The Critical 'I'
 
   
 
 
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Tuesday, April 13, 2004


 
THE BUFFET FORMERLY KNOWN AS PRINCE
Not only can you experience Prince's music and stage show in Tampa later this month, but for a measley 100 bucks, you can dine on foods inspired by The Artist's music (click on the "XO Club" link in the subheader).

Wrap your lips around these toe-tapping morsels:
- U Got The Look Antipasto Salad
- Sign O' The Times Seafood Display
- Diamonds & Pearls Scampi Station
- Lemon Crush Chicken
- Raspberry Beret Salmon
- Purple Rain Potatoes
- Alphabet Street Medley
- Little Red Corvette Chilis
What, no Under The Cherry Moonpies? No Cream-Covered Chocolate Kisses?

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Or pony up a Benjamin and partake.

(Via Sticks of Fire)

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WHERE THE WIRES AREN'T
Wireless is the wave o' the future. At least Intel hopes so, as it's banking on its Centrino chip and other mobile technologies. With that in mind, the company sponsored a second-annual survey that measured the U.S. metro areas, airports and college campuses that made the most use of wirless Web access.

Not surprisingly, the San Francisco Bay area came out on top among metros; I'd be shocked if Silicon Valley's home base didn't. Here's the chart below; since I'm in the Sunshine State, I've bolded the Florida spots:
Not a bad showing for the State overall. I'm a bit disappointed that my Tampa Bay area came in last among major metro zones, behind even Jacksonville; based on raw population and industry alone, it should have run neck-in-neck with South Florida. Room to grow.

Florida doesn't have much of a presence on the other two lists, with just one entry in each: University of Florida at No. 63 among colleges and universities, and Miami International at No. 13 for airports. Again, room to grow.

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QUO VADIS? (TO JAIL)
It's nice to see some signs of literary creativity in unexpected places. Quovadx is a Denver-area software company whose name is a play on one or more things:

- "Quo Vadis", Henryk Sienkiewicz's epic novel of Christianity in the time of Emperor Nero;

- The literal Latin translation of "quo vadis", meaning "where are you going?";

- John 13:36, the Biblical passage from which the title is taken:
Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, where are you going?" Jesus answered him, "Where I am going, you cannot follow me now, but you will follow later."
Unfortunately for Quovadx, what was a rhetorical question becomes an ominous one for the company's brass, as the CEO and CFO have resigned pending an SEC investigation.

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POOP POWER
Someday, I'll be mature enough to not get a giggly thrill out of news stories that involve various animal feces. But today is not that day.

Welcome to the beginnings of pigshit as petrol. And if that's not enough for you, Dr. Aas would like to expose you to the concept of stool as an organ.

That'll do for one day...

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Monday, April 12, 2004


 
A DECLINE IN FRATERNITY
It used to be that, when you were sent off to fight in a war, you would look forward to parlaying your service time into membership in a veterans' organization like the American Legion or Veterans of Foreign Wars. But as with most such groups, vets' organizations are struggling to attract new members as their existing ones die off.

There's a strange implication running through this piece that the lack of large-scale wars since Vietnam is a contributor to the dearth of veterans. The answer, then, is to get a few more wars going!

The real issue, though, is hit on toward the end:
"My parents were in Kiwanis and Rotary because at that time, it was important to join," [director of membership affairs for Vietnam Veterans of America Inc., Robert] Thomson said. "You made business contacts and networked. But because of the Internet and the way our lives have changed, a lot of people don't see that need as much anymore.

"Veterans service organizations face that same challenge."
While veterans' groups have unique challenges, they suffer from the same societal forces that have hurt all manner of fraternal organizations. I recall a thought-provoking discussion on this from years ago--I either read it in an article or two, or possibly heard a lecture on it while in college (I can't remember exactly when I actually experienced it). The roots of this decline extend well before the spread of the Internet, too.

