is willie behind that bench?

Newsday: Weekes is rusty in his return

Renney absolved Weekes, who he again declared is his No. 1 goaltender, and criticized the team.

I guess Tom Renney is sticking with Kaz Ishii in nets.

from this week's issue of "duh" magazine

By way of Salon's review of Shopgirl:

Martin's performance is one of implacable, rubberized unhappiness; you get the feeling he saw Bill Murray in "Lost in Translation" and thought, "I can do that."

He can't, though.

awesome

Kos links to a wonderful Rolling Stone profile of Rahm Emanuel, former Clinton staffer and current congressman from Chicago (and leader of the DCCC).

There are a lot of good anecdotes illustrating his bulldog ferocity, but what made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end were the key components of his vision for a Democratic platform that would retake the House next year:

But Emanuel knows Democrats will have to do more than make Republicans look bad if they hope to win back the House -- they must present a positive, forward-looking agenda of their own, one that inspires hope and confidence among voters. After DeLay was indicted, Emanuel appeared on Meet the Press and laid out several components of the agenda he believes Democrats should run on in 2006: universal college education, universal health care for anyone who works, bringing down the national debt and cutting U.S. dependence on foreign oil in half within a decade. If expanded, such policies could form the basis of a Democratic version of the Contract With America, the weapon that Gingrich wielded to such devastating effect in his campaign to take control of Congress.

Awesome. Whether or not any of those wonderful-sounding things could actually be seriously addressed in 2007 and beyond (assuming the voters go for it next year), it's really, really, really cool to hear that kind of vision coming from a member of the party leadership - especially in the Age of Bush, in which all policy initiatives set forth by the GOP are tinged with (if not based upon) cynicism and greed. It's just so awesome to hear such an optimistic, confident Democrat talk and act like this while so many things are going wrong in this country under Republican leadership.

He's also enlisting former NFL quarterback Heath Shuler to run for Congress in North Carolina. So he's got that going for him.

Which is nice.

they've got a point

But they still lost. I'm going to assume that means I was right (especially if this starts some magical and/or wonderful run for the Islanders).

the other shoe

There was a good column by The Sports Guy yesterday. He sympathized with Astros fans while expounding on his "levels of losing" in sports fandom. Being a New York sports fan and not rooting for the Yankees, I can empathize. I'm sure the Sports Guy would disagree with my "frustrated fan" status, as I imagine he sees all New York sports fans - Yankees fans or not - as the neighborhood saw Danny Aiello's Sal in Do the Right Thing. Which is fine, I guess; all I really want is for my teams to do well, and I don't really care how some New Englandah sees harried Mets fans like myself.

Despite the Rangers and Giants' good starts, despite the Mets' winning record in 2005 and despite a potential season of promise awaiting the Knicks, I know in my heart that none of these teams will ever make (let alone succeed in) the playoffs ever again. It's hard to explain - the law of averages says it's not even true, given enough time - but I'm so used to rooting for adrift franchises that I'm conditioned now. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, always. Within entire seasons, within individual games, within offseason moves - I just know that things will never, ever work out for the best.

Case in point - the Rangers, who last made the playoffs in 1997 and were everybody's preseason pick to finish next to last in the entire Eastern Conference, are pleasantly surprising; i.e., they're kicking the shit out of people. They have exciting young talent at the Garden and up in Hartford, and they've got a young kid in nets who has the potential to be a star. They're flying high and tonight they play their hated rivals - the Islanders - from whom they swept the 2003-2004 season series.

All of this can only mean two things. First, the Islanders are guaranteed to win tonight. You can put money down on that. Second, given that these are the Islanders, an organization that defines itself only by 1) four Stanley Cups won 800 years ago and 2) its hatred of the big bad Rangers (who haven't been big and bad since Bill Clinton was getting sworn in for a second term), means tonight's loss might be the one that sends the Blueshirts tumbling back to their proper station in NHL life. I know this because such a turn of events would be exceptionally sweet for the Islanders fan base, which takes delight in Rangers misery (especially when their team causes it), and would be just the type of insult-to-injury the sports gods seem to enjoy heaping upon the Mets, Giants, Knicks and Rangers. And even if tonight's isn't that loss, the inevitable turning point and the ensuing regression towards the mean fast approaches.

