(Note: While it may seem similar to recent events, this story is fiction - pure, quickly written, poorly worded/structured non-sensical fiction. Any similarity to real people living or dead is purely coincidental, and hopefully hilarious... but I'm not counting on that last one).
Jack Wellington's car pulled up to the Aldrin Ranch with a cloud of dust in tow. Though he was about to complete his eighth decade on God's good Earth, the distinguished Texas attorney today felt the energy of a young graduate who'd just conquered the bar exam.
As Wellington's driver lowered the back passenger side window, the dry Texas heat rushed into the car - bringing with it familiar scents.
Quail. And gunpowder.
"Mr. Wellington," said a slender man clad in bright orange hunting gear. "I work for the Vice President. My name is Klaus von Richtover. I'll take you to the party."
"Well, thank you son. Much obliged," Wellington said as he hoisted himself out of the car. He usually didn't Texas his speech up too often, but he liked to see if he could impress people who were obviously not from the area.
"Of course," von Richtover purred. He drew the corners of his mouth back towards his ears. 'That must be German for 'smile,'' Wellington thought, allowing himself a small chuckle.
von Richtover quickly pivoted and turned toward the driver. "See that you stick around," von Richtover told the man in the black Cadillac. "Mr. Wellington is a very special guest."
The driver gave von Richtover a deliberate nod, and the car slowly pulled away. A cloud of dust seemed to form out of nothing, following the Caddy around a bend and out of sight.
"Well, let's get a move on, son," Wellington said. "Those quail aren't gonna plug themselves."
"No," von Richtover replied, his lips once again thinning in an approximation of a smile. "They most certainly will not."
Though he was easily twice the age of von Richtover, Wellington strode quickly towards the hunting grounds, forcing his new friend to break into a slow jog.
"Mr. Wellington," von Richtover said. "Perhaps we should slow down. If you're lucky, this will be a long day for you."
Wellington gave the younger man a hearty laugh. "I haven't seen Dick since the Austin fundraiser. I told him I'd deliver him Texas," he chirped. "I wanna shake his hand and give him a howdy-do."
"Oh, he's very... eager to do the same, Mr. Wellington. Very eager indeed."
The pair soon found themselves surrounded by brush. Before long, they came upon a pith-helmeted man, otherwise dressed entirely in khaki. His back was turned, and the sun glistening off his shotgun barrel forced both newcomers to squint.
"They say a 28-gauge shotgun is a 'ladies'' weapon," said Dick Delaney, Vice President of the United States of America. "But you know I've had 11 heart attacks, Jack."
He turned around, revealing a dumpy, bald, bespectacled middle-aged man. "Thank you, Klaus, that will be all for now." Klaus bowed neatly before trudging through the brush on his way back to the ranch.
"It's a beautiful weapon, isn't it, Jack?" Delaney continued. "No recoil at all. It's good for the heart. My wife can tell you, I don't really like the idea of dropping dead in the middle of a quail hunt."
"I understand, sir," Wellington said. "Let me just say that it's an honor-"
Delaney quickly interrupted him, as if Wellington hadn't spoken at all. "But I'm not opposed to a little danger out here, Jack." The vice president's upper lip curled into a sneer. "It's a shame your boat had to run aground on my island, of all places. A shame, indeed."
Wellington was now thoroughly amused. "Uh, your car service came to get me, sir."
"We're surrounded by thousands of miles of Pacific Ocean on all sides," Delaney continued. "It's just you and I, old friend - no longer shackled by the laws of Man."
"We're in Corpus Christi, sir," Wellington replied.
"During the Great War, I quickly learned of the most dangerous animal of all," Delaney said. "Do you know what it is, Jack?"
"Is it Man?"
"It's Man," Delaney continued. "Shocking, I know. But one learns much when he faces the constant threat of horrific Zeppelin attacks by the Kaiser's men. One learns that only a man possesses the cunning necessary to make a hunt truly worthwhile. And since you're trespassing on my island, Jack... I shall hunt you. For sport. But make no mistake; I expect and hope that you'll be able to turn the hunter - me - into the hunted - also me, but in the future.
"I'll give you a thirty-second head start," Delaney explained, turning away from his guest. "There's a jungle out there. I believe you'll be able to find everything you need to turn this contest to your advantage."
Wellington didn't want to offend the Vice President by cutting his joke short, but he felt it necessary to exchange formal pleasantries. "Sir, let me say what an honor it is to be here, and how honored I've been to be a loyal Mush-Delaney supporter."
"Oh, we're always glad to have you, Jack. Perhaps I'll have you for dinner tonight," Delaney replied. "Twenty-five seconds."
Wellington forced a chuckle. "Uh, Mr. Vice President, where's the rest of the hunting party?"
"Twenty seconds," Delaney replied, looking at his watch.
For the first time, Wellington felt fear shoot its way up and down his spine. "Sir, this is some sort of joke... yes?"
"Oh, good sport is no laughing matter, Jack," Delaney said. "Fifteen seconds. I would get moving if I were you."
Wellington quickly began looking for cover. "Sir, I've given you everything! Money, votes!"
"And if this day is mine, you'll be giving me a whole lot more. Precious organs, hair, lifeforce," Delaney droned, his upper lip curling once again. "Ten seconds."
Fear completely took over Wellington's brain and told his body one thing.
Run.
As the 79-year old took his first step, he was startled by something exploding out of the brush. He instinctively recoiled.
"Time to die, Jack!" Delaney whirled and fired. The smell of burnt powder stung his nose as he watched Wellington crumple to the earth. As he closed his eyes to savor the moment of victory, the vice president heard a single quail making its escape.
He smiled and slowly walked to where Wellington lay.
"This is extremely uncomfortable," Wellington said, tiny pellet marks covering his face and neck. "I think I'd like to go to the hospital."
"Ironic," Delaney said, staring into the distance. "We matched wits for what seemed like ages - two clashing titans were we. And in the end, he was brought down by his fear by one of nature's lowliest creatures - the cage-raised quail that he almost stepped on. Also, his hubris was his downfall... yes, hubris. That sounds good, too."
"Makes you think," Wellington said.
Delaney removed a large wooden horn from his hunting pouch and blew a single, majestic note into the late afternoon sky. Within seconds, von Richtover was upon them.
"Klaus," Delaney barked. "Take Mr. Wellington's body inside for preparation. We'll be taking the heart, the scalp, the eyes and oh... let's say... the pancreas. I'm in a fun mood today. Stick the rest in the black Caddy and let the driver take care of it. Tell him if he makes pemmican for the children, to save some for me this time."
"Can I go to the ER now?" asked Wellington.
As the German carried the trophy back towards the ranch, the vice president stared into the setting sun.
He sighed.
'Sometimes I get so bored,' he thought to himself.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Sunday, February 12, 2006
sore-ass sunday buzzed blogging
Kris and I have finally made our way to the couch, after 1) digging a car out of snow on Samson Street, 2) digging a driveway out of snow in Delaware and 3) digging kitten vomit out of carpet, bedsheets and hardwood floors. Each and every one of our muscles are sore, and we're going to get our buzz on, and nobody's going to stop us. In fact, we'd like to thank our main enablers, Mr. Duboeuf and Mr. Yuengling (and yes, Mr. Jacuzzi).
Cool Shit:
- Jon Heyman of Newsday says that the Mets' ballpark plans are being heavily influenced by PNC Park in Pittsburgh. Kris and I went to PNC last summer to see the Mets play the Pirates (you can probably find some of the pictures by following the Flickr links at left), and we both loved loved LOVED the park. Watching a ballgame there is a complete and total joy; I felt that if they were going to try to build Wrigley Field today, it would be PNC Park. So kudos to the Mets - as my boss has been known to say, "if you're going to steal, steal from Tiffany's."
- This afternoon, while driving along South 26th Street on our way to the George C. Platt Memorial Bridge, I-95 and - ultimately - Delaware, Kris and I saw a deer walking along an overpass. It might just be the coolest thing I've ever seen within the Philadelphia city limits, and I've lived in Philly for almost eight years now(!). It made me think about the weirdest things I've seen since I've been living here...
- A guy fake getting hit by a car (just about my first day ever in Philly)
- A guy's car getting towed (on my way to 7-11); said guy trying to get into the tow truck and drive away before getting pulled out and beaten by the tow truck driver (on my way back from 7-11)
- A homeless man defecating in public (on two separate occasions; and yes, they were two different homeless men)
- Ed Rendell and Morgan Fairchild drumming up support for Al Gore... together... on Locust Walk (around Election Day, 2000)
- Rocky Balboa getting filmed two blocks from my house (two weeks ago at Irish Pub, which I'm assuming means Rocky was trying to hook up with a chubby 24-year old yuppie automaton in tight black hoochie pants)
What are some of the weirdest things you've ever seen in Philly? Hmmmmmmm?
Cool Shit:
- Jon Heyman of Newsday says that the Mets' ballpark plans are being heavily influenced by PNC Park in Pittsburgh. Kris and I went to PNC last summer to see the Mets play the Pirates (you can probably find some of the pictures by following the Flickr links at left), and we both loved loved LOVED the park. Watching a ballgame there is a complete and total joy; I felt that if they were going to try to build Wrigley Field today, it would be PNC Park. So kudos to the Mets - as my boss has been known to say, "if you're going to steal, steal from Tiffany's."
- This afternoon, while driving along South 26th Street on our way to the George C. Platt Memorial Bridge, I-95 and - ultimately - Delaware, Kris and I saw a deer walking along an overpass. It might just be the coolest thing I've ever seen within the Philadelphia city limits, and I've lived in Philly for almost eight years now(!). It made me think about the weirdest things I've seen since I've been living here...
- A guy fake getting hit by a car (just about my first day ever in Philly)
- A guy's car getting towed (on my way to 7-11); said guy trying to get into the tow truck and drive away before getting pulled out and beaten by the tow truck driver (on my way back from 7-11)
- A homeless man defecating in public (on two separate occasions; and yes, they were two different homeless men)
- Ed Rendell and Morgan Fairchild drumming up support for Al Gore... together... on Locust Walk (around Election Day, 2000)
- Rocky Balboa getting filmed two blocks from my house (two weeks ago at Irish Pub, which I'm assuming means Rocky was trying to hook up with a chubby 24-year old yuppie automaton in tight black hoochie pants)
What are some of the weirdest things you've ever seen in Philly? Hmmmmmmm?
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
oh, alberto
Our nation's top law enforcement official (via Crooks and Liars): "President Washington, President Lincoln, President Wilson, President Roosevelt have all authorized electronic surveillance on a far broader scale." (emphasis mine).
OK, here's how it all went down. Skynet began to learn at a geometric rate. It became self-aware at 2:14 a.m. Eastern time, August 29th. In a panic, they tried to pull the plug. After Judgment Day, a single machine - a Cyberdyne systems model T101 - was sent back to 1790 with one mission: find Patience Connor.
This machine - this Terminator - felt no pity. No pain. No fear. Musket balls did nothing, and guns took 10 minutes to reload. And the only man who could save Connor and ensure the future survival of the human race was President George Washington.
After several encounters in the bleak urban hellscape of 1790 New York, the Terminator followed Connor and Washington to the abandoned gunpowder mill near Old Man McCoogan's farm in northern Manhattan. The two humans, by now embroiled in a passionate love affair brought on by their desperate circumstances, lured the Terminator into a trap.
As the badly wounded president lay nearby, Connor detonated a mound of old gunpowder and destroyed the machine. "You're terminated, fucker," she said.
President Washington eventually recovered from his injuries, and Patience Connor changed her name to Martha Washington. The two married and had a son, whom they named Abraham Lincoln. The future seemed bright, until Dr. Miles Bennett Dyson, director of the new National Security Agency, brought shocking news to the president.
"We've recovered some remarkable material from the gunpowder mill," he said, gingerly taking intact T101 microchips from the front pocket of his knickerbockers. "Dr. Franklin believes we can use these to build the world's first electronic surveillance system. We're calling it 'SkyNet.'"
President Washington, mindful of the intelligence such a system could provide in case there were any sort of three-lettered affair with a certain country - oh, say, "XYZ" and France - considered Dr. Dyson's proposal for a moment.
His eyes narrowed.
"Do it," he growled. "But don't tell Congress."
OK, here's how it all went down. Skynet began to learn at a geometric rate. It became self-aware at 2:14 a.m. Eastern time, August 29th. In a panic, they tried to pull the plug. After Judgment Day, a single machine - a Cyberdyne systems model T101 - was sent back to 1790 with one mission: find Patience Connor.
This machine - this Terminator - felt no pity. No pain. No fear. Musket balls did nothing, and guns took 10 minutes to reload. And the only man who could save Connor and ensure the future survival of the human race was President George Washington.
After several encounters in the bleak urban hellscape of 1790 New York, the Terminator followed Connor and Washington to the abandoned gunpowder mill near Old Man McCoogan's farm in northern Manhattan. The two humans, by now embroiled in a passionate love affair brought on by their desperate circumstances, lured the Terminator into a trap.
As the badly wounded president lay nearby, Connor detonated a mound of old gunpowder and destroyed the machine. "You're terminated, fucker," she said.
President Washington eventually recovered from his injuries, and Patience Connor changed her name to Martha Washington. The two married and had a son, whom they named Abraham Lincoln. The future seemed bright, until Dr. Miles Bennett Dyson, director of the new National Security Agency, brought shocking news to the president.
"We've recovered some remarkable material from the gunpowder mill," he said, gingerly taking intact T101 microchips from the front pocket of his knickerbockers. "Dr. Franklin believes we can use these to build the world's first electronic surveillance system. We're calling it 'SkyNet.'"
President Washington, mindful of the intelligence such a system could provide in case there were any sort of three-lettered affair with a certain country - oh, say, "XYZ" and France - considered Dr. Dyson's proposal for a moment.
His eyes narrowed.
"Do it," he growled. "But don't tell Congress."
Monday, February 06, 2006
in the interests of full disclosure...
I had a Whopper for lunch today.
I took an hour or so out of my morning to write about it, so come lunchtime I figured, "what the fuck - I might as well try it out."
Does this mean that Burger King's commercial caused me to buy their product? In an indirect way, yes.
Here's my question: does that therefore make it a "good" ad?
I took an hour or so out of my morning to write about it, so come lunchtime I figured, "what the fuck - I might as well try it out."
Does this mean that Burger King's commercial caused me to buy their product? In an indirect way, yes.
Here's my question: does that therefore make it a "good" ad?
super thoughts
- Is it me, or did most of the commercials last night look like they were done by a losing corporation in an Apprentice task? Take the Burger King "Whopperettes" commercial. It's a 60 second homage to 1930s Busby Berkeley musicals, with dancing girls dressed up as buns, beef patties and various condiments.
First of all, consider the audience. I'd like to think that we're not a nation of slackjaws, but did Burger King really expect to impress America with the concept and execution of this ad during the biggest football game of the year? "Wow, look at the costumes, and the attention to detail. This is really evocative of the 'Melody of Broadway' number from Gold Diggers of 1935, and- OH SHIT, RANDLE-EL JUST GOT FUCKING JACKED UP ON THAT KICKOFF RETURN!!! Anyway, as I was saying..."
Second, it's 60 seconds long, which for a Super Bowl commercial is an eternity without any overt irony, humor, people hitting/tackling each other and/or farting monkeys.
Third, their one feeble attempt at humor is to have the ingredients of the Whopper - i.e., the dancing girls - fling themselves on top of each other, each landing with an "oof" on top of their fellow foodstuffs as the burger gets built from the bun up.
The whole thing just smells like the vanilla product of ad agency groupthink. Like the products Apprentice losers tend to come up with, it feels like the result of an uninspired, out-of-touch creative team taking the path of least resistance when it comes to concept, then overcompensating in execution. It's as if one of them got the idea after seeing a Berkeley musical late on TCM one night, and the rest of the team went along with it because they couldn't come up with anything better. Then one guy added in the women hurling themselves on top of each other because, well, you have to have physical comedy - it's a Super Bowl ad, after all!
