Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Baseball's over

I'm less saddened by the end of this year's season than I often am, mainly because I found the World Series anti-climactic. You see, I am a fan of a team that struggles for two major reasons, and this year's playoffs threw those two things in my face over and over again. The first, and by far the greatest reason, is that Orioles owner Peter Angelos meddles in baseball operations without having a working understanding of how to build a good team. The second is economics. The Orioles play in the same division as Boston and New York, teams that spend a lot more cash on players and, confoundingly, have better farm systems than Baltimore does, too.
I've often argued that baseball needs a salary cap. The NFL has one, and it is a ridiculously profitable enterprise in which the players do not go hungry or have to take second jobs. A salary cap helps ensure some semblance of parity between teams, though smart coaching and management (see: New England Patriots) can still sustain prolonged success. Note that I think the Orioles would still be a bad team if there was a salary cap, but the playing field would at least seem level. I dislike both the Yankees and the Red Sox, but their money is not the only reason that they are better than the O's. Anyway, is there any incentive for baseball to adopt such a practice? No. Not really. Damnit.

Friday, October 26, 2007

slight addendum

So late at night last night, after a long and stressful day, I ordered the ingredient kit for my first batch of beer. The ingredient kit consists of malt extract (the main source of sugar for the brew), specialty grains, hops, yeast, and some priming sugar to carbonate the stuff. You don't care, so I'll stop talking about the details. Anyway, I clicked on the wrong box, and instead of an English Mild, I will be brewing an English Bitter for my first batch. Not a huge difference there, really just a ever-so-slightly higher abv, and a little more hoppiness to it. It's still a session ale, and a style I like a lot. I realized my mistake this morning, and was not bothered enough by it to call in and change my order.

Today is a day of research, and not in the cool, expand-your-understanding sort of way. I have to do preliminary research to determine the viability of an idea I'm thinking about for a big paper. If you have any ideas about whether or not Homi Bhabha's postcolonial third space can be teleological (Bhabha says no, but the theologian in me says yes), let me know. I'm thinking that process theology may hold some helpful ideas for this one. If only my advisor studied with John Cobb, a luminary of process theology, and if only she had just written a textbook about process theology... oh, wait, she totally did both of those things (luckily I have the book already, don't need to wait for it to be printed). Yeah... So the bar's a little high on this one.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Pay rent, change oil, write in the blog...

-Empty promises to post more often-

Nope, I'm a fairweather blogger, and that's a truth I'm comfortable with. The juggling act is a bit more complicated here, so I apologize, and assure you that things probably won't get any better real soon. Here's some things that I think are somewhat interesting (and probably not sports-related):

K and I joined another couple, both of whom are several years ahead of me in my program for dinner at a local brewpub on Thursday night. There's nothing in that sentence that you care about, but here's where it gets funny. The aforementioned brewpub has valet parking. When we were seated, the hostess asked me to doff my cap (a fitted UNC cap- the tuxedo of baseball caps to be sure). This in a brewpub. The beers were about on par costwise for such establishments (and were excellent- Octoberfest beers are a highlight of the season for me), but the food ran about twice what I'm used to for brewery fare, and while good, was not THAT good. So, here in the outer Jersey suburbs of NYC, they can make anything snobby, even beer and pub food. The company, by the way, was excellent.

Speaking of beer, I am a couple of FedEx deliveries away from brewing my own. This has been a long time coming, and I am very excited about it. K is quite sick of hearing me talk about it, but looks forward to drinking the beer I make. I would like to distinguish my upcoming homebrew venture from the guys you knew in college who brewed their own. I learned how to brew from my uncle, a microbiologist who worked in R&D for Miller for about 15 years, and have been geeking out on the scientific side of brewing and brewing with him and with friends for several years now. I anticipate making beer just as good or better than what you can get at the store for about half the cost (currently 20-35 bucks for 2 cases of beer, depending on the particular style). That means Left Hand quality at Natty Light prices. My first brew will be an English Mild, chosen to lead off because it A) is simple enough and cheap to make while still being a style I like a lot, B) is a "session" beer- meaning it's fairly low in alcohol so I can drink a couple without paying a heavy price, and C) will be ready to drink pretty quickly. After that, I'll get a porter going. Porters are K's favorite beers, and need about 6 weeks or so to reach optimum drinkability, meaning we'll have a bunch of good dark beer ready for ACC Basketball season. Beyond the porter, I don't know yet, but I have a ton of ideas. Future blogging will likely involve homebrewing content.

K and I returned Sunday from a wedding in Minneapolis. I had been there once before, for a conference when I worked in mental health, but this trip was much better. I roomed with my wife, not with a client, got to see a lot more of the city (which I like a lot), and instead of plenary sessions, got to be a groomsman in a truly joyous wedding. If not for the soul-crushing winters, we could imagine living in the Twin Cities.

We have a big conference coming up here at Drew, the Transdisciplinary Theological Coloquium. Gayatri Spivak, a heavyweight in the world of postcolonial theory, will be keynoting, and a whole bunch of cool people will be presenting and responding. I will be shuttling them to the airport and to hotels in the Drew van. Sweet. My advisor is the driving force behind the TTC, and all of us who work with her are expected to pitch in a lot to make it happen.

Right before Thanksgiving, I'll be in San Diego (if it's still there) for the American Academy of Religion meeting. It's my first big conference in religion, and I'm quite excited/anxious about it. It'll be a great chance to meet a lot of the people I've been reading over the last few years, and to make connections for future work, etc.. Also, San Diego in November is generally better than New Jersey in November.

That's about it for right now. More at some point. Take care.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Here we go....

School is underway, and in many ways, it is what I thought it was; more work, a better academic climate, and way more interesting ideas being thrown around than I really have time to research/absorb. It's good.
Today, K and I are hosting a cookout in our back yard, with several folks from Drew coming by. It's about 75 degrees, sunny and breezy. The beer will be cold, the food will be good, and we'll get to hang out with some new friends. 2 months after we left CA, I feel like we have finally really arrived in NJ.
Stay tuned for posts about my involvement in efforts to green Drew's campus, my work to avoid shuffling off my mortal bicycle in the suburbs, and exciting travels to places like Minnesota and San Diego.

Monday, September 03, 2007

Why I Still Watch Sports


I have intended for a while now to write a post defending my ongoing love of sports, and I am fairly sure that the following is neither novel nor convincing. It's been a rough, rough summer for those of us who love watching people play games. A brief recap:

Baseball, my most beloved sport and perhaps the perfect game, has been beset for years by the steroid controversy, but Barry Bonds' run at the home run record has made steroids implicitly the lead baseball story nearly every single day. The biggest story of the summer was not that the sport's greatest record was broken, but that the guy who did it probably cheated. On top of that, my Orioles are free-falling toward their 10th straight losing season, for the same old reasons.

Tim Donaghy, an NBA ref, admitted to betting on games and conspiring to influence the point spread in games he reffed. Already a distant 4th on my sports radar, the NBA has only fallen.

Michael Vick, a fellow product of Newport News, VA, funded and participated in a dogfighting operation, doing things I don't need to recount here. Football will be dealing with the Vick fallout all year.

This leaves out the misfortunes of cycling and hockey, sports I don't watch anyway.

