I must be getting older

Liz has been out of town since Tuesday. Of course I miss her, but for the first time ever, the prospect of a weekend with absolutely nothing to do and no one to see didn't bother me. In fact, I looked forward to having two full days to myself.

In the past, when Liz was away over a weekend and I was unable to find anything to do or anyone with whom to spend my time, I lamented my solitude. I would see couples on the street or at sidewalk cafes, groups of people enjoying themselves at bars, and think that my weekend was a waste. If I had more friends, or different friends who weren't busy doing other things, I could be one of those people living it up instead of sitting at home watching TV like I usually do during the week. Weeknights are for vegetating and feeling my ass grow; weekends are for partying. That's what I used to think. Woe be unto me if I spent my weekend evenings inside, while revelers and partygoers carried on outside my windows.

So here's how my weekend went: On Friday night I got a giant sandwich from the pizza place on the corner and watched my DVD of Pirates of the Caribbean, followed by Bob Costas' HBO show and a few other things I'd been saving up. I woke up Saturday morning to a beautiful sunny day, so I enjoyed a long bike ride in Central Park. In the evening I went to Times Square to see Hellboy, which was a good-time fun movie to see if your spouse doesn't like the comic book films, but you do, and thus you're by yourself. I went home, ate a giant burrito, and watched Silent Rage, a terrible action/horror B-movie starring Chuck Norris and Ron Silver. ESPN.com's Sports Guy loves it, but I can't understand why. It sucks big, hairy ass. Even with the thunderstorm raging outside and me alone in the apartment, it wasn't scary in the least. Stephen Furst as comic relief was just dumb, and the love scene with Norris and his girlfriend set to bad disco music made me want to claw out my eyes and burn out my eardrums. The only bad thing about watching a terrible movie like that on your own is that there's no one to hear you make fun of it. Maybe the cats liked my jokes, but since they didn't laugh, it's hard to tell. Today I spent my morning watching "Meet the Press" and cleaning the apartment, finally getting rid of most of the plaster dust and dirt from the electrical work a few weeks ago. So Liz will come back to a clean, or at least cleaner, apartment.

I'm not quite as grown-up and domesticated as my friend Chris has become (scroll down for the story about his garbage travails), but I'm getting there.

a belated weekend review

I spent last weekend in Washington, DC, visiting my family and some old college friends. I had lunch with one friend who is now an attorney and works in the same building (but not the same law firm) as my stepmother. We had a great time catching up, talking about old acquaintances, and comparing notes on our employers, among other things. I had dinner with two other former housemates from Georgetown, and we had plenty of fun and good food at Red, Hot, and Blue in Rosslyn.

On Saturday, yet another old friend from school came out to my father's house in Maryland, bringing with him his wife and five-month-old son. He's now a doctor, about to move home to Alabama, so I relished the chance to see him one more time before he moves to a place I'm not likely to ever visit. Later in the evening, some family friends who were passing through the area stopped by for a visit, so it was one busy day. But as much fun as it was to see all of these friends, those weren't the best highlights of my trip.

After my grandmother passed away last August, my father and aunt cleaned out her house in England and shipped back to the States several boxes of old photos, memorabilia, souvenirs, etc. The last time I visited my father, in November, I spent an entire evening looking through old slides of family vacations, graduations, proms, and concerts. This time, I stayed up late into Saturday night looking through a box of old photographs, many of which dated back to the 1920s and 1930s. I found pictures of my grandparents on their wedding day and honeymoon, of various aunts, uncles, and cousins, some of whom I've never met and others whom I've only known late in their lives, and of my father as a young boy and young man. One of my favorite pictures showed the German army marching through the streets of the isle of Jersey (where my family originated). That would have been a "forbidden" photo, and we surmised that one of my grandmother's relatives who lived there must have snuck the picture from a window overlooking the street.

The most moving photographs were those of my father's two brothers who died as young boys during WWII, in a German bombing raid on Glasgow, where my grandmother and great-grandmother had gone as a refuge from the bombings of London. It was sad to see pictures of two boys who never had the chance to grow up, and to understand in some small way my grandparents' grief over their loss. Incidentally, the elder boy was my namesake: he was also Philip Edward Catelinet. I've known that for years, but I'd never seen a picture of him until now.

Mixed in among the pictures were all sorts of other souvenirs. I found a stack of congratulatory telegrams my grandparents received on their wedding day, the article my grandfather wrote detailing his experience performing the Ralph Vaughan Williams tuba concerto, and a dinner menu for a 1960 Salvation Army charter flight from New York to London on the British Overseas Airways Corporation (BOAC). What first caught my eye on this item was the last line, under the drinks list:

"Served with your coffee: your choice of Virginian or American cigarettes"

My father pointed out the menu of alcoholic drinks available during dinner and reminded me that the Salvation Army does not allow drinking. Someone must have screwed up.

Finally, I returned to New York with several mementos of my grandfather. He was a great lover of cats, so I brought back a coffee mug with three cats on it, and some plastic cat "stick-ups" that so far have landed in a kitchen cabinet, while we figure out where to stick them. I also brought back a metal sculpture of an orchestra or band conductor standing at a podium. And my favorite item was the most personal, at least to me: my grandfather's conductor's baton. It's well-used, with the wood grip's finish worn off and the tip covered in white tape, hiding the place where the baton broke years ago (apparently it used to be at least half again as long as it is now). But it means a great deal to me, since I once thought of myself as a conductor. Even if I never use it, I will always have it to appreciate what he did with it.

Time to mess around with the blog again

My RSS reader picked up this eWeek story about Blogger's new features, like comments, posting by e-mail, member profiles, and new templates. I don't mind the template I'm using now, but every time I see another blog using it, I think about changing it. But the e-mail feature is something I've wanted for a long time. Now I can post updates from my Blackberry or maybe even my Treo. I'm not sure about Blogger's comments since I've been happy with Haloscan, except for the few times their site is down. I wonder how long Haloscan's business will last now that Blogger is giving away the comments feature.

Mostly I just wanted to post to make sure the new Blogger web site still works for me.

We're still here...

"Friends" ended last night, and yet the world didn't come to an end, as NBC may have led you to believe. There's always next week's finale of "Frasier" to signal Armageddon.

The "Friends" finale wasn't the best wrap-up ever, but it did tie up as many loose story ends as possible, and it was entertaining. I laughed more during this episode than I have for most of the shows this season, so that's a point in the show's favor. I'm glad that Ross and Rachel finally got back together, not that it was much of a surprise. As improbable as that relationship was, those two made a good couple. Too bad for the Paris job, I guess. The twins were a surprise, and I liked Chandler's reaction to the news. It would have been better if Joey had had more to do than look for the chick and duckling in the foosball table. I guess the writers will invent the premise for "Joey" in the pilot episode, which I'm sure means that we'll see some of the other "Friends" characters show up in that episode to help give him a sendoff and give the show a ratings boost right away. While I wouldn't think that a spinoff would do any good (I thought "Frasier" was a bad idea, and look how that turned out), I think "Joey" stands a good chance of being a hit. What else does NBC have to offer?

The end of the world comes on Thursday night

Jennifer Frey's views on the impending conclusion of "Friends" clarify some of the reasons why I've grown tired, even resentful, of the show the past few years. I still like it, but the older I get and the longer I live in New York the show has become less interesting to me. Frey thinks that the show was always about escapism for the viewers. "Friends" always existed in a sort of vacuum, where most real-world events never affected it. (This is not a new viewpoint; I know I've read this idea elsewhere before.) 9/11 is the best example: where shows like "The Sopranos" and "Sex and the City" at least addressed the terror attacks and the aftermath in passing, "Friends" never acknowledged that the world outside the characters' circle had anything to do with them. Of course, Frey also mentions things like Rachel's disappearing baby, Ross' missing son and ex-wife, and the clothes and apartments that people living on their supposed salaries could never afford. I still think the show's departure is long overdue, but if I remind myself that none of it is supposed to be real, I can accept it a little longer. Until Ross gets whiny one more time; then I'm going to put my foot through the TV.

Good news and bad news from Gregg Easterbrook

First the good news: Gregg Easterbrook's review of last weekend's NFL Draft is on NFL.com.

The bad news is that he's discontinuing Easterblogg as of Tuesday. He's got more books and articles to write. I've enjoyed the blog for the past ten months or so, and I'll miss Easterbrook's daily thoughts on governmental missteps and his illumination of events and stories that readers may have missed due to lack of media attention. While I haven't always agreed with his politics, Easterbrook's posts have always given me something different to think about. There is a bit of good news here: I'll have one less time-sucking blog to read each day.

I guess I should remove the link on the right. I'll leave it up for a few days; maybe he'll reconsider.

It's been a while...

I hate to say I've been busy, and that's why I haven't posted anything for a while. But it's true.

Last week was my office's biennial meeting of worldwide IT staff, held here in New York. That meant I attended several half-day meetings and after-work receptions and dinners, and didn't have much time to do my actual work, let alone goof off by posting entries here. By the time Friday came around, I was exhausted.

On Sunday, I rode my bike down to the West Side cruise ships piers to see just how big the Queen Mary 2 actually was. It's big. The Queen Elizabeth 2, parked next to it, looked like a "pile of puke" by comparison. I actually think the Explorer of the Seas, which I saw here in 2000, is a more gargantuan ship than the QM2. The QM2 looks like an old Titanic-style ship, while the newer ones look more like the floating hotels they all really are. But they're all just damn big boats. Even the aircraft carrier USS John F. Kennedy, which was also here in 2000, didn't look as big as the QM2.