I appreciate the fact that Burger King was going for something big and well-done. I do. Most of the other commercials were just as disappointing, but they all likely fared better because they didn't try to obliterate our lowered Super Bowl ad expectations (see: monkeys, farting). In Burger King's defense, the production value was top-notch (it better have been at $5 million worth of airtime), and the lyrics and choreography do indeed communicate the brand message Burger King has been seeking to establish for quite some time - namely, that the Whopper and other B.K. products are comprised of quality ingredients, and that you can have them all "your way."
And the commercial actually involved the product in question, which is more than you can say for a lot of the more "clever" ads. Though I haven't stepped into a Burger King in at least three years, I must say they made that Whopper sound pretty damn appealing. And I think if this were a campaign that debuted normally at any other time of year (and the commercials were all 30 seconds), it would be pretty effective. It would certainly make me more likely to buy a Whopper than those creepy "The King" ads.
But you know what? Given the fact that it's the Super Bowl, and given the fact that they had 60 seconds during the first stoppage in play, it feels like Burger King should have done so much better. You can just hear the Donald and his underlings in the boardroom:
The Donald: You did a good job with the product, but I kept waiting for something to happen. You had 60 seconds, and it got boring. I didn't know what was going on. I dunno, maybe I'm wrong; what do you think, George?
George: Where were the farting monkeys? There were no farting monkeys. I've been in business for 60 years, and let me tell you: you need farting monkeys.
- Wow, that was a long thought. Anyhoo, congrats to the Steelers, and a word of advice to their fans: don't become Red Sox fans. Please. We all rooted with you for your guys because they're really likable and they're a great story. Don't make us sick of them.
- Was I the only person who thought that the Steelers would be told they need to face the Patriots in the "Real Super Bowl"?
First of all, consider the audience. I'd like to think that we're not a nation of slackjaws, but did Burger King really expect to impress America with the concept and execution of this ad during the biggest football game of the year? "Wow, look at the costumes, and the attention to detail. This is really evocative of the 'Melody of Broadway' number from Gold Diggers of 1935, and- OH SHIT, RANDLE-EL JUST GOT FUCKING JACKED UP ON THAT KICKOFF RETURN!!! Anyway, as I was saying..."
Second, it's 60 seconds long, which for a Super Bowl commercial is an eternity without any overt irony, humor, people hitting/tackling each other and/or farting monkeys.
Third, their one feeble attempt at humor is to have the ingredients of the Whopper - i.e., the dancing girls - fling themselves on top of each other, each landing with an "oof" on top of their fellow foodstuffs as the burger gets built from the bun up.
The whole thing just smells like the vanilla product of ad agency groupthink. Like the products Apprentice losers tend to come up with, it feels like the result of an uninspired, out-of-touch creative team taking the path of least resistance when it comes to concept, then overcompensating in execution. It's as if one of them got the idea after seeing a Berkeley musical late on TCM one night, and the rest of the team went along with it because they couldn't come up with anything better. Then one guy added in the women hurling themselves on top of each other because, well, you have to have physical comedy - it's a Super Bowl ad, after all!
I appreciate the fact that Burger King was going for something big and well-done. I do. Most of the other commercials were just as disappointing, but they all likely fared better because they didn't try to obliterate our lowered Super Bowl ad expectations (see: monkeys, farting). In Burger King's defense, the production value was top-notch (it better have been at $5 million worth of airtime), and the lyrics and choreography do indeed communicate the brand message Burger King has been seeking to establish for quite some time - namely, that the Whopper and other B.K. products are comprised of quality ingredients, and that you can have them all "your way."
And the commercial actually involved the product in question, which is more than you can say for a lot of the more "clever" ads. Though I haven't stepped into a Burger King in at least three years, I must say they made that Whopper sound pretty damn appealing. And I think if this were a campaign that debuted normally at any other time of year (and the commercials were all 30 seconds), it would be pretty effective. It would certainly make me more likely to buy a Whopper than those creepy "The King" ads.
But you know what? Given the fact that it's the Super Bowl, and given the fact that they had 60 seconds during the first stoppage in play, it feels like Burger King should have done so much better. You can just hear the Donald and his underlings in the boardroom:
The Donald: You did a good job with the product, but I kept waiting for something to happen. You had 60 seconds, and it got boring. I didn't know what was going on. I dunno, maybe I'm wrong; what do you think, George?
George: Where were the farting monkeys? There were no farting monkeys. I've been in business for 60 years, and let me tell you: you need farting monkeys.
- Wow, that was a long thought. Anyhoo, congrats to the Steelers, and a word of advice to their fans: don't become Red Sox fans. Please. We all rooted with you for your guys because they're really likable and they're a great story. Don't make us sick of them.
- Was I the only person who thought that the Steelers would be told they need to face the Patriots in the "Real Super Bowl"?
Friday, February 03, 2006
the power of love
I used to think Huey Lewis' anthem about not needing credit cards and riding trains was on the Back to the Future soundtrack because it totally rocks!.
Now it's even more appropriate.
On edit - I didn't realize you needed to click through an ad to see the video on the original link. I've since changed to link to go directly to YouTube.
Now it's even more appropriate.
On edit - I didn't realize you needed to click through an ad to see the video on the original link. I've since changed to link to go directly to YouTube.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
he stole my idea
I've always felt doing this would be a great conversation starter.
Though to be fair, I've always imagined doing it on the upper lip, or perhaps one word on each cheek. This guy's taken it to a whole new level.
Though to be fair, I've always imagined doing it on the upper lip, or perhaps one word on each cheek. This guy's taken it to a whole new level.
sorkin returns?
Oh, Matthew Perry, too.
The former co-star of the long-running "Friends" is returning to NBC to star in a still untitled series from "West Wing" creator Aaron Sorkin about the behind-the-scenes life at a "Saturday Night Live"-type sketch-comedy show.
I can only hope there's a Horatio Sanz-esque character who walks quickly through hallways and delivers razor-sharp dialogue. And lots of scenes of actors cracking up during sketches, after which Robert Guillaume (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) chides them before imparting life wisdom with a touch of humor. And when does Josh Molina join the cast?
Thanks to Kris for the heads up!
The former co-star of the long-running "Friends" is returning to NBC to star in a still untitled series from "West Wing" creator Aaron Sorkin about the behind-the-scenes life at a "Saturday Night Live"-type sketch-comedy show.
I can only hope there's a Horatio Sanz-esque character who walks quickly through hallways and delivers razor-sharp dialogue. And lots of scenes of actors cracking up during sketches, after which Robert Guillaume (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) chides them before imparting life wisdom with a touch of humor. And when does Josh Molina join the cast?
Thanks to Kris for the heads up!
Sunday, January 29, 2006
sunday, bloggy sunday
- Though their tickets webpage seems to have been designed by Samuel Beckett (no, not the Quantum Leap guy), I finally fought my way through redsox.com and secured two seats to the Mets/Sox game at Fenway Park on June 29th. Single-game tickets went on sale at 10 am yesterday, and I had registered with the site earlier in the week to save as much time as possible while ordering. So 10 am yesterday - I was gonna be there, clicking away!
Of course, I slept until 11:30 and totally forgot about the Red Sox until about 8 pm last night, as Kris and I decided to secure our Valentine's Day Penn/Princeton tickets ("cool, we have tickets... hmmm, 'tickets'... oh shit").
Now, because Fenway Park seats about 1500 people, and because Red Sox games have been made popular in recent years by the Jimmy Fallon megahit Fever Pitch, there is apparently an extremely high demand for tickets - so much so that redsox.com set up a "virtual waiting room," where one stays until he or she is randomly selected to receive the opportunity to buy single game tickets (limit of four per game, maximum of two games). This lessens the demand on the Geocities-esque bandwidth with which redsox.com is blessed.
There's no virtual magazines or virtual sick coughing kids in the virtual waiting room; just lots of disclaimers, instructions, warnings ("IF YOU BUY MORE TICKETS THAN ALLOWED, YOUR ORDER WILL BE CANCELED AND THE RED SOX WILL MAKE SURE YOU CAN NEVER VOTE OR OBTAIN A MORTGAGE"), and a little 30-second countdown timer that automatically refreshes the window; if you've been randomly selected to get to buy tickets, the window closes and you're almost home free. If not, back to 30 seconds.
RYAN
Well, shall we go?
KRIS
Yes, Let's go.
They do not move.
We had pretty much given up hope and stopped paying attention to the virtual waiting room (in favor of Chris Noth's debut episode on Law and Order: Criminal Intent, which I actually enjoyed in spite of my previous thoughts on the subject). I was checking my email midway through a routine Det. Mike Logan suspect assault, and I realized with a start that I had received my random selection into the Kool Kids Club. I was in.
And I still almost blew it. I was immediately given two tickets in obstructed view, and I said "nah, I can do better." Turns out I was wrong; for one thing, the ballpark was built during the Taft administration, and I think that pretty much every seat has its own load-bearing column directly in front of it. For another, the website began to warn me that there were only scattered single seats left. Realizing this, I spent another 15 minutes clicking on "Best Available," hoping that somebody else given two adjacent seats would be a dope like me and release them.
It worked. I escaped my existential nightmare, and Kris and I get to go to Fenway Park, sit together (something which is not to be taken for granted), and watch the Mets play the Olde Towne Team. We'll be sitting in section G22, right behind home plate. I've never been to Fenway Park (immediately outside of it doesn't really count in my mind), and I've always always always wanted to go. And now it's turned into a summer minitrip with the woman I love, to see the team I love. I can't imagine how it could be better (maybe it gets better if it turns out Pedro is pitching that night, but ESPN's Pitching Probables page isn't quite bold enough to project who'll be starting five months from now).
- OK, here's my new dilemma: leave a house devoid of breakfasty food to go secure said breakfasty food, or stay in and see if heating up Thursday night's Border Cafe fajitas is enough to get me through the morning? I love breakfast, but I also love staying in my PJs and generally sitting around on my ass. What to do? Should I stay? Shall I go? If I stay there will be trouble; if I go there will be double! (I'm paraphrasing from what I can only imagine is Waiting for Godot). Really, I could go for a sandwich and a black cherry soda from Koch's, but seeing as how I'm in Delaware, I don't think that's going to happen.
Of course, I slept until 11:30 and totally forgot about the Red Sox until about 8 pm last night, as Kris and I decided to secure our Valentine's Day Penn/Princeton tickets ("cool, we have tickets... hmmm, 'tickets'... oh shit").
Now, because Fenway Park seats about 1500 people, and because Red Sox games have been made popular in recent years by the Jimmy Fallon megahit Fever Pitch, there is apparently an extremely high demand for tickets - so much so that redsox.com set up a "virtual waiting room," where one stays until he or she is randomly selected to receive the opportunity to buy single game tickets (limit of four per game, maximum of two games). This lessens the demand on the Geocities-esque bandwidth with which redsox.com is blessed.
There's no virtual magazines or virtual sick coughing kids in the virtual waiting room; just lots of disclaimers, instructions, warnings ("IF YOU BUY MORE TICKETS THAN ALLOWED, YOUR ORDER WILL BE CANCELED AND THE RED SOX WILL MAKE SURE YOU CAN NEVER VOTE OR OBTAIN A MORTGAGE"), and a little 30-second countdown timer that automatically refreshes the window; if you've been randomly selected to get to buy tickets, the window closes and you're almost home free. If not, back to 30 seconds.
RYAN
Well, shall we go?
KRIS
Yes, Let's go.
They do not move.
We had pretty much given up hope and stopped paying attention to the virtual waiting room (in favor of Chris Noth's debut episode on Law and Order: Criminal Intent, which I actually enjoyed in spite of my previous thoughts on the subject). I was checking my email midway through a routine Det. Mike Logan suspect assault, and I realized with a start that I had received my random selection into the Kool Kids Club. I was in.
And I still almost blew it. I was immediately given two tickets in obstructed view, and I said "nah, I can do better." Turns out I was wrong; for one thing, the ballpark was built during the Taft administration, and I think that pretty much every seat has its own load-bearing column directly in front of it. For another, the website began to warn me that there were only scattered single seats left. Realizing this, I spent another 15 minutes clicking on "Best Available," hoping that somebody else given two adjacent seats would be a dope like me and release them.
It worked. I escaped my existential nightmare, and Kris and I get to go to Fenway Park, sit together (something which is not to be taken for granted), and watch the Mets play the Olde Towne Team. We'll be sitting in section G22, right behind home plate. I've never been to Fenway Park (immediately outside of it doesn't really count in my mind), and I've always always always wanted to go. And now it's turned into a summer minitrip with the woman I love, to see the team I love. I can't imagine how it could be better (maybe it gets better if it turns out Pedro is pitching that night, but ESPN's Pitching Probables page isn't quite bold enough to project who'll be starting five months from now).
- OK, here's my new dilemma: leave a house devoid of breakfasty food to go secure said breakfasty food, or stay in and see if heating up Thursday night's Border Cafe fajitas is enough to get me through the morning? I love breakfast, but I also love staying in my PJs and generally sitting around on my ass. What to do? Should I stay? Shall I go? If I stay there will be trouble; if I go there will be double! (I'm paraphrasing from what I can only imagine is Waiting for Godot). Really, I could go for a sandwich and a black cherry soda from Koch's, but seeing as how I'm in Delaware, I don't think that's going to happen.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
i like mike
Mike Lupica: Big Ben-wagon not for Giants
You know what we ultimately have in sports? The game that just got played. We're all experts on the last big thing we saw. For now, that's Ben Roethlisberger. For now. Just because he's the hottest guy going doesn't make this a cold case.
This morning, Mike Lupica again showed the world why he's among the best in his profession. Most sports columnists today fall over each other to write instant history; they feel the need to criticize for criticism's sake, as if taking a step back from hyperbole and cynicism will destroy their cred in the press box and revoke their membership in the local chapter of the Kool Kids club.
Now, it's obvious that Ben Roethlisberger is further along in his career than Eli Manning. Nolo contendere. I don't want to take anything away from Big Ben, and I don't want to give Eli props he doesn't deserve. But while Gary Myers and Shaun Powell wrote predictable "what if" columns, Lupica said something else:
Wait.
You could imagine his brand of common sense coming from the typewriter of Red Smith; Powell and Myers come off looking more like the Artie Green character from 61*. Powell in particular wrote:
Would the Giants be headed to Detroit for Super Bowl XL right now if they had drafted Big Ben over Manning?
My second-guessing gut says: most definitely.
Shaun, if you're reading this, I'll give you $20 to say that to my face. If you can honestly tell me that a Big Blue Ben would have healed the Giants' linebackers with his magic, Jesus-like hands, I'll give you $20. If you can honestly tell me that he would have lined up next to Michael Strahan and kept the Giants' defensive line from getting blown off the ball by the Panthers, $20. Ditto if you can keep a straight face while saying that Ben would have been able to sneak Troy Polamalu into Giants Stadium in a duffel bag (or something) and stuck him in a blue uniform that day.
While we're at it, maybe Ben would have been able to get Mike Vanderjagt gigs with the Cowboys, Seahawks and Vikings on the days which saw the Giants lose to them all by late field goals. Then New York would have had home-field advantage throughout the NFC playoffs, and the Giants would really be going to the Super Bowl.
My point is this: the Steelers - who came dangerously close to a 2002 Giants-esque meltdown in Indy - are a much, much better overall team than Big Blue. Big Ben deserves accolades, but it's not a quarterback alone that gets a team to a Super Bowl, just as it's usually not a quarterback alone that keeps a team from getting to one. Pittsburgh has a championship-caliber defense and a backfield that elevates the running game to an art form. Against the Panthers, the Giants had an injury-riddled, papier-mache defense. That's your main difference right there.