So. Why do I watch sports? I even admit my own complicity in the sports economy, which makes games into business, and which ultimately blows them far, far out of proportion. Here's why I stick around.
I still think that there are points of tremendous beauty in sports. A 6-4-3 double play, a pick and roll, a perfectly thrown touchdown pass to the corner of the endzone... these things never get old for me. There's something about a perfect jumpshot, a strikeout on a changeup, or the coordinated movement of an offensive line to clear a lane for running that amazes me every time, and which can't be touched by "off the field" stories. Those stories, for what it's worth, are often covered by writers such as Roger Angell, David Halberstam, and Joe Posnanski, whose writing creates a much more nuanced narrative than the ESPN Top 10 plays allow for. Maybe it's simplistic of me to think so, but I see artistry in sports being played at their highest level. This really is the main reason why I still watch.

A second, less defensible reason also should be mentioned. Someday the Baltimore Orioles will win the World Series, and I can't stand bandwagon fans. If I'm going to continue feeling superior to them, it is incumbent on me to put up with the O's current futility.

I'd write more, but Roger Federer's 4th round match at the US Open starts in a few minutes. Watching him play tennis is like watching an unscripted ballet. Gotta go.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Sorry.

This is another sports post. Some people write about crafts, some about their new children, some about their wildly exciting travels. I just moved to a new state and structured activity doesn't start for a while, so the Orioles 12-0 win over the Yanquis of former New Amsterdam is the highlight of my day.
Let's be clear that being a fan of the Orioles is not a lighthearted undertaking. They haven't been good in 10 years, and their owner is not willing to spend on the players it takes to compete against my least favorite professional sport franchises (the Yanquis and the Red Sox, who have formed themselves into a slightly cuter incarnation of the Yanquis). Since firing Sam Perlozzo, an inept manager if ever I saw one, the O's have been above .500, recently taking series from both of the aforementioned Atlantic seaboard baseball vampires. This makes me happy, and a 12-0 win against the New York American league ballclub, viewed in HD at home, made my week.
Pity me if you must, but I'm happy.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

756

I don't really want to write about 756. Everything that could possibly be said about it has been said several times in recent weeks. It's an incredible accomplishment by a guy who is the best player of his generation, and in the pantheon of best ever. Ty Cobb and Pete Rose weren't real nice guys either, and Gaylord Perry and Whitey Ford cheated, so it seems to me that the expectation that Barry Bonds has to be nice and clean is a bit misplaced. I reserve the right not to root for him, and exercise that right routinely, but 756 is an incredible achievement.

Big Country and I witnessed .13% of Barry's home runs. It was an inside-out, opposite field shot off of his fists in Camden Yards, against Rodrigo Lopez. Maybe he had some help making it go so far, but making good contact and driving that pitch is a feat that very, very few baseball players ever could have pulled off, and one that drugs cannot perform for you. Congratulations, BLB.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Skip Prosser


Skip Prosser was one of the good guys.

Sunday, July 22, 2007

garden state variety post

Just some odds and ends this time, with numbers next to them to give the illusion of organized thought.
  1. Baltimore's road back to baseball decency certainly includes Jeremy Guthrie. Incidentally, since I just got internet service here, today's game was the first I've listened to since leaving Berkeley. I listened to it while making...
  2. Seared wasabi-glazed tuna, with cold soba noodles and edamame on the side. This, ladies and gentlemen, is one of the finest meals I have ever cooked, and it was on the cheap too, thanks to Trader Joe's fine selection of frozen fish. The whole meal for two clocked in at about 10 bucks.
  3. 9 of the 10 dumbest traffic patterns I've seen in my life are in New Jersey, a state I've lived in for 2 weeks.
  4. Other than #3 and absurd state bureaucracies that make everything take longer than it should, NJ is great. The summer weather is nice, but not oppressive, NYC is right there (cheap options for getting into town have been located and will soon be explored), and it's on the correct coast. The apartment is excellent, and I feel like a king in my new kitchen (many readers may not know until this post that I love to cook).
  5. K and I have visited two churches here so far. At the first, they had us, as newcomers, present the elements for the Eucharist. The one this morning removed the epistle and replaced it with a contemporary spiritual text. So far the first one is the favorite. Paul's not my best friend, but I think churches need to come to grips with him.
  6. The Sunday NY Times is fun for the whole family. K and I enjoy the excellent reporting and the day-long process of perusing it, and the cats find it to be an excellent place to take a nap.
  7. As a veteran of several different stores in the chain, I can safely say that IKEA is what hell would look like if we let Swedes design it and fill it with largely practical and attractive furniture. It provides the illusion of escape at all times. The Elizabeth, NJ location is right next to the turnpike and Newark airport, and yet mysteriously hard to get to.
  8. I read articles in last month's Harper's about the greening of urban spaces in Detroit and also about the "topography of resurrection" in NOLA. Even given the melodramatic slant of both articles, I've been daydreaming about the next phase of urban development in the US, post-whatever. Jurgen Moltmann (rightly, I think) cautioned a recent audience not to confuse the end of our society with the end of the world, so I'm not labelling anything apocalyptic.
  9. UNC's basketball recruits for the '08-'09 season are nasty.
  10. I'll be back more often now that I'm settled in NJ and have reliable access to the interwebs.
Take care.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Road Trip update...

Exhaustion and lousy wifi have kept me from updating thus far, so here's a quick update.
Day one of the drive took us through the Sierras, the state of Nevada (the northern part, which is huge and desolate), and into Salt Lake City. Nevada still creeps me out, since I-80 takes you through Reno and then 410 more miles of pretty much nothing before dumping you into Utah and the salt flats, which I thought were way cool. Salt Lake seems like a nice place, and predictably enough, does not present many dinner options at 9 PM on a Sunday.
Day 2 included the Wasatch range in Utah (which is really just an amazingly beautiful state) and then Wyoming. Wyoming is like Nevada, but greener; long, generally pretty, and with hardly any towns. My coastal brain doesn't cope too well with being 50 miles from the nearest town. K and I stopped in North Platte, Nebraska, which had the lowest budget local news I've seen (the library is getting new carpet, and swimming lessons are a good way to keep your kid from drowning this summer), but seemed like a nice quiet place.
Day 3, yesterday, ended in Davenport, Iowa, after crossing the rest of Nebraska and Iowa. K and I ate at a brewery downtown and walked along the Mississippi (Davenport is the biggest town on the Big Muddy without a levee). It was a nice way to spend and evening.
Today we crossed the river, Illinois (including the Chicago southland), Indiana, and most of Ohio, ending up here in Cleveland. We went to Jacobs Field to see the Indians-A's game, which had gotten out of hand before the weather got ugly, chasing us back to the hotel.
Tomorrow, we'll drive to Cherry Hill, NJ, so K can get licensed to work in the Garden State, and will drive from there to NC on Friday. It's been a nice trip, though we're tired of driving, and can't wait to relax in NC. Current mileage total is 2200 and some change. We're on Eastern Standard Time again, it's humid, and there's a thunderstorm outside. It's funny to realize all the things we've missed on the left coast...

Thursday, June 21, 2007

baseball addendum

So the Orioles fired their manager, Sam Perlozzo, a couple of days ago. I think it was the right call- he made several game-losing decisions this year that violated all rules of common sense and baseball strategy. You can't have the manager losing games for you. Today Joe Girardi, the O's first choice for the job, turned down the job. This is fine with me, and here is why:

According to the Baltimore Sun, Davey Johnson is interested in the job. Davey Johnson has managed a world series team, but that's not why I like him. He played for the O's during the good times, which helps. He managed the O's to consecutive playoff appearances, including the wire-to-wire first place run of 1997, after which he was named AL manager of the year. Davey left amidst a conflict with Peter Angelos, who is a poor man's George Steinbrenner. Angelos, though, has just hired successful baseball man Andy MacPhail to be the Chief Operating Officer, and it seems that Andy has control of baseball operations. The time is right for Davey to come back, as Angelos is currently eating the crow which has been carefully prepared and seasoned during the past 10 consecutive losing seasons.