Starting in the '70s, membership in organizations like lodges, rotaries and other networking gatherings just started dropping; they were seen as somewhat irrelevant to modern lifestyles. Doubtless, these groups were so hidebound from decades of automatic membership renewals and joinings that it never occurred to them to start aggressive recruitment until it was too late. Thus, their member rolls got grayer and grayer, which in turn made any efforts to bring in new blood that much harder--they were increasingly perceived as old-people clubs, thus repellent to younger potential recruits.

These days, the stereotype of a lodge member tends to be an old, white male, generally an old-fashioned fuddy-duddy. It used to be that, when you entered the workforce and started getting settled, you automatically joined some sort of neighborhood social club. Now, the images that come to my mind of such groupings are the caricatures from old-time TV: Ralph Cramden and his Loyal Order of Raccoons, Fred Flintstone and his Water Buffaloes, and Archie Bunker and his lodge (can't remember what order of animal his was). In other words, hopelessly square.

Is there a realistic chance for a revival for such clubs? A lot of their functions are taken over by strictly professional networks these days. You could even argue that inner-city gangs play the same role once performed by traditional fraternal associations. And today's nature of community--when families routinely move from city to city and state to state, and offspring tend to spread out across the county--seem to work against the maintenance of formal clubs (then again, I could see how that would be an opening for such organizations to stay relevant, by providing some cohesiveness). Organizations formed around specific criteria, like veterans' groups and ethnic/cultural clubs, would seem to have a better chance at survival, because they're better equipped to be advocacy groups as well. But that's only if they can convince potential members that it's in their longterm interests to join--a tall order.

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REALITY CHECK: NO BIZ LIKE SHOWBIZ MOMS & DADS
What's not to like about a series that shows overbearing stage parents in all their ugly glory? Bravo's "Showbiz Moms & Dads" is set to debut tomorrow, and for once, I'm intrigued by this latest expression of reality TV programming. That said, I don't plan on catching it; if it's a success, I'm sure it'll get rerun on Bravo about a million times, so I can stumble across it at my leisure.

Naturally, you have to wonder why the victims ever agreed to go through with this public skewering: Are they that stupid? Are they that exposure-hungry, working on the notion that even bad publicity is good publicity? As it happens, one of the showbiz moms, Debbie Tye, is a local who shared her side of the story on how she comes off on-camera.
In Debbie Tye's case, the series often presents her saying one thing and doing another.

"I don't want to be on that stage. . . . I never have," Debbie Tye said just before the camera shows her energetically acting out Emily's talent routines in the audience to cue her daughter while she's onstage. (Husband David appears only briefly.)
That quip shows just how clueless she is. In the deepest sense, it's a lie: Of course she's the one who wants to be on that stage, getting the adulation; it's apparent to everyone but her. That's what stage moms do: They live through their children, as proxies for long-passed missed opportunities.

But even discounting that, it misses a more telling point: Most of the time, the kids themselves shouldn't be on that stage. Frankly, I find these images of 4-year-old girls with layers of makeup on their faces and dolled up in glamour-shot outfits rather sickening. These are babies--they don't need cosmetic work. These parents worry about pedophiles preying on their kids, then do what they can to make the kids look as enticing as possible to those sickos. The whole thing is warped.
Unfolding without narration, the show presents much of its context through occasional graphics, which tell viewers that Debbie Tye and her mother, Susan Caldwell, spend about $2,000 per pageant, or $20,000 a year on competitions...

"We've seen other mothers throw an absolute fit if they don't win," said Caldwell, a widow of who lives next door to her daughter and granddaughter. "And if you've got a film crew that gets you up at 5 a.m. to film you all day . . . you're tired by the end of it."
Big surprise--grandma has nothing else going on in her life since her husband died, so she's on top of her daughter's household 24/7. She and her daughter decide to play Barbie with the real-life grandkid. I feel sorry for the husband, who's probably doing a slow burn in anticipation of bolting in a couple of years.