This week our apartment's kitchen and bathroom are undergoing some unplanned renovations. We woke up on Monday morning to a power problem in the kitchen. The circuit breaker for the kitchen and bathroom wouldn't stay on, and kept tripping despite a lack of visible power drains in either room. By Monday night, the refrigerator was on its own new power circuit, but the other breaker for the lights and appliances still wouldn't stay on. Tonight I came home from work to find our floors, countertops, and tables covered in a thin grit of powder and plaster, and many holes in the ceilings and walls from where the electrician ran new wires and conduits. According to Liz, we're in for a few more days of work as the electrician and building superintendent continue the rewiring. Apparently there was some old wiring and new wiring in the walls, and the old wiring wasn't rated for all the appliances and might have eventually caused a fire! Great! As long as they fix everything, I don't really mind the mess, but it is a nuisance.

Also tonight was my firm's college fair for students at Washington Irving High School. My office has a longstanding tutoring, mentoring, and otherwise educational relationship with WIHS, and one of the annual events is a college fair where students can meet alumni and counselors from many different schools. They hold this fair in a conference room at my office, so I don't have far to go to represent Georgetown. I had more copies of the school's prospectus and financial aid booklets to give out than I did last year, but I still ran out of materials about an hour into the two-hour event. Most of the students asked me about the business school or pre-law programs, but there were a few that wanted to know about music and art studies, and one passionate young man who wants to be mayor of New York eventually and asked about government and community leadership programs. Nearly everyone asked me about Georgetown's SAT score requirements, and that was one thing I didn't know about. According to the university's web site, they don't have a minimum required score, but that didn't stop people from quizzing me about what it would take to get in. Part of me enjoyed coming up with BS answers to their questions, but the rest of me felt guilty about it and thinks that next year, I should try to get an actual representative from the Admissions office to attend the fair. While the college fair is manned in part by firm employees who attended the schools they represent, many other schools just send admissions counselors. Or I could just read up on Georgetown's current list of majors and admissions requirements, so I can seem less like a bumbling fool in front of these kids.

I am Qui-Gon Jinn

:: how jedi are you? ::

Comic Times no more

Yesterday afternoon I went for a bike ride around the Manhattan waterfront greenway. One of my favorite sites along the way was the old collapsed shell of a pier around 60th Street on the West Side. Years ago, someone painted the words "COMIC TIMES" on the front of the shell, and I could always count on seeing that pier and remind myself of the city's history. (Somewhere in there is a metaphor for the cyclical collapse and rebirth of New York City, but it's eluding me at the moment.) Anyway, when I passed the pier yesterday, I saw that it had been partially disassembled. I guess the city found money somewhere to get rid of this eyesore. But you can see what it used to look like here (thanks to Photo_a_Day and Google).

The Second Avenue subway in our lifetime?

New York Magazine featured the proposed Second Avenue Subway in last week's issue. It's a history of the project and reasons why the current rumors about imminent construction have more truth to them than in previous years. For anyone who has to ride the 4/5/6 trains during rush hour, another East Side subway line is more than a necessity. It's a life-altering issue at this point. The line's been crowded for forty years; I'm surprised that service disruptions aren't more frequent than they already are, and that people regularly make it to work without killing their fellow commuters. If the Lexington Avenue line were to be out of service for any length of time, I think East Siders would revolt. Another subway line might just save a few lives, if only because we'll all be a little bit saner at the end of the ride.

The unfortunate news is that construction of just the first few miles of the Second Avenue line will take seven years, and more like 8-10 with the realities of working in Manhattan. Even if they break ground next year (and it won't be the first time that's happened), the line won't open until the end of the decade. Once it finally opens, hurray! Assuming I still live in Manhattan at that time, my commute and the commutes of thousands of others improves. But wait! What about the effect the new line will have on property values? It's more than likely that rising rents and housing costs will force me to move out of the neighborhood, even as the new subway makes it more convenient for me to live there. On the other hand, if I can somehow scrounge up enough money to buy an apartment on the East Side before the line opens, we're looking at solid growth potential for that investment. Which brings me back to reality: people have been buying apartments on the East Side for decades, thinking that a soon-to-open Second Avenue subway line will push their property values up. They're all still waiting for that line, and riding to work with me on the Lexington trains while they wait.

Too much TV on Sunday nights

I can't believe I watched "The Sopranos" instead of this.

'Happy Together?'

If you are as disturbed as I am at the popular songs showing up in TV commercials, you can learn all about the ad wizards behind Applebee's current campaign in this article in Tuesday's Washington Post.

April Fool's Day story roundup

Slashdot has many strange-but-true "Ask Slashdot" entries today. I especially liked "Will 100 cups of coffee in 24 hours kill you?" On the main Slashdot page, there's the story about the proposed "Omniscience Protocol" for networking that would allow the RIAA and MPAA to keep track of what people do with their PCs. That proposal goes hand-in-hand (or is that cable-in-port?) with the RFC from last year to implement an "evil bit" in all network traffic, to tell the viruses and trojans from the regular packets.

John Kelly's column in today's Washington Post has several classic April Fool's Day pranks. I love the Richard Stockton NJ rest stop story.

ThinkGeek is offering some great new products today, including a new weight-loss device and an EZ-Bake oven for your PC. I've already promised Liz I'd get her one, and a USB-powered Snoopy Sno-Cone machine if I can find one.

Google's new moon base sounds like a great way to launch a stagnant career.

New Line Films announced that a film version of Tolkien's The Hobbit is a go. There's even a web site for the project already. For some reason, Peter Jackson is not involved.

Seriously, I'm starting to dreak April 1. While I enjoy the occasional prank story with my regular web surfing, it's not so funny when every web site I read does it. At least it's only one day a year.

The Trunk Monkey

Last Monday night, while at dinner with a number of Novell employees and customers, the subject of the Trunk Monkey came up. Only a few people in the group knew what the others were talking about, and I was one of the clueless ones. Now you can share in the wackiness that is the Trunk Monkey.

The only thing funnier than a monkey beating a man with a tire iron is the monkey hitting the man in the groin with the tire iron before pummeling him with it.

The Sammy Hagar shots will be online in just a minute. Honest.

Sammy Hagar can still rock

Wednesday night's conference party featuring Sammy Hagar was better than I expected. The food was Mexican, mass-produced but still tasty. After we ate they warmed us up for the show by showing us homemade Novell commercials they commissioned at last year's BrainShare. Then a comedian (Jay Headron?) did about half an hour on turning 30, getting married, and growing up. He started out slow but got better as he went along. Then Sammy and his band came out.

They put about 70 people from the audience on stage behind the band, in the "On Stage Funatics [sic]" section, sort of like what Metallica used to do when they had a "snake pit" in the stage filled with fans. Most of the songs in the set were Hagar originals like "I Can't Drive 55," "One Way to Rock," "Where Eagles Fly," "Mas Tequila," and a few others I didn't know. He sang two Van Halen songs, both from F.U.C.K.: "Runaround" and "Top of the World." Hearing Sammy's originals made me wonder just how much influence he had over the other members of Van Halen, since his stuff sounds too much like what VH did for 10 years with him. I had the realization during the show that Sammy Hagar has become the Jimmy Buffett of the hard rock crowd. His songs are all about the beach, margaritas, spicy food, and hot chicks. But it was a good show anyway. I got some decent pictures I'll upload later today.

so much for blogging LIVE

I had planned to post entries more frequently, but actual conference sessions and events have prevented that.

For the past three days, during the day I've attended tutorials and information sessions about various Novell products and technologies. I'm supposed to pay attention during those, so it's hard to blog. The most exciting part of the conference so far was the appearance at Monday's keynote address of Linus Torvalds, the creator of the Linux kernel. He's as close as any of us attendees get to a rock star in our midst, and crowd reacted accordingly. He didn't stay long, but the fact that he was here says a lot about Novell's commitment to Linux and open source software. Torvalds tends to stay out of the spotlight, at least at things like this, and prefers working on Linux code to making appearances. Getting him here was a complete surprise and a real coup by Novell management.

The past two evenings I've been out to dinner and drinks with some of Novell's NY-area customers. Monday night we ate at The Melting Pot, a chain restaurant that serves fondue (cheese and chocolate) and where you cook your own meat in a pot of oil or broth. We had two different kinds of cheese and two different kinds of chocolate fondue for dessert. Last night (Tuesday) we ate at Metropolitan, which was expensive American cuisine. I had a wild mushroom ragout appetizer and a lamb shank entree, with warm apple crisp for dessert. I've been to Port O' Call both nights, but I've managed not to inebriate myself too badly. It's too hard for me to drink at night and then get up early the following morning. I'm not a callow youth anymore.

Tonight is the Sammy Hagar concert at the Delta Center. I hope I can get better pictures of this show than I did of Styx two years ago. I'll put up some more pictures later today or tomorrow. Definitely before I leave on Friday.