Davey Johnson is one of the only managers around who actually adds wins to his team. A good manager usually just doesn't get in the way, allowing the team to run its natural course. Davey understands players and also holds a friggin' degree in math, meaning he can make use of statistical analysis, which the Oakland A's and Boston Red Sox have proven to be a very good way to strategize and win games (see: Moneyball, 2004 World Series). Hiring Davey will make the team better.

The other named being kicked around for the job is Dusty Baker. I will probably develop a stutter if the O's hire him. Just get Davey. Do whatever it takes to get Davey.

Best get moving.

The big move is nigh. K had her last day of work on Tuesday, and we are in full-time packing and logistics mode. This, I think, is probably the worst part of a cross-country move. The numbers of i's to be dotted and t's to be crossed seems to multiply exponentially as departure nears. The City of Berkeley gets some props, though, as the staff at their permit center was actually very helpful in the process of acquiring the necessary permits for parking a moving truck on our city street for several days. Their paperwork, like all government agencies, was still a special vision of hell, but the people were very nice.

ENORMOUS props go out to my parents and sister. The whole gang, including my brother, was out here last week, and we had a good time being Bay Area tourists and visiting Yosemite. The truly clutch aspect of their visit came when my parents and sister took our cats back to NC with them on their respective flights. Taking a cat on a plane is not the simplest of endeavors, and it made their traveling considerably more complex. Now, though, our cats are happily in the 'boro, eating, drinking, pooping and being merry, and K and I get to make the transcontinental road trip sans felines. This means we can get out of the car when we stop for lunch, can stay in any hotel we find, and have more freetime at night. We plan to attend at least one baseball game on the way out, and will explore our options as we go. Our drive out here was not so much fun, because we had an unhappy cat singing the blues in the back seat. This will be much better.

In the department of looking beyond the tip of my own nose, the best news this week has to be the birth of Tadpole Taco Country, son of Big and E Country, good friends of ours in NC. That's one lucky baby, getting to have parents like them. We'll get to visit the Countries and meet the baby in a couple of weeks, which is something I am looking forward to a whole lot, on several levels.

Assuming that they have internet access in our hotels next week, look for some incredibly self-indulgent posts from the road. As a quick prelude, though:
The desert scares me. Wyoming is sparsely populated. Nebraska is long and flat. Iowa is like Bill Bryson said it was. Chicago! Toll roads suck. Jacobs Field is a nice baseball park. Woohoo, we're back on the right coast! Relaxing in NC.

Friday, June 01, 2007


Dear ESPN,

Please stop labelling as "top plays" or "web gems" plays in which an outfielder playing in the HHH Metrodome reaches over the wall to bring back a would-be homer. Torii Hunter is a great center fielder, but the left and center field wall in the Homerdome is seven feet high. Torii is 6'2". Yours truly, a profoundly non-athletic 6'0" beanpole, could "rob someone of a home run" in the Homerdome without leaving my feet. My considerable 12" or so vertical leap would allow me to haul in a ball that would have cleared the wall by nearly two feet. If I could do it, it's not a top play. Thanks,

SJL

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

If you thought the pig was gross...

...you should see the pictures I could have taken at the Bay to Breakers race in SF on Sunday. K wanted to check out the race for her birthday, and many of the city's sedentary consumers of pizza and beer showed up in their commemorative birthday suits. After about 20 minutes, though, you stop noticing them, and the costumes really are great at Bay to Breakers; imagine Halloween in Chapel Hill on acid and with warmer weather. My personal favorite was the group of people that dressed up as a school of salmon and then went the wrong way on the course.

The presentation of K's birthday present is delayed until Friday, when her twin sister gets here. The suspense about the present is palpable in the arranging your lamp household this week.

I received an empty diploma holder and an inside out hood on Friday at graduation. Grades should go final in the coming days, thus making my status as a Master of Theology official. It's nice to have a break from the academic grind, as I worked right through Winter Break and really haven't relaxed since last summer. The primary goal now is to move to New Jersey.

Thanks to those who participated in the hat survey earlier this spring. I received a Lookouts hat as a graduation gift. K says it looks like an Elmer Fudd hat. I think it's just fine.

Friday, May 11, 2007

Sacre bleu!


Click on the pig to see more creepy ads.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Teach your children well

Smoking is now on the list of things that can get a movie a more restrictive rating. I wonder when murder, pathetic female role models, misrepresentation of Native Americans and Virginia geography, bondage, or implied doggy-style sex will affect such matters...

Sunday, May 06, 2007

Hi Roger,

Welcome back to the American League. Please feel free to choke on your overbloated ego any time you'd like to. Also, if you could criticize some marginalized group or make some really lewd comments, I'd appreciate that more than you could know. I don't like you, and I hope you have a terrible season, followed by an overweight retirement. Thanks,

SJL

Saturday, May 05, 2007


This is Greensburg, Kansas today.
I used to have nightmares about tornadoes.
This is why.

Good Sign, Good baseball.


As an Orioles fan, it's been a while since I heard one of our players say something like this. Let's hope Peter Angelos understands that he needs to keep Nick Markakis around for a long time. "You got to love it, being in that situation, the game in your hands," Markakis said. "I was just up there looking to hit a fly ball or hit it through a hole, and that's what happened." He tied the game in the 8th, and won it in the 10th.
I watched a certain local NL team play last night, and greatly enjoyed their "clutch" hitting in the 7th and the 2-out rally in the 8th (which was started by an ill-advised 2-out intentional walk of Barry Lamar). Good baseball, even if it was against Philly.

Friday, May 04, 2007

Yesterday in a seminar class, we devoted the class time to our term papers. Each student took a few minutes to present their topic, and got feedback from the faculty, of whom there are 3, and the other 9 students. Mine went well; I got compliments on the development of my topic, and in general I feel fine. Another kid, and this post is really about him, blew my mind. He wanted to analyze the use of Tillich's treatment of the concepts of eros and agape, and the subsequent criticism of Tillich in feminist tradition. Don't worry if you're not up on that stuff; you're not alone.
He got Tillich wrong. He actually was incorrect about what Tillich said. Then, he got all three of the feminists he dealt with wrong. In short, every aspect of his paper was wrong, and everyone in the room told him so. Faculty, students, all of us told him that he had misread every source for his paper.
I felt a little ballsy because I had written 10 pages of mine before presenting the topic to the class, but I figured I could fix it if I needed to. My fellow student had already completed his paper, and handed it in. The professor he handed it to said, "Oh, wow, you're handing that in already? You have another week to make revisions. Are you sure you want to do this?" His reply was just spectacular. "Yep, I have no intention of making any changes." I just had to mention this on the blog because it's probably the dumbest thing I've seen someone do in my time at school, including undergrad and high school. We shredded that paper, and he had a week to fix it. Instead, he insisted that he was right, even though the people who will grade the paper disagree, and arrogantly handed it in. The same kid added a year onto his M.A. program because he didn't get in to any of the schools he applied to for a Ph.D.. Two of his academic references teach the class I've been talking about. It's not looking good for him.
I know this post sounds trite and pompous, but I still can't believe that this actually happened, and I actually think it's funny. 25 more pages of writing and I'm out of here.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Professionalism

Since I now know that at least one practicing journalist and a couple of journalism junkies read this blog, I'd like to submit the worst piece of writing I've seen published by a major media outlet in a while. Just remember, someone got paid to write this piece, which I am quoting in its rather brief entirety off of ESPN.com. No stone is turned, and no detail is left clarified.

