Published writer, compulsive reader, Old School Whovian, Match Game enthusiast, NKOTB fan, data hoarder, and - surprisingly, given that list - married with four kids. Welcome to my take on life, fatherhood, entertainment, and whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
For the second year in a row, my alma matter, the University of Wisconsin - Milwaukee scored an upset in the first round of the NCAA tournament, this time knocking off Oklahoma.
Meanwhile, Milwaukee's richy-rich Marquette went one and out.
What a shame.
Go Panters!
My birthday's coming up, and if anyone (read: family) cares to purchase moi a gift, you may of course contact the Mrs. and co-ordinate your efforts.
For those chosing to act on their own, I am dangerously close to knocking off the last of my realistic 'Ten Useless Things I Want' list.
I have my laptop, an Ipod (granted, one I can't figure out how to work), a DVD recorder, a digital camera, a great desktop computer, my own washer/dryer/stove/fridge, and a camcorder (albeit one that needs repair).
So what's left?
A house, but that's a year away, and hardly useless. 'Course, neither are a lot of the other items on the list.
The remaining three items are:
1. An XM radio and subscription. I'm accumulating Radio Shack GC's for this, and will pick it up prior to the start of the MLB season.
2.An electric guitar and amp. Nothing fancy, a WalMart $99 package would do. This is the most ridiculous item on the list, as I had an acoustic guitar for the first 6 years of my marriage and played it once. But, I still want one. Can't give up the dream.
3. A telescope. Again, useless, but I do have a lifelong love of astronomy and follow it on the web. Seeing Orion in the sky still makes my heart go pitter-patter. Tom over at Tom's Astronomy Blog has recommended one, and I really think it'll be a good experience for the kids too.
I guess Radio Shack GC's are the only feasible gift here, but I'm also interested in getting a good Johnny Cash CD, maybe his Folsum Prison concert and a solid retrospective. No books currently make my list, as my library card is up and running.
Other than that . . . hmmm. . . Wal-Mart GC's never hurt.
I'm still annoyed, but more importantly I'm bored. It's either post
or watch Cinderella with Middle Child for the 100th time.
I struck gold with a recent binge at Blockbuster. If you're interested, pick up
The Guru, a hilarious comedy about an Indian immigrant who mistakenly
becomes known as a sex guru. Sounds condescending and stupid,
but it's funny, well written, and really a joy to watch.
Heather Grahm (sp?) is the only recognizable face.
Some great dance numbers too, including a ripoff of Grease.
You know, between The Guru and Bend it Like Beckham, I'm really starting to
dig movies with an Indian flavor, and I have to say their music is funky and
fun. I'll have to attend an Indian wedding one of these days; it's gotta be
better than the standard South Side gala.
I also thought Serenity was worth the rental cost, tho' I couldn't convince my wife to
watch it.
Red Eye, by Wes Craven, I picked up for curiosities sake, assuming it would suck.
On the contrary, I found it a well written and well acted thriller. Well worth your time.
Skip Apartment 12 with Mark Rufalo, tho' I found it mildly amusing.
Last but not least, Walk the Line. Not a great movie, but what incredible chemistry
between Phoenix and Witherspoon. Two things happened because of the movie:
For the first time, I find Witherspoon sexy and very appealing. And two, I've become
infatuated with Johnny Cash's music, often having it play softly on my comp at
work. If nothing else, discovering Folsum Prison Blues was a great treat.
It also led to a great quote of the day:
Mother in Law claims Walk the Line is the best movie ever. I disagreed.
Mother in Law: Well, it's probably just a generational thing. The movie reminded me
of what it was like to be young again - all the problems I faced. I could
really relate, you know?
Me: So . . . you were a pill popping adulterer who was jailed for drug smuggling?
Sometimes, I wonder why the woman tolerates my smart-ass mouth.
I was going to log on and write a post about Parker's 1st birthday party, but I arrived to find that the AOL counter has again reset itself.
From 30,500 visitors I'm back down to 105.
The hel* with that.
I don't feel much like spending much time on this lousy service right about now. I'm sure I'll get over my hissy fit, but c'mon . . .
Oh, you had to know I couldn’t resist the chance to get a jab in at Barry Bonds.
It’s a given really, seeing as I like the man as much as I do the clap. It’s never really been a secret.