A toga party, Utah-style

Tonight's welcome reception was a college fraternity-themed party, with toga-clad partiers, a surprisingly good cover band, and goofy games for all of us techies. They had toilet races (motorized toilet-scooters), an inflated boxing ring, Playstation games, and plenty of food. After not eating most of the day, I pigged out on sandwiches and cookies. Most of the games they invited volunteers to play were funny, like the whipped-cream plate trick where the first one to find the message on the bottom of a paper plate covered in whipped cream won. Too bad for the folks that wiped the plates with their faces that the message was literally on the bottom of the plate (the underside). In between games, the emcee tried to get a rise out of the crowd by making jokes about Bill Gates and Windows BSOD (blue screen of death) error messages. Didn't anyone tell him that Bill Gates isn't our punching bag anymore? Someone needed to give him some SCO Unix and Darl McBride material. I stayed long enough to get my fill of food and entertainment, then rushed back to my hotel room to watch "Arrested Development" and "The Sopranos." I considered going to Port O' Call instead, but after not sleeping last night, and overeating at dinner, I decided that alcohol wasn't a good move. Tomorrow night for sure.

I've posted some pictures of tonight's revelry on my Webshots page; see the link on the right. Liz, you asked for some new pictures, so that's what I took.

Have blog, will travel

This week, Phil's Occasional Musings is on the road. I'm coming to you LIVE from Novell's annual BrainShare conference in Salt Lake City, Utah. After a long flight sitting in the extreme rear of the plane, I got here about 11 AM this morning. I got to my hotel just in time to see the dreary end of the Mississippi State-Xavier game. I took a quick nap and now I'm sitting in the Salt Palace wondering why Novell doesn't provide free food until 6 PM tonight. A small breakfast and no lunch have left me a ravenous shell of a man. But they have games and sponsor booths to check out, so I'll have something to do until the party gets started. And I can bring it all to you, my few loyal readers, through the magic of wireless networking. Truly, this is the age of enlightenment.

One of the highlights of registration is picking up the BrainShare bag. Every year it's a different bag: usually a backpack, laptop, or duffel bag. I love my backpack from BrainShare 2002 : it holds my laptop, my gadgets, a book, and my lunch, and it goes everywhere. The only problem is that it's falling apart after two years of constant abuse. This year's BrainShare bag was hyped extensively on the Novell newsgroups as "not a backpack" and "not a laptop bag." My guess was that it would be some sort of rolling bag, like airline pilots and stewards use. And that's exactly what we got, in red and gray. I'm sure it will serve me just fine this week, but a rolling bag won't last long on the streets of New York. If the wheels don't fall off after I drag it up and down 86th Street each day, I'm sure it won't survive the beating it will take on the subway. But I'll find a lasting use for the new bag, and they're selling BS2002 backpacks in the conference gift shop, so I can always replace the old one. Or I could get off my cheap ass and buy my own laptop backpack when I get home. Like that's going to happen.

Desson Thomson on Joel Siegel

Last Saturday, Washington Post film critic Desson Thomson wrote an eloquent tribute to the late Joel Siegel. I can't believe I forgot to mention that Professor Siegel used to bring his dog to class and his office all the time, and she (I think it was a she) might have come along for some of our class adventures as well. I thought the picture that accompanies the appreciation piece is worth clicking on the link.

By the way, in case anyone is confused, this is not the same Joel Siegel that appears on "Good Morning America." He's a different movie critic that didn't teach at Georgetown in the early 1990s.

on the passing of one of my former professors

Today's Georgetown Voice mentioned that one of my English professors and my former advisor, Joel Siegel, passed away last week. (The Washington Post obituary is also available. Along with one of my high school English teachers, Professor Siegel was responsible for my desire to become an English major at Georgetown. I only had one class with him, and it wasn't his popular "Elements of Film" class; it was his section of the writing workshop that was an option for the freshman English requirement but that most students avoided. (From that last sentence, you can tell that his writing lessons didn't sink in. That's my fault, not his. Students avoided the writing workshop sections for the workload. They didn't avoid his section in particular.)

His class used the cultural resources of Washington, DC, as the basis for the papers we wrote every week. We wrote about paintings in an art gallery, a dim sum brunch in Chinatown, reviews of a play, a movie, and a concert (I was the class expert on the concert, which was a solo violist with piano accompaniment), and even a little fiction based on an Edward Hopper painting. While I was familiar with some of the museums and cultural opportunities in DC, it was his class that showed me the variety of options that students had at their disposal. Writing two-page papers every week wasn't hard for me, and it allowed me to work on my writing skills and apply them to papers for other classes. Throughout everything we did as a class, Professor Siegel was a knowledgeable, entertaining host and educator. He offered his opinions about our experiences and led engaging class discussions of our excursions. I was so impressed with his style, wit, and approachability, along with his writing talents, that I asked him to be my advisor when I decided to major in English. He was perhaps not the best choice (he said so himself when I asked him), since he was on sabbatical for my junior year and I had to ask another professor to substitute for him, but when I was able to see him for advice about my schedule, he was helpful and tried to provide what insight he could into other classes and professors. I wish I'd gotten more of a chance to know him while I was there. Given my current interest in films, I'm sure I would have liked his film class. One of the films he showed us was Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story Todd Haynes' infamous movie about the life and death of the singing star, told with Barbie dolls. It's extremely hard to find, since Haynes had to withdraw it from release after the Carpenter family refused to grant him the rights to the songs. It's disturbing and grotesque, yet oddly compelling, and it's just the sort of film that Professor Siegel liked for its effect on his class.

After graduation I continued to enjoy his movie reviews each week in the Washington City Paper. He was always entertaining, whether or not he liked the film he was reviewing. He won a Grammy in 1993 for liner notes he wrote for a jazz album, and I was sometimes proud that I could say I knew a Grammy winner personally. I thought of him occasionally but didn't think I knew him well enough to contact him. I regret not making any effort to stay in touch, and hearing that he's gone saddens me. It's so easy to write a letter to an old friend, and clearly writing is something that I enjoy, so I must make more of an effort to stay in touch with former educators like Professor Siegel while I have the chance.

What's that book again?

Today's Washington Post has this article about Mel Gibson's potential profits from The Passion of the Christ. He stands to make at least $150 million, and possibly as much as $350 million from the movie. But what struck me was this line:

Add profits from licensing and merchandising revenues on the best-selling tie-in book, soundtrack, and items like collectible "Passion" nails ($16 for the 25/8-inch pewter pendant on the Internet), a pay-TV sale, and robust video and DVD sales and rentals, and Gibson's returns could reach $500 to $700 million.

Isn't that "best-selling tie-in book" the Bible?! How did Mel Gibson get himself a piece of the sales action for the all-time No. 1 bestseller?

Esherick gets canned

I'm almost stunned at the news of Georgetown head coach Craig Esherick's dismissal. I figured that Georgetown's administration didn't care about the basketball program anymore, after school president Jack DeGioia and AD Joe Lang gave Esherick a vote of confidence two weeks ago. I forgot the "law" of votes of confidence: anytime the coach or GM gets one from management, he or she is likely going to be fired unless they win a championship.

Esherick seems like a decent guy, so I'm almost sorry to see him go. He was one of the Georgetown "lifers:" someone who takes a job at the school after graduating and never leaves. Unfortunately, the program has been in decline for years, since Allen Iverson left after the 1996 season, and Esherick wasn't able to make much of a difference. It's interesting how John Thompson's departure in 1999 looks now. Maybe he didn't leave because he was tired of the game, but because he saw the way college basketball was headed (more recruits spurning college for the NBA, diluted talent pool, academic scandals, etc.) and decided that coaching wasn't worth the trouble. I wonder if he doubted his own abilities to reverse the decline of the program and left while he still had some creative energy left. Esherick tried to continue the Thompson way and clearly didn't enjoy the success his predecessor did. I'm just a little surprised he got fired this year. I thought the school would give him one more year to improve. Maybe that's just what I would have done were I the president.

I'm glad to see that DeGioia still sees the need for a successful Division I basketball program. Aside from the financial advantages, a winning basketball team draws needed academic attention to the school as well. And I'll be able to wear my Georgetown hat with pride again.

The Sports Guy watches Wrestlemania XX so you don't have to

Twenty years ago, I was a 10-year-old boy who loved professional wrestling. I had magazines, action figures (I think), and I even saw it live a few times when the WWF came to Johnstown. I remember being near or even in tears when my mother wouldn't pony up the dough for me to watch the first Wrestlemania on PPV. I tried to watch the scrambled version but that was worse than not seeing it at all, so I gave up. Eventually, I outgrew my interest in wrestling, about the time Hulk Hogan went evil and/or started appearing in movies. The last time I watched wrestling was in 1998, three days before my wedding, when I put it on while waiting for my friends to drag me off to my bachelor party. My friends ridiculed me for it, and they were right to do so. Before then, it might have been ten years since I'd watched it; I'd dropped that habit long before they told us what we already knew: that it's all fake.

The Sports Guy has been a wrestling fan for much longer than I, but even he has his limits. Check out his diary from last night's Wrestlemania XX. It's all good, but it gets especially funny near the end, when the event threatens to drag on into the wee hours and wipe out the chance to see "The Sopranos." It reminded both of us (yes, I think of TSG as one of my friends) why we stopped watching wrestling years ago.

And I think Goldberg might just be one of the greatest Jewish athletes ever.

It's that time again...

No, not the NCAA basketball tournament, at least not this morning. I'm dreading the task of doing my taxes this week, before I go out of town next week. I'm either in for a pleasant refund surprise, or another annual gouging by both the federal and the NY state governments. It's usually the latter. An editorial in today's Washington Post discusses one writer's problems with his own tax forms -- it's quite a horror story. My taxes have never been as bad as his, but I can understand the headaches. However, the most important point in the piece is that the people who make the tax laws, Congress and the president, don't know how difficult it is for the average American to figure out the tax forms. Members of Congress can afford to pay accountants and tax preparers to do all the work for them, and they just sign the forms. But we have to wade through the paperwork or computer screens ourselves, and still wonder when we're done if the numbers are right. If the men and women in government could see how tough tax time can be for their constituents, would it make a difference? I'd like to think so.