Tom Brady has already made a connection with Randy Moss.

The Boston Globe reported on Tuesday that the quarterback restructured his contract to create cap space so the Patriots could acquire the receiver.

On Sunday, the Patriots sent their fourth-round pick, the 110th selection overall, to the Raiders for Moss. With the draft choice acquired in the deal, Oakland drafted cornerback John Bowie from the University of Cincinnati.

Randy Moss
Moss
Tom Brady
Brady

ESPN's Chris Mortensen reports that Brady did not take a pay cut; rather, he restructured his current deal that runs through 2010.

As part of the trade, the Patriots were required to take on the $9.75 million that Moss was scheduled to earn. After the deal, Moss tore up his old contract and signed a one-year, $3 million deal that could be worth up to $5 million with incentives.

On the second day of the draft on Sunday, the Patriots received permission from the Raiders to speak with Moss about a possible trade.

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Derivative Post

I like Big Country's list of his favorite beers, and think that parroting him would be an apt way to unwind this evening. Without further ado:
  1. Left Hand Sawtooth Ale. The Springs of 2004 and 2005 were good times, and the discovery of this beer during that time means it will forever be associated with good times and confusing minor league baseball schedules. It's also a fine, well balanced beer by a Colorado brewery that can do no wrong. This is probably my favorite beer that comes in bottles. Disc golf is probably my favorite sport to play while drinking a one that is cold.
  2. Tie. Dogfish Head 90-Minute IPA/ Drake's IPA. Two India Pale Ales, crammed full of hops, pretty strong, and somehow creamy. Dogfish Head is made in Delaware, Drake's is made in Oakland. Neither is from India; IPA knows no geographical bias.
  3. Fuller's 1845. My junior year of college, a parent in the youth group I led gave me a sizeable gift certificate to Whole Foods for Christmas. I was 20, so I scouted out the single bottle beers and gave my roommate a shopping list, including a decent amount of whatever he wanted to drink. The winner of the batch was Fuller's 1845, a bottle conditioned ale from England. Bottle Conditioned means it has active yeast in the bottle- no preservatives needed, and the beer actually improves with age. This was the first beer I tasted that I thought was complex in a good way.
  4. Tie. Moosehead Lager/Saranac Black&Tan. Moosehead was my first favorite beer, and Saranac was the first dark beer I liked. Most of the bets I won in college were paid off with one of these two beers. You know who you are.
  5. Red Hook ESB. I get a little too excited when this stuff goes on sale at the store. I just like it a whole lot.
  6. Brother David's Triple Abbey Style Ale. Here be dragons. This stuff comes in a big bottle, and clocks in at 10% abv. I had already had one beer, and poured this while I watched a baseball game... alone. My wife came home to find me having had a reversal of fortune (in the proper receptacle) and then passed out on the couch... alone. You mess with Brother David, and he lays your ass out.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

I was an English major, after all.

So it's term paper time here, and I get to write a total of 60 pages for the end of the semester. One paper is already written, and work has been done toward a second, which will put the lion's share of the writing behind me, and a summer of non-academic pursuits will become reality. I'll write something a little more worthwhile at some point, but for right now I'll cop out and quote someone else.
For Christmas 2 years ago, my grandfather gave me a volume of poetry by Czeslaw Milosz, a Polish/Lithuanian poet who had died about a year before, and who spent much of his career here in Berkeley. When I read from this volume, Second Spaces, I feel like I'm stealing something. Milosz, with a lot more miles on his bones than I have, pours his wisdom into these poems. I particularly like this one, entitled "Werki," after a place in Lithuania.

An English Horn, a drum, a viola making music
In a house on a hill amidst forests in autumn.
A large view from there onto the bends of the river.

I still want to correct this world,
Yet I think mostly of them, and they have all died.
Also about their unknown country.
Its geography, says Swedenborg, cannot be transferred to maps.
For there, as one has been, so one sees.
And it is possible even there to make mistakes; for instance,
to wander about
Without realizing you are already on the other side.

As I, perhaps, just dream those rusty-golden forests,
The glitter of the river in which I swam in my youth,
The October from my poems with its air like wine.

The priests taught us about salvation and damnation.
Now I have not the slightest notion of these things.
I have felt on my shoulder the hand of my Guide,
Yet He didn't mention punishment, didn't promise a reward.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Saturday, April 14, 2007

They Scared the Cats, Norwegian Rats!

Interesting week. Here are some things that I learned:

  1. An adult Norway Rat, pictured at right, can kill an adult cat. (Note: All cats are safe and accounted for. This is not a lesson born of experience.)
  2. If Scott Podsednik takes a baseball off his head in the outfield to lose a game for the White Sox, no one will talk about it. Why? This is hilarious.
  3. The last name of the manager of the apartment complex we'd like to move to in NJ is, I kid you not, Soprano. Shudder.
  4. I need to get a microwave, because leftover pizza meatballs are not nearly as good cold as they are hot.
  5. Finding energy to complete a semester after thesis completion is not very easy.
  6. More than one local Episcopal church prayed for Anna Nicole Smith at their Easter vigil. There was giggling.
  7. Earning a jointly-conferred Master's degree does not mean that the two institutions involved jointly confer about how to lessen the paperwork you must fill out.
  8. Jackie Robinson wore number 42. Does anyone know about this? Somebody should do something to commemorate that.
  9. Cal Ripken, when asked by Alex Rodriguez for advice about handling the media, said "Go watch Bull Durham." A-Rod is said to have replied, "Why's he calling me meat?"
  10. Firejoemorgan.com brings me an inordinate amount of joy.

Monday, April 09, 2007

Hamburgered...

Yesterday, K and I were running some errands on foot, and were waiting to cross a street when a hamburger came flying out of a passing SUV and hit me in the head, getting ketchup on my UNC cap. I was a bit stunned by this occurrence. I really didn't see it coming. I was probably distracted by the people in the SUV, who were barking like dogs.

Friday, April 06, 2007

The Orioles are 1-3...

but the 1 came tonight in Yannkis stadium with Mike Mussina pitching, so I'm thrilled. Nice to see Loewen continue to pitch well, and some good clutch hitting off of the Orioles' rat bastard Stanford (Duke of the West) alum former ace.
Quality Chinese food is in my stomach, and Casino Royale will be entering the DVD player very soon, once I mix Manhattans for the wife and myself. It's foggy and a bit chilly outside, which passes for a meteorological event this time of year in Berkeley. All is well.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Oy Ve

Joe Angel, one of the Orioles radio guys, just responded to Minnesota's 7th run of the evening (7-0, Minnesota), by saying,"I'll be honest with you. I'm not having that much fun." Me neither Joe. Why am I an Orioles fan? Inertia, I suppose. Things like Jay Gibbons in the outfield and any of our first basemen at first base make a fan want to kneecap Peter Angelos...

For all of you who haven't jabbed knitting needles into your ears today...