Debbie Tye and Barron offer the same list of complaints often cited by those who are shown unflatteringly in documentaries or reality shows: editing that pushes separate events together or takes comments out of context; filming done when subjects are unaware; a finished product that is far more embarrassing than the subjects expected.
This is par for the course. I'm not saying it's right, but that's what these shows do: They pounce on every opportunity at sensationalization. As much as these parents deal with showbiz mechanics, they knew exactly what the pitfalls were going to be; I doubt very much any of them truly bought the "Bravo Kids" line of crap they were fed for placation purposes. If anything, they probably convinced themselves just enough to go forward with what they figured was a fantastic opportunity for television time, from which that magical call from a big-time agent would come.

I guess what I'd like to see is an expanded follow-up of this subculture, exploring the consequences of all this babydolling on these kids. How do they turn out when they hit adolescence? Adulthood? Professional life? I'm sure a fair number of Hollywood success stories started out at baby pageants; probably far more resulted in absolutely nothing. Inevitably, there are those kids whose lives got completely fucked up from all that early pushing, and that would be the meat of any such study/documentary. But regardless, I'd like to see something. Probably something has already been produced along these lines; maybe I could come across it sometime.

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Sunday, April 11, 2004


 
SHAGALICIOUS, BABY
hothothot
Behold Purgatory, as conceived by pop gallery artist Shag, aka Josh Agle. He's making news of late through his re-conception of the Pink Panther graphics, in time for the 40th anniversary of the film series.

I like this artistic style, very 50s and 60s-ish, lounge-lizard sensibility. Shag makes it even kookier by incorporating demons, imps and mythological figures.

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DIVINING THE SOUTH
A little while back, I tried to set down some thoughts regarding national attitudes toward the South. At the time, my focus was mostly on literature. Jacob Levenson looks at the it primarily from the political angle, although it all ties together.

I'd like to cherry-pick parts of his article:
But as I listened to [editor of the Austin American-Statesman, Richard] Oppel and others dig beneath the surface of their longstanding displeasure with their perception of the northern press's paternalism, I grew more interested in the shape of the caricature than the fact that it exists. As the presidential primaries unfolded, it struck me that the country, and, by natural extension, the press, often use the South as a convenient box to contain all sorts of problems, situations, and conditions that are actually national in scope--race, white poverty, the cultural rift forming between the religious and the secular, guns, abortion, gay marriage, the gradual extinction of rural life, states' rights, the continuing debates over the size of government, the contours of American morality, and the identity of the major political parties. As a northern journalist who has recently spent time reporting in the rural South, I find myself deeply conflicted about this practice, increasingly attuned to both its potential and its risks.
Excellent observation. I've always thought it was hypocritical of Northerners to poo-poo reports of overt racism in random Southern small towns, and derive a sense of superiority from it, when the very same thing happens in their communities. It's convenient to point fingers at faraway places instead of cleaning up your own house.
To try to understand the southern identity in historical terms is to quickly realize that over time there have been many Souths: the sunny South, the savage South, the agrarian South, the Jim Crow South, the violent South, the cracker South, the frontier South, the antebellum South; H.L. Mencken's Old South, populated by "men of delicate fancy, urbane instinct and aristocratic manners--in brief, superior men--in brief, gentry," the suffering South, the moral South, and the list goes on. Even now, when interviewing astute observers of the region, it becomes rapidly clear that to talk about the South is to speak with southern mythologizers, southern debunkers, southern redeemers, and southern reinventors. Running clear through most of these narratives, however, is the theme that in some fundamental sense the South sits apart from the rest of the country. (italics mine)
A dead giveaway is when something--a place, person, concept--requires a definition, thus distinguishing its sense of otherness. For the United States, the default is the metropolitan Northeast; the rest of the country, including the South, is someplace else.
James Cobb, a southern historian at the University of Georgia, told me that this phenomenon can be traced directly to the birth of the American press. Even before the Revolutionary War, the literary market was concentrated in the North and it defined the country in its image. America was supposed to be New England writ large, while the South, Cobb said, was portrayed as colonial, lacking the dynamism of the national character--the antithesis of America. By the early twentieth century, the notion that the region was culturally separate had become particularly pronounced.
I have to question this, and wonder if this viewpoint isn't being distorted by the national prism created by the Civil War. Certainly you can find examples of Northern bias back to colonial times, but if you look, you can probably find almost as many Southern pockets of media concentration. Virginia, for instance, was the largest State for several decades following 1776; it was in many ways the national center of gravity. I think the real break came with the Northern victory in the Civil War.