OK, "whiny" mode off. Go Rangers.

my top four: philly restaurants

1) Monk's, 264 S 16th St. Though they're mocked in commercials for Sam Adams, places with Beer Bibles are actually pretty cool. Monk's has an extensive Beer Bible, but all you really need to know about this dark, laberynthine Belgian restaurant's commitment to excellent suds is that they've got Chimay on tap. The food is excellent, too; the pomme frites with spicy mayo might just be the best finger food in the entire city. I always get the Monk's burger, served with bleu cheese and carmelized leeks.

2) The Smoked Joint, 1420 Locust St. Self-described "Rock and Roll Barbecue"; the "self" in "self-described" being the two Long Island Whartonite founders who turned their love of BBQ into what they hope will become a upscale chain. Now, most of the words I just typed - if not all of them - in all combinations of clauses and/or sentences you could possibly jumble them, would normally indicate off-the-scale stinkitude. But this place rocks. (Almost) everything on the menu is smoked, including the pizza and the Reuben. Pickle brine and house BBQ sauce at every table. Jalapeno cornbread. Smoked corn-on-the-cob. Sweet potato fries. Ice cold lager. I love love love this place. Go with the pulled pork platter.

3) El Vez, 121 S. 13th St. Stephen Starr is the fucking man. Yes, I am a little concerned that one day all restaurants in Philadelphia will be his (I'm envisioning Starr's "reimagining" of the McDonald's near Penn on 40th street, which would probably involve an homage to what 1960s Japanese designers and artists thought fast food would look like in 1997), but for now, eating at a Starr joint is a treat. El Vez, as his marketers apparently tell us, is "Mexican-American meets East L.A. in a Tijuana taxi." Specialty margharitas, fresh guac made in the dining area (you can watch them put everything into a charcoal bowl and grind it all into creamy bliss) and crispy mahi-mahi tacos are muy bueno (See? Spanish! Because it's a Mexican restaurant! I'm an awesome writer!!!).

4) Bistro La Baia, 1700 Lombard Street. I think my apartment might actually be bigger than this Italian BYO. The food, though, proves that good things come in small packages (Wow, more great writing! Did you see how I set that up, and then slammed it home?!? Damn!). A seemingly perpetual special is one of my favorite dishes, with three kinds of yummy pasta - lobster ravioli in cognac sauce, gnocchi in pesto sauce, and linguine in mushroom cream sauce. There's probably better Italian food out there, but nothing beats picking out a bottle of wine with someone you love, walking through Rittenhouse Square over to Lombard, literally rubbing elbows with the people at the table next to you, and trying to decipher the waiters' thick Italian accents. It's all very cozy and comfortable.

Kris and I dined there on Friday night, and we sat next to a Penn student (at least, I'm 99.9% sure he was a Penn student) who was trying to impress what must have been a first date. She was dressed like Amy Fisher-meets-Punky Brewster (not that that really has anything to do with anything; and not that Amy Fisher isn't really just an older Punky Brewster). When his companion left for the restroom, he began asking people how to get to Rittenhouse Square - presumably so he could start making some moves.

I love Philly.

- Honorable Mentions: Cuba Libre, Alma De Cuba, Ludwig's Garten, Mama Palma's and the White Dog Cafe, where I had the best eggs I've ever tasted.
- Honorable Mentions of Restaurants Near Philadelphia: Border Cafe, Wilmington, DE. A looping soundtrack of Johnny Cash music plays in my head whenever I'm there.
- Honorable Mentions of Sandwiches Not Technically Served in Restaurants: Pat's cheesesteak (provie - provy? - with), Tony Luke's cheesesteak (sharp provolone with), the Restaurant School Special at Koch's Deli, and the Schmitter at Citizens' Bank Park. All no-brainers.
- Honorable Mention of Restaurant Rendered Obsolete by West Philly Gentrification (second letter down): FWOT. You were barely a restaurant (you had tables and chairs, so I guess you qualified), but damn - I miss your greasy, kick-ass wings and your ghetto flava. Come back, FWOT.

things I'd like to see

- Tom Selleck and Kirstie Alley reuniting on Broadway for a live stage production of "Runaway", with those dancers from the stage version of "The Lion King" playing the evil spider-like robots that inject poison into people. I would settle, however, for seeing Sir Anthony Hopkins do a one-man off-broadway version of "Freejack".