But as Lupica wrote, we're all experts in the last big thing we've seen.
And how do the Chargers get a pass in this eruption of second-guessing? They were arguably the most talented team in the AFC, they missed the playoffs, their "Class of 2004" quarterback has played parts of four games in two years, and they Chad Penningtoned their Pro Bowl quarterback in a meaningless season finale. But the meme is still that they're the Lyle Lanley to the Giants' brain-dead Springfielders.
Giants GM Ernie Accorsi, one of the all-time good guys in pro football, said it best.
"Unbelievable."
No matter.
Wait.
You know what we ultimately have in sports? The game that just got played. We're all experts on the last big thing we saw. For now, that's Ben Roethlisberger. For now. Just because he's the hottest guy going doesn't make this a cold case.
This morning, Mike Lupica again showed the world why he's among the best in his profession. Most sports columnists today fall over each other to write instant history; they feel the need to criticize for criticism's sake, as if taking a step back from hyperbole and cynicism will destroy their cred in the press box and revoke their membership in the local chapter of the Kool Kids club.
Now, it's obvious that Ben Roethlisberger is further along in his career than Eli Manning. Nolo contendere. I don't want to take anything away from Big Ben, and I don't want to give Eli props he doesn't deserve. But while Gary Myers and Shaun Powell wrote predictable "what if" columns, Lupica said something else:
Wait.
You could imagine his brand of common sense coming from the typewriter of Red Smith; Powell and Myers come off looking more like the Artie Green character from 61*. Powell in particular wrote:
Would the Giants be headed to Detroit for Super Bowl XL right now if they had drafted Big Ben over Manning?
My second-guessing gut says: most definitely.
Shaun, if you're reading this, I'll give you $20 to say that to my face. If you can honestly tell me that a Big Blue Ben would have healed the Giants' linebackers with his magic, Jesus-like hands, I'll give you $20. If you can honestly tell me that he would have lined up next to Michael Strahan and kept the Giants' defensive line from getting blown off the ball by the Panthers, $20. Ditto if you can keep a straight face while saying that Ben would have been able to sneak Troy Polamalu into Giants Stadium in a duffel bag (or something) and stuck him in a blue uniform that day.
While we're at it, maybe Ben would have been able to get Mike Vanderjagt gigs with the Cowboys, Seahawks and Vikings on the days which saw the Giants lose to them all by late field goals. Then New York would have had home-field advantage throughout the NFC playoffs, and the Giants would really be going to the Super Bowl.
My point is this: the Steelers - who came dangerously close to a 2002 Giants-esque meltdown in Indy - are a much, much better overall team than Big Blue. Big Ben deserves accolades, but it's not a quarterback alone that gets a team to a Super Bowl, just as it's usually not a quarterback alone that keeps a team from getting to one. Pittsburgh has a championship-caliber defense and a backfield that elevates the running game to an art form. Against the Panthers, the Giants had an injury-riddled, papier-mache defense. That's your main difference right there.
But as Lupica wrote, we're all experts in the last big thing we've seen.
And how do the Chargers get a pass in this eruption of second-guessing? They were arguably the most talented team in the AFC, they missed the playoffs, their "Class of 2004" quarterback has played parts of four games in two years, and they Chad Penningtoned their Pro Bowl quarterback in a meaningless season finale. But the meme is still that they're the Lyle Lanley to the Giants' brain-dead Springfielders.
Giants GM Ernie Accorsi, one of the all-time good guys in pro football, said it best.
"Unbelievable."
No matter.
Wait.
teevee thoughts
- I have decided that My Name is Earl sucks. Therefore, Earl Hickey has been banished from my Tivo for good.
You ever have a show that you'd like to like, and you get a Season Pass to it on Tivo, but it just keeps building up on there because you really don't want to watch two, then three, then four, then five episodes of it? That's My Name is Earl. It constantly set up potentially funny situations and resolved them without a funny payoff; plus, I got a little tired after the millionth "rednecks don't understand something the audience understands, like golf or gay people" joke.
- The Office is starting to run like a well-oiled machine... that needs oil... to run well.
Yeah.
Anyhoo, each and every episode recently has been strong, and there's this sense of momentum being created. Not many television shows have a season in which there are absolutely no weak spots; in which one gets the sense that the series is becoming something special (or, at least as special as a T.V. comedy can be). The Office is on that kind of run right now.
And no, I don't give a shit how much better the original was. So don't bother telling me.
- I just got the first two seasons of Arrested Development on DVD, thanks to some Amazon.com Christmas gift certificate action from my Uncle Jimmy. They'll be nice things to have once the show has been officially ground into dust and forever forgotten.
- A moment of silence for The West Wing. Its first few seasons were among the best ever to be produced, for any show. Hopefully that's the way it will be remembered...
You ever have a show that you'd like to like, and you get a Season Pass to it on Tivo, but it just keeps building up on there because you really don't want to watch two, then three, then four, then five episodes of it? That's My Name is Earl. It constantly set up potentially funny situations and resolved them without a funny payoff; plus, I got a little tired after the millionth "rednecks don't understand something the audience understands, like golf or gay people" joke.
- The Office is starting to run like a well-oiled machine... that needs oil... to run well.
Yeah.
Anyhoo, each and every episode recently has been strong, and there's this sense of momentum being created. Not many television shows have a season in which there are absolutely no weak spots; in which one gets the sense that the series is becoming something special (or, at least as special as a T.V. comedy can be). The Office is on that kind of run right now.
And no, I don't give a shit how much better the original was. So don't bother telling me.
- I just got the first two seasons of Arrested Development on DVD, thanks to some Amazon.com Christmas gift certificate action from my Uncle Jimmy. They'll be nice things to have once the show has been officially ground into dust and forever forgotten.
- A moment of silence for The West Wing. Its first few seasons were among the best ever to be produced, for any show. Hopefully that's the way it will be remembered...
Thursday, January 19, 2006
the onion can still bring it
"Your Offer Of Gum Seems Rather Disingenuous"
As I read this column, the words were spoken in my head by the voice of Brad Moore. Take that for what you will.
In any case, it totally makes up for the uber-disappointing "Maverick Hunter's 'Human Beings As Prey' Plan Not As Challenging As Expected". Maybe I love the concept of hunting people for sport a little too much; maybe no satirical news article could possibly live up to my hopes and dreams. I still think the concept represents a vast, untapped vein of humor, just waiting to spill forth.
The best line: "They asked about grand prizes and something they called an 'immunity challenge,'" von Urwitz said. "I had my men slit their throats."
As I read this column, the words were spoken in my head by the voice of Brad Moore. Take that for what you will.
In any case, it totally makes up for the uber-disappointing "Maverick Hunter's 'Human Beings As Prey' Plan Not As Challenging As Expected". Maybe I love the concept of hunting people for sport a little too much; maybe no satirical news article could possibly live up to my hopes and dreams. I still think the concept represents a vast, untapped vein of humor, just waiting to spill forth.
The best line: "They asked about grand prizes and something they called an 'immunity challenge,'" von Urwitz said. "I had my men slit their throats."
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
cheesesteaks!
dailypennsylvanian.com: Quakers "Cheesesteak" Leopards
Thanks to Mensch for the heads-up. I wasn't there, but as a crotchety old man, I can't imagine it could possibly compare to the magical night Palestra folk hero Dan Solomito won everybody cheesesteaks in the best Penn basketball season ever (assuming all of recorded history starts in the fall of 1998 and stops in the spring of 2002).
I bet the young kids tonight even went straight to Abner's to collect their free cheesesteaks. In our day, we celebrated free cheesesteaks by throwing random dudes through plate-glass windows, telling them "when you get to hell, tell 'em Section 109 sent you." Upon arrival, we'd immediately grab raw beef off the grill with our bare hands and stuff it in our mouths, so as not to have to wait as long as the suckers (i.e., the people in line for "cooked" cheesesteaks).
First it's a gunshot Penn student failing to quip about intact genitalia, and now this. Such pale imitations these college kids are nowadays.
In other news, in case it gets lost in the mad rush to Abner's, it's worth mentioning that the Quakers are kicking the shit out of people right now.
Thanks to Mensch for the heads-up. I wasn't there, but as a crotchety old man, I can't imagine it could possibly compare to the magical night Palestra folk hero Dan Solomito won everybody cheesesteaks in the best Penn basketball season ever (assuming all of recorded history starts in the fall of 1998 and stops in the spring of 2002).
I bet the young kids tonight even went straight to Abner's to collect their free cheesesteaks. In our day, we celebrated free cheesesteaks by throwing random dudes through plate-glass windows, telling them "when you get to hell, tell 'em Section 109 sent you." Upon arrival, we'd immediately grab raw beef off the grill with our bare hands and stuff it in our mouths, so as not to have to wait as long as the suckers (i.e., the people in line for "cooked" cheesesteaks).
First it's a gunshot Penn student failing to quip about intact genitalia, and now this. Such pale imitations these college kids are nowadays.
In other news, in case it gets lost in the mad rush to Abner's, it's worth mentioning that the Quakers are kicking the shit out of people right now.
Monday, January 16, 2006
old school
dailypennsylvanian.com: Penn student shot at 38th, Sansom
It's like somebody put Penn into the wayback machine, and it's 1997 again. The only thing missing is a classic line like "I'm just glad it didn't hit my penis."
It's like somebody put Penn into the wayback machine, and it's 1997 again. The only thing missing is a classic line like "I'm just glad it didn't hit my penis."
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
new feature goodness
As I've been waiting for my AVID to finish digitizing the mountains of media I need to knock this week's project out, I've slightly upgraded the functionality and look of the site.
Most prominently, I've added links to both RSS and Atom feeds of haplography; you can find the appropriate links in the sidebar (many thanks to Terry, from whom I stole the best-looking Atom feed button I could find on the web).
In addition to reducing the width of the sidebar, I've also added a space there which will allow readers easy access to recent posts. Finally, I added trackback-esque functionality for all posts.
So get linking, and get subscribing! And while you're doing that (or, more likely, sleeping and/or enjoying time away from work), I'll be here - toiling away for all you sinners. Or, more accurately, I'll be here, popping tapes into my AVID and wondering how the heck I'm going to structure this piece that has to be cut by tomorrow night.
Most prominently, I've added links to both RSS and Atom feeds of haplography; you can find the appropriate links in the sidebar (many thanks to Terry, from whom I stole the best-looking Atom feed button I could find on the web).
In addition to reducing the width of the sidebar, I've also added a space there which will allow readers easy access to recent posts. Finally, I added trackback-esque functionality for all posts.
So get linking, and get subscribing! And while you're doing that (or, more likely, sleeping and/or enjoying time away from work), I'll be here - toiling away for all you sinners. Or, more accurately, I'll be here, popping tapes into my AVID and wondering how the heck I'm going to structure this piece that has to be cut by tomorrow night.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
fun with keywords
Here are some recent search terms people have used to reach haplography:
Scott Kazmir cocaine
"Jesse Spector"
haplo groups
Who played Jay Peterman on Seinfeld
vincent d'onofrio
female body inspector
"there's motherfucking snakes on the motherfucking plane"
Scott Kazmir cocaine
"Jesse Spector"
haplo groups
Who played Jay Peterman on Seinfeld
vincent d'onofrio
female body inspector
"there's motherfucking snakes on the motherfucking plane"
best $95 I ever spent
Not!
Yes, I was at the Giants game yesterday. Yes, they lost. Badly. Yes, I was there with Kris, Spector and Lady Spector... and sort of there with Man-Chris and Friend of Man-Chris, who were seated at the other side of Giants Stadium.
No, I don't have any pictures from the game, despite the fact that Kris brought her digital camera. There were no pictures taken, and even if there were, I wouldn't post them. I would transfer them to a hard drive, then take a cartoonishly large magnet and Degauss the hell out of it. Like Leon Trotsky, the Giants' loss would thus be erased from the history books, then assassinated in Mexico decades later (which is kind of where the Stalin-era Soviet Russia analogy breaks down... and in Soviet Russia, analogy breaks you!).
I really, really don't want to think about the loss anymore, but as bad as he played, I think it's ridiculous to say that Eli Manning is the main reason the Giants lost. And I think Steve Politi of the Star-Ledger and Keith "Ladies Man" Idec of the Bergen Record both know that and don't care, or have myopic understandings of the game. Either way, it's pretty inexcusable to downplay the culpability of the Giants' porous defense and the team's outschemed coaching staff in order to get in one's licks on a high-profile, second-year quarterback in a near-impossible situation. Put it this way - if the Giants had Jake Delhomme at quarterback for the entire game and the Panthers had Eli, would New York have won?
Fuck no.
No matter. The Giants stunk just fine without Delhomme under center, and the Panthers played so well they probably would have won even if Big Blue played to its maximum potential. All we can hope is that this latest playoff disaster doesn't set the franchise back two years or so (like the last one did). I guess we'll see in eight months.
In the meantime, I'm sure the resurgent Rangers and the potentially special Mets will come to the precipice of greatness before shitting the bed in the most painful fashion imaginable. I figure it's only a few more decades before the New York sports karma for my particular teams reverses itself; all I have to do is hang on, and hope the sun doesn't explode just before one of my teams finally seals a championship (though thanks to the limitations of the speed of light, it will be 8.3 minutes before we know what has happened - and perhaps the championship can be sealed as we all wait for the shockwave to rip the flesh from our bones!).
Yes, I was at the Giants game yesterday. Yes, they lost. Badly. Yes, I was there with Kris, Spector and Lady Spector... and sort of there with Man-Chris and Friend of Man-Chris, who were seated at the other side of Giants Stadium.
No, I don't have any pictures from the game, despite the fact that Kris brought her digital camera. There were no pictures taken, and even if there were, I wouldn't post them. I would transfer them to a hard drive, then take a cartoonishly large magnet and Degauss the hell out of it. Like Leon Trotsky, the Giants' loss would thus be erased from the history books, then assassinated in Mexico decades later (which is kind of where the Stalin-era Soviet Russia analogy breaks down... and in Soviet Russia, analogy breaks you!).
I really, really don't want to think about the loss anymore, but as bad as he played, I think it's ridiculous to say that Eli Manning is the main reason the Giants lost. And I think Steve Politi of the Star-Ledger and Keith "Ladies Man" Idec of the Bergen Record both know that and don't care, or have myopic understandings of the game. Either way, it's pretty inexcusable to downplay the culpability of the Giants' porous defense and the team's outschemed coaching staff in order to get in one's licks on a high-profile, second-year quarterback in a near-impossible situation. Put it this way - if the Giants had Jake Delhomme at quarterback for the entire game and the Panthers had Eli, would New York have won?
Fuck no.
No matter. The Giants stunk just fine without Delhomme under center, and the Panthers played so well they probably would have won even if Big Blue played to its maximum potential. All we can hope is that this latest playoff disaster doesn't set the franchise back two years or so (like the last one did). I guess we'll see in eight months.
In the meantime, I'm sure the resurgent Rangers and the potentially special Mets will come to the precipice of greatness before shitting the bed in the most painful fashion imaginable. I figure it's only a few more decades before the New York sports karma for my particular teams reverses itself; all I have to do is hang on, and hope the sun doesn't explode just before one of my teams finally seals a championship (though thanks to the limitations of the speed of light, it will be 8.3 minutes before we know what has happened - and perhaps the championship can be sealed as we all wait for the shockwave to rip the flesh from our bones!).
Saturday, January 07, 2006
more from "duh" magazine
Bob Klapisch says Pedro's supposed toe injury is a way for him to bow out of the World Baseball Classic with honor.
Friday, January 06, 2006
your new drug
Have fun, bitches.
