; I’m sure that there were many smokers who were taking it outside, unswayed to join the lawlessness that surrounded them. But the practice was accepted enough that butt-brimmed ashtrays were on full display.

When the ban passed, I suspected that certain smaller establishments would gradually fill back up with smoke. It was a concession I was willing to make in exchange for getting the filthy air out of the places that I like to go. So smoke away, all you residents of tiny villages east of Springfield and south of Spaulding, but alas I shan’t be returning, at least until you stock some decent beer.

Sunday Beer Blogger

Speaking of beer, frequent commenter, Gish, has started a new blog. He cuts through the usual blogger muckety-muck and concentrates on what matters most – fine beer.

Hair-Pulling Political Punditry

If a were a young Armenian graduate student monitoring the media coverage of the current U.S. presidential election, I would probably conclude that for their highest office, the Americans have nominated two of the most unethical, unqualified and insincere individuals in the land. Stupid westerners.

And why would I get this impression? Because so many of the most vocal participants commenting on the election process have dedicated themselves exclusively to trashing the other side, at the expense of touting their own candidate’s merits. It amazes how partisanship can make people both hateful and narrow-minded.

The media, and bloggers are included in this descriptor, seem to have little to recommend their own choice, but boy can they tell you what’s wrong with the evil other candidate. Every word a candidate utters is criticized and every action ridiculed. Great amounts of time and resources are spent digging into the deepest recesses of their life, hoping to find anything that might be a cause of embarrassment or evidence of the dreaded “waffling.”

It’s not yet October, but I’m more than ready for this embarrassing process to be over.

Curious Hair

One of my favorite authors passed on recently, apparently by his own hand. David Foster Wallace was a writer with a rare wit and a great mind.

He taught for a period at ISU, where one local blogger was fortunate enough to have gotten to know him. Another connection to Springfield can be found in A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again, a collection of short non-fiction narratives. The story “Getting Away from Already Being Pretty Much Away from It All” is about a 1993 trip he took to the Illinois State Fair. You can borrow it, if you like.

Although I love his fiction (I’m proud to say that I read his 1,000-page, heavily foot-noted novel, Infinite Jest, although I’m not proud of how long it took me), it was his work for magazines that really showcased his talent. No matter what the subject, from lobster bakes to porn industry award ceremonies, DFW would offer insights and observations that were poignant, unexpected and usually very funny.

I recently purchased, but haven’t yet gotten to, his collection of short stories, A Brief Interview with Hideous Men. It will now be a bittersweet read.

 Blake Baby

On a happier note, my indie rock crush, Juliana Hatfield, has released a memoir, although it’s apparently rather dark at times. I read a couple of reviews and put it in my shopping cart, but more importantly, it prompted me to finally iPod her solo CDs. The heart still flutters when I hear her songs.

Here’s Blake Babies with their ultra-cool cover of the Grassroots’ Temptation Eyes.