Vaious things, mainly baseball

I went to see Thomas Mapfumo (The Lion of Zimbabwe) at Yoshi's last night. The show was cool on any number of levels. Heavily improvised but still extremely rhythmic African music is always a good thing (the guy who's giving a couple of us lessons in playing mbira music was the special guest). In addition, we got to see a little bit of the anger Mapfumo holds toward the ruling regime in Zimbabwe- there were a decent number of ex-pats at the show as well. Just a cool evening with a great band.

Today's mind-numbing quote of the day comes from Chapel Hill High alum Brian Roberts who, when asked which ballpark is hardest to play in, replied thusly:
Probably Boston and New York [Yankees]. They are always packed. Boston is really tough because it's always loud and it's just a good home atmosphere. But we've lost a lot of games [in the Metrodome], I know that. I think coming here and playing in the dome is very hard. It's an adjustment for everybody. When they got a lot of people here, it's very loud. I was hitting and it was very loud.

Writing my M.A. thesis was hard. I think that writing it was hard. I was writing, and it was very difficult.

Today's website that immediately won a spot on my .rss roster is firejoemorgan.com. It's a blog made up of stupid things said by sportscasters and snarky comments about said sportscasters. Nothing further need be said. Bonus points for a spectacular url.

There are a couple of 1:05 games on the East Coast today, which means that I get to start listening to baseball at 10:05. I haven't made my morning coffee yet (I was at the gym, picking up heavy things and putting them back down), so I'm all set to go for the rare coffee/newspaper/baseball game trifecta. Other items on the to-do list, assuming the trifecta does not render the time/space continuum obsolete, include some housework, going to get something tasty for dinner, and a little bit of initial research on my term papers. They're due in 6 weeks. This will be a personal record in getting a jump on an assignment, not counting the thesis, which was officially filed yesterday.

No classes for the rest of the week, as all of the Christians are preparing for the crucifixion (even the Greeks). Having no clerical duties myself, I hope to get ahead on some work and maybe take a quality nap or two.

Sunday, April 01, 2007

Opening Day


Today, every team has the same record. This means that the Orioles, who hope to avoid their 10th straight losing season, are currently undefeated. The Yankees have not won a single game. The bullpen that the Orioles went out and bought gets to see what they can do. From now until October, I will be able to listen to or watch baseball almost every day. As a baseball fan, Opening Day is possibly my favorite day of the year.
As for the Orioles, my hope for this year is that they can play .500 ball. The mere fact that they invested in relief pitching during the offseason is encouraging, although Peter Angelos' refusal to sell the team indicates that more mediocrity is on the way. Esskay hot dogs, though, has a great commercial running on Baltimore radio stations with the refrain, "We were there for the Ripken years." My team ought to get better this year, and my favorite player ever, in any sport, will be inducted into the Hall of Fame. I love baseball season.

Saturday, March 31, 2007

Moving On.

This college basketball season is now dead to me. The same two teams that played for the football "championship" are playing for the basketball title. Fine. I'll see you next year. The O's open on Monday. Play Ball!

Back to reality...

Spring Break is drawing to a close, but not before the first cookout of the year, which will take place in our courtyard later today. Charcoal smoke and meat vapors will fill the air, and the hoppy flavors of west coast beers will tickle our tongues, thus signifying the true arrival of Spring. Baseball season is nigh, my thesis is done, and all is right with the world.
The big news in the Arranging Your Lamp household is that we will be leaving the Bay Area for New Jersey this summer. I'll be starting on my Ph.D. at Drew University, so it looks like we'll be there for 5 years or so. We're excited about the move, but currently very anxious about it, as no details have been worked out. While we have already done one cross country move, we do not savor the prospect of another. We'll be less than an hour by train from Manhattan, and back on the East Coast, so we're happy about the location.

K and I returned on Thursday from our Pacific Northwest Spring Break trip. We spent a few days in Seattle, which is a cool town to explore on foot. We tackled the Experience Music Project, where I had a semi-religious experience upon being 3 feet from the guitar Jimi Hendrix, my first musical idol, played at Woodstock. Pike Place Market is actually very cool while retaining its touristy character. We opted not to climb the Space Needle, as the Columbia Center downtown is a) significantly taller and b) free. Our hotel was across the street from the new Seattle library, which is an amazing building. Other Seattle highlights included the Bodies Exhibition (headed to Durham next- check it out if you're there), the Olympic Sculpture Park, the Underground Tour, and some really good beers.


We then took the Victoria Clipper up to Victoria, BC. Victoria is all of 5 miles from the border, but the town feels distinctly Canadian. It's a beautiful city that, while known as the retirement capitol of Canada, also had a decent array of cook restaurants and pubs. We tried poutine, which is a dish that will offend some readers of this blog and delight others. The poutine we got consisted of french fries topped with cheese, bacon, and... wait for it... gravy. Decisively unhealty, but really, really tasty.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

odds, ends

"We'd like to remind you," said the P.A. announcer at yesterday's Cal vs. Rhode Island baseball game, "that Evans Diamond is a non-smoking facility. Smoking of any substance is prohibited. Additionally, the use of tobacco in any form is not permitted in Evans Diamond." Gotta love Berkeley.

My bracket is in tatters, but the Heels are still in it, so I don't care.

Thanks to all who participated in the baseball hat polling. Chattanooga looks like the winner for this year. K is thrilled. She loves my baseball hats.

The thesis was approved with minor revisions, which is great, but it means I still have a little work to do on it. I'd rather not ever look at it again.

Spring Break is next week. That will be very nice.

My wife is making empenadas for dinner- they involve ground chicken, a multitude of spices, and mexican chocolate. Good stuff, my friends.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Reader feedback requested

First off, a resounding "Hell yeah!" for the Tar Heels, ACC Champions, and #1 seeds in a tough-ass bracket. Georgetown and Kevin Durant are in the bracket (I am not complaining- we are clearly the 4th of the #1 seeds, so the tough bracket goes to us), and both of those scare me. Kudos to State, who seem to have announced that they are back in action. I'm looking forward to that. Let's assert a little State-school dominance in the Triangle.

Ok, here's the real purpose of this post. Every year, I buy a baseball cap. By baseball cap, I mean a hat for an actual baseball team. I already own two Orioles hats, (a road cap and a throwback) and an A's hat, as they are the only other MLB team I root for, though the Giants often gain my sympathies. I've got all the major league gear I need, so it's got to be minor league again this year. Style counts too, folks. This year I have two options currently already under consideration.
  1. Norfolk Tides, International League (AAA) home cap, fitted (note- road cap is pictured, home cap not released yet). The Orioles moved their AAA club, which was located in Rochester (!) when I was a kid and in Ottawa (seriously) in recent years, to my childhood home of Southeastern Virginia. In one sense, I totally like this move. In another sense, it's about 26 years late. So there's the organizational allegiance and geography there. Additionally, I generally like the look of Tides gear, though I anxiously await the release of this season's home cap, which will hopefully include a dash of orange. Negatives here are that they play against the Durham Bulls, a minor league franchise I may soon become a regular patron of once again.
  2. Chattanooga Lookouts, Southern League (AA). I have loved the Lookouts caps for well over a decade now. It's simple yet humorous. I like the black cap, as I already have one red hat (Carolina Mudcats, in the same league as the Lookouts), and I think the red "C" looks sharp on it. Advantages are location in Chattanooga, a town I've enjoyed in the past, a particularly cool team name, and humor. The primary negative is the NC State colors.