- Katie Couric inventing a teleportation device and testing it on herself on the "Today" show, only to emerge as a horrific half human/half insect creature, immediately leaping over to Matt Lauer and plunging her proboscis into his chest. Ideally, this would be followed by Al Roker talking sadly and philosophically about how we are all just "shadows and dust."

- A movie called "An Indie Buzz Machine: Seemingly Deep But Actually Shallow Truisms About the Alienation Inherent in Modern Life and Love Starring an Aging Actor Looking to Reinvent Himself and Set to a Soundtrack Comprised Solely of the Shins and Death Cab For Cutie." Oh, wait...

motown philly back again

Hey! I'm back from my jaunt to the midwest, and I think - I think - my project went really well. We shall see. Plus, I can now say I've been to the states of Missouri and Ohio. Specifically, I visited...

1) The beautiful St. Louis, Missouri airport area. Kris and I talked much about getting to see the arch, which is located in downtown St. Louis. She did a little Googling while I was waiting for my flight yesterday, and it turns out the airport is so far away from downtown that - as I type this in New Jersey - I am currently closer to the arch than I was in St. Louis.

I stayed at the airport Marriott, which had its ups and downs. On the plus side, the lovely hotel staff let me use the front desk computer's DVD drive to check my work one last time, thereby making them the latest enabler of my slight case of OCD. But, the hotel lost points when the dude in the gift shop told me they didn't have any toothpaste(!).

I also tried the hotel restaurant's microbrew - Rock River Mountain Ale - which had a hint of vanilla to it. Nice. The Rock River Tavern, as it was called, also had slippery hardwood floors and high barstools, which offered some entertainment as at least two drunkards fell on their backs, got up, and started loudly explaining what happened to the whole place.

2) Earth City, MO., where my work was. If aliens ever came down and sought out Earth's capital city, I bet they'd end up here.

3) Cleveland. Well, just the airport, really, though I got a really good view from the plane of whatever Great Lake it's on. This airport, like St. Louis', had a "Jody Maroni's Sausage Kingdom" restaurant, which sounded both upsetting and totally made-up by middle schoolers.

quick, quick thoughts

- Can't talk much. Been prepping for a semi-surprise trip to St. Louis.

- The Yankees and Braves lose heartbreaking game fives in their respective division series, meaning that 1) October officially has turned into a month-long bath for Fox, and 2) this postseason might actually be enjoyable.

- I was only half-listening, but I think that when asked on the "Today" show about government planning for an Avian Flu pandemic, the president began reassuring us with a soothing "uhhhhh," added that the military cannot be used as a police force (huh?), and implied that the government's only plan is to sit with its proverbial thumb up its proverbial butt. Which is why it shocks me to hear people say that a man who's spent four years trying to scare the fuck out of us makes them feel "safe."

game on

So hockey's back, and my team, the New York Rangers, somehow pulled a win out of its collective patoot last night. Of course, I didn't see it, as I turned the game off when the Flyers went up 3-1. Not that I particularly regret turning the game off - for one thing, I'm sure that there will be many, many, many 3-1 deficits the Rangers will fail to come back from this season, and turning off games will be a useful habit to acquire; for another thing, turning off the game enabled me to turn my attention towards helping my girlfriend pick out a sexy Halloween costume.

The restart of hockey is a little bittersweet for me. It's a game I grew up absolutely adoring. I threw myself into its history and tradition with absolute abandon. I revered the Original Six, the Expansion Six, the Stanley Cup, the golden age of the 1980s and the best year of NHL hockey ever - 1994, of course. I loved how hockey reflected its place and time - it could be at once a distinctly Canadian game meant for cold winter nights, a warm living room, comfy sweats and thick, syrupy lager (not that I drank much thick, syrupy lager growing up), and also an social game, meant to be enjoyed in good company (or, at least, enthusiastic company). Like baseball through the spring and summer, it marked time as we all slogged on through the colder seasons. It would never be as huge as baseball or football, but it didn't have to be - it was a charming, entertaining sport mindful of its past.