In fact, I find it curious that Levenson almost completely ignores mentioning the Civil War in this analysis. Hello? It's a watershed event from which practically all present-day events still evolve. Maybe he believes that approach has been examined to death, but ignoring it makes any discussion of the South woefully incomplete.
The difficulty with this enterprise is that the South is still often cast as completely other. So, as Peter Applebome, the former New York Times Atlanta bureau chief, who has argued that the rest of America is becoming more like the South, told me, talking about race in the South becomes a way of not talking about race in the rest of the country. It's a point worth highlighting, and it extends beyond race. As we head into an election, Richard Oppel believes that the political horserace stories that can casually frame God, guns, and gays as southern concerns promise to oversimplify southerners' relationship to these issues, and, at the same time, relegate the national struggle to come to terms with these same issues to the periphery of the debate. All of which seems to highlight James Cobb's observation that many have come to believe that what "is wrong with America has metastasized across the country from its origins in the South." The trouble with that, he said, is that nobody has an explanation for why the rest of the country provides such a wonderful "export market" for these Southern values. Given all of this, how can the press capture the region in a nuanced way that also offers insight into the country at large? Part of the trick is to make clear what elements of a story are southern and what are national.
The heart of it, really: When are the issues truly reprentative of a national consciousness? And do non-Southerners have a hangup about recognizing this?

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A BLOW TO FASHION
fly away, high away
The current crusade against broadcast indecency has seemingly claimed a high-profile victim. The five-year-old Victoria's Secret Fashion Show is being mothballed, and the connection with Janet Jackson's Super Bowl malfunction is being brought into the decision.

Shoot, I think Victoria's Secret is passing up a golden opportunity to show off how anti-Janet they are. Imagine: The next edition of the whole Fashion Show could tout how VS's slinky-slinkies are all wardrobe-malfunction-proof! Hell, considering the amount of bounce that models like the lovely Tyra Banks typically put into their catwalks, I guess that's already been proven out year after year.

It's funny how the media mindset is now attuned: The sight of boobs triggers a mention of Janet's Boobgate. In reality, five years is a long time to stick with a marketing campaign--and it's more proper to think of the Fashion Show as advertising programming, not creative content--and it makes sense that the company wants to shift to something new. Happens all the time.

I don't think I need to point out that every example trotted out as being affected by this drive for "decency" involves titillating content, which for the average American tightass is where discussions of offensiveness begin and end. The violence quotient in the entertainment media is, as usual, getting a free pass.

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Saturday, April 10, 2004


 
I'M KRYPTONITE TO LIGHTNING
zapped!
Figures. I go to my first-ever Tampa Bay Lightning playoff game, and they get thumped 3-0 by the damned Islanders.

I should have known, because the last Bolts game I attended was nearly a month ago, when they improbably lost to the lowly Hurricanes, snapping what was an 18-game points streak and starting what became a mini-slump. Hopefully, that won't happen this time.

For the good of the team's Stanley Cup prospects, I think I'll refrain from attending any more games this season. They can't seem to win with me in the building. It's all my fault, I'll take the flack.

Other things I saw at the game:

- Who should have sang the national anthem but Styx, just before their concert in downtown St. Pete. So I got to see them after all. Whoo-hoo!