You can either vote for one of the above, or suggest another minor league hat. Additionally, all readers of this blog are invited to know that fitted baseball caps make excellent gifts, and that I wear a size 7 1/2. My wife will be thrilled, too- she loves the hat collection both in principle and in practice.

mayor, basketball


Gavin Newsom update: The Chronicle has run an interview today with Jennifer Siebel, B-list actress and girlfriend of the SF Mayor (also his date for the parade- mystery solved). In a nice little bit of "stand by your man"/kick the other woman while she's in rehab and her marriage is in trouble, she says this about the mayor's affair, which occured well before he met Siebel:

"I shouldn't say this, but there are two sides to every story,'' she said in an exhausted tone. "If people did research into the scandal ... the woman is the culprit. Alex Tourk is a nice man and it saddens me that his wife did that to him.

"This 'scandal' is selling papers -- sensationalized tabloid papers,'' she added. "Gavin's a wonderful human being, and I wouldn't be here (continuing the relationship) if he wasn't.

"All of this stuff that happened and came out was in a darker period of Gavin's life: going through a divorce, losing his mother, being under all the pressure he is under. The supervisors and The Chronicle have not made things any easier. It's amazing that he's as sane and healthy and down-to-earth as he is."

She's right of course; she shouldn't have said that. Of course it was the woman's fault, and not the highly influential politician. There's really no way he could be in any way accountable for whether or not he has sex with his friend's wife. I'm sure he had no idea what he was doing.

NCSU/UNC in about an hour. Our boys played their best game of the season yesterday. I'm hoping they can keep it up, though a tourney invite for the 'Pack would slightly soften the blow if we lose. Psycho T was a man possessed yesterday. I loved it.

Thesis defense Tuesday. Can't wait.




Wednesday, March 07, 2007

back to normal...

The thesis handed in, I am returning to a somewhat normal pattern of life. The Big East tournament is on TV, muted, with a baseball game (currently Washington/Houston) streaming off the 'net. It's nice to have baseball radio back again. There is much reading to be done, but no sources of mood-altering stress. Just went to Trader Joe's right when it opened, which is by far the best time to go to Trader Joe's, and stocked up on provisions. The Organic Ginger Limeade is new to me, and will be a staple of any Trader Joe's trip. It's nice on it's own, and if mixed with vodka on the rocks, would nicely accompany Thai food. Will cook dinner for K tonight, and then head over to a jam session with a professional African musician, who plays mbira music. I've been dabbling in mbira lately, and am ready to get taken to school by one of the big boys.

The Chinese New Year Parade was cool, if overrated. Highlights, aside from the expected dragon dance teams and an unbelievable amount of firecrackers, were ridiculously cute groups of kids, many of whom were dressed in pig costumes (we have entered the Year of the Boar). The parade is difficult to take pictures of, as it was constantly moving and was at night, so I borrowed one from the Chronicle. If you ever arrive slightly late to the parade, avoid Union Square, as it is so crowded that one literally cannot move through the crowd. We had good luck a little further up towards Chinatown.

The other highlight, aside from the really cute kids, was the Gavin Newsom (SF mayor, recently admitted to knocking boots with his campaign manager's attractive wife, has now entered an alcohol treatment program, not pictured) sighting. He was dressed casually in some sort of pseudo-asian silk shirt, and got rock-star level applause from the crowd. He was even with a rather attractive blond, whom I have not been able to identify, and was pumping his arms triumphantly in the air (think of th SNL skit where Darell Hammond's Bill Clinton steps up to a podium and says, "I...am...bulletproof"). The girl behind us was excited to see him. The following is a pretty good paraphrase of her commentary: "GAVIN! I LOVE YOU GAVIN! GAVIN, I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABY! I WANT YOUR BODY GAVIN! OH MY GOD, GAVIN!" Yeah, he's gonna be just fine.

Sunday, March 04, 2007

A long time coming...

Carolina is better than we are.
Mike Krzyzewski said that today after the game, and for now, he's right. I've been waiting a long time to hear that. I've seen some stellar Duke teams, and will no doubt see some more, but it's good to be on the winning end for a little while.


I know there was not the intent to do that. And the game was over before that. I mean the outcome of the game, let’s put it that way. That’s unfortunate, too, that those people were in the game in that play.
Mike Krzyzewski said that today, too, about Gerald Henderson's shot to the face of Tyler Hansbrough, footage of which is at the bottom of this paragraph. To say that the shot was in some way a result of starters being in late in the game is the basketball equivalent of saying, "It was a lamentable circumstance."



Nonetheless, the Heels swept Duke for the first time in way too long, and I handed my thesis to my advisor today. Life is ok.



Saturday, March 03, 2007

quick update (more to come)

K and I went into San Francisco to see the Chinese New Year parade tonight. That will warrant its own post once I get a little time to download the pics off the camera.

I've been making revisions to my thesis. The defense is on the 13th, and I am quite ready to have that experience behind me. I have reason to expect an approval, but it may well stipulate revisions. I can live with that.

We had a reasonably significant earthquake on Thursday night. I measured a 4.4 on the Richter scale, so no damage or injuries, but the shaking lasted about 10 seconds, and was strong enough to make one consider heading for a doorway. It's odd to see one's home shifting from side to side. K has announced that she is now done with earthquakes.

That's all for now. A more significant update, complete with images, sarcasm, and general cynicism will appear sometime around Monday, not coincidentally the day my committee gets the thesis.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

You don't have to like Sports...


...to like this post. Apparently, UNC's basketball players have become fans of the pedicure. Makes sense. I wonder what Shavlik Randolph would think.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

I got an email from my grandfather, a person I admire perhaps more than anyone else I know, saying that he had been daydreaming about the two of us being back in Virginia, spending the day crabbing off of the neighbor's pier. I dropped the net in the water one time, and we watched as it very slowly drifted away with the tide (one did not swim in Chisman Creek in the summer time, unless one enjoyed getting stung by jellyfish). Grandpa's email said that he thinks I could hang on to the net by now. If I wasn't homesick already...

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Long post, several subjects.


Not long ago, I posted my assessment of the state of the debate over all things homosexual in the Episcopal Church and Anglican Communion. BC predicted that the Primates' meeting in Tanzania would not go well. Good call. I stand by what I said in that post, but I think my reaction to the communique is well summed up by my EDS seminarian friend Weird Bird In Love's post, and not just because she favorably quoted my blog. The Episcopal Church is in an odd place, as a colonial power that does not cherish the pain caused by that heritage, and as a newfound minority in global conversation. So how do we respond to a "cease and desist" from the primates?

I think that the content of the Communique is a slap in the face to the Episcopal Church. Yesterday a lesbian classmate of mine explained to non-Anglicans what has been going on in the Communion lately. As she spoke, I could see her lip quivering, and couldn't help but think of the abandonment she must be feeling, and would further feel if our church accepted the ultimatum we've been given. "Schism" is a frightening word to use. Parting ways over differences in opinion is hardly a reflection of the unity God calls us to. This of course must be conditioned with knowledge that the Anglican Communion is itself a breakaway group, but schism is still terrifying. It's an end to a major mandate for dialogue, and it jeopardizes the opportunity for mutual learning and mutual ministry that a global communion provides. That said, maybe it's time. That said, it's not as if there is consensus in our church about this issue. The communique further polarizes that conversation, as well. Basically, I'm angry about it, and while there are many things in the history of our church that I would apologize for, trying to treat gay people fairly is not going to be one of them.