And then it all sorta spun out of control, leaving my fandom behind in a spray of ice. Whereas other leagues would weigh the question of expansion carefully, NHL teams multiplied like a virus (seemingly just so that the existing NHL owners could keep on collecting those sweet franchise fees), throwing the sport's competitive balance and the talent pool out of whack. Players with skill and creative minds drowned in a sea of guys who represented the new ideal in a hockey player - at least 6'3", at least marginal on skates, at least a semblance of playmaking ability, and could clutch and grab a lot. The ice shrank when the players grew, choking those who could provide the spark that catapulted the sport to success in the first place. Players began switching teams at a dizzying rate. And yes, my team, the Rangers, decided to take a decade-long sabbatical, with Madison Square Garden's head doofus Charles Dolan leaving the fate of its proud hockey franchise (and the franchise's passionate, beleaguered fans) in the hands of a has-been who would rather be fishing anyway (though to be fair, his frequent vacations means there's less time in which he can fuck things up).

So it might be a long, long time before I appreciate hockey again the way I used to. The sport has a lot of work to do. It has to reconnect with a history it disrespected, and it has to prove that it will let the cream of the league rise to the top, as it once did. Third-line checkers and grinders have their place (the third line, for instance), but no one wants to see a sport dominated by them. People, myself included, want to see skill and want to have fun, and it's not even the primitive desire to see cool shit like one-timers and breakaways go down (though that's part of it) - I think sports fans appreciate excellence in performance, and the NHL has to prove that excellence - not brute strength - will be its main requirement for on-ice success.

For what it's worth, it's always fun when one of my teams causes Philly fans to start booing their team (especially after coming back in droves following a year-long "fuck you"), so hockey's reboot can't be all bad.

the "46" presidency

In 1985, the Chicago Bears "46" defense laid waste to the rest of the National Football League. The philosophy was simple - blitz, blitz, blitz. And then more blitzing. Though the alignment was risky - 10 men (out of 11) within two yards of the line of scrimmage and only one safety back (in case a quarterback was lucky enough to get a throw off) - it paid huge dividends for the '85 Bears, who won 15 games in the regular season, stomped through the playoffs and won one of the most lopsided Super Bowls in history.

The "46" defense was the brainchild of coordinator Buddy Ryan, who brought it with him to head coaching stops here in Philly and in Arizona. And though some of his defenses after 1985 were very good, his results were inevitably subject to the law of diminishing returns. For the strength of the "46" was not in its alignment, but in its personnel and in the context in which it was used. With defensive stars like Richard Dent, Mike Singletary and rookie sensation William "Fridge" Perry, the Bears had the perfect people to man the "46" - people who could actually get to the quarterback. And 1985 was the first time it was worked to perfection, instilling shock and awe in the hearts and minds of opposing quarterbacks and blockers who hadn't been subjected to anything quite like it before. It was the perfect storm - the men were right and the time was right, and it gave the Bears their only Super Bowl win.

But the "46" defense is hardly perfect. If the men in a defense that's implemented it can't get to the QB, there's virtually no protection against a big play. And even if they can get to the QB, offenses eventually adjust - making it impossible to line up in a "46" formation every time out. Today, no team exclusively plays the "46" (though the Ravens are trying this year, with mixed results). Defenses will show it from time to time, but most defensive coordinators also call for the traditional 4-3, for semi-traditional 3-4 packages, for nickel packages, dime packages, they call for zone blitzes, etc., etc.

Hold on, hold on... I know your eyes are glazing over, but I'm getting to my point. With falling poll numbers and scandals surrounding him, President Bush is addressing the nation with what his administration is calling a "major" address on the war on terror. In other words, he's calling for something straight out of the playbook of 2003 and/or 2004 - back when scaring the shit out of the nation could reverse dropping numbers or distract the populace from some other fuck-up or piece of bad news. Or when calling something "major" could trick the media into giving accordingly major airtime to his standard stump speech.