"Hoosiers"

To get myself in the mood for March Madness, I spent my Thursday evening watching Hoosiers. I'd never seen the movie before, so now I can cross it off my list of "I can't believe you've never seen [x]" movies that often come up in conversation with my friends. I really enjoyed it, but there's not much I can say to praise the movie that the Sports Guy hasn't already said. I didn't have as dramatic a reaction to the movie as he did: it didn't make me want to run out and play hoops for two hours, though I did briefly think back on my short career playing basketball in gym class and for my Jewish youth group when I was in high school. I couldn't shoot or dribble, though my passing wasn't too bad if I had enough time to think about it. Anyway, this isn't about me. The only aspect of the movie that bothered me was the score. Jerry Goldsmith composed the music, and in some places it was exceptional and suited the scenes perfectly. Unfortunately, for most of the film the music was the synthesized crap that filled out countless soundtracks of '80s movies. Hoosiers is set in 1951 in Indiana, but the music sounds like it's New York, 1985. How hard would it have been for Goldsmith to come up with something a little more appropriate to the '50s? Maybe it was a budgetary thing: they couldn't afford an orchestra to play the entire score, so they went to the drums and synth for the rest of the movie. I was surprised to learn that Goldsmith received an Oscar nomination for best musical score for this movie. I guess that the music went over better in 1986. It really was distracting to Liz and I. More than once, I sang along with the music, making up cheesy lyrics like "Hickory's gonna win it/look, there goes Jimmy/the cheerleaders are dancing/oh no, Shooter's off the wagon." Aside from the music, it was a great film, and even knowing the outcome, I got a little misty-eyed at the end. To be fair, it IS dusty in the apartment. We haven't cleaned up in a few days.

Some sports-related thoughts

First up, the NHL.

This morning, Vancouver's Todd Bertuzzi was suspended for the remainder of this season and the playoffs for punching Colorado's Steve Moore in the head and riding him down to the ice. Moore suffered a broken neck, a concussion, and facial lacerations and will miss the rest of the season. I think the suspension should have been longer, and it may be: NHL commissioner Gary Bettman will reevaluate the situation before the start of the next season to see how Moore's recovery is progressing and whether Bertuzzi's suspension should be extended. I was all set to bloviate about the NHL's irresponsibility in mandating a short suspension for such a heinous attack (there are only 12 games left in Vancouver's regular season schedule) when another columnist reminded me that the next NHL season might not start until 2005 or 2006, if there is a lengthy work stoppage as everyone expects there will be. So Todd Bertuzzi could conceivably miss a year or two of professional hockey anyway, even if his suspension were to be lifted after the 2003-04 playoffs end. Still, I think his actions warranted a year out of the game, even if Moore were able to come back next fall. The league sends the wrong message by only suspending Bertuzzi for this year. In 2000 Marty McSorley clubbed Donald Brashear on the head with his stick, ending Brashear's season, and McSorley got a year's suspension for his troubles. Bertuzzi's hit was no less premeditated than McSorley's, so the only reason I can see for the shorter suspension is that Bertuzzi had the sense to drop his stick before slugging Moore. The intent was the same, so the penalty should have been the same. The league should also send a message to all the teams' coaches and GMs, indicating that behavior of this sort will not be tolerated. I understand that violence is part of the game of hockey, but there's no excuse for sucker-punching a guy, and there's no justification a coach, GM, or teammate can give for why someone would deserve this. The Vancouver coaching staff had to know that their players were upset about a check Moore delivered to Markus Naslund in February that knocked Naslund out for three games. The coaches should have taken the players aside and told them in no uncertain terms that there was to be no retribution. Unfortunately, that's the culture of hockey. I love the game of hockey, but I could live without all the clutching, grabbing, and hitting that passes for the modern NHL game. The league should be taking steps to eliminate all of the above, and even with a looming labor dispute, a short suspension for Todd Bertuzzi sends the wrong message to the players.

Next, the current trend of college basketball fans rushing the court after games.

Wednesday's Washington Post had an excellent article on the subject. While this sort of on-court demonstration used to be limited to the unbelievable upsets or unimaginable come-from-behind victories, lately everyone in the the arena seems to think it's acceptable to run onto the court after any win. I've never understood this phenomenon, and I've even been a part of it once. In 1994, I was a sophomore at Georgetown and I had season tickets to the mens' basketball games. One night late in the season, we were playing Syracuse, who were ranked much higher than we were, and we were winning a close game. I was in the student section near the front row, practically on the court already, and there was a palpable excitement in the crowd. We were living and dying with every shot. There were only a few games in my Georgetown days that were that exciting, so it was already a memorable night. As the seconds ticked down, word spread that we were rushing the court if we won. And when the game ended, we ran like we'd just won the national championship, not just a regular season game (albeit an important one against a longtime Big East rival). I remember being forced onto the court by the mass of people behind me, but when I got out there I realized something: there's nothing for a fan to do on the court. We jumped around and screamed for a few seconds, and I bumped into a few players who were just trying to get out of there, but it couldn't have been more than a minute before all of the students were calmly leaving the floor. There was no reason for us to be down there in the first place, and when we got there, I like to think that everyone figured that out right away. Probably not, though, because a week or two later, we were in the same situation against UConn, and as the game wound down and were were behind by only a few points, we got ready to rush the court again. This time, the barriers to the court were removed in the final seconds, even though the police presence righ in front of us augured against another successful rush. It was all moot when we lost the game. By the way, in neither case was I drunk, or even drinking, though I can't speak for the people around me. In my case, it was just youthful exuberance and a love for my team.

The point of all that rambling was that there's just no point to fans rushing the court, but university officials seem reluctant to do anything about it. Barricades aren't the answer, for safety reasons and also because they would probably be dismantled by fans intent on their goal no matter what the obstacle. I think the NCAA needs to step in and tell schools that if they can't control their own crowds, they'll forfeit games where fans run onto the court. If the people in the stands knew that their team would forfeit a hard-won game just because they ran onto the court, I think that would stop the practice. It might take an actual application of the penalty to do it, though, and I'd probably wait to announce the forfeit until after the fans have left the building. Otherwise a riot is a real possibility. But this trend has to be stopped, before someone dies during a celebration.

No hookups on the 4/5 trains

Occasionally (as in when I think about it) I enjoy the sarcastic commentary over at blacktable.com. For example, I particularly enjoyed the latest "Black List," the weekly review of pop culture phenomena and/or things that annoy other New Yorkers. I, too, received a check from the music CD settlement thingy to the tune of $13.86, and I'm equally perturbed at the thought of low-carb orange juice.

But what really moved me to write today was "Week in Craig," Amy Blair's review of strange and disturbing personal ads on craigslist.com. This week's column is all about personal ads from F train riders trying to hook up with each other on their daily commute. Apparently there's an effort to designate certain cars for meeting people, like a mobile singles' bar without the alcohol or ambience.

I haven't been single for nine years, so I'm completely out of the loop on how and where single people meet these days. If the F train works for lonely Brooklyn and Lower Manhattan residents, more power to them. I can't imagine trying to get acquainted with someone new between stops on any subway train, but especially on the East Side 4/5 train that I take to and from work every day. The 4/5 trains are cramped, crowded, poorly lit in some cases, and always unpleasant. It's tough enough just finding a place to stand without hitting someone with my bag or stepping on their toes. Over the winter, with everyone wearing heavier coats, it was stifling most of the time. As much as I love the subway system sometimes I wish I could get to work using any other mode of transportation. I don't see many people hitting on each other and getting phone numbers on the way to work. Like me, everyone seems to be suffering with the overcrowding and just trying to make the best of the situation. Music helps: I've been listening to MP3s on the train instead of reading, since there's not even enough room for me to break out a book. At least the music takes my mind off the utter discomfort of riding the only East Side subway at rush hour. The F train must look like happy hour by comparison, if all these craigslist folks are finding love.

Miracle, in more ways than one

Last night, James and I went to see Miracle, the movie about the 1980 USA Olympic hockey team defeating the Russians. It was an excellent film. I was most impressed with the dramatic tension of the final game despite the fact that everyone in the audience knew the outcome, and probably (like me) how most of the goals were scored. I had a tough time telling the players apart (it took me a while to figure out that "Rizzo" was Mike Eruzione) but I don't think the individuals on the team were the point, with the possible exception of Jim Craig, the goalie. The point was that Herb Brooks molded the players into a cohesive whole that believed they could beat anyone. Even with the liberties taken by the filmmakers, it's a worthy treatment of the team and a tribute to the late Brooks, who died tragically in a car accident before the film was released.

I saw the other "miracle" of the evening on the way home. I was waiting on the uptown platform at the 33rd St. 6 train station, looking down the tracks to see if a train was coming. I noticed someone crossing the express tracks, from the downtown platform to the uptown side. This guy (and it had to be a guy, no woman is this dumb) was not a transit worker, just some fool in street clothes. He had apparently found himself on the wrong platform, and since 33rd Street isn't a transfer station, rather than leave the station, cross the street, and re-enter the subway on the uptown side (and pay another fare), he jumped off the downtown platform, walked across four sets of tracks (downtown local and express, uptown local and express) and hoisted himself back up the chest-high platform on the uptown side. The local train was at least a minute away as he did this, so he had time to get off the tracks, but just after he was safe on the uptown platform, an express rolled through the station. Had he tripped or accidentally touched the electrified third rail, he would have been crushed by the express. There are all sorts of wires and rails on the subway tracks, and I wouldn't want to try changing platforms even if the trains weren't running at all. There are too many things to trip or step on if you're not an experienced track worker. Besides, the fare is $2. How would you like to explain to your family, or have someone else explain to them, that you were so cheap that you tried crossing the tracks to avoid paying $2 but got hit by a train in the process? I'll pay the $2 again, thanks.