Late edit (2/23): Bonnie Anderson, president of the House of Deputies, has put out a very good statement.
--------------------------------------------------
Deep breath. Moving on to other subjects.

The 10 o'clock news on a local channel here reported that the Anglican Communion is considering reunification with the Roman Catholic Church. Not sure where that came from, but the resulting adrenaline rush filled me with the power to lift three popemobiles.

My thesis is currently in the hands of my advisor, folks. It's written, and I think it's pretty decent. At 86 pages, it's the longest thing I've written by a good amount, and though the process of writing it has been psychological hell for me, it's a nice feeling to have it done. Trepidation remains, though, as I have been thus far unable to predict the reactions of my advisor.

Lotus, a live album recorded by Santana in 1973, is my current musical indulgence. It reflects a serious engagement in the jazz-rock fusion Miles Davis was creating at the time, and it pleases me greatly. Many people do not like Miles' fusion work, and I have mocked them for that as only a drunken pompous music snob can do. Those people would not like Lotus very much.

K and I saw "Breach" last night. It's a solid spy movie that breaks away from the ploys of violence and torture that we in the "Arranging your lamp..." household have a hard time stomaching. I read the article about torture in "24" in the current New Yorker in bed the other night, which was a mistake. Anyway, having that as a frame of reference made me especially appreciative of the psychological focus of "Breach."

This post is brought to you by ESPN, which is showing an NBA game and a Big XII game instead of State-Carolina tonight, and Fox Sports Net, which is carrying what must be a very important hockey game.

Friday, February 09, 2007

Thanks to my brother for alerting me to this...

A 2 Post Day

This sucks. What makes less sense than denying the Holocaust? Attacking Elie Wiesel to in some way prove your point.

Purple shirts, funny hats, and gay people too...

Big Country's post generates this one, which will pretty much harmonize with his sentiments. Katharine Jefferts Schori (Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church in the USA) went to my school and has served on numerous committees and boards here as the Bishop of Nevada, so I've bumped into her once or twice, but not really talked to her. See, she's generally surrounded by a sycophantic mob of seminarians and faculty hoping to touch the hem of her garment or be granted some cushy national church position. I can't compete with that.

Anyway, a while ago she did a 10 questions sort of spot for the New York Times magazine, in which she implied that the Episcopal Church is losing membership in part due to the fact that our highly-educated adherents understand the pitfalls of overpopulation more clearly than our less-informed Mormon and Catholic brethren. Clearly, she didn't mean it to sound so elitist or condescending, but she said what she said. She caught the appropriate crap for that in the following week's letters to the editor (I'd link to these things, but it's old enough that the NYT wants you to pay for it now), but the point here is that she makes me a little nervous when she tackles a sensitive issue. I think she's done well on the homosexuality debate, but then again, I'm on her side.

I whole-heartedly agree with the Presiding Bishop on striving for equality for everyone in the church, regardless of race, gender, sexuality, etc.. Anyone who reads this blog knows that about me, but there it is, just to be clear. As a student at a seminary in Berkeley who hails from the South, I often find myself defending the region's conservative tendencies to West Coast cosmopolitan types, several of whom are good friends of mine. It's hard for many of them to really ingest the idea that Southern conservatives are not necessarily mean or ignorant, but are generally good people doing what they and their community believe is right. It's also hard for them to grasp that liberals are not as rare in the South as they would think.

To my mind, the chief issue behind the homosexuality debate, at least on the global Anglican scale, is Scriptural Authority. US Episcopal theologians, advocating the majority view in our church, have argued that when the Bible is unclear on an issue (or simply does not address it), we must prayerfully turn to tradition and reason for guidance. Here in the US, that has in general led to a progressively minded church which ordains women, has begun ordaining practicing homosexuals, and perhaps most radically of all, revises its liturgies on a fairly regular basis (England still relies on the 1662 edition of the Book of Common Prayer; we use one from 1979, with a new one in the works).

For those in the Anglican Communion who see Scripture as a broader authority, the actions of our church are difficult to accept. I think Scripture is ambivalent toward homosexuality, but it's easy enough to understand the conservative viewpoint. It's the difference in the sort of authority we ascribe to the Bible that really makes this issue difficult and painful, though. The Episcopal Church's aforementioned response to the global criticism leveled in the 2004 Windsor Report (.pdf files available here), a document entitled "To Set Our Hope On Christ" (.pdf) was viewed as condescending. Many conservative Anglicans felt that the ECUSA was saying, "We're cutting edge; you're not. Some day you'll understand this. Until then, trust us." I think they're right. That is what we're saying. Some day they will understand this. At the same time, I can hardly blame them for being put off by our tone. That's why this is going to be so hard.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Sports

I'm not sure that I could reliably distinguish between Herm Edwards and Tony Dungy if they weren't always shown wearing their team's apparel.

I did not realize that Barry Bonds used to demand multiple lockers in the Giants locker room. I cannot imagine that the money generated by ticket sales at AT&T Park this season will offset the colossal bore that will be the repetitive media hype about asterisks, integrity, and a batting helmet so big that it apparently does not fit in one locker. My official response to all things Barry from here on out: yawn.

SF Mayor Gavin Newsome was outed today for knocking boots with his campaign manager's wife. He apologized like a man who felt bad about nailing his friend's wife and then not telling him about it.

Rather than talk about how I no longer care a tiny bit about the Super Bowl (but will still watch) because it's been analyzed beyond all reason, I will simply say that the NFL's relationship with its fans could be improved upon.

What does watching this clip do to you? Does that blow your mind? That really happened! I was seven years old, watching the game at my grandparents' house, wearing a Redskins sweatshirt and happy as hell. I spent the next several seasons arguing that the 'Skins should always just go deep, since it always seemed to work.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Mess with Texas- get needled

This from POTUS (and the Washington Post):
I am surprised, frankly, at the amount of distrust that exists in this town, and I'm sorry it's the case, and I'll work hard to try to elevate it. So the idea that somehow I was trying to needle the Democrats, it's just -- gosh, it's probably Texas. Who knows what it is? But I'm not that good at pronouncing words anyway.
Life in thesis land is what I thought it was. A whole lot of writing that eventually loses its luster, because it becomes a series of hoops to jump through. I'm proud of the ideas in my thesis, but am growing weary of sucking the life out of them through academic writing. I'll be happy to get this done, because my classes this semester look pretty good.

K and I booked a Spring Break trip to Seattle and Vancouver, fulfilling a goal we had when we moved out here (to do some West Coast travel while it was easier to do). Stay tuned, as the "Arranging your lamp..." household may also visit England this spring/summer. I have not been to England, despite holding a degree in English literature and closing in on a theology degree from an Episcopal school.

I think that the SEIU (which has 3 Bay Area locals- everything is unionized in CA) is having a little too much fun deciding who to endorse for the nomination. Each candidate has to spend a day working with an SEIU member after spending a day interviewing with union leaders. The term "self-important" comes to mind. Mark Cuban worked in a Dairy Queen for a day, which was funny. Any of the presidential candidates donning a jumpsuit with their name on it and spending a day cleaning a building, or wearing scrubs and working as a Nurse Assistant, well that's just hilarious.

Julian Wright is an excellent basketball player on a team that I like a lot, but this is funny:

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Hyphy is a style of hip-hop that has emerged from the Bay Area and is gaining national attention. This is not hyphy.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Almost done.