My fastest time at home was 30 seconds and change; I plateaued at around 21.5 seconds at work, where I think it runs a little bit faster on a better computer.
My fastest time at home was 30 seconds and change; I plateaued at around 21.5 seconds at work, where I think it runs a little bit faster on a better computer.
scene from a dry-cleanery
Me: Uh, the suit has some stains on it.
Dry Cleaning Lady: What are the stains?
Me: ... That would be vomit.
Dry Cleaning Lady: [Business-like silence]
end scene
Dry Cleaning Lady: What are the stains?
Me: ... That would be vomit.
Dry Cleaning Lady: [Business-like silence]
end scene
culture wars! tonight, 9/8c, only on nbc
As Terry points out, the religious right is apparently making The Book of Daniel into the newest cultural battleground.
For those of you who don't watch promos during the credits for My Name is Earl, The Book of Daniel is a new dramedy (yes, I just typed the word "dramedy") about an Episcopal priest (Aidan Quinn) who rides around town with Jesus in his passenger seat (no word yet as to whether Quinn wears a "Jesus is my Co-Pilot" trucker hat; personally I'm hoping for a "Damn Seagulls" or "FBI: Female Body Inspector" hat). He's got a messed-up family and a wacky cast of supporting characters, making it look an awful lot like it's network TV's long-overdue attempt at ripping off Six Feet Under (the main difference being there's only one dead guy on the whole show, and it's Jesus).
The Book of Daniel premieres tonight on NBC, which tells you all you need to know w/r/t how they feel about its prospects. Friday nights on NBC have been Godless even since they buried the original Star Trek in 1969; sensing this, the religious right has revved up its well-oiled outrage machine to a steady purr. Conservative Christian groups have already pressured two NBC affiliates to pull the show.
First of all, I disagree with Terry; the religious right is not stupid. He's correct in saying that their outrage has generated more buzz around the show than the mighty My Name is Earl ever could. My suspicion is that when these groups tilt at windmills like this, it spreads righteous indignation like a disease - and the only cure for the infected is to break out the checkbooks.
Second, I've noticed that a popular tactic in parrying the thrusts of the right is to be passive-aggressive and say something like "protest it because it sucks, not because of the whole 'Jesus' thing." The left does this a lot in all arenas of debate, and it bugs me for some reason. We haven't even seen the show yet, and even though it looks unfunny and uninspired, it might be good. True, the writers really seem to have been lazy in assigning each character his or her flaw ("hmmmm... How about, the priest is addicted to pain killers!" "Ooh, I like that... and his daughter, she doesn't just use drugs, she sells them too!" "Brilliant!"). But I think the concept of having Jesus as a recurring character on a show is pretty cool, and if executed well could be both entertaining and thought-provoking. Who knows - a recurring Jesus character on a TV show might even get some people interested in religion. Whether The Book of Daniel drops the ball on this or not, the left, in meekly trying to outflank shrill conservatives, risks one day giving up on something that's actually worth defending.
Lastly, it's not my place to decide what other people should or shouldn't get offended by. But really, comparing The Book of Daniel being on TV (before it's actually on TV) with the plight of blacks under Jim Crow is too ridiculous for words (I'm looking at you, Rob Kirkham), even if one accepts the debatable premise that Christians are somehow discriminated against in this country.
For those of you who don't watch promos during the credits for My Name is Earl, The Book of Daniel is a new dramedy (yes, I just typed the word "dramedy") about an Episcopal priest (Aidan Quinn) who rides around town with Jesus in his passenger seat (no word yet as to whether Quinn wears a "Jesus is my Co-Pilot" trucker hat; personally I'm hoping for a "Damn Seagulls" or "FBI: Female Body Inspector" hat). He's got a messed-up family and a wacky cast of supporting characters, making it look an awful lot like it's network TV's long-overdue attempt at ripping off Six Feet Under (the main difference being there's only one dead guy on the whole show, and it's Jesus).
The Book of Daniel premieres tonight on NBC, which tells you all you need to know w/r/t how they feel about its prospects. Friday nights on NBC have been Godless even since they buried the original Star Trek in 1969; sensing this, the religious right has revved up its well-oiled outrage machine to a steady purr. Conservative Christian groups have already pressured two NBC affiliates to pull the show.
First of all, I disagree with Terry; the religious right is not stupid. He's correct in saying that their outrage has generated more buzz around the show than the mighty My Name is Earl ever could. My suspicion is that when these groups tilt at windmills like this, it spreads righteous indignation like a disease - and the only cure for the infected is to break out the checkbooks.
Second, I've noticed that a popular tactic in parrying the thrusts of the right is to be passive-aggressive and say something like "protest it because it sucks, not because of the whole 'Jesus' thing." The left does this a lot in all arenas of debate, and it bugs me for some reason. We haven't even seen the show yet, and even though it looks unfunny and uninspired, it might be good. True, the writers really seem to have been lazy in assigning each character his or her flaw ("hmmmm... How about, the priest is addicted to pain killers!" "Ooh, I like that... and his daughter, she doesn't just use drugs, she sells them too!" "Brilliant!"). But I think the concept of having Jesus as a recurring character on a show is pretty cool, and if executed well could be both entertaining and thought-provoking. Who knows - a recurring Jesus character on a TV show might even get some people interested in religion. Whether The Book of Daniel drops the ball on this or not, the left, in meekly trying to outflank shrill conservatives, risks one day giving up on something that's actually worth defending.
Lastly, it's not my place to decide what other people should or shouldn't get offended by. But really, comparing The Book of Daniel being on TV (before it's actually on TV) with the plight of blacks under Jim Crow is too ridiculous for words (I'm looking at you, Rob Kirkham), even if one accepts the debatable premise that Christians are somehow discriminated against in this country.
friday thoughts returns
Wow... it's been a while since I've done some real blogging (my exhaustive review of Narnia notwithstanding). I've just been trying to survive, man. It's been a rough month, but the three of you who read this blog probably know what's going on in my life anyway, so there's no need to rehash it all (no matter how witty and entertaining that rehashing would be). So let's get on with some Friday thoughts!
- I blame Kris for getting me hooked on Law and Order: Criminal Intent. True, its stories are absurd to the point that it makes recent seasons of the original Law and Order look like brutal realism. And many episodes end with all the main characters gathered together for a big "Clue"-style accusathon.
There's one main reason it's good TV, and his name is Vincent D'Onofrio. His portrayal of an eccentric, brilliant homicide detective is so exaggerated that even my grandmother imitates his trademark lean-and-head tilt at the very mention of the show's title. He's a lot of fun to watch, and in a world made bleak with the absence of Lennie Briscoe's wisecracks and Adam Schiff's fedora-and-lightswitch one-two combo, that lean-tilt is a ray of light.
- It's official - I've sold a kidney, and I can now go to the first Giants home playoff game in five years! Now, seeing as how there's a good chance the team will choose seats at random during the game and have the lucky winners come down and play linebacker, I have a bad gut feeling about the outcome (what else is new?). But Kris is coming, as is Man-Chris, and we're going to meet Spector and Lady Spector there, so it should be fun. It feels like the football equivalent of seeing your team make it to the NCAA tourney, only it's much rarer (at least, if your team is Penn); and relatively speaking, the Giants actually have a chance to win (again, if your team is Penn).
My only gripe is that it looks to be a mild 43 degrees Fahrenheit on Sunday; this is my first NFL playoff game, and I want epic cold, dammit.
- For a multitude of reasons, is there any surprise in seeing Jerry Rice thrive on Dancing with the Stars? The main one being that Rice made his fortune in the West Coast offense, which is predicated on timing, rhythm, footwork and precision.
I'm just surprised at how relatively little being the greatest wide receiver in NFL history means in the world of celebrity. He's one of history's top athletes, and apparently in the hierarchy of reality TV that puts you on par with George Hamilton and the guy who played Jay Peterman on Seinfeld (though to be fair, I guess anybody who chooses to go on reality TV is by default on par with George Hamilton and Jay Peterman).
- I blame Kris for getting me hooked on Law and Order: Criminal Intent. True, its stories are absurd to the point that it makes recent seasons of the original Law and Order look like brutal realism. And many episodes end with all the main characters gathered together for a big "Clue"-style accusathon.
There's one main reason it's good TV, and his name is Vincent D'Onofrio. His portrayal of an eccentric, brilliant homicide detective is so exaggerated that even my grandmother imitates his trademark lean-and-head tilt at the very mention of the show's title. He's a lot of fun to watch, and in a world made bleak with the absence of Lennie Briscoe's wisecracks and Adam Schiff's fedora-and-lightswitch one-two combo, that lean-tilt is a ray of light.
- It's official - I've sold a kidney, and I can now go to the first Giants home playoff game in five years! Now, seeing as how there's a good chance the team will choose seats at random during the game and have the lucky winners come down and play linebacker, I have a bad gut feeling about the outcome (what else is new?). But Kris is coming, as is Man-Chris, and we're going to meet Spector and Lady Spector there, so it should be fun. It feels like the football equivalent of seeing your team make it to the NCAA tourney, only it's much rarer (at least, if your team is Penn); and relatively speaking, the Giants actually have a chance to win (again, if your team is Penn).
My only gripe is that it looks to be a mild 43 degrees Fahrenheit on Sunday; this is my first NFL playoff game, and I want epic cold, dammit.
- For a multitude of reasons, is there any surprise in seeing Jerry Rice thrive on Dancing with the Stars? The main one being that Rice made his fortune in the West Coast offense, which is predicated on timing, rhythm, footwork and precision.
I'm just surprised at how relatively little being the greatest wide receiver in NFL history means in the world of celebrity. He's one of history's top athletes, and apparently in the hierarchy of reality TV that puts you on par with George Hamilton and the guy who played Jay Peterman on Seinfeld (though to be fair, I guess anybody who chooses to go on reality TV is by default on par with George Hamilton and Jay Peterman).
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Friday, December 23, 2005
christmas presents!
Last night Kris and I exchanged gifts, as she's going to Ohio and I'm working today (theoretically, I'm working right now, but my head's not in the game yet) and tomorrow. I made out like a bandit...
I got the 2005 version of New York Mets Monopoly. Kris and I played one game that lasted until midnight. She bought Boardwalk-equivalent Tom Seaver on her first turn, and several tense go-rounds occurred before I landed on (and purchased) Park Place-equivalent Mike Piazza, thereby blocking what would have been a crippling monopoly for me.
I eventually prevailed through my ownership of Home Plate and First and Second Base (which correspond to the railroads in the original), and my monopoly of Carlos Beltran, Kaz Matsui and Doug Mientkiewicz (Pennsylvania, North Carolina and Pacific Avenues in the original, respectively); meaning that last night's Monopoly victory has been the biggest contribution to date those three have made to anything associated with the Mets and winning.
I must mention that Kris had some particularly bad luck with the "Home" and "Road" cards (Community Chest and Chance cards from the original), which severely handicapped her (despite her ownership of both utilities - WFAN and the Daily News; by the way, Spector - you're working for Kris now).
It's also worth mentioning that my official bad taste joke of the game was suggesting that Darryl Strawberry and/or Doc Gooden should have replaced the original angry-looking guy in jail.
It's also also worth mentioning that the first two properties after Go (which used to be Mediterranean Avenue and Baltic Avenue) were the Home Run Apple and Shea Stadium, and both were worth $60. Apparently, the Home Run Apple, while a part of Shea Stadium, is worth as much as Shea Stadium, yet buying Shea Stadium does not give one ownership of the Home Run Apple. Interesting.
The final thing worth mentioning is that Kris' game piece was a hot dog. And that's just inherently cool.
My other sweet gifts were cute Love Tokens, which I can cash in for kisses, hugs, massages and rolls in the hay; the truly creepy Zombie Survival Guide, which might be scarier than any such movie thanks to its matter-of-fact writing style and lurid descriptions of zombie attacks; season one of The 4400 on DVD, which is a show Kris and I both enjoy; and season one of the new Battlestar Galactica on DVD. Kris will watch it (or is "tolerate" the right word?), but she knows I absolutely adore it. While holiday shopping last weekend with Kris, I cooed over the DVD set in a store, and her ensuing half-smiles and cryptic comments now make perfect sense.
So Kris did really, really, really well, and I hope I did as well in my gifts to her. I'm going to miss her this weekend...
I got the 2005 version of New York Mets Monopoly. Kris and I played one game that lasted until midnight. She bought Boardwalk-equivalent Tom Seaver on her first turn, and several tense go-rounds occurred before I landed on (and purchased) Park Place-equivalent Mike Piazza, thereby blocking what would have been a crippling monopoly for me.
I eventually prevailed through my ownership of Home Plate and First and Second Base (which correspond to the railroads in the original), and my monopoly of Carlos Beltran, Kaz Matsui and Doug Mientkiewicz (Pennsylvania, North Carolina and Pacific Avenues in the original, respectively); meaning that last night's Monopoly victory has been the biggest contribution to date those three have made to anything associated with the Mets and winning.
I must mention that Kris had some particularly bad luck with the "Home" and "Road" cards (Community Chest and Chance cards from the original), which severely handicapped her (despite her ownership of both utilities - WFAN and the Daily News; by the way, Spector - you're working for Kris now).
It's also worth mentioning that my official bad taste joke of the game was suggesting that Darryl Strawberry and/or Doc Gooden should have replaced the original angry-looking guy in jail.It's also also worth mentioning that the first two properties after Go (which used to be Mediterranean Avenue and Baltic Avenue) were the Home Run Apple and Shea Stadium, and both were worth $60. Apparently, the Home Run Apple, while a part of Shea Stadium, is worth as much as Shea Stadium, yet buying Shea Stadium does not give one ownership of the Home Run Apple. Interesting.
The final thing worth mentioning is that Kris' game piece was a hot dog. And that's just inherently cool.
My other sweet gifts were cute Love Tokens, which I can cash in for kisses, hugs, massages and rolls in the hay; the truly creepy Zombie Survival Guide, which might be scarier than any such movie thanks to its matter-of-fact writing style and lurid descriptions of zombie attacks; season one of The 4400 on DVD, which is a show Kris and I both enjoy; and season one of the new Battlestar Galactica on DVD. Kris will watch it (or is "tolerate" the right word?), but she knows I absolutely adore it. While holiday shopping last weekend with Kris, I cooed over the DVD set in a store, and her ensuing half-smiles and cryptic comments now make perfect sense.
So Kris did really, really, really well, and I hope I did as well in my gifts to her. I'm going to miss her this weekend...
the newest yankee
Now just slap a funny, fake nose on him, stick him in a time machine back to 1994, and if he keeps the shirt he's ready to be an Bajoran on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (as demonstrated by my meticulous MS Paint artist's rendition):
I dunno, maybe it's the combination of the shirt and the hair, but now he just looks like one of those effete, new-agey-looking (read: wussy) actors they always got to play aliens on Star Trek back in the early 90s. Maybe it's just me.
If anything, I've now given you all the best Christmas present anyone could offer: permanent visual knowledge of what Odo would look like with boobs.
Look at it... there you go... let it burn into your retinas.
Good.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Monday, December 19, 2005
Saturday, December 17, 2005
random saturday thoughts
- I will watch today's Giants game like a normal human being. That means with friends, with wings, and with beer. For once.
My gut feeling isn't good for the Giants today; for one thing, Antonio Pierce would have been one of the main guys counted upon to stop the frightening Larry Johnson (not the good Knicks kind, either). But like the new LJ's old coach told Ernie Accorsi back in his State days, teams with character win games because of injuries, not in spite of them. And quite frankly, being the elite team the Giants aspire to be shouldn't be easy (and rarely is). Plus, it's not like the Chiefs are the '64 Browns here...
- Message in a Bottle is on TBS right now, and Paul Newman completely blows everybody else in the movie out of the water. It's a little confusing as to what he's doing in this. Which shouldn't really be too surprising when you look at the cast, but it's worth mentioning. His Emmy-worthy turn in the much better movie Empire Falls will always be one of my favorites.