What a complete and utter dumbass.

a test everyone can pass

I laughed out loud at the test of basketball knowledge former University of Georgia assistant coach Jim Harrick Jr. gave to his class as the only exam. You can take the test yourself, and read all about it as well. I'm a little ashamed to admit that I missed the question on how many referees call a basketball game, but I'm sure a college baller would know the right answer.

I know that "student-athletes" tend to be jokes most of the time. Even at schools like Georgetown, they get extra study help, academic advisors who direct them toward favorable curricula, and in the case of Minnesota, advisors write the athletes' papers for them too. I used to wonder how the players on the basketball team got through Georgetown's sometimes-rigorous classes, and now I understand. I'm sure that some of them took exams that weren't much harder than this one. All I'm saying is that we should start accepting our student-athletes for what they are: athletes first, and students second. The schools exploit their talents and in return give them degrees (assuming they stick around long enough) that aren't worth much more than the paper they're engraved on. And that's fine with me.

Is New York City prepared for a subway "incident?"

Considering that the news outlets here buried the story on the back page and got many details wrong, those who live outside NYC might not have heard about the track fire near the West 4th Street station in Manhattan on Sunday evening. Apparently someone threw a piece of metal onto the tracks, striking the electrified third rail and sparking a fire. The trains stopped in the tunnels and as you can read in two accounts here and here, it took over an hour before passengers got out of the subway system to the streets above. While they waited on the train, they heard announcements from the train operator that the fire and police departments were "on the way." I can understand the need for caution when you're dealing with track problems, but if this had been some kind of terrorist attack, how long would the MTA have waited to get people out of the trains? I take the subway to work each and every day, and I do this fully aware that if there's any kind of mischief in the works by anyone with a grudge, I might not survive the trip. I put that fear out of my mind, reminding myself that I'm more likely to get hit by a drunk driver while walking down the street to the subway entrance than I am to become a casualty of a terrorist attack. Still, the risk is there, and the MTA's response to Sunday night's incident (coupled with the news organizations' quiet coverage) makes me wonder just how bad the odds are against me if something terrible happens on my daily commute.

Now it's time for me to take the subway home. Hopefully I'll blog at you later.

yet another psychological profile quiz result

You are Charlie Brown!


Which Peanuts Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I realize that these surveys aren't scientific, but it's creepy how well the above description fits me. Although if I am the Master (see 1/23/04 in the archives) AND Charlie Brown, does that mean that Charlie Brown grows up to be the Master? And does Linus becomes Torgo? The mind reels.

an Oscar live-chat transcript to answer all your questions

We hosted an Oscar party at our apartment tonight and with all the caffeine and food I'll be up a little while longer. The Washington Post's movie section editor held an online chat during the show. While our partygoers had many questions that were raised and answered during the telecast, there were a few queries that we couldn't figure out. However, those who were at their PCs the entire time found the answers we couldn't, so see the transcript if you're interested. Specifically in my case, Sting played a hurdy-gurdy for one of the Cold Mountain songs, and you can read more about that instrument here. Also, the blue pins worn by all of the LOTR participants were provided by TheOneRing.net, a popular LOTR fan site.

The party was a great success, though I think we'll let someone else take a turn hosting it next year. We'll be there, of course, but it might be more fun to rotate it to someone else's apartment instead of packing 15 people into our living room again. We have plenty of leftover chips and salsa, so come on over for a snack. Just call first.

An unexpected visit to Queens

This morning, Liz and I went to Queens for the funeral service for my mother's aunt who passed away on Friday. Some of you who know me might remember that my great aunt and uncle lived on Park Place in Brooklyn and that we used to visit them occasionally since we moved to New York over four years ago. My great uncle, her husband, died last summer, she had moved to her daughter's home in New Jersey, and her health had taken a few bad turns lately. It was a touching service. The two eulogies, one given by a neighbor from Brooklyn, the other by her son-in-law, reminded me of my aunt's love for family and friends, her garden, and her neighborhood. Liz pointed out that she also had a great love for animals; she and her husband kept cats for most of their lives, and after their elderly cat died last year, they got a new one-year-old cat. Even at the end of her life, she was still making jokes about the care she received at the hospital (she wasn't happy with the amount of salt in her IV drip) and enjoying the time she had with her family. My great aunt was a wonderful, funny, special woman, and I'll sincerely miss her.

Today' Tom the Dancing Bug

On the eve of the Oscars, today's TtDB made me laugh out loud.

Sorry I haven't written anything this week. I'd have posted my thoughts on gay marriage, or the presidential primaries, but many others have expressed what I'd want to say, only far more eloquently. All I'll say is if two people want to get married, let them get married. Go right ahead. I don't see why that should be a problem.

Liz and I saw a play tonight featuring a friend of ours in a prominent role. I can't comment on it yet, until we talk to him tomorrow at our Oscar party. Maybe I'll be able to write about it after that. Believe me, I REALLY want to post my opinions on this production.

my first impressions of the French press

The coffee I had from the press was better than the Filterfresh machine, but not even close to the Starbucks/drip quality to which I was becoming accustomed. I did get a small amount of sludge in the bottom of my cup, which is nothing new since the FF machine gives me the same thing. I think I used too much water for the initial brew, and too much milk in my cup (since the kitchen is down the hall and I didn't want to keep walking the hallways carrying mugs and coffeepots, I put the milk in first). But it was my first attempt with the press, so I'm trying to be forgiving and resisting the temptation to drop the whole idea and go back to Starbucks. I read the press pot guide on coffeegeek.com and found out right away that I'm not using the right kind of grinder for press pot coffee. Apparently a blade grinder like the one I have makes excellent fine grounds perfect for drip coffeemakers, but can't produce a uniform coarse grind suitable for a press. Hence the omnipresent sludge at the bottom of the mug. Since the alternative to the blade grinder (a wedding gift from a good friend) is a large and expensive burr grinder, I think I'll work with what I have. And my beans are several months old and not freshly ground by the time I make the coffee in the afternoons. Again, unless I start buying fresh beans in my office neighborhood and grinding them at my desk, I'm stuck with these limitations. If I go any further with this obsession, I'll have to start selling coffee at my desk to cover the costs. At least I'll go through the beans quicker if I'm using them every day. There is an empty cube in our space for the next few weeks. Maybe I could turn that into a coffee stand and make some extra cash.

The whole reason I have this problem in the first place is that I don't like to drink coffee with breakfast. I usually have a bowl of cereal and some OJ, and I've found that coffee doesn't sit well with that combination. The last time I did that, I was wired and vaguely nauseous until lunch. If I ate a full breakfast of eggs, sausage, muffins, etc., then I'd happily make drip coffee at home. But I don't have that kind of time or appetite in the mornings, so cereal it shall be. Besides, a cup of coffee around 2:30 PM is a great way to wake up for the rest of the afternoon.

Look at the fancy boy, with his ooh-la-la French coffee press!

I've become a coffee snob. The free coffee at the office comes from a Filterfresh vending machine, though I don't think of it as coffee. The drink that comes out is bitter, weak, and bears only a passing resemblance to what the rest of the civilized world considers to be coffee. We've complained to the catering company that handles the machines, but even when they change the grounds the coffee still tastes nasty. I spent most of last year drinking a cup or two a day of this crap, knowing that it was terrible. After I went home for Christmas and enjoyed good coffee made by my mother, I decided that I'd had enough of the crap. I got a Starbucks card for a Christmas present, so I started getting a cup a day from the Starbucks in the lobby. I also started drinking the coffee from the cafeteria, which is Ritazza and about the same quality as Starbucks, but for $.50 less. In my department, we've talked about getting a coffee maker, but I'd been advising against it. If we share a coffee maker in our office space, we have to share the chores of buying the grounds (and deciding what kind to get), keeping the machine clean, and so on. I know that it would get ugly after a while.

My policy of roughly $1/day on coffee lasted until Friday, when we received a money management book from my in-laws. One of the first anecdotes is about a woman who spends $3.50 a day on her grande double non-fat latte and realizes that her coffee habit is costing her big bucks from her future retirement income. I've heard this advice before, and had thought that $1 a day wasn't so bad, but in my financial situation, even good coffee can be a frivolous purchase if I do it every day. Having previously ruled out a drip coffee maker, I took the plunge (literally) and bought a coffee press for $20. I already have high-quality coffee beans at home, so I figure I can grind 2-3 days' worth of coffee and leave it in the refrigerator here at work, then make myself a decent cup whenever I want it. I'll try it after lunch and see how well it works out for me.

My latest kitchen exploits

For no other reason than it sounded like a tasty meal, I decided to make red beans and rice for Sunday's dinner. First I had to buy a stock pot, which I got at Bed, Bath, and Beyond on Saturday afternoon (along with a coffee press--more on that later). Then, on the way home, as I was reviewing the ingredients for the red beans, I realized that a) I needed lots of chicken stock, and b) I had old chicken bones in the freezer from which I had long planned to make stock but lacked a stock pot. Since I now had said pot, I made my own chicken stock on Saturday night. It sounds more exciting that it was. We did find time to go out for dinner with friends and entertain them at our place for a few hours, and I only got up every twenty minutes or so to skim the fat. The stock turned out OK, a little bland, but there was plenty to use.