Post #100 comes on the day that my childhood idol is voted into Cooperstown. My comments on the misery that is thesis writing, the rabid illegitimacy that is the BCS Championship process, Mitt Romney's $6.5M phon-a-thon, the iPhone, or Carolina's rise to #1 in both polls will have to wait for another day. Cal Ripken, the guy I tried to play like, the guy I watched nearly every night growing up, the guy whose home run in game 2,131 is the only sporting event that ever made me cry, got elected to the Hall of Fame today. Thomas Boswell wrote a column about him. You can read it here, or maybe I'll just paste the whole thing into my blog (you need a login for the Post, and though they're free, some of you are lazy), and promise that this is my last post on this subject until the induction this summer. Thanks, Cal.

Again Batting Cleanup

By Thomas Boswell
Wednesday, January 10, 2007; E01

Perhaps Cal Ripken epitomizes essential human values, like fidelity to a code of duty and honor. Or maybe he's just a decent guy who showed up for work every day, signed a lot of autographs and didn't cheat -- a very low hurdle for sainthood. Either way, Ripken always has been exactly what baseball needed, especially in its darkest times.

From his first day in the big leagues in 1981 until he was voted into the Hall of Fame yesterday with the third-highest percentage ever, Ripken always has been baseball's perfect answer -- even before the sport knew the ugly question. Yes, he's at it again. In an age when jocks show up at midnight in a white Hummer limo, Ripken will ride into Cooperstown in July on a white horse at high noon.

As Barry Bonds stalks Hank Aaron all summer, like Rambo on Bambi's trail, Ripken is positioned to steal the stage: the accidental antidote, the hero by happenstance. In '95, after the sewage spill of a canceled World Series, baseball needed a stench-free symbol of dependability, a hometown boy who understood responsibility and an adult who grasped that players simply were custodians of a game owned by its fans.

The sport got all those things, as the Orioles shortstop broke Lou Gehrig's record for consecutive games played. Now history is seeking him out again. The steroid-soaked stage is set. Baseball's need for a man with a simple sense of honor is profoundly obvious. Cue Cal. Now we realize that all those years when it never crossed Cal's mind to skip even a single game, something else never crossed his mind either -- cheating. Now, his 431 home runs look larger as the totals of others seem smaller. And we know why Cal never hit a ball 475 feet in his life. "I don't think my numbers are deflated because some other numbers may be inflated," Ripken told me last week.

Just as Mark McGwire brought more unwelcome headlines to the sport yesterday -- by receiving a dismal 23.5 percent of the Hall vote -- Ripken's election immediately helped the cleanup process. There to aid him was Tony Gwynn, the eight-time batting champ who led the league in smiles for 20 straight years.

How does baseball catch these undeserved breaks? For much of the last 20 years, baseball's bosses, owners and union have tacitly condoned and virtually encouraged an epidemic of illegal and dangerous performance-enhancing drugs. And the two superstars of the last quarter century who are least likely to have cheated -- who, if anything, were nagged for not having quite enough "power" -- arrive right on schedule. On an occasion when he was universally contrasted with Too Big Mac and Balco Barry, Ripken tried to make one point perfectly clear -- in his mind, at least, virtue had nothing to do with it. "To me there was no fork in the road. There was no choice. Those things scare me to death," Ripken said last week when asked about playing clean.

Lest he get too much credit for mere honesty, he adds: "I never had the options. The Orioles were thought of as a bunch of goody-two-shoes. After those guys in Kansas City had [cocaine] problems, our team voluntarily agreed to have drug testing. Eddie [Murray] said, 'Just go along with it.'

"When I came into the big leagues [in 1982, his first full season], the locker room had ashtrays, spittoons and candy bars," adds Ripken, chuckling at a lifestyle little changed since the days of the Babe. "Then the blenders for the protein mixes replaced them. Maybe I had the old-school naive view. People think I had this nutritional regimen. Yeah, my regimen was the four food groups."

Ripken may know plenty about the use of performance enhancers in baseball. What veteran star player wouldn't? "The truth has started to come out. But only parts have come out to this point. The overall thing just saddens me. But it's reality. It is what it is," Ripken said. "I don't resent being asked about it. It's all part of the process of cleaning up. The truth will be known. Unfortunately, all the stories probably haven't come out yet. I'm for the stories being told."

But don't expect to hear them from him. "I don't think it's my place to judge," he said.

However, the day of his election to Cooperstown was the proper time for Ripken to put the primary moments of his career in perspective. Making the Hall ranked only third.

"Catching the liner for the last out of the '83 World Series was my best moment as a player because you have the joy of completion. But taking that spontaneous lap in '95 was my best human moment," Ripken said.

Playing in his 2,131st consecutive game on Sept. 6 that season, Ripken circled the Camden Yards warning track, shaking the hands of countless fans, many of whom already had his autograph under glass back home. Or did they all? If they did, they probably received that souvenir near midnight in a darkened ballpark with just enough light left to allow the line snaking beside the Oriole dugout to find its way to Cal's indefatigable pen.

"I didn't want to delay the game," Ripken said. "But Bobby [Bonilla] and Raffy [Palmeiro] pushed me out of the dugout. They said, 'If you don't take a lap, we'll never get this game started again.' At the end of the lap I could care less if they started the game or not."

"We need each other in this life," said Ripken, referring to the bond between players and fans, which baseball constantly seems to stretch to the breaking point. "Taking the lap helped to pull the experience together. I was the beneficiary."

Ripken always feels like he's the beneficiary. And he usually is. To a point, his good luck -- his knack of being in the right place at the right time to fall into a bed of roses -- even embarrasses him. But other people, and baseball, always seem to be getting even more in these sappy Ripken love-fests. Is the simple life the win-win life?

These days, Ripken builds baseball at the grass-roots level by teaching the game to kids and owning minor league teams. It's work he loves and it suits him. "When you're a player, the good seasons go by fast. The bad ones seem to take forever," Ripken said. "The last five years have seemed like the fastest of my life."

To summarize what he does these days and how people should imagine his various projects, Ripken puts his fingers a fraction of an inch apart. "This many can be major leaguers," he said. Then he spreads his arms as wide as he can and grins. "This many can love the game."


Sunday, January 07, 2007

Asshat.

From an article in the Bal'mer Sun:
Of the 178 members of the BBWAA who answered the question about Ripken's induction, only one, Paul Ladewski, a columnist for the Daily Southtown in suburban Chicago, said he didn't vote for Ripken.

"In an attempt to uphold the Hall of Fame standards established by their predecessors, I will not vote for anyone who played in the 1993-2004 period, which I consider to be the Steroids Era," Ladewski wrote in an e-mail to The Sun last month. "That includes Tony Gwynn, Mark McGwire and Cal Ripken Jr."
Nevermind that Rip's power numbers declined during the era in question, that Tony Gwynn never had power numbers, or that someone willing to write off 11 years of baseball ought not to be employed as a baseball writer, much mess given a vote for the Hall of Fame. Paul Ladewski seems like the kind of guy who voted for Nader, twice, just to ruin everybody's fun. He also seems like the kind of guy who has no columns posted in his online archive. I think we all know where he needs to get punched. Let's just say that McGwire's probably doesn't work like it used to.


Monday, January 01, 2007




















A better coach, and a better guy. There was never a controversy about Dean Smith's character. He didn't get fired, because he never choked anyone. He got to 879 with 99 fewer losses, at 2 fewer schools and in one more privately funded arena which he reluctantly allowed UNC to name after him. Win all you want, Knight. You'll never measure up.