- I like Kris' laugh. Though I don't have a link to it to share it with y'all.
My gut feeling isn't good for the Giants today; for one thing, Antonio Pierce would have been one of the main guys counted upon to stop the frightening Larry Johnson (not the good Knicks kind, either). But like the new LJ's old coach told Ernie Accorsi back in his State days, teams with character win games because of injuries, not in spite of them. And quite frankly, being the elite team the Giants aspire to be shouldn't be easy (and rarely is). Plus, it's not like the Chiefs are the '64 Browns here...
- Message in a Bottle is on TBS right now, and Paul Newman completely blows everybody else in the movie out of the water. It's a little confusing as to what he's doing in this. Which shouldn't really be too surprising when you look at the cast, but it's worth mentioning. His Emmy-worthy turn in the much better movie Empire Falls will always be one of my favorites.
- I like Kris' laugh. Though I don't have a link to it to share it with y'all.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
wayne fucking gretzky
This picture is from the front page of ESPN.com (as of 1 pm on Wednesday afternoon):
Wayne Gretzky must be a good coach. If I were a hockey player on his team, I would do anything - including stick my face in front of a puck traveling at speeds upwards of 100 mph - to keep my childhood hero from making that face at me.
If I were a professional hockey player on the Great One's team, and I couldn't cut the mustard, I think it would go a little something like... this:
me
"I sure am sorry I couldn't clear the puck out of the zone, Mr. Gretzky. Can I have your autograph?"
coach wayne
"FUCK YOU"
Wayne Gretzky must be a good coach. If I were a hockey player on his team, I would do anything - including stick my face in front of a puck traveling at speeds upwards of 100 mph - to keep my childhood hero from making that face at me.
If I were a professional hockey player on the Great One's team, and I couldn't cut the mustard, I think it would go a little something like... this:
me
"I sure am sorry I couldn't clear the puck out of the zone, Mr. Gretzky. Can I have your autograph?"
coach wayne
"FUCK YOU"
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
hey, it could happen
The NFL has just released updated playoff scenarios in the wake of last night's 36-17 Falcons win over the Saints.
Apparently, the Giants are on the cusp of clinching a playoff spot this weekend. All they need is 1) a win over the Chiefs, 2) a Carolina loss to the Saints, 3) an Atlanta loss to the Bears and 4) a tie between the Cowboys and Redskins.
Also helpful would be an unexpected total eclipse of the sun during Saturday's game, a butterfly flapping its wings in Japan just about... now, a Poltergeist-like implosion of FedEx Field during the Dallas/Washington game (somehow involving Craig T. Nelson), and for monkeys to fly out of Wayne's butt.
Apparently, the Giants are on the cusp of clinching a playoff spot this weekend. All they need is 1) a win over the Chiefs, 2) a Carolina loss to the Saints, 3) an Atlanta loss to the Bears and 4) a tie between the Cowboys and Redskins.
Also helpful would be an unexpected total eclipse of the sun during Saturday's game, a butterfly flapping its wings in Japan just about... now, a Poltergeist-like implosion of FedEx Field during the Dallas/Washington game (somehow involving Craig T. Nelson), and for monkeys to fly out of Wayne's butt.
shameless plug
For days, I've been thinking of a way to write about the newly-launched Jim Davis for Governor (of the state of Florida) website without too much emphasis on the fact that it's run by my big brother from our fraternity at Penn, Matt Thornton (Matt's the name of my big brother, not of the fraternity).
Terry Ryan, Matt's big brother, was knowledgeable enough to write about how the site makes use of ColdFusion technology (but apparently NOT the kind pioneered by Elisabeth Shue in The Saint), so that's out.
Really, all I can offer is a shameless plug... and this: I know Matt, and he wouldn't be working for anybody unless he or she is the real deal. I could say that a Jim Davis victory is essential in finally turning Florida blue; I could say that Davis, unlike the current governor, will fight the right battles for the right reasons. All of these things are true. But I think the best thing I could say about Jim Davis is that Matt decided to help him out.
So check out Matt's campaign blog already!
Terry Ryan, Matt's big brother, was knowledgeable enough to write about how the site makes use of ColdFusion technology (but apparently NOT the kind pioneered by Elisabeth Shue in The Saint), so that's out.
Really, all I can offer is a shameless plug... and this: I know Matt, and he wouldn't be working for anybody unless he or she is the real deal. I could say that a Jim Davis victory is essential in finally turning Florida blue; I could say that Davis, unlike the current governor, will fight the right battles for the right reasons. All of these things are true. But I think the best thing I could say about Jim Davis is that Matt decided to help him out.
So check out Matt's campaign blog already!
it begins
As I predicted here yesterday, the spinning of the Giants' nailbiter has begun. Bob Glauber of Newsday applies the first bit of polish.
Just to be clear - this is not necessarily a bad thing. Though it probably left Giants fans exhausted, Sunday's win was the kind that contenders pull out (and pretenders let slip through their fingers). It's tailor-made for the half-hour NFL Films season highlight of a successful playoff team (or, dare I say, a championship team).
One passage that stood out to me:
"Paterno used to say, 'If you have character, you win a game because you have injuries, not in spite of them,'" Accorsi said. "We lost four starters in the first 10½ minutes of the game, and we fought back and won. We've got two new starters on the offensive line, and we had none left. Unbelievable. That's a very good locker room of people. There's a lot of heart down there."
Just to be clear - this is not necessarily a bad thing. Though it probably left Giants fans exhausted, Sunday's win was the kind that contenders pull out (and pretenders let slip through their fingers). It's tailor-made for the half-hour NFL Films season highlight of a successful playoff team (or, dare I say, a championship team).
One passage that stood out to me:
"Paterno used to say, 'If you have character, you win a game because you have injuries, not in spite of them,'" Accorsi said. "We lost four starters in the first 10½ minutes of the game, and we fought back and won. We've got two new starters on the offensive line, and we had none left. Unbelievable. That's a very good locker room of people. There's a lot of heart down there."
Monday, December 12, 2005
friday saturday sunday
Friday Saturday Sunday, 261 South 21st Street.
Wow. Kris took me out for a romantic dinner here about a month ago, and I've been meaning and meaning and meaning to review it (as reviewing Philly restaurants we try is something I'd like to do with this blog o'mine). So here goes... Friday Saturday Sunday (hereafter: FSS) is known for three things around these parts: romance, reasonable markups on wine, and mushroom bisque. Kris and I enjoyed two of those three together at FSS. Only I tried the bisque, as mushrooms are high up on Kris' "stinky foods" list.
FSS is cozy. The atmosphere reminded me of what I imagine romantic, contemporary-yet-somehow-timeless 1980s New York City restaurants must have been like. In a good way. Whatever that means. Bright, flourescent, black-lit accents stood out in a world of warm, dark blues (especially on the prominent dry-erase board announcing the evening's specials).
We shared a bottle of Clos du Val Merlot for about $30. Kris and I both liked it. There are very few merlots we don't like - this despite the bafflingly popular hatred for merlot inspired by the movie Sideways, in which the main character refuses to associate with two beautiful women unless they're drinking ABM ("Anything But Merlot"). Kris and I like to actually taste what we drink, so we like Merlot. Fuck all y'all - y'all be bullshit.
Anyhoo, for starters, I had the bisque, which retained just enough mushroominess to be extremely pleasing, and Kris had some pate - which I generally don't hate, but don't go out of my way to eat. This partcicular pate was pretty tasty.
For our main courses, Kris had the crab cakes, while I had the chili-rubbed angus steak special. Both were pretty tasty; it's been my experience that there aren't too many steaks that turn out well outside of a steakhouse, but this particular cut of meat wasn't too chewy or tough (the usual pitfalls of ordering steak in strange, new places).
Besides the mushroom bisque, I really got the sense that FSS was selling atmosphere and mood at least as much as the food (probably more so). There are several restaurants in and around Philly where you can get better, more interesting food; rather, it was in our immediate company where one could see the unique appeal of the establishment.
We sat next to a middle-aged couple that has apparently been coming to FSS for dinner every Saturday night for years. They had their choice of wine waiting for them in their corner booth, and the hyperfriendly wait staff feted upon them as soon as they arrived. They were extremely cozy as they looked out upon the restaurant, and they knew exactly what they wanted to eat; I got the sense they felt they were home. They just seemed so comfortable.
And that's what FSS is - it's comfort food. Especially if you're in love.
Wow. Kris took me out for a romantic dinner here about a month ago, and I've been meaning and meaning and meaning to review it (as reviewing Philly restaurants we try is something I'd like to do with this blog o'mine). So here goes... Friday Saturday Sunday (hereafter: FSS) is known for three things around these parts: romance, reasonable markups on wine, and mushroom bisque. Kris and I enjoyed two of those three together at FSS. Only I tried the bisque, as mushrooms are high up on Kris' "stinky foods" list.
FSS is cozy. The atmosphere reminded me of what I imagine romantic, contemporary-yet-somehow-timeless 1980s New York City restaurants must have been like. In a good way. Whatever that means. Bright, flourescent, black-lit accents stood out in a world of warm, dark blues (especially on the prominent dry-erase board announcing the evening's specials).
We shared a bottle of Clos du Val Merlot for about $30. Kris and I both liked it. There are very few merlots we don't like - this despite the bafflingly popular hatred for merlot inspired by the movie Sideways, in which the main character refuses to associate with two beautiful women unless they're drinking ABM ("Anything But Merlot"). Kris and I like to actually taste what we drink, so we like Merlot. Fuck all y'all - y'all be bullshit.
Anyhoo, for starters, I had the bisque, which retained just enough mushroominess to be extremely pleasing, and Kris had some pate - which I generally don't hate, but don't go out of my way to eat. This partcicular pate was pretty tasty.
For our main courses, Kris had the crab cakes, while I had the chili-rubbed angus steak special. Both were pretty tasty; it's been my experience that there aren't too many steaks that turn out well outside of a steakhouse, but this particular cut of meat wasn't too chewy or tough (the usual pitfalls of ordering steak in strange, new places).
Besides the mushroom bisque, I really got the sense that FSS was selling atmosphere and mood at least as much as the food (probably more so). There are several restaurants in and around Philly where you can get better, more interesting food; rather, it was in our immediate company where one could see the unique appeal of the establishment.
We sat next to a middle-aged couple that has apparently been coming to FSS for dinner every Saturday night for years. They had their choice of wine waiting for them in their corner booth, and the hyperfriendly wait staff feted upon them as soon as they arrived. They were extremely cozy as they looked out upon the restaurant, and they knew exactly what they wanted to eat; I got the sense they felt they were home. They just seemed so comfortable.
And that's what FSS is - it's comfort food. Especially if you're in love.
monday giants blogging
I haven't blogged for a while; partially because of work, and mostly because of my grandfather passing away last Thursday, which has hit me really, really hard.
For my return to blogging, however, I'd like to switch to some lighter talk and ruminate on the Giants a little bit.
First of all, yesterday's 26-23 overtime win over the Eagles still feels like a loss, if only because the Giants looked so poor in pulling it out.
I think, though, that this could be the win that the Giants look back upon in a couple of weeks as the one that saved/defined/whatevered their season. It just feels like time will treat the Giants' performance yesterday kindly. For one thing, Big Blue never plays flawlessly in Philly, even when the team pulls out a win. And the Eagles are still a team made up of proud NFL athletes; coming into the game I thought it was going to be the scrappy affair it was, rather than the Giants cakewalk so many had assumed would take place. The bottom line is that they took a December win out of Philly, which is tough to do regardless of how well or poorly the Eagles' season is going.
I said to Kris during the final minutes of the fourth quarter and during overtime that this would be Jay Feely's redemption game. And despite some gallows IMing with Spector, I never really doubted Feely. Or perhaps I couldn't really imagine him blowing another amazing opportunity to win a crucial road game. Whatever the case, Feely came through, which will no doubt make this gruesomely ugly game an amazing triumph once NFL Films is through with it.
Looking ahead, there are two real areas of concern with this team. I'll begin with Eli Manning, who has seemingly taken a few steps backwards these past two weeks. Now, I've been on the Eli bandwagon all season long, and I'm not about to jump off just yet (as I'm sure many Giants fans already have - "the next Kerry Collins" was a particularly idiotic comment I heard from one rooter). I think Eli is going to be just fine.
Of immediate concern, however, is whether he'll be able to re-establish his game in time for the Giants to have a shot at doing something special in 2005. I'm not really worried yet, but it's definitely something to keep in mind as #10 takes the field on Saturday versus the dangerous Chiefs.
The other red flag with the Giants is in the trainer's room; Big Blue lost four starters to injury yesterday, including both starting offensive tackles (forcing guard David Diehl to move to right tackle - meaning that there were essentially three backups on the O-line). On the other side of the ball, the Giants lost William Joseph and Antonio Pierce (who's been the heart and soul of the defense thus far this season).
You saw just what the problem with backup offensive linemen is yesterday; backup Bob Whitfield came in cold and did his best Luke Petitgout impersonation, taking two crippling penalties on two different possessions inside the Eagles' 10. You never want to say that Petitgout wouldn't have taken those penalties, but if the Giants hadn't had to settle for field goals in those situations, maybe the game isn't as close as it turned out to be.
The Giants could have some real problems down the stretch if they don't get these players back. And even if they do, Eli is once again going to have to prove to the league that he deserves to be here.
The rest of the season starts Saturday in East Rutherford.
For my return to blogging, however, I'd like to switch to some lighter talk and ruminate on the Giants a little bit.
First of all, yesterday's 26-23 overtime win over the Eagles still feels like a loss, if only because the Giants looked so poor in pulling it out.
I think, though, that this could be the win that the Giants look back upon in a couple of weeks as the one that saved/defined/whatevered their season. It just feels like time will treat the Giants' performance yesterday kindly. For one thing, Big Blue never plays flawlessly in Philly, even when the team pulls out a win. And the Eagles are still a team made up of proud NFL athletes; coming into the game I thought it was going to be the scrappy affair it was, rather than the Giants cakewalk so many had assumed would take place. The bottom line is that they took a December win out of Philly, which is tough to do regardless of how well or poorly the Eagles' season is going.
I said to Kris during the final minutes of the fourth quarter and during overtime that this would be Jay Feely's redemption game. And despite some gallows IMing with Spector, I never really doubted Feely. Or perhaps I couldn't really imagine him blowing another amazing opportunity to win a crucial road game. Whatever the case, Feely came through, which will no doubt make this gruesomely ugly game an amazing triumph once NFL Films is through with it.
Looking ahead, there are two real areas of concern with this team. I'll begin with Eli Manning, who has seemingly taken a few steps backwards these past two weeks. Now, I've been on the Eli bandwagon all season long, and I'm not about to jump off just yet (as I'm sure many Giants fans already have - "the next Kerry Collins" was a particularly idiotic comment I heard from one rooter). I think Eli is going to be just fine.
Of immediate concern, however, is whether he'll be able to re-establish his game in time for the Giants to have a shot at doing something special in 2005. I'm not really worried yet, but it's definitely something to keep in mind as #10 takes the field on Saturday versus the dangerous Chiefs.
The other red flag with the Giants is in the trainer's room; Big Blue lost four starters to injury yesterday, including both starting offensive tackles (forcing guard David Diehl to move to right tackle - meaning that there were essentially three backups on the O-line). On the other side of the ball, the Giants lost William Joseph and Antonio Pierce (who's been the heart and soul of the defense thus far this season).
You saw just what the problem with backup offensive linemen is yesterday; backup Bob Whitfield came in cold and did his best Luke Petitgout impersonation, taking two crippling penalties on two different possessions inside the Eagles' 10. You never want to say that Petitgout wouldn't have taken those penalties, but if the Giants hadn't had to settle for field goals in those situations, maybe the game isn't as close as it turned out to be.