Sunday night was the main event. I used one of Emeril's recipes for the red beans and rice, complete with the ham hocks and sausage. It was surprisingly easy. Everything went into the pot, covered with the stock, and it simmered for about two hours. I also made the cornbread that James baked for the Super Bowl soul food feast. Liz gave the entire meal an "A," and her criticisms were constructive as always. She likes a sweeter cornbread, so I'll add a little more sugar next time (and maybe some chopped jalapenos) and while the sausage and pork were delicious, the beans and broth didn't have much flavor. James makes this dish all the time, so I'll ask him what he does to make it extra tasty. I put some hot sauce in my bowl and it kicked things up the requisite extra notch.

Sportswriter responses to the Colorado football scandal

Some of the writers in ESPN.com's Writers' Bloc have posted their thoughts on the football program at the University of Colorado. I was appalled when I read in this week's Sports Illustrated Katie Hnida's account of her treatment and rape at the hands of Colorado football players. If it was possible, I was even more appalled/aghast/disgusted when I heard Coach Gary Barnett tell reporters in person, in front of cameras and microphones that his players treated Hnida the way they did because she was an "awful" player who "couldn't kick the ball through the uprights." Barnett has since apologized for his comments, which he claimed were "misinterpreted or taken out of context." Unfortunately for him, he's been suspended by the university pending an investigation, and the school president called his comments "unacceptable."

I should be surprised that someone like Barnett is in charge of a Division I football program, but after characters like Rick Neuheisel and Mike Price lost their jobs (for gambling and blowing university expense account funds on strippers, respectively), and years of stories about academic fraud in other programs (like Minnesota basketball a few years back) I'm not shocked by anything that happens in college athletics. But there's no way that Barnett should be allowed to keep his job after this week's events, even if it turns out he didn't know anything about the strippers, the harassment, or the alleged rape. Just the fact that these practices went on during his tenure should be enough to cost him his job. As the head coach, he must be held accountable for the actions of his assistants (who allegedly hired strippers for recruiting parties) and his players. There's no way to fix this problem with him staying at Colorado.

By the way, Rick Reilly's column in this week's SI is one of his best. It's not available online yet, so you'll have to pick up the magazine on the newsstand. Or you can borrow my copy when I'm done with it.

Who wants a salary cap in baseball?

The owner of the Boston Red Sox, John Henry, responded to reporters' questions today about the Alex Rodriguez-to-Yankees trade by saying that baseball's economic system is 'out of whack'. He thinks that baseball now needs a salary cap instead of the revenue sharing and luxury tax system currently in place.

I don't have much sympathy for Mr. Henry. His team tried for several weeks to negotiate a trade for A-Rod and couldn't get the deal done. Had the Red Sox acquired Rodriguez, I guarantee you that Henry wouldn't have e-mailed reporters with the opinion that baseball needs a salary cap to keep his own team's spending under control. But because the Red Sox have to compete directly with the Yankees (they're in the same division) and the Yankees have no drag whatsoever on their payroll, now Henry thinks baseball needs a hard cap. Unfortunately, he's working under the terms of a collective bargaining agreement that doesn't have a salary cap, and baseball isn't likely to institute one in the next agreement either. The baseball owners brought this state of affairs on themselves two years ago by not forcing a cap on the union or shutting down the game. NHL owners are prepared to shut down their league for as long as it takes to get a hard cap in place to prevent contracts like Rodriguez's from destroying hockey. If John Henry wants to own a team in a league with more favorable economic conditions, he should try the NFL. As much as people complain about parity and the salary cap in football, at least the season is always exciting and interesting, and nearly every team has a reasonable chance to make the playoffs. In baseball, my Pittsburgh Pirates can't hope to compete with the likes of the Yankees on the field or off, and so they're looking at a 12th consecutive losing season.

I agree with John Henry on this one: baseball needs a salary cap. However, he should have pushed harder for one when he had the chance. It's too late to complain now.

The future of mobile computing

I'm a regular visitor to Gizmodo, so I read with interest this article about one pundit's views on where increased storage will take mobile technology. I agree that greater storage on cellphones and PDAs will lead to more applications and hardware innovations to take advantage of the extra room. But I don't agree that it's a good thing. For the most part, I like a simple cell phone that just keeps track of my numbers and maybe a ringtone or two. I still don't see why cameras or video games need to be bundled into the cellular package. Just because I can keep my PowerPoint presentations on my PDA doesn't mean that it's the best tool to show them.

Speaking of new mobile technology, this seems as good a time as any to reveal that despite my love of simple cell phones, for the past few weeks I've been using a Treo 600 provided by my office as my phone and PDA. I wasn't as hot to get one as most people seemed to be, but when one of the pilot program units found its way into my possession, I didn't hesitate long to give it a try. Four years ago I bought a Palm Vx and used it lovingly for two years. But when I got an HP/Compaq iPaq from the office in December 2002, I made the PocketPC switch. Now I'm back to the Palm OS, and loving every minute of it. While the Treo 600 offers a web browser and rudimentary "push" e-mail functionality, I'm cheap, and since I don't pay for the data service on my AT&T account, I'm only using it as a phone/PDA combo. Even so, the phone sounds just as good as my Nokia 3595, and no one I've talked to has noticed a difference. I have a web browser on my Blackberry (data service paid for by my office), so I haven't really needed the browser on the Treo yet. I had to buy a $10 stereo headphone adapter, but once I got it I was able to listen to MP3s on the Treo just as I did with the iPaq, using my 256 MB Sandisk SD memory card for storage. The keyboard on the Treo is smaller than the Blackberry's, and I've had a little trouble with it, so I'm glad not to be using the Treo for my e-mail. I was able to reload almost all of the old apps I used on my Palm Vx and upgrade the ones that didn't run on the newer Treo OS. The built-in camera is nearly useless to me, as I already have a much more capable digital camera with important features like a flash and zoom lens. But I can see where people might want to use it, and it takes acceptable pictures for a cellphone camera.

Overall, I'm happy with my new toy, and so far my employer doesn't seem to mind me using it, so I'm going to keep it as long as they'll let me. I still don't see a need for an all-in-one gadget in my life, but the Treo is beginning to convince me I'm wrong. I know for sure that I'm keeping my Nokia phone for the few times I won't need the expensive and possibly fragile Treo. When I go cycling, for example, there's no way I'm putting the Treo in my Camelbak or saddlebag. And it's always good to have a backup cellphone just in case.

Brief weekend review

Friday night: Liz and I saw The Triplets of Belleville, one of the most creative and imaginative movies, animated or otherwise, that I've ever seen. It's about cycling and the Tour de France, but in the same way that Star Wars is about robots. The music alone is amazing, and I can't wait to see how the title song is performed at the Oscars.

Saturday: Liz volunteers at the ASPCA and she went to an adoption event where the featured guest of honor was the losing finalist from the first "Average Joe" series. I don't want to say that this guy wasn't a hit, but he had a stack of publicity photos and not many takers. Liz told me that someone at the event had to call her friends to come over and meet him so he would have something to do. At least the day was a success for the animals: at 3 PM when she left four dogs and fifteen cats had been adopted.

We went to Dawat, one of New York's best Indian restaurants, for dinner. They offered three prix fixe menus with five items each, and since we each ordered different options, we had about 10 dishes on the table when the main courses arrived. It was busy but delicious. Since they didn't offer sag paneer that night, we'll have to go back so Liz can get her favorite dish.

Sunday: I made buttermilk waffles for brunch and we spent the afternoon listening to Bob Dylan and George Jones CDs.

Monday: we went to see 21 Grams. It was quite a downer, though the actors were superb. Naomi Watts is quickly becoming one of my favorite actresses, and though it had nothing to do with the movie, I kept wondering when Sean Penn will star in a biopic on Johnny Cash. Regarding the movie itself, at first I was put off by the editing, but after a few minutes it started making sense chronologically and helped the story. Next on my depressing Oscar movie list: Mystic River.

Is "Friends" overrated?

One TV reporter on CNN.com thinks so. In looking at the series' key element, the relationships among the six cast members, Mr. Moore points out that there's not much depth to any of these characters. They've never gotten too far beyond what they were at the beginning of the series. He makes some other good points, but I think that the main problem with the series today is that it's just not funny anymore. Last night's big wedding episode just bored me to the point that I started washing dishes to get away from it. I'm sick of Ross's dorky behavior, Monica's control-freakishness, and where the hell are they hiding Rachel's baby? Apparently starting next week the writers are getting Ross and Rachel back together again, which is fine with me since I don't think they should have ever broken up. But if the series had ended abruptly last night I wouldn't care. It's been on too long, and I'm not looking forward to all the network hoopla that is certain to accompany the finale.

But is "Friends" overrated? I think it's a good sitcom, and in its best years in the late 1990s it rivaled some of the classics, but overall, I'd say it's just above average. For me, its reruns don't have the same "rewatchability" as "Seinfeld" and "Simpsons" reruns do. I think that's a crucial distinction that separates a good show from a great one.

I'm Basil Fawlty!