The two-pronged problem for Bush is this - 1) it's not 2003 or 2004 anymore, falling poll numbers and numerous scandals surround his White House and the GOP, the hurricanes have exposed this administration to some extent and the GWoT is hardly even in the news anymore, and 2) fear appeals inevitably lose their power if they're overused. Yet he's going to try to play the "terra" card once again - possibly because it's all he has left. Who knows?

All I know is that what once worked beautifully when the planets were in alignment now stands a good chance of going over like a fart in yoga class because the world has changed and he hasn't. I could be snarky and say his administration is stuck in a "pre-2005 mindset," but I'm just going to call his "the 46 presidency." When it was the right place and time for it, his governing style produced enormous amounts of political capital. And now, he's running right smack into the law of diminishing returns.

a serious question

OK... here's the deal.

You're an ensign on the Starship Enterprise, and you beam down to a planet where the men all dress unfortunately. Uh oh! You've violated local laws by accidentally stepping on a plant or something while throwing around the indigenous equivalent of a Nerf football. A horrible fate awaits you within the local criminal justice system - you've been sentenced to have the soundtrack from a 1980s movie playing in your head for the rest of your life. The good news is, the locals will let you choose which movie the score will come from.

What's it gonna be? The locals immediately place the works of John Williams, James Horner, Alan Silvestri and Jerry Whatshisface (Goldschlager?) off-limits.

I've made my choice: the wacky, Burt Bacharach-fueled soundtrack from "Arthur." I'd link to Windows Media samples of the theme, but there is none that I can find other than that Christopher Cross shit. Though apparently you can buy the Japanese import version of the soundtrack on Amazon for $249.00. Take my word for it - it's totally worth it.

Right, so anyway, that's playing in my head. For the rest of my life. And there's really no worries; since I'm an ensign on the Starship Enterprise in this little scenario, I'll get therapy from Counselor Troi, who afterwards will inevitably pity me for my condition and try to cheer me up by seducing me. Which is cool, I guess, except for the strains of Arthur's Theme pounding the insides of my skull during the lovin'.

So what would YOU have playing in your noggin for the rest of your life?

darn it

Long Beach Island, NJ
September 25, 2005

emphatic

Woodland, NJ
September 23, 2005

playing devil's advocate

While Democrats and the left apparently love the nomination of White House counsel and Bush crony Harriet Miers to the position of associate justice of the Supreme Court, and while conservatives are running around like headless chickens at the thought of another David Souter donning a SCOTUS robe, my first thoughts are that this will turn out to be a long-term victory for the modern conservative movement.

Kos mentions how many on the left see weakness in Bush's White House in the aftermath of the nomination announcement. Assuming that Miers is indeed another Souter (which could turn out to be completely off-base), I think this is actually a shrewd move by a Bush administration which has the future of conservatism in mind; if Miers is another Souter, it seems unlikely that Roe v. Wade would be in any danger.

This is the key - the modern conservative movement has largely been fueled in recent years by the very thought of wiping away decades of liberal law and jurisprudence, with Roe at the top of the list. Conservatives have literally waited decades for this morning's announcement, and their utter disappointment belies what just could be a brilliant political maneuver. If Bush gave conservatives exactly what they wanted - a frothing-at-the-mouth, bible-thumping Republican put on Earth by God to don the robes, protect the unborn and smite the liberal heathen - the conservative movement would eventually have lost a major reason for its existence and continued momentum.

In its fifth year, the Bush administration is essentially politically dead. So why not take one for the team, get bashed by its core supporters for a little while (what are they gonna do? vote Democrat?), and ensure that another generation of conservatives will chase a dangling carrot? Conservatism is a movement defined and fueled by perpetual warfare at all levels - militarily, politically and culturally. Assuming Roe is safe, Bush saw to it today that the culture warriors will be fighting for a long, long time - and, more importantly, getting out the GOP vote for a long, long time.

quick thought, then back to work

"It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops. Today, October 2, a Sunday of rain and broken branches and leaf-clogged drains and slick streets, it stopped, and summer was gone."
- A. Bartlett Giamatti, The Green Fields of the Mind

(ok, so it's not technically my thought, but it is very appropriate today).

a night of tivo: 9/29

I got home pretty late last night, but I did have time to watch two shows I had my tivo record. One was the series premiere of "Commander in Chief," and another was the season two finale of "Battlestar Galactica."