The Giants could have some real problems down the stretch if they don't get these players back. And even if they do, Eli is once again going to have to prove to the league that he deserves to be here.
The rest of the season starts Saturday in East Rutherford.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
a little life advice
Mike Ditka has led a very successful life. His secret? To be what he calls a "Grabowski." On the gridiron, a Grabowski gives 110% each and every snap for the love of the game, not for the love of a paycheck. But one need not don pads and a helmet to be a Grabowski. Grabowskis are the hard-working blue collar joes who move our furniture, jack our hammers, hit our softballs and lift our weights.
Still not getting it?
Well, perhaps it can be better explained through song.
Still not getting it?
Well, perhaps it can be better explained through song.
Monday, December 05, 2005
back to the future
If, in 2005, "next year is now" for the Mets, it only makes sense that 2007 will be 2002 (or 1993) - for nothing else than deals like this.
I hate to keep picking on the Daily News, Spector, but what is Bill Madden thinking? I can't believe the Marlins wouldn't have given Paul Lo Duca away, yet Omar Minaya sends them the Mets' (remaining) top pitching prospect and Madden basically calls it a steal - for New York! The Fish have to be dancing in the streets of Miami right now - they got a young power pitching prospect for a rapidly aging catcher (whom they still owed $12.5 million).
As for the Mets... WHEN OH WHEN is this organization - which plays in a power pitcher's paradise - EVER going to develop a stud power pitcher? More importantly, WHEN are they going to show faith in a player they develop? (David Wright doesn't count; you don't need to show faith in somebody who's as can't miss as you can get - basically making Wright the accidental by-product of a minor league system which is CLEARLY not designed to develop talent for the major league club).
They should just trade Milledge for Manny or some 35-year old "name" pitcher, sign Sosa, and get it all over with. This organization is disgusting, and this team is going to need truckloads of geritol come February in St. Lucie.
I hate to keep picking on the Daily News, Spector, but what is Bill Madden thinking? I can't believe the Marlins wouldn't have given Paul Lo Duca away, yet Omar Minaya sends them the Mets' (remaining) top pitching prospect and Madden basically calls it a steal - for New York! The Fish have to be dancing in the streets of Miami right now - they got a young power pitching prospect for a rapidly aging catcher (whom they still owed $12.5 million).
As for the Mets... WHEN OH WHEN is this organization - which plays in a power pitcher's paradise - EVER going to develop a stud power pitcher? More importantly, WHEN are they going to show faith in a player they develop? (David Wright doesn't count; you don't need to show faith in somebody who's as can't miss as you can get - basically making Wright the accidental by-product of a minor league system which is CLEARLY not designed to develop talent for the major league club).
They should just trade Milledge for Manny or some 35-year old "name" pitcher, sign Sosa, and get it all over with. This organization is disgusting, and this team is going to need truckloads of geritol come February in St. Lucie.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
some sunday baseball blogging
- The NY Daily News reported this morning that the Yankees will be tens of millions of dollars in the red when MLB's accountants put 2005 to bed. And the back page cartoon heavily implies that commissioner Bud Selig has finally succeeded in his apparent Inspector Javert-like quest to "get" George Steinbrenner.
My only thought? If Yankees execs and their mouthpieces in the media for years have said that the team is "only playing by the rules" regarding its 800-lb gorillaism and its massive spending, they can't whine that big bad Bud Selig is picking on them when "the rules" suddenly have negative consequences.
Well, I guess they can (and apparently are), but that would make everyone parroting the company line ginormous hypocrites. Which, I'm sure, doesn't bother any of the big players in this little drama in the least. But it still needs to be pointed out.
- I have no idea why people don't think Javier Vazquez would look fine and dandy in a Mets uniform. His 2005 VORP is nearly identical to that of Kris Benson, but given Benson's and Vazquez's respective ages, injury histories and career tracks, tell me you wouldn't want Vazquez over Benson any day of the week (and, more importantly, over a long season) - especially in a power pitcher's park like Shea, with a coach like Rick Peterson (who excels in getting pitchers not named Victor Zambrano to be more consistent with their mechanics).
- On a somewhat similar note, the Mets - considering all that they'd be giving up - don't need an aging Manny Ramirez clogging up the payroll for (at least) the next three years.
I felt OK about trading young guys for Carlos Delgado because I thought the Mets had gotten their big bat without surrendering their best prospects (opportunity cost-wise, it was like Yusmeiro Petit, Mike Jacobs, Grant Psomas and Manny for Delgado, Lastings Milledge, Aaron Heilman, probably Cliff Floyd and lots and lots and lots of cash).
But now they're going to trade their best prospects anyway, for another big bat - Manny's, which comes with even poorer defense than Delgado's. The Mets need a horse in the rotation (whom I hope is Vazquez - or even better, Barry Zito), a catcher, a second baseman (though I'd love to see Andy Hernandez given a fair shot next spring) and some arms for the bullpen - which means trading their only remaining chips for Manny makes absolutely zero sense (in the vast majority of cases, trading a chip like Milledge makes little sense to begin with).
Plus, with an aging Manny and an aging Delgado in the middle of the lineup, the Mets stand a better chance of ultimately regressing back towards the bloated, awful days of 2002/03 than actually progressing towards the type of long-term success their fans deserve.
For what it's worth, Ricardo over at Metsgeek details why trading for Manny is unnecessarily silly.
My only thought? If Yankees execs and their mouthpieces in the media for years have said that the team is "only playing by the rules" regarding its 800-lb gorillaism and its massive spending, they can't whine that big bad Bud Selig is picking on them when "the rules" suddenly have negative consequences.
Well, I guess they can (and apparently are), but that would make everyone parroting the company line ginormous hypocrites. Which, I'm sure, doesn't bother any of the big players in this little drama in the least. But it still needs to be pointed out.
- I have no idea why people don't think Javier Vazquez would look fine and dandy in a Mets uniform. His 2005 VORP is nearly identical to that of Kris Benson, but given Benson's and Vazquez's respective ages, injury histories and career tracks, tell me you wouldn't want Vazquez over Benson any day of the week (and, more importantly, over a long season) - especially in a power pitcher's park like Shea, with a coach like Rick Peterson (who excels in getting pitchers not named Victor Zambrano to be more consistent with their mechanics).
- On a somewhat similar note, the Mets - considering all that they'd be giving up - don't need an aging Manny Ramirez clogging up the payroll for (at least) the next three years.
I felt OK about trading young guys for Carlos Delgado because I thought the Mets had gotten their big bat without surrendering their best prospects (opportunity cost-wise, it was like Yusmeiro Petit, Mike Jacobs, Grant Psomas and Manny for Delgado, Lastings Milledge, Aaron Heilman, probably Cliff Floyd and lots and lots and lots of cash).
But now they're going to trade their best prospects anyway, for another big bat - Manny's, which comes with even poorer defense than Delgado's. The Mets need a horse in the rotation (whom I hope is Vazquez - or even better, Barry Zito), a catcher, a second baseman (though I'd love to see Andy Hernandez given a fair shot next spring) and some arms for the bullpen - which means trading their only remaining chips for Manny makes absolutely zero sense (in the vast majority of cases, trading a chip like Milledge makes little sense to begin with).
Plus, with an aging Manny and an aging Delgado in the middle of the lineup, the Mets stand a better chance of ultimately regressing back towards the bloated, awful days of 2002/03 than actually progressing towards the type of long-term success their fans deserve.
For what it's worth, Ricardo over at Metsgeek details why trading for Manny is unnecessarily silly.
serendipity, just off exit 16W
Despite saying that Eli Manning "met" Charlie Conerly's widow on Friday night (I'm fairly certain that Eli used to visit Perian Conerly routinely during his time at Ole Miss - a tidbit that received some attention right after the 2004 draft), Mike Lupica makes a good point today - one that has occurred to me this entire season, even as I've believed throughout that the Giants' future is bright.
You only get so many chances to win.
This is the NFL's ultimate truth. Anything could happen to the Giants next year that could derail what is "supposed" to be their season. Eli could get injured, a la Chad Pennington in 2003 (or Donovan McNabb right now). The offense might lose a couple of linemen to free agency and fail to "click," a la the Giants in 2003. Big Blue's key players might suddenly get old.
There's just too much inherent randomness in professional football to count on anything beyond one Sunday afternoon.
Just ask the Eagles.
And yet, I'm still not worried about today's game. I'm not saying that the Giants are definitely going to win. I just feel that whatever is meant to be will happen (which has nothing to do with the fact that Serendipity is on TBS right now).
Yes, I do believe it's the Giants' turn. Yes, I believe the karmic ledger should be balanced, considering all the garbage the Giants (and their fans) have had to endure in recent years (perhaps even extending back to the 1993 season finale, when Emmitt carried the Cowboys to a victory and a division title despite a separated shoulder). Why not now?
Most of all, I believe Eli Manning is destined for special things. I have faith in him. Because of Eli, the Giants have a chance to win each and every single game they play, regardless of the competition. And when you look at him, you can see the game's past (and in some cases, its present). You can see older brother Peyton when Eli marches up to the line. You can see a little Brett Favre whenever he darts around the pocket before firing an off-balance rocket (something you'd never see from his brother). And you can see a little John Elway (or Johnny U.) when the game is on the line.
And eventually, if you watch him enough, you can see what Ernie Accorsi saw when he fell in love with him.
Eli's still got a ways to go. As Bill Parcells would say, let's not put him in Canton just yet. But even if the Giants lose today, I cannot imagine it will be because Eli allowed it to happen. Which is a slightly different way of saying that every fiber in my being knows Eli will not allow the Giants to lose (even if they end up losing; and before your eyes glaze over, think about how the Giants lost last week and you'll see what I mean).
I truly, seriously cannot wait for this game. I have this crazy feeling that it's going to be a classic.
You only get so many chances to win.
This is the NFL's ultimate truth. Anything could happen to the Giants next year that could derail what is "supposed" to be their season. Eli could get injured, a la Chad Pennington in 2003 (or Donovan McNabb right now). The offense might lose a couple of linemen to free agency and fail to "click," a la the Giants in 2003. Big Blue's key players might suddenly get old.
There's just too much inherent randomness in professional football to count on anything beyond one Sunday afternoon.
Just ask the Eagles.
And yet, I'm still not worried about today's game. I'm not saying that the Giants are definitely going to win. I just feel that whatever is meant to be will happen (which has nothing to do with the fact that Serendipity is on TBS right now).
Yes, I do believe it's the Giants' turn. Yes, I believe the karmic ledger should be balanced, considering all the garbage the Giants (and their fans) have had to endure in recent years (perhaps even extending back to the 1993 season finale, when Emmitt carried the Cowboys to a victory and a division title despite a separated shoulder). Why not now?
Most of all, I believe Eli Manning is destined for special things. I have faith in him. Because of Eli, the Giants have a chance to win each and every single game they play, regardless of the competition. And when you look at him, you can see the game's past (and in some cases, its present). You can see older brother Peyton when Eli marches up to the line. You can see a little Brett Favre whenever he darts around the pocket before firing an off-balance rocket (something you'd never see from his brother). And you can see a little John Elway (or Johnny U.) when the game is on the line.
And eventually, if you watch him enough, you can see what Ernie Accorsi saw when he fell in love with him.
Eli's still got a ways to go. As Bill Parcells would say, let's not put him in Canton just yet. But even if the Giants lose today, I cannot imagine it will be because Eli allowed it to happen. Which is a slightly different way of saying that every fiber in my being knows Eli will not allow the Giants to lose (even if they end up losing; and before your eyes glaze over, think about how the Giants lost last week and you'll see what I mean).
I truly, seriously cannot wait for this game. I have this crazy feeling that it's going to be a classic.
Friday, December 02, 2005
friday giants blogging
Anyone who's read this site with any consistency knows I usually post about the Giants on the Friday before gameday, and today is no different. Last Sunday's loss to the Seahawks was a gutpunch straight out of the Fassel era, evocative of the infamous 2002 playoff collapse in San Fran. Some pundits called it a potential season-ruiner, but I don't think that's the case.
Something tells me that the vast majority of this team is so young that they don't know how to let such a loss ruin their season. And something tells me that the guys who are not so young - the Strahans, Tikis and Amanis - have been around the block too many times to let it drag them down yet again.
In any case, ESPN's Page 2 (which, like regular ESPN, usually treats the Giants and their fans with an "eat shit and die" attitude) today ran a wonderful essay on Eli, Big Blue and Giants fandom from guest writer Roger Director (who apparently used to write episodes of Moonlighting).
This is what the NFL is all about.
Something tells me that the vast majority of this team is so young that they don't know how to let such a loss ruin their season. And something tells me that the guys who are not so young - the Strahans, Tikis and Amanis - have been around the block too many times to let it drag them down yet again.
In any case, ESPN's Page 2 (which, like regular ESPN, usually treats the Giants and their fans with an "eat shit and die" attitude) today ran a wonderful essay on Eli, Big Blue and Giants fandom from guest writer Roger Director (who apparently used to write episodes of Moonlighting).
Eli, like any little brother, had to learn fast. He earned that poker face of his. Be a stoic. So it won't look like you're bawling to mama, because that only gets you another Indian burn or a knee in the thigh. Or dangled out the window. But if little brothers can survive, they find out there's a much nastier payback you can inflict on the big brothers of this world than telling mom. Little brothers can grow up to be rattlesnakes.I honestly don't have any dread leading up to this game. I'm excited, mostly without that awful feeling that the Sword of Damocles hangs by a thread over the head of each Giant and each Giant fan. Maybe it's because the Giants are so young. Win or lose, Sunday's game represents a wonderful, pleasantly shocking opportunity for such a young, promising team. And I have this funny feeling it's going to be their finest hour yet. The roles of good guys and bad guys are so amazingly perfectly cast, and the prize is right there for the taking.
And now the Giants have a poker-faced little brother with an ice pick for an arm. Who strikes fear when the clock is ticking loud and they break the huddle with the length of the field to go. Other than having a defense you know can't be scored on, there's no better card to have in your hand or to help your Luke Petitgout Syndrome.
This is what the NFL is all about.
some random friday thoughts
Wow, I haven't blogged in a long while (at least before "THERE'S MOTHERFUCKING SNAKES ON THE MOTHERFUCKING PLANE!"). I know I promised I would post more. And if you believed me, you're now ensconced in the world of lies that is haplography.
Anyhoo, here are some random Friday thoughts for your reading pleasure...
- Every time I hear a classic, Bing Crosby-era Christmas song on the radio, I think of the opening scenes of Die Hard or Lethal Weapon. Both used old-timey holiday music as ironic accompaniment to gruesome deaths. Touches like that made big, big 80s action movies big, big 80s action movies. So what does it say about me if I hear "Winter Wonderland" on the radio and immediately picture Bruce Willis smirking and saying California!
- I think the phrase "oh no!" should be replaced with "oh noes!" (with "noes" being pronounced like "nose"). We'd all sound a lot more adorable.
- Have the Rangers jumped the shark if I actually start expecting them to win games?
- I saw a feature last night on the local news (the Fox affiliate, I believe) that detailed how to become a Philly hipster. No joke. Apparently, all you need are Buddy Holly glasses, an ironically-worn soccer jersey and "attitude," and then you're offically hip. Note: this is more of an observation than an actual thought. My apologies. -ed... Note #2: my name is not actually "ed"; rather, this is an abbreviation of "editor."
- You've got to love the Philly sports media. On the same day columnist Sam Donnellon writes about how much smarter, savvier and more youth-oriented the Phillies are than the Mets (because the Mets are buying "pasts, not futures"), the Phils go out and give Tom Gordon three guaranteed years to be their closer. So if you're keeping track at home - giving 34-year old Billy Wagner four guaranteed years: stupid. Giving the 38-year old Gordon three years: BRILLIANT!