I've always been a big fan of John Cleese, beginning with Monty Python and later in his movies and TV appearances. Of course, I also love Fawlty Towers, and tonight I finally broke out the DVD set I received for a holiday present. While watching some of the special features about the real-life hotel manager in Torquay, England, who was Cleese's inspiration for Basil Fawlty, and then the first episode of the series, I realized that I am Basil. And it's not necessarily a good thing. He flies off the handle at any perceived slight, he gets frustrated when being berated by his wife for not doing something she asked him to do, he hates requests from guests, and he mistreats the hired help at his hotel. That sounds so much like me at work it's almost scary. Luckily most of my co-workers think I'm funny when I'm upset, so that helps avoid potential problems. While I'd like to think I could change my ways, I'm not sure I want to. One of the funniest moments in the first episode of the series is at the end, when Basil is furious that he can't continue to abuse a crooked hotel guest (because the police are hauling the guest away) and he can't persuade a rich, classy couple to stay at his hotel. All he can do is clench his fist, rage at the potted plants outside, and go inside and break something. Cleese used to do this sort of thing on Monty Python as well, and I always found it hysterical. Maybe I need to start doing that at work. After a help desk phone call that ticks me off, I can just hang up and shake my fist at the phone while referring to the caller as a "toffee-nosed snob."

Or I could try therapy. No, I like my first idea better.

No more "Playmakers"

ESPN has cancelled its dramatic series "Playmakers" after just one season. Unfortunately for the show, ESPN decided that it values its relationship with the NFL and its sponsors more than its programming, which is a shame. Like everything else in this world, it all comes down to money. I will admit that while the show was entertaining, I wondered how there could possibly be a second season, since they covered nearly every imaginable plotline in eleven episodes. They had marital problems, drug use and rehab, unplanned pregnancy, parent-child issues, homophobia, cancer, and steroids. I can't think of any story line that was left unmentioned, so aside from rotating these stories through the cast, I doubt a second season would do as well in the ratings. Still, I'd like to think that ESPN would have stood up to the NFL and said "it's just a show, relax." I never took any of the storylines that seriously, despite the "ripped-from-the-headlines" intentions. I thought it was about the same level of realism as the average "Law & Order."

Maybe the show will get a second chance on another network, like Showtime, that needs more highly-rated and critically-praised programming. I think it's unlikely, but stranger things have happened.

The Geek Test

My score on The Geek Test:

30.76923% - Total Geek

My "Big Game" review

First of all, despite what MTV would have you believe, the incident with Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake was completely planned. Why else would she wear a tear-away bustier, and why would he hold onto the piece of it he tore off? (Go here for close-ups of Janet's unique nipple piercing -- the link isn't safe for work, so if you can't see it now, she's not wearing a pastie, it's a star-shaped piercing.) You can expect this footage to replace Howard Dean's scream in the pop-video rotation next week. The word is that the NFL does not expect to allow MTV to produce future halftime shows. Does this mean Up With People will be making a comeback?

Second, the commercials were mostly lackluster. I liked the Willie Nelson advice doll ad and the Bud ad with the talking monkey, but most of them were forgettable. The AOL ads weren't bad either; James liked the one where the driver of the hot rod went back in time. As usual, you can never go wrong with guys getting hit in the crotch, animal flatulence, or women in bikinis. James and I got the most comic mileage out of the ads for Cialis, especially the one describing the possible side effects and counteractive medications. In case you missed it, we think Cialis will give you (if you're a man) a foot-long erection that lasts four hours (and requires immediate medical attention) and weighs you down in front to the point that you'll suffer lower back pain hours later. And if you have a heart condition and take Cialis, you'll get low blood pressure as well. Doesn't that sound great? Where can I get a free sample?

Our meal was excellent. James' fried chicken was crispy yet juicy, the macaroni and cheese was creamy, and the collard greens were spicy but not too bitter. The cornbread was good but needed a little more bite, perhaps from jalapenos or homemade creamed corn. My lemon chess pie came out less solid than I'd hoped but was sweet and tart just the same, and I brought home half of it to enjoy later.

Finally, the game was better than I thought it would be. It's not one of the greatest games ever played, but I'll put it near the bottom of my top ten Super Bowls. I thought that Adam Vinatieri would miss the field goal at the end and we'd see our first ever overtime championship, but he picked the right time to make the kick.

So that's it for another football season. Now I get to suffer through the Penguins' cover-your-eyes-awful season, and the Pirates' soon-to-be terrible season. How soon is the NFL draft?

The "Big Game"* party that almost was but then wasn't

About six weeks ago, James and I had the brilliant idea that all our friends should come to New York to watch the big game tomorrow and gorge on chili, nachos, and other fattening dishes. Two weeks ago, James told me that none of our friends were coming due to various conflicts and travel issues. No problem, we said; we'll have a party here with some people we know in NY. Then, on Thursday, I had this conversation with James:

Him: "Those bastards."
Me: "Who's not coming to the party now?"
Him: "Counting you and me, there will be two people at the party."

So we're down to the two of us watching the game and eating soul food, the current menu unless James changes his mind again. Rather than make Az-Tec Calendar dip from The Border Cookbook, I'm taking things in a completely different direction and making dessert, specifically lemon chess pie, from In the Kitchen with Bill, a collection/satire of Bill Clinton's favorite recipes. I'm not really a dessert person: while I enjoy eating them, I'm not interested in making them. But the feast of fried chicken, mac and cheese, collard greens, and cornbread doesn't need an appetizer. Around the end of third quarter, though, I'll be looking for something sweet to take the edge off all the salt and spice, and chess pie is perfect for rounding out the menu. I'd never heard of chess pie before meeting Liz's family and spending holidays in Mississippi, and now I wonder how I lived for 21 years without ever eating it.

You might think that our choice of a Southern-style dinner means we're pulling for Carolina in tomorrow's game, but that's not the case. I don't care who wins, I just hope it's a good game. We could just as easily make New England clam chowder, except that James already had all the ingredients for the fried chicken dinner. I don't think we've ever tried to match the meal to the teams in the game, it's just too hard sometimes.


*I'd use the term "Super Bowl, but I'm afraid I'll get sued by the NFL. Damn! I said "Super Bowl!" And I said "Super Bowl" again! Oops, I can't say "NFL" either. $%@&%&^!@%!!!

Please, NFL lawyers, don't sue me!

another geeky entry

Every few months, I get the inspiration to try Linux on my work laptop again. I've run Red Hat 8 and 9 on an IBM T22 and a T30, and now I'm using SuSE 9 Professional on my T30. The problem is that every few months, when I try Linux on the laptop, I remember why I inevitably dump the 5 GB or so I set aside for Linux and go back to using my Windows XP partition exclusively. While most of the hardware in the laptop works right after the installation, things that I rely on, like my built-in wireless card, don't work without lots of tweaking. Since I couldn't get the built-in wireless to work, I'm using my back-up PC card instead. Even that card takes some work to make it function properly. The good news is that once it works, it's just like I'm using Windows. I'm posting this entry from Galeon, a web browser running in Linux. I've installed Ximian Desktop 2 on the system, since it's now a Novell product, and so far I like it. If this OS doesn't crash as much as Windows, I just might stick with it. At least I can use it in March at BrainShare and look cool.

Unfortunately, the biggest problem with Linux is that I can't read my work e-mail (Lotus Notes) or manage my network without going back to Windows. Which is why Linux on the desktop will remain a novelty for me. It's something to play with or use in frustration when Windows keeps crashing, but ultimately I'm stuck with Windows.

Quiet Indignity: Which Mystery Science Theater 3000 Villain Are You?

What MST3K Villain are you? by Krankor.com

I am proud to be the Master, as Manos: The Hands of Fate is one of my favorite MST3K movies. Back in the mid-1990s, I used to have a Torgo screen saver, where he was running from the Master. Good times.

The Da Vinci Code

I've been meaning to write a brief review of this novel since I finished it a few weeks ago. After reading some reviews of it online and seeing Dan Brown on the "Today" show, I thought I should check it out. My mother got the book for me for my birthday, finally giving me the opportunity to read it.

At first, I didn't care for the writing style or the story. Throughout, it reads like a typical thriller: a cliffhanger on every page, Angnot much character development, but plenty of intrigue and excitement to keep the reader's attention. It reminded me of the later Robert Ludlum novels, published after Ludlum died and penned by a cadre of ghostwriters. For all we know, Dan Brown could be one of those ghostwriters. However, as the book went on and Brown got into the codes and symbolism of the story, I found myself unable to stop reading. As much as I didn't want to like the book, I couldn't help enjoying it. At the end, I didn't know much more about the characters than I knew at the beginning, but it didn't matter. The story was gripping, and even the excess of symbolic data wasn't too overpowering, though it was annoying at times to repeatedly learn that some modern custom started as a pagan ritual two thousand years ago. I liked the book enough that I'm going to read Angels and Demons, Brown's other novel featuring the same main character, and I'm curious how the movie version of The Da Vinci Code will look.

I'm currently reading Douglas R. Hofstadter's Godel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid, and that's keeping my mind occupied in vastly different ways. I should be working out some of the puzzles in the book with paper and pencil, and that's hard to do on a crowded subway train in winter. I end up trying to work them out in my head instead, which is equally difficult in a crowded subway.

a little tech for you

After work this evening, I attended a Novell presentation on their current and future plans for the Linux platform. It had been billed as an exclusive opportunity to hear Novell's CTO talk about Novell and Linux from a technical perspective. Only 100 people would be allowed to attend. So, of course, I replied to the invite right away to secure my seat.