- A guy in the row in front of mine was wearing a Russian jersey, maybe the National team's (didn't pay close enough attention). The jersey had a name on the back, written in Cyrillic, appropriately enough. The name was "Khabibulin". I complimented him in that, and asked him, jokingly, if his name really was Khabibulin. I got the desired reaction of surprise from him that I had been able to read the name correctly.

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LIGHTNING: NOT SO "HOME-GROWN"
zap
I'm getting set to trek on down to the St. Pete Times Forum to take in Game 2 of the Islanders-Lightning playoff series! It should be fun. Nothing like an afternoon hockey tilt in sunny Tampa Bay.

The start of the playoffs brings a healthy dose of examination of the teams in the postseason dance. The Bolts are no exception, as the once-lowly franchise has been built into the current Eastern Conference powerhouse.

Once misconception about this team is that it's got a "home-grown" roster--that is, the team is the result of the drafting and development of young players within the organization, and therefore a model to admire. Drafting players and bringing them along is perceived to be the "right" way to win, versus the "wrong" way of buying high-priced free agents ala the New York Rangers. It's a pretty thin argument on several levels: Drafting is less a science than it is a roll of the dice; how is it "right" to keep a young player locked into your organization at far below his market value; what the hell is an owner supposed to "buy" other than a winning team and a championship? And so on.

In any case, a look at the Lightning's current roster pretty well dispels the assumption that the team is of the classic home-grown variety. Only three core players--Lecavalier, Richards and Kubina--were drafted by Tampa Bay (the other two, Cibak and Afanasenkov, are good role players but pretty much spare parts). The rest of the roster, including Khabibulin and St. Louis, joined the team in trades or through free agency, having spent their developmental years with other teams. There's not much about this team that's home-grown at all; if anything, it reminds me of the LA Kings in recent years, another team that's seen success through building a team via trades.

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SAY NO TO BURGER KING
Reminder to self: If you're really hungry, and the closest eatery is a Burger King, just keep on going to the next option.

I just got back from lunch there, and it was probably the worst stuff I've eaten in a loooooooooong time. Chicken tenders that tasted like a cross between styrofoam and rubber. Fries that retained probably three times their volume in grease. A clueless staff that entered into an en masse bitching session with the fat store manager right in front of me (the second straight time this has happened in my presence, and I go to this store maybe three times a year). In-store music blasting just a little too loud.

I used to think rival McDonald's was the bottom-of-the-barrel in terms of fast food. I haven't been to a McDonalds in forever, but I can't imagine it's worse than the King. I think BusinessWeek pegged it exactly right when it characterized the company as being in big trouble:
The bottom line? Even as archrivals McDonald's and Wendy's International have turned in sizzling numbers recently, privately held Burger King's U.S. sales dropped 6.6%, to $7.75 billion, in 2003, according to industry researchers Technomic. "This may be Burger King's last stand," says restaurant analyst David S. Palmer at UBS Securities in New York. "The next six months will determine the future of Burger King."

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KILL BILL: VOLUME 3?
take three?
So according to Quentin Tarantino, as part of the pre-release hype for Kill Bill: Volume 2, there's a Volume 3 in the works, long-term:
"Oh yeah, initially I was thinking this would be my 'Dollars' trilogy. I was going to do a new one every 10 years. But I need at least 15 years before I do this again," the director tells Entertainment Weekly magazine in its April 16 issue.

Tarantino says Uma Thurman, who plays a bride out for revenge in the series that began last year, won't be the star.

"The star will be Vernita Green's (Vivica A. Fox's) daughter, Nikki (Ambrosia Kelley). I've already got the whole mythology: Sofie Fatale (Julie Dreyfus) will get all of Bill's money. She'll raise Nikki, who'll take on The Bride," he says. "Nikki deserves her revenge every bit as much as The Bride deserved hers. I might even shoot a couple of scenes for it now so I can get the actresses while they're this age."
It's odd that he'd say he was "initially" considering this story as a trilogy, because Kill Bill was originally going to be a single, three-hour-long movie, not a two-part first film and sequel. Plus, the promos I've seen for Volume 2 so far have included taglines that describe it as the "final chapter" in the story. So I'm calling bullshit on Mr. Tarantino--he didn't come up with the notion of another edition until later, probably not until fairly recently (especially in light of how well the first two movies look to do).