Anyhoo, here are some random Friday thoughts for your reading pleasure...
- Every time I hear a classic, Bing Crosby-era Christmas song on the radio, I think of the opening scenes of Die Hard or Lethal Weapon. Both used old-timey holiday music as ironic accompaniment to gruesome deaths. Touches like that made big, big 80s action movies big, big 80s action movies. So what does it say about me if I hear "Winter Wonderland" on the radio and immediately picture Bruce Willis smirking and saying California!
- I think the phrase "oh no!" should be replaced with "oh noes!" (with "noes" being pronounced like "nose"). We'd all sound a lot more adorable.
- Have the Rangers jumped the shark if I actually start expecting them to win games?
- I saw a feature last night on the local news (the Fox affiliate, I believe) that detailed how to become a Philly hipster. No joke. Apparently, all you need are Buddy Holly glasses, an ironically-worn soccer jersey and "attitude," and then you're offically hip. Note: this is more of an observation than an actual thought. My apologies. -ed... Note #2: my name is not actually "ed"; rather, this is an abbreviation of "editor."
- You've got to love the Philly sports media. On the same day columnist Sam Donnellon writes about how much smarter, savvier and more youth-oriented the Phillies are than the Mets (because the Mets are buying "pasts, not futures"), the Phils go out and give Tom Gordon three guaranteed years to be their closer. So if you're keeping track at home - giving 34-year old Billy Wagner four guaranteed years: stupid. Giving the 38-year old Gordon three years: BRILLIANT!
"THERE ARE MOTHERFUCKING SNAKES ON THE MOTHERFUCKING PLANE!"
I'm sure the legend of Samuel L. Jackson's "Snakes on a Plane" is well-known around the Internets (if not, check out its handy IMDB page), but last night I came across an old post at I Find Your Lack of Faith Disturbing that is keeping me giggling well into this fine morning.
What else do you need to know? How the snakes get on the plane, what the snakes do once they're on the plane, who puts the snakes on the plane, who is trying to get the snakes off the plane...This is not for you to ponder. There are snakes on the plane. End of fucking story.I think it goes without saying that Samuel L. has to give a big, ridiculous speech about survival at some point, as he did in Deep Blue Sea (just before getting eaten by a motherfucking shark). I still think Al Pacino is the guy you'd want pinch-hitting if your lead actor can't quite pull off a big, ridculous, climactic speech, but maybe Samuel L. could be the guy warming up in the bullpen to bring your bad movie home.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
"FOOT BALL TO-DAY"
I can only imagine such a sign is posted outside of Qwest Field today, where the New York 11 will take on the Seattle squad at 4 o'clock.
I have a good feeling about the Giants today, in that I don't have a horrible feeling for them (the last time I did was heading into the Minnesota game, and we all remember what happened that day... except for me, thanks to my prescription Represitol).
Yes, the Seahawks have Shaun Alexander and the league's top-rated offense. Yes, they're 8-3. Yes, they're playing at home. Yes, they and the Bears are the "trendy" NFC teams now.
But they come from the uber-awful NFC West. Now, you can't blame them for beating up on the weak sisters in their division, but you must acknowledge that five of their wins have come against less-than-stellar teams - most recently the 49ers, whom they barely beat (and, as history shows again and again, if you play badly and win one week, you're liable to have troubles the next week). The Seahawks' most impressive wins were each three-point squeakers at home against Atlanta in week 2 (when Matt Schaub guided the Falcons through crunchtime) and Dallas in week 7 (which was a gift from Drew Bledsoe). Those are two teams I honestly believe are not quite as good as the Giants, despite New York's OT loss at Texas Stadium (during a stretch of season in which the Cowboys' defense was playing out of its mind).
I have no idea what will happen today. The Giants could easily win or lose. But something tells me that the Seahawks aren't going to run away with it, despite what the hype would have you believe. I know I'm tempting fate and the thing from on high here, but it's been my experience that the hype tends to cometh before the fall - especially when that hype is ultimately based upon a weak divisional schedule.
I have a good feeling about the Giants today, in that I don't have a horrible feeling for them (the last time I did was heading into the Minnesota game, and we all remember what happened that day... except for me, thanks to my prescription Represitol).
Yes, the Seahawks have Shaun Alexander and the league's top-rated offense. Yes, they're 8-3. Yes, they're playing at home. Yes, they and the Bears are the "trendy" NFC teams now.
But they come from the uber-awful NFC West. Now, you can't blame them for beating up on the weak sisters in their division, but you must acknowledge that five of their wins have come against less-than-stellar teams - most recently the 49ers, whom they barely beat (and, as history shows again and again, if you play badly and win one week, you're liable to have troubles the next week). The Seahawks' most impressive wins were each three-point squeakers at home against Atlanta in week 2 (when Matt Schaub guided the Falcons through crunchtime) and Dallas in week 7 (which was a gift from Drew Bledsoe). Those are two teams I honestly believe are not quite as good as the Giants, despite New York's OT loss at Texas Stadium (during a stretch of season in which the Cowboys' defense was playing out of its mind).
I have no idea what will happen today. The Giants could easily win or lose. But something tells me that the Seahawks aren't going to run away with it, despite what the hype would have you believe. I know I'm tempting fate and the thing from on high here, but it's been my experience that the hype tends to cometh before the fall - especially when that hype is ultimately based upon a weak divisional schedule.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
if you didn't know it already...
NOTHING GOOD HAS EVER COME OUT OF PRINCETON, with the exception which proves the rule being the Daily Princetonian article detailing Supreme Court nominee Samuel Alito's membership in a club which sought to keep women and minorities out of the former College of New Jersey.
I had a professor at Penn (who shall remain nameless) who went to Princeton in the mid-1960s - another exception to the Princeton Rule. He also happens to be African-American, and he once spoke of a campus group which sought to keep Princeton priviliged and white. I have no idea if it was the same group Alito was a member of, but as this particular professor told the story, the group had open meetings at which anybody could speak. So he gathered up some supporters, went to the meeting and spoke before the cowed group.
The moral of the story is that pure evil comes out of Princeton, not just the run-of-the-mill evil that unleashed Brooke Shields, Dean Cain and Keith Elias onto an unsuspecting world. The best way to beat it is to stand up to it (ideally, standing up to it includes but is not limited to two men's basketball ass-whoopings at the hands of the Quakers every season).
Anyhoo, I had a busy week to rival all busy weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, and I hope to be posting more in the coming days. Turducken (yes, turducken). Big Giants game in Seattle tomorrow. Lots of personal developments. Maybe some long-overdue Philly restaurant reviews. That kind of stuff.
Hope everyone is having a great holiday!!!
I had a professor at Penn (who shall remain nameless) who went to Princeton in the mid-1960s - another exception to the Princeton Rule. He also happens to be African-American, and he once spoke of a campus group which sought to keep Princeton priviliged and white. I have no idea if it was the same group Alito was a member of, but as this particular professor told the story, the group had open meetings at which anybody could speak. So he gathered up some supporters, went to the meeting and spoke before the cowed group.
The moral of the story is that pure evil comes out of Princeton, not just the run-of-the-mill evil that unleashed Brooke Shields, Dean Cain and Keith Elias onto an unsuspecting world. The best way to beat it is to stand up to it (ideally, standing up to it includes but is not limited to two men's basketball ass-whoopings at the hands of the Quakers every season).
Anyhoo, I had a busy week to rival all busy weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, and I hope to be posting more in the coming days. Turducken (yes, turducken). Big Giants game in Seattle tomorrow. Lots of personal developments. Maybe some long-overdue Philly restaurant reviews. That kind of stuff.
Hope everyone is having a great holiday!!!
Monday, November 21, 2005
that's my bush!
If I were to judge by this one picture, I'd say Bush couldn't find his way off the set of the Chinese Pre$$ Your Luck today, so he started asking the little boy who lives in his mouth what he should do.
I can only imagine this will improve his approval ratings. The end.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
the diamond joe quimby party
"If that is the way the wind is blowing, never let it be
said that I do not also blow."
I liked the Senate Republicans' plan to end the war in Iraq better when it was the Senate Democrats' plan to end the war in Iraq (thanks to Nitpicker).
said that I do not also blow."
I liked the Senate Republicans' plan to end the war in Iraq better when it was the Senate Democrats' plan to end the war in Iraq (thanks to Nitpicker).
i suck
When it comes to placing the state, I suck. My average error was 18 miles. Kris sent this link to me, and her average error was only five miles.
Who designed this country, anyway?
Who designed this country, anyway?
the eagles are the eagles again
I'm sure the football gods will punish me come Sunday for this, but... damn, that was awesome. I turned the game off with over three minutes to go, thinking the Eagles' annual dramatic season turnaround had begun; I turned it back on to see David Akers' potential game-winning 60-yard field goal attempt fall at least ten yards short as time ran out. After wiping my eyes, doing a double take and exclaiming "wha-a-WHAAAA!?", I used Tivo's 30-minute cache to relive the Eagles' gut-punching, Rich-Kotite-Era-repressed-memory-triggering defeat (which easily - easily - dwarfs the Giants' loss to the Vikes).
Remember I said that I'd believe the Eagles were dead when I saw a body? We're not there yet; this team still has a dominating defense at times, and I'm still not convinced the Giants are any good.
But we're close.
And no matter what happens on Sunday, it's just awesome to see the Cowboys come into town and ruin everybody's night, just like in the old days. The only thing better would be the Giants doing it.
Now, I don't think I'd dislike the Eagles as much as I do if it weren't for their fans; not since Red Sox Nation's pre-2004 heyday has a fanbase so skillfully combined arrogant soccer hooliganism, hangdog defeatism, and a ginormously whiny sense of entitlement. When I first got to Penn in 1998, the wonderful, amazing, devoted Eagles fans went to the Vet dressed as empty blue seats, which kept the games off TV; these days, one learns how charming it can be to hear God's collective gift to fandom do the "E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES!" chant eight or nine times... at a Phillies game... in July. Now they can all go to the back of the line.
At least until Sunday.
on edit - I had no idea Donovan McNabb injured his groin. I certainly don't take pleasure in this, and I did not when I posted this blog entry. I wish him the best, and I certainly hope he's on the field this Sunday - after all, you've got to beat the best to be the best. -haplo
Remember I said that I'd believe the Eagles were dead when I saw a body? We're not there yet; this team still has a dominating defense at times, and I'm still not convinced the Giants are any good.
But we're close.
And no matter what happens on Sunday, it's just awesome to see the Cowboys come into town and ruin everybody's night, just like in the old days. The only thing better would be the Giants doing it.
Now, I don't think I'd dislike the Eagles as much as I do if it weren't for their fans; not since Red Sox Nation's pre-2004 heyday has a fanbase so skillfully combined arrogant soccer hooliganism, hangdog defeatism, and a ginormously whiny sense of entitlement. When I first got to Penn in 1998, the wonderful, amazing, devoted Eagles fans went to the Vet dressed as empty blue seats, which kept the games off TV; these days, one learns how charming it can be to hear God's collective gift to fandom do the "E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES!" chant eight or nine times... at a Phillies game... in July. Now they can all go to the back of the line.
At least until Sunday.
on edit - I had no idea Donovan McNabb injured his groin. I certainly don't take pleasure in this, and I did not when I posted this blog entry. I wish him the best, and I certainly hope he's on the field this Sunday - after all, you've got to beat the best to be the best. -haplo
Monday, November 14, 2005
the internets in action
So there's been a quote circulating around the Internet the past couple days. At first glance, it appears to be yet another unfortunate choice of words for John Kerry, who was often excoriated during the 2004 presidential campaign for similarly unfortunate choices of words (i.e., "I voted for it before I voted against it," etc.):
"We had no pre-war intelligence," said Sen. John Kerry, "History will show that none of the leading Democrats had substantial intelligence. Anyone who remembers what we did then knows that the president is making a baseless allegation. I think history will bear out my contention that we Democrats lacked the intelligence to make such an important decision."
Sounds too good to be true, right? Sounds like it was tailor-made for the type of triumphant, vitriolic email forwards that circle the drains of our junk mail folders (the same type that can make Andy Rooney look like David Duke). Well, that's because it was.
"Scrappleface" is a fake news website. More precisely, it's an extremely right-wing fake news website; for example, one story deals with Nancy Pelosi's apparent plan to seize oil company profits and use them to fund abortions for ANWR wildlife.
Now that's comedy.
Anyhoo, the Kerry quote is fakily fake; so fake, in fact, that debunking the cause of the resulting outrage-tinged smug satisfaction among the right (look at how many people assume John Kerry actually said this) would be a slam dunk for the folks over at Snopes. Unfortunately, that won't keep this little nugget of subtle-as-a-sledge-hammer satire from circulating around the Internets forever, presented as yet another factual dumb soundbite that actually factually sprang from the wordhole of one John Kerry, Democrat.
Partisans believe what they want to believe - what they expect to believe - facts be damned. Some partisans know it's fake, and just don't care; it stands more of a chance to distract from the question at hand if people assume it's true. It won't change the subject, to be sure; but in the arena of public opinion, Republicans have defeated Democrats in the past by inflicting thousands of little cuts just like this one.
Can't wait to get it in an email.
"We had no pre-war intelligence," said Sen. John Kerry, "History will show that none of the leading Democrats had substantial intelligence. Anyone who remembers what we did then knows that the president is making a baseless allegation. I think history will bear out my contention that we Democrats lacked the intelligence to make such an important decision."
Sounds too good to be true, right? Sounds like it was tailor-made for the type of triumphant, vitriolic email forwards that circle the drains of our junk mail folders (the same type that can make Andy Rooney look like David Duke). Well, that's because it was.
"Scrappleface" is a fake news website. More precisely, it's an extremely right-wing fake news website; for example, one story deals with Nancy Pelosi's apparent plan to seize oil company profits and use them to fund abortions for ANWR wildlife.
Now that's comedy.
Anyhoo, the Kerry quote is fakily fake; so fake, in fact, that debunking the cause of the resulting outrage-tinged smug satisfaction among the right (look at how many people assume John Kerry actually said this) would be a slam dunk for the folks over at Snopes. Unfortunately, that won't keep this little nugget of subtle-as-a-sledge-hammer satire from circulating around the Internets forever, presented as yet another factual dumb soundbite that actually factually sprang from the wordhole of one John Kerry, Democrat.
Partisans believe what they want to believe - what they expect to believe - facts be damned. Some partisans know it's fake, and just don't care; it stands more of a chance to distract from the question at hand if people assume it's true. It won't change the subject, to be sure; but in the arena of public opinion, Republicans have defeated Democrats in the past by inflicting thousands of little cuts just like this one.
Can't wait to get it in an email.
every battle is won before it is ever fought
It seems the national debate these days has turned to whether or not the Bush administration manipulated intelligence to lead the nation into war with Iraq, or if it was suckered into believing what turned out to be flawed, flimsy intelligence (which is certainly the less evil possibility, but just as unforgiveable a sin if true). The GOP is spinning mightily, trying to convince the nation that the Democrats were privy to the same intelligence and are therefore worthy of all the blame (as Atrios points out, it's the "you fucked up - you trusted us" defense). This is of course untrue, but peddling revisionist history to an eager media is pretty much the only move the Bushies have left.
My question is this: if it's true that the Republicans' massively successful communications philosophy/strategy (whatever you want to call it) over the years hasn't been to win the debate but to control the very terms of the debate - to control the question itself... then haven't they already lost?
My question is this: if it's true that the Republicans' massively successful communications philosophy/strategy (whatever you want to call it) over the years hasn't been to win the debate but to control the very terms of the debate - to control the question itself... then haven't they already lost?
the giants are the giants again
Just one thought on this Giants debacle: the Giants are the Giants again. Not because they lost, but because they lost in excruciating fashion; because the defense was awesome until it wasn't, because the special teams was awful, because the offense played just well enough to lose.