Let me just say that "Battlestar Galactica" fucking rocks. Edward James Olmos' Commander Adama is a badass - he's like Jean-Luc Picard's more depressed, smushier-faced Latino counterpart. The show is put together incredibly well - great music and sound, cool special effects (the CGI mimics handheld camera movements) and above all, superb acting and writing.

"Commander in Chief" is equal parts intriguing and ridiculous. In the pilot episode, the nation is unaware that President Teddy Roosevelt Bridges has suffered a stroke and died, technically making Vice President Mackenzie "Mac" Allen (Geena Davis) the titular "Commander in Chief." She doesn't take any sort of oath of office for what seems like two weeks, possibly because her first two names aren't those of a former president (the 25th amendment is unclear as to whether she'll have to change her name to "Chester A. Arthur Mackenzie 'Mac' Allen" before she can assume power).

Bridges made Mac - a former academic and an expert on the middle east - his veep to win the ladies' vote, but the dying president asks her to resign because she's an independent, not a Republican, and also has boobs. Next in line is Speaker of the House Bob Evil, otherwise known as Nathan Templeton (Donald Sutherland), who has a reputation of being just to the right of Genghis Khan (which he earned as a freshman congressman in the early 1200s, leading the Mongol hordes into China). To convince her to resign, Templeton gives her a truncated version of the stump speech which won him the everlasting support of his heartland constituents, affectionately known as "Gimmegimmegimme!" Mac, who had already chosen to resign (oops), says "oh no you di-unh" and decides to take the oath, giving the nation its first-ever president with a closet full of killer pantsuits.

The pilot had its moments - for instance, the conversation between Templeton and Allen about those who seek power and those who don't was intriguing and offered a glimmer of promise. Yet too many other contrived moments and bizarre lines of dialogue gave "CiC" the feel of an airport novel. The obvious comparisons will be made to "The West Wing," the main one being that the "West Wing" is good, whereas "CiC" isn't. But I'll probably give it another hour of space on my tivo to see if things pick up.

Cat-like typing detected

Ha ha ha! No, it's just me, Pandora the cat. I've disabled that silly catproofing software because something's come to my attention (other than the toilet paper that dangles tantalizingly from the roll).

It seems human Terry Ryan let the cat out of the bag regarding this blog (idiomatically speaking, of course - I've discovered that the insides of bags are actually quite exciting and I don't know why anybody would want to come out of one) before fellow human Haplo could tell my owner, Kris, about it. Haplo has lost something called "boyfriend bonus points," as not telling Kris about his blog was a "major party foul."

So please, Kris, restore Haplo's points balance before I do something crazy. I don't know what it would be. But it would be crazy. And you'd never expect it.

let's get crunk!

Well, this is it. So far.

A woeful-looking "weblog," poured into a cookie-cutter template, by somebody whose html skills started and stopped around 1997 ("java"? that's that scratchy handsoap, right?). Still, I like writing, and haven't been doing nearly enough of it since I joined forces with those who would destroy the written word (well, not really, but my paycheck comes from a different medium these days). So here it is - another blog (another philly-based blog, to boot) released upon the interweb. I'm excited about it; I'm not quite deluded into thinking that people will actually read it just yet, but I'm in it for fun. So let's get crunk!

And for my first post, I'd like to talk about the weather. It's cold outside. The drop in temperature snuck up on us this morning, and I donned a jacket for the first time in months. I think that after another oppressively hot Philly summer and a comfortable Philly September, we all sort of fool ourselves into thinking that the cold is temporary (which it is, I guess - warm weather will return in April, barring the Earth breaking from its orbit and hurtling out into space like that one "Twilight Zone" episode). "High of 55 on October 1st? Well, it is technically autumn, but I can only assume that after this cold spell, it's eight more weeks of beach weather."

OK, I just checked weather.com and they claim it will be a high of 77 tomorrow... but I can only assume that's a fabrication of the liberal media. It's cold outside.