That said, I think the concept for a third movie, as described above, sounds pretty good. Revenge as an extended story arc is an excellent story driver.

By the way, if anyone knows what the "Dollars trilogy" Tarantino mentions is, feel free to let me know. I assume it's some avant-garde film series, possibly Asian cinema, but I can't find any reference to it online.

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Friday, April 09, 2004


 
REGARDING LEA
nice suit
That's Lea Fastow, wife of one of the Enron robber barons, who might be looking at her own jailtime.

Note the rather thick, bull-like neck. The fat knees. The not-so-subtle paunch where the blouse meets the skirt.

She's a man, baby.















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SCALIA: THINK ABOUT THE WHOLE CONSTITUTION, PLEASE
I hate to pile on to all the left-wing rhetoric lately aimed against Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia. He's a brilliant legal mind, and in any case, Justices should be set apart from the typical muck of politics.

But when he insists on employing such draconian restrictions on reportage about his public speaking engagements, it's hard to get behind him.
"The Constitution of the United States is extraordinary and amazing. People just don't revere it like they used to," Scalia told a full auditorium of high school students, officials, religious leaders.

He said he spends most of his time thinking about the Constitution, calling it "a brilliant piece of work."
I don't think I have to point out the irony at work here. If he truly thinks so much about the Constitution, maybe he should spend extra time thinking about the First Amendment--and as a bonus, actually comprehending what it means.

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WAITING, THE HARDEST PART
ringring
Well, piss on a brick. I found out today that I can't get out of my current wireless phone contract with Verizon Wireless before the end of this month (unless I want to pay a cancellation fee, which this close to expiration would be idiotic). So I'll have to wait that long to upgrade to my new phone: the LG VX6000. With a camera and everything.

I'm wary, because every phone I've ever had has always ended up looking great in the store, but then having a few minor shortcomings in them that made me regret ever getting them. Because I'd always get them for practically free, as part of a contract deal, I'm loathe to get rid of them and have to pay for a new one (plus, it's not like they've been unbearable). But I'm really tired of my two-year-old phone, especially because I can never hear the fucking thing ring unless I'm in a totally quiet room (and the vibrator is not always detectable either!). I'm ready for a new toy, especially with the camera feature. Plus I'm trying to get opinions from people I know who already have this particular phone, to see if my main areas of concern measure up. (If anyone reading this has this phone, I encourage you to chime in.)

I'll just have to be patient. Meanwhile, I'm beating the shit out of my soon-to-be ex-phone as much as I feel like.

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Thursday, April 08, 2004


 
STYX TIX
Any Styx fans out there?

Really? Getouttahere. No kidding?

Well then, domo arrigato, you wacky roboto. You probably already know that the turgid rock ensemble (sans original frontman, and all-around prissypants, Dennis DeYoung) is performing this Saturday night at St. Petersburg's annual Festival of States. It should be a symphonic delight.

I just happen to have snagged four tickets to the concert. I've already given away two of them, but the other two are still available. So if you're in the Tampa Bay area and want to catch the show, let me know as soon as possible, and they're yours, for free (a $24 value). You'll have to pick them up, wherever is most convenient for me (likely close to my apartment in northern St. Pete).

Why am I not using them myself? Let's just say I'm not down with the Styx stylin'. The band does hold a special place in my memories, as Paradise Theatre was (I think) the second album I ever bought for myself, when I was like 9 or 10 years old. It was an actual vinyl record and everything. I was fascinated by the front and back album cover art; I remember studying it up close for several minutes. A lot of the songs stuck with me for a long time too, especially the opening cut, "A.D. 1928". But we all move on from these things; so it is with me. Besides, I've got a hockey game to go to on Saturday, and some partying afterward.