Since Tom Coughlin took over the team, there have been new faces and fresh ideas. Last year the team was laughably bad. It happens. This year, the special teams have actually been good. The offense has been explosive. The defense has been mediocre. This is all new for the New York Football Giants. But yesterday's loss was straight out of the Jim Fassel era. You could easily have taken one of today's game stories back in time to 1998 or 2002, changed the names to protect the horrible, and Mr. 1998 Giants Fan wouldn't have been able to determine that this game recap was from THE FUTURE!!! To him, it would have been just another terrible loss for a franchise that knows how to terribly lose better than any other.
Since Tom Coughlin took over the team, there have been new faces and fresh ideas. Last year the team was laughably bad. It happens. This year, the special teams have actually been good. The offense has been explosive. The defense has been mediocre. This is all new for the New York Football Giants. But yesterday's loss was straight out of the Jim Fassel era. You could easily have taken one of today's game stories back in time to 1998 or 2002, changed the names to protect the horrible, and Mr. 1998 Giants Fan wouldn't have been able to determine that this game recap was from THE FUTURE!!! To him, it would have been just another terrible loss for a franchise that knows how to terribly lose better than any other.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
world cafe live
Kris and I hit Upstairs at World Cafe Live last night (3025 Walnut St.). It was one of their free shows, and even though they told us that the wait would roughly be the same as the half-life of one of the elements down near the bottom of the Periodic Table (the scary man-made ones), we put our name down; while we were discussing where else we could go, a table with a nice window view of the Walnut St. Bridge opened up.
The place looks designed by Philly hipsters (and every member of the wait staff looks like a Philly hipster). Usually I have mixed feelings about this, as Philly hipsters can often deserve massive cockpunches. But this was nice; the beer on draught was accordingly hip - all sorts of brews from Victory and Dogfish Head, and, of course, lager.
The music and food were good - I had an Italian grinder, which had all sorts of Italian cold cuts, red peppers, oil and melted provolone on a toasted roll. Performing was the wonderful Kristin Hoffmann, who has a helluva voice. Her music was very Dido-like, and immediately after Kris and I joked that her stuff should all be featured in teen dramas on the WB, she introduced her next song as "the one that they used on 'Dawson's Creek.'" Still, she was very good and her musical style was very versatile, and it's just cool to eat dinner and drink beer while listening to live music.
Even beyond that, to me, WXPN is one of the things that makes Philly Philly. It's true sometimes that every hour sounds like their Women's Music Hour, but there's a lot of good that they do, and it's refreshing to listen to a radio station that has a firm commitment to new music and to the singer/songwriter. Combining that with food, beer and free live music is, well, perfect.
The place looks designed by Philly hipsters (and every member of the wait staff looks like a Philly hipster). Usually I have mixed feelings about this, as Philly hipsters can often deserve massive cockpunches. But this was nice; the beer on draught was accordingly hip - all sorts of brews from Victory and Dogfish Head, and, of course, lager.
The music and food were good - I had an Italian grinder, which had all sorts of Italian cold cuts, red peppers, oil and melted provolone on a toasted roll. Performing was the wonderful Kristin Hoffmann, who has a helluva voice. Her music was very Dido-like, and immediately after Kris and I joked that her stuff should all be featured in teen dramas on the WB, she introduced her next song as "the one that they used on 'Dawson's Creek.'" Still, she was very good and her musical style was very versatile, and it's just cool to eat dinner and drink beer while listening to live music.
Even beyond that, to me, WXPN is one of the things that makes Philly Philly. It's true sometimes that every hour sounds like their Women's Music Hour, but there's a lot of good that they do, and it's refreshing to listen to a radio station that has a firm commitment to new music and to the singer/songwriter. Combining that with food, beer and free live music is, well, perfect.
i have become dell, destroyer of worlds
Goodbye, seven-year-old Power Mac which I got on my first weekend at Penn. I hope you have fun in my closet. I'll power you back up when I need my music and my senior honors thesis. Until then, there's a Dell on my desk now.
Now, it's not actually my Dell; Kris doesn't need her desktop now that she has a laptop, and she realizes it would be better for both of us if there was a computer in my apartment that could actually take advantage of the broadband connection I pay over $40 a month for. So, now, I have become Dell, destroyer of worlds.
I guess I'll miss having a Mac; I used to be really into the whole Mac culture - when I was about 14 or so. Now I couldn't give two shits what sits on my desk. It could be a Coleco (with rust-proofing) so long as the Internet internets faster and the software actually works with the rest of the computing world's.
Really, I'm just glad I got a Dell without having to deal with Steven, the Dell Dude.
Kris is much, much hotter, and pot busts, to my knowledge, are refreshingly free from her background... oh God, what is he doing?
Now, it's not actually my Dell; Kris doesn't need her desktop now that she has a laptop, and she realizes it would be better for both of us if there was a computer in my apartment that could actually take advantage of the broadband connection I pay over $40 a month for. So, now, I have become Dell, destroyer of worlds.
I guess I'll miss having a Mac; I used to be really into the whole Mac culture - when I was about 14 or so. Now I couldn't give two shits what sits on my desk. It could be a Coleco (with rust-proofing) so long as the Internet internets faster and the software actually works with the rest of the computing world's.
Really, I'm just glad I got a Dell without having to deal with Steven, the Dell Dude.
Kris is much, much hotter, and pot busts, to my knowledge, are refreshingly free from her background... oh God, what is he doing?
Friday, November 11, 2005
peking duck pizza
Last night Kris and I tried the Peking Duck pizza at Mama Palma's (2229 Spruce St). Let me say this: you must try this pizza. Roast duck, hoisin sauce, mushrooms, scallions and little thin snippets of carrot - all on a pizza. Awesome.
I recommend you share this with someone, as it's sweet enough that eating even the small size all by yourself could give you adult-onset diabetes (not really - don't sue!). But it's definitely worth a taste.
I recommend you share this with someone, as it's sweet enough that eating even the small size all by yourself could give you adult-onset diabetes (not really - don't sue!). But it's definitely worth a taste.
nooooooooooooooooooo
So Fox has cancelled Arrested Development just as I was getting into it. It's a fucking tight show, and now it's gone. At least there's still the DVDs.
Considering Scrubs doesn't appear to be getting back on the schedule anytime soon (and FilmFakers is LONG gone), I'm just about ready to declare that my Tivo season passes are like teeny thumbed-up kisses of death (or, at least warm, encompassing hugs of hiatus).
I'm looking at you next, The Office. Your producers should just lie down in their office doorways right now and wait for NBC security guards to throw their limp, lifeless bodies off the studio lot.
Considering Scrubs doesn't appear to be getting back on the schedule anytime soon (and FilmFakers is LONG gone), I'm just about ready to declare that my Tivo season passes are like teeny thumbed-up kisses of death (or, at least warm, encompassing hugs of hiatus).
I'm looking at you next, The Office. Your producers should just lie down in their office doorways right now and wait for NBC security guards to throw their limp, lifeless bodies off the studio lot.
friday sports blogging
Truthfully, I don't know what sets Friday sports blogging apart from the sports blogging I do any other day, but it's Friday, so it's Friday sports blogging.
- The Rangers are, quite simply, shocking. I thought they would have returned to ways of stinkitude long before this. But as long as they keep outworking teams and can avoid hitting some sort of wall (hopefully the Olympics break in February will help), they've got a shot here. It's definitely nice to have a likeable Rangers team kicking the shit out of people again, but I'm expecting Petr Nedved or Anson Carter to step onto the ice any minute and ruin the illusion.
- I'm scared for the Giants this Sunday. This game worries me more than the Eagles game next week, because Big Blue is expected to manhandle the Vikes (and because the Giants didn't play particularly well last week and still won going away). Mark my words - the Giants will lose to a team they're supposed to beat at some point. That's the reality of life in today's NFL. And for some reason, I have visions of a resurgent Brad Johnson picking apart the Giants secondary dancing in my head.
- Looks like Steph Marbury is about to be traded. Good. He's like a vacuum of inspiration on the court, and something tells me the Knicks will be immeasurably better without him. Don't get me wrong - he can be awesome. But I've never gotten the feeling that he's going to take the Knicks on his back and win a game, the way a Jason Kidd or an Allen Iverson can.
- If they must trade for him, I'm really hoping that with Theo gone in Boston, the Mets can get a favorable deal for Manny Ramirez. They shouldn't have to give up the farm for a guy who's going to look lost in Shea's outfield next year (and has just as much a chance of taking the Mets back to 2002 as he does to the playoffs), but they would have had to if the Boy Wonder had stuck around. Here's to hoping whoever's left up there has a little bit less gray matter. It's probably just wishful thinking, but hey - who would have thought the Devil Rays could get Scott Kazmir for Vic Zambrano?
I really don't mind all the money for Billy Wagner (or for pitching in general); from the mood around here (and from what I've heard), the Phillies are either deathly afraid of losing him to the Mets, or have already conceded him to them.
I think what I do mind is the Rotisserie mentality that the papers seem to ascribe to Omar Minaya. It might just be your standard Hot Stove reporting, but it feels a little too much like the winter of 2001-2002, when the Mets thought they were reloading a team that had been to the World Series just one year before. If the Mets bring in one big bat and a closer and fill the rest of the roster with smart free agent moves and/or trades, fine. If they bring in the all-hit, no-glove AL All-Star (i.e., All-Salary) team (Ramirez, Alfonso Soriano, Aubrey Huff, etc.), I'll be more than a little worried. Throwing money and/or prospects at guys who are obviously not right for the team, the league and/or the ballpark will be the surest way to derail an emerging team, and Omar must tread lightly.
- The Rangers are, quite simply, shocking. I thought they would have returned to ways of stinkitude long before this. But as long as they keep outworking teams and can avoid hitting some sort of wall (hopefully the Olympics break in February will help), they've got a shot here. It's definitely nice to have a likeable Rangers team kicking the shit out of people again, but I'm expecting Petr Nedved or Anson Carter to step onto the ice any minute and ruin the illusion.
- I'm scared for the Giants this Sunday. This game worries me more than the Eagles game next week, because Big Blue is expected to manhandle the Vikes (and because the Giants didn't play particularly well last week and still won going away). Mark my words - the Giants will lose to a team they're supposed to beat at some point. That's the reality of life in today's NFL. And for some reason, I have visions of a resurgent Brad Johnson picking apart the Giants secondary dancing in my head.
- Looks like Steph Marbury is about to be traded. Good. He's like a vacuum of inspiration on the court, and something tells me the Knicks will be immeasurably better without him. Don't get me wrong - he can be awesome. But I've never gotten the feeling that he's going to take the Knicks on his back and win a game, the way a Jason Kidd or an Allen Iverson can.
- If they must trade for him, I'm really hoping that with Theo gone in Boston, the Mets can get a favorable deal for Manny Ramirez. They shouldn't have to give up the farm for a guy who's going to look lost in Shea's outfield next year (and has just as much a chance of taking the Mets back to 2002 as he does to the playoffs), but they would have had to if the Boy Wonder had stuck around. Here's to hoping whoever's left up there has a little bit less gray matter. It's probably just wishful thinking, but hey - who would have thought the Devil Rays could get Scott Kazmir for Vic Zambrano?
I really don't mind all the money for Billy Wagner (or for pitching in general); from the mood around here (and from what I've heard), the Phillies are either deathly afraid of losing him to the Mets, or have already conceded him to them.
I think what I do mind is the Rotisserie mentality that the papers seem to ascribe to Omar Minaya. It might just be your standard Hot Stove reporting, but it feels a little too much like the winter of 2001-2002, when the Mets thought they were reloading a team that had been to the World Series just one year before. If the Mets bring in one big bat and a closer and fill the rest of the roster with smart free agent moves and/or trades, fine. If they bring in the all-hit, no-glove AL All-Star (i.e., All-Salary) team (Ramirez, Alfonso Soriano, Aubrey Huff, etc.), I'll be more than a little worried. Throwing money and/or prospects at guys who are obviously not right for the team, the league and/or the ballpark will be the surest way to derail an emerging team, and Omar must tread lightly.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Monday, November 07, 2005
sadatay!
According to the internets, a new thing to get worried sick about is the growing popularity of t-shirts depicting a "simply drawn snowman with a menacing expression" among kids. According to CNN.com, "the image popularized by drug-dealer-turned-rapper Young Jeezy symbolizes those who sell a white substance known on the street as snow: cocaine." The article ends like this:
Ali Kourani, a Manhattan wholesale salesman, says the T-shirt is their top seller across the country.
"It's big money," Kourani said.
Reading this, I can't help but think that this situation is lifted verbatim from the opening of the movie Pootie Tang, with corporate America making money off the misery of the inner city. All that's missing is Pootie coming back from the farm to save the day and tell Bob Costas about it.
Leepa-chai.
Ali Kourani, a Manhattan wholesale salesman, says the T-shirt is their top seller across the country.
"It's big money," Kourani said.
Reading this, I can't help but think that this situation is lifted verbatim from the opening of the movie Pootie Tang, with corporate America making money off the misery of the inner city. All that's missing is Pootie coming back from the farm to save the day and tell Bob Costas about it.
Leepa-chai.
homecoming
To everyone I saw at Penn Homecoming on Friday and Saturday nights: It was awesome to see you. I just feel bad we all weren't able to hang out a little more; dinner and/or hanging out on Saturday night sounded great, but then it sort of devolved into teeny tiny pockets of people doing their own things. Which is more than fine; it just would have been nice to have seen all of you a little while longer.
To everyone I should have seen at Penn Homecoming but didn't for whatever reason: I got much love for ya. Sorry it didn't happen this weekend. Let's make it work real soon.
To everyone I should have seen at Penn Homecoming but didn't for whatever reason: I got much love for ya. Sorry it didn't happen this weekend. Let's make it work real soon.
1000
It took a little over five weeks, but haplography has reached its 1000th hit. Granted, most of those hits come from me whenever I update the page, but still, it's worth mentioning. Thanks to everyone who's been reading this whole time!
prorated eli
The Giants have now played half a season, and in doubling Eli's stats, we see some nice things developing. Over a full season, they come to...
28 TDs
10 INTs
3622 passing yards
And there's still so very much room for his improvement. Once he gets his completion percentage up to around 60% (it's at 51.6% right now), he might just become the best quarterback in the NFC. Right now, his numbers already put him in the running for Pro Bowl consideration (which, while no knock on Eli, says a lot about the state of quarterbacking in the NFC).
This is not to say that the second half of the season will definitely go as smoothly as this first half has gone (for both him and the team); there are a lot of tough games - especially on the road - between now and around 8 p.m. on the night of January 1st, when we will know for sure whether these Giants get to keep playing or not.
But the thing about Eli that the Giants love even more than his stats is this (in the words of Post columnist Steve Serby): "as the pressure moments get bigger and bigger, Eli plays bigger and bigger."
28 TDs
10 INTs
3622 passing yards
And there's still so very much room for his improvement. Once he gets his completion percentage up to around 60% (it's at 51.6% right now), he might just become the best quarterback in the NFC. Right now, his numbers already put him in the running for Pro Bowl consideration (which, while no knock on Eli, says a lot about the state of quarterbacking in the NFC).
This is not to say that the second half of the season will definitely go as smoothly as this first half has gone (for both him and the team); there are a lot of tough games - especially on the road - between now and around 8 p.m. on the night of January 1st, when we will know for sure whether these Giants get to keep playing or not.
But the thing about Eli that the Giants love even more than his stats is this (in the words of Post columnist Steve Serby): "as the pressure moments get bigger and bigger, Eli plays bigger and bigger."
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