When I arrived at the Marriott Marquis, there were about 30 people in a room set up for 100. So right away, the presentation wasn't the hot attraction it was made out to be. That's OK: it was a Tuesday night, it was about 20 degrees outside, American Idol was on later. There were many reasons to skip the entire thing. Unfortunately, the CTO had to cancel at the last minute, so we heard from a marketing/product manager instead, and the presentation turned into a review of Novell's acquisitions in 2003 (Ximian, SuSE, SilverStream). What was most annoying was the interaction between the Novell geeks and the Linux geeks. As the marketing rep talked about Ximian Desktop being the most popular Linux desktop, the techie sitting next to me crossed his arms and shook his head; it was obvious he had some other Linux desktop in mind. Later, when someone asked how many copies of Ximian Desktop Novell had shipped worldwide, another Linux zealot pointed out that

1) Ximian Desktop is a free download, so there's no such concept as shipping that particular product;
2) Ximian Desktop comes with many Linux distributions, so there are millions of copies of it in use or at least available.

Neither of these points answered the man's question, and the Novell rep didn't have numbers for him either. My point is that these kind of arguments about Linux-- which desktop is more popular, which distribution is better, which vendors support your favorite distribution or desktop -- are just what I was hoping to avoid at tonight's event. Novell is trying to sell an operating system and a desktop interface, and it doesn't do the Novell community any good for us to be arguing over which interface or setup tool is better. I'm afraid that at BrainShare in March Novell's CEO will say something about Novell and Linux and inadvertently upset half the audience by mentioning GNOME instead of KDE. The trouble with Linux enthusiasts is that they all have different opinions about what makes the idea Linux installation, and will defend these opinions to death. These people scare me, and now Novell has invited them into the tent.

Comments are now available

Now the 3-5 people who actually read my blog can post their comments. Thanks to Chris Galdieri for the indirect tip on Haloscan; you can check out his blog via the link on the right.

Greek food and MoMA QNS

I spent the afternoon in Queens with my brother, who was in town for the weekend for a straightdope.com event. I joined his group of fellow Dopers(?) for lunch at a Greek restaurant in Astoria and then a visit to the Museum of Modern Art, currently located out in Queens while the Manhattan museum undergoes renovations. For lunch I had pastitsio, a sort of Greek lasagna with macaroni and ground beef. At the MoMA, there are selections from the museum's permanent collection on exhibit and two special exhibits. The permanent collection art disappointed me, compared to what I've seen in the Manhattan museum, but the special exhibits were interesting.

I'm glad I had the chance to spend some time with my brother and meet some of his friends from the Internet. And yet I'm disappointed that I spent my entire afternoon with people I (or rather, he) met through the Internet and not once did I quote Rob Truhn's oft-attributed line: "Sometimes you meet these chicks on the Internet, and they have no legs." All of the people I met today, men and women, had fully functioning appendages, as far as I could tell. And they were all fun to hang around; my fears of geeky inside jokes were unfounded. I'm tempted to join the Dope boards myself, though I really don't have the time to hang out on another web site just for the heck of it.

Hold the hot pants

The president of FIFA (the world's governing body for soccer) suggested that female players wear sexier uniforms to bring more attention to the sport.

My favorite line in the article is this one:

FIFA spokesman Andreas Herren said Friday that Blatter never mentioned the word "hot pants.''

But you have to see it in context. I laughed out loud at it.

Damn, it's cold out there

I've lived through cold weather like this before, but not since I was growing up in western Pennsylvania. January 1985 was particularly memorable: the temperature was 20 degrees below zero for a few days around the time of the presidential inauguration. It wasn't always that bad, but every winter we could count on a few weeks of subfreezing temperatures and plenty of snow. I looked forward to winter. So I'm entertained when it gets cold or snowy in New York and the city threatens to close down completely. But this current Arctic air blast is ridiculous. I actively hate the 4/5 trains now that number of people on them remains the same but they're all wearing so much extra clothing, it's even more crowded than usual. At least I'm finally getting some use out of the sweaters and warm pajamas we used to wear all winter in our old apartment. Our current place has such powerful heating that when it's above freezing outside, we're lounging in shorts like it's the middle of summer. Now that it's cold enough to run the Iditarod down Broadway, our apartment actually feels normal.

It's almost enough to make me wish for summertime heat. Almost.

Easterblogg's take on the Moon-Mars missions

Gregg Easterbrook has posted his thoughts on the Bush administration's new space initiative. I'm interested in this story, as you read in this space yesterday, and so you know I'm as big a fan of space exploration as you'll find. But this new plan is the boondoggle to end all boondoggles, as Easterbrook outlines clearly. Let's get a space elevator or a shuttle replacement first, and establish a cheaper, easier way to get people and things into orbit. Then we can think about getting to Mars.

The Nerd Test

59.523809523809525% of me is a huge nerd! How about you?

The above link courtesy of my brother, who posted in his blog that he is 73.8% nerdy. I'd believe that, but not based on this test. I had no idea about some of these questions, and I can't imagine how he knows the answers that I don't. I forget, of course, that we've lived apart for 12 years, so anything is possible.

Why go to the moon?

President Bush wants to go to the Moon, and then to Mars. That's one hell of a bad idea with the economy still in such sad shape. Why should the American taxpayer care about going to the Moon or Mars. Plenty of people have enough trouble getting groceries and affordable medicine to get excited about space travel. I guess the idea is to distract the public with dreams of Moon landings to keep the focus away from the debacle in Iraq and more terrorism threats. It worked in the 1960s when everyone was afraid of war with the USSR, so I guess it could work now.

As much as I like the idea of increased space exploration, we need a cheap way to get materials and people into orbit first. A space elevator would be the best solution to this problem, giving us a stable orbital platform from which to assemble a Moon lander craft and ultimately a Mars lander. But I don't hear anything from the Bush administration about space elevator research. That's probably because it's the most boring but sensible proposal for getting to orbit, and it's not going to capture the imagination of the average American like a Moon landing. Nothing gets public attention like lavish unnecessary spending, and that's just what Bush is going to propose.

I love Netflix

Last night, Liz and I watched The French Connection on DVD, rented from Netflix. What a fantastic movie! The acting, the action scenes, even the cat-and-mouse chase scenes were all riveting. I'd seen the subway chase before in countless clip shows but it was even better in the context of the complete film. We had fun playing "where in NY is that?" and I successfully picked out the Grand Central subway shuttle platform before it was identified on camera. On a different note, William Friedkin's direction was excellent, and we noticed the same camera angles and shots that he used two years later in The Exorcist. Before Netflix I wouldn't have thought to rent this movie at Blockbuster; I'd get distracted by more recent releases and pass up old classics like this one. But with Netflix, I put classics in the queue when I think of them and then it's a surprise when an old gem like this one turns up in my mailbox. If the ease of use and unlimited rental time didn't turn people on to Netflix, then the old movie angle should.

I feel like an idiot that I'm so excited for a 32-year-old movie that everyone else has seen many times, but if you're like me and haven't seen it before, you owe it to yourself to check it out, and on DVD. It wouldn't be half as good on TV.

The Upper East Side and the USPS

Apparently, the Postal Service thinks that East Side walkup residents are not interested in receiving any packages, because they never deliver any without at least three notices and a visit on your behalf to the post office. Three times now we've had issues getting packages delivered to our apartment: most recently two Christmas presents, and before that, a roll of stamps we ordered from the USPS web site. See, the way it works up here in the 10128 area code is that our mail comes from the Yorkville Station post office on 3rd Avenue, but the mail carriers operate from Gracie Station on 83rd St. So if we ask for a package to be redelivered (because we were home but the carrier didn't bother to knock on our door or buzz our apartment and just left a notice instead) the carrier gets the package from Yorkville and takes it to Gracie. If we're home again but they don't drop off the package, it goes back to Yorkville. Or maybe to Gracie, depending on who we ask or what the mail carrier feels like doing. When we call Yorkville Station (because it's the number on the notices they've left us) they tell us to call Gracie Station. When we call them, they tell us that our mail is at Yorkville Station, so we should call them. Eventually, we get our packages, but it's always a struggle. We've been through this three times, and we're sick of it. So if you're going to send us something, e-mail me for my office address. My firm has a superior mail room staff that is happy to deliver any package large or small, with several layers of record-keeping to insure that it got there.

Oh, I almost forgot: last Tuesday, we didn't get any mail at all. Not because we didn't have any, but because the mail carrier must have skipped our building altogether. We taped the redelivery notice to our mailbox that morning, and it was still there when I got home from work after 6 PM. Someone finally collected it when they delivered mail on Wednesday.

And the USPS wonders why they're losing business to UPS and FedEx.

Happy New Year

We had planned to watch a movie last night, but SciFi's Twilight Zone Marathon sucked us in and we ended up watching many episodes of classic Rod Serling entertainment. When I was a kid, I had a book of original stories that became Twilight Zone episodes. I've tried to catch as many shows as possible that I can remember from the book. So far I've seen "I Sing the Body Electric," by Ray Bradbury, "The Mighty Casey," "Little Girl Lost," and "A Stop at Willoughby," though I missed "Third from the Sun," one of my favorite stories. But there are more than 12 hours of episodes yet, with many other gems to come. "Elegy," "To Serve Man," "The Eye of the Beholder," just to name a few.

Meanwhile, there is football, but so far most of the games stink. I am looking forward to the Rose Bowl in about an hour, but that's the only game I'm interested in today. I'm planning my weekend around the NFL playoffs instead.