So, while supplies last, come and get the pair of tickets. Otherwise they go into the trash.

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SNEAKING IN THE CHAMOMILE
I bought a box of Lipton tea bags, standard black/orange pekoe brand, for the office yesterday. I'm easily the biggest consumer of hot tea in the office; I can't stand coffee, and I limit the amount of soda I drink, so my stimulant fix has to come from the teabag. I probably go through at least three or four bags a day (putting each bag through a second dunking, or else I'd OD bigtime). So considering, it's only right that I spring for the $3 every couple of months for a 100-count resupply. Fuel to keep you going.

Today, I opened the box to fish out my last fresh bag of the day. A little glint of color at the bottom of the box caught my eye. I figured it was a coupon, so I dug my fingers in to get it. Surprise! It turned out to be a free sample bag of chamomile tea, with the words "caffeine-free" proudly displayed on the wrapping.

Caffeine-free? Is that supposed to be a selling point? I think not. My feeling is, what's the point in drinking tea if you don't get that caffeine jolt out of it? Same line of thinking dictates that I won't touch non-alcoholic beer, either.

Funny thing about chamomile--it's one of the few English words I have trouble pronouncing. Maybe that shouldn't be too strange on the face of it, as it has distinct non-English roots. But it's a word that I heard the first time in Greek, and I guess it's such an infrequently-encountered word, and the English version is so close (as is probably all language variants of it, at least European), that I never got the hang of distinguishing it. Just forming the syllables in my mouth feels strange. It's a subtle reminder that, while my default language is English on all levels (spoken, conscious thought, etc.), I was in fact raised learning two tongues simultaneously.

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Wednesday, April 07, 2004


 
EVEN MORE BABBLING
blah blah blah
This is nice: Altavista's Babelfish translation tool has been upgraded, adding translation for Greek and Russian, among others. That makes it that much more useful for me now.

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PLAYOFF TIME, OR, WHAT I'LL BE WATCHING FROM NOW UNTIL JUNE
i want stanley
It's an action-packed night of pucks as the NHL playoffs start up! I've already gotten one ESPN game under my belt tonight, with Detroit taking down Nashville 3-1 in a scrappy game. It's time to do the sleep-deprivation thing now as Game 1 of Dallas-Colorado just started. I loves me my hockey, boy.

I loves it so much that I'll be heading out to a game myself, this Saturday for Game 2 of the Islanders-Lightning series! It'll be fun, a nice afternoon game. Where hopefully, the Bolts will build a 2-0 series lead en route to wiping the Gorton Fishermen out of the postseason. I'm looking for the local club to go all the way to the Cup Final, where they'll fall to the Dallas Stars. Hey, I can dream...

Catching the playoffs on TV is nice, because it's probably the only reliable televised entertainment I can tolerate these days. And contrary to (apparently) the rest of the world, I don't think there's enough NHL hockey played throughout the year; the summers are unbearable for me, sports-wise. Then again, this summer will have the 2004 World Cup of Hockey, so I'll have some succor.

And after these playoffs, and the World Cup? Everyone is assuming Ragnarok, in the form of a lockout and cancelled season. Even with a season, the league's television contract is up in the air, with a possibility of much fewer national games on for the next stretch.

Call me an idiot optimist. I'm fairly confident management and labor will come to an agreement, pervasive rhetoric aside. I frankly don't care what the final form of the new CBA is, although I'll always pull for the players. As for the broadcasts, given ESPN/ABC/Disney's recent track record with sports programming, I think everyone would be better off if the NHL didn't come back to the Mouse channels. Ideally, another network, eager to get back in the big-league game, will step in.

Anyhoo, play on, play on. (And could ESPN have possibly chosen worse opening-theme music for both games tonight? Some piece of shit that bordered on speed metal. Gimme a break; get some good musical accompanyment for a change, something hip and urban instead of that hard-rock/alternative crapola.)

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