Even so, I want to take a moment and explain myself.
Most people despise Bonds because he’s an arrogant, cocky, self-righteous S.O.B. that could care less if some fat white guy in Milwaukee doesn’t like him - or anyone for that matter.
That doesn’t bother me. In fact I kind of like it. I was a big fan of Albert Belle, too, and he was no saint. Hell, Ty Cobb killed people, for Pete’s sake.
[Granted, Bonds refusing to sign tshirts for a children’s cancer clinic because ‘I don’t sign autographs for white people” pushes the envelope a tad]
Nope, I don’t like him because, as sappy as it sounds, he’s a cancer on the best sport around.
It’s one thing for some schmuck to cheat here and there. Immoral as it may be, I don’t think the four extra home runs Alex Diaz hit on ‘roids makes all that much of a difference to the world.
But when you take one of the best players ever, juice him up on steroids for years, and find yourself about to crown a new all-time home run champion - well, then I have a problem.
Records are important. They’re important because they decide who gets to have a children’s book written about them in fifty years. It’s important because they decides arguments on message boards and in drunken bar room discussions.
It means something, damnit.
And here we go, about to hand the title of all-time homerun champion to a chronic juicer.
The book Game of Shadows details years of habitual steroid abuse, all geared towards adding power to his game. Well, mission achieved buddy.
The reporters who wrote the book spent two years compiling interviews, reviewing sealed and public court records, and examining the testimony of those involved in the BALCO controversy.
It’s already been excerpted in Sports Illustrated and has prompted the commissioner to announce he’s investigating the claims.
No matter what happens, Bonds’ legacy is forever tainted.
Whoopee.
Without concrete action from MLB it means nothing. Publicly he will still be regarded as one of the greats, and with time the memory of the steroid allegations will fade. People still recall the sins of Shoeless Joe and Pete Rose because MLB make it part of what you remember.
I’m not even sure that’s possible in this case.
Most of the steroid use took place before MLB enacted a firm policy, and unless he fails a test I think the commissioner’s hands are tied.
Here’s what I’m hoping for: either the commissioner risks it all and oversteps his bounds to punish Bonds.
That, or I wake up one morning to news that a mysterious ‘knee injury’ has forced Bonds into retirement.
If anything happens at all, I think it will go the latter route, with behind-the-scenes threats forcing his hand.
In conclusion, I leave you with an excerpt of my own, this one from one of The Onion’s greatest headlines “Barry Bonds Took Steroids, Reports Everyone who has ever watched Baseball”
"Everyone in our front office has known about Bonds since the 2001 season," said San Francisco-area accounts-receivable secretary Mindy Harris of McCullers and Associates, Ltd.
"People in our ninth-floor office, too, and all seven branch offices. None of us were sure exactly which kind of steroids he was on, but we were pretty sure it was the kind that causes you to gain 30 pounds of muscle in one offseason, get injured more easily, become slow-footed, shave your head to conceal your thinning hair, lash out at the media and fans, engage in violent and abrupt mood swings, grow taut tree-trunk-like neck muscles, expand your hatband by six inches, and hit 73 home runs in a single season."
Amen.
I can't believe the little guy is turning one today. Seems like
only yesterday I posted news of his arrival here mere hours
after his birth.
Today we took the whole family to the Olive Garden for dinner to
celebrate.
I know, not very childlike, but his big party will be on
Saturday. This was just for us, and it was very nice.
The waitstaff even sang to him. It was cute - they did so quietly so as not to
'startle' him.
Yeah right - he has two older sisters. He doesn't know what
quiet is.
By the time we got home it was time for bed. Not terribly exciting, I know.
I love the little guy. Happy birthday Parker!
btw - the pics are from his cousins bday party this past Sunday.
My Dad just called to tell me Kirby Puckett died following a stroke yesterday
at his home in Arizona. He was 44.
I remember the '91 World Series that converted me to a baseball fan
and that gut-wrenching home run Kirby hit to win game six . .
I was rooting against his team, but it was impossible to root against him.
A few years ago he published a children's book of baseball games,
which just showed the love he had for the Greatest Game.
He'll be missed.
Figured it's about time to post some pictures of my progeny here . . is
that even the right word?
I think I failed to size the pics correctly, which will probably throw your frame
all out of whack. My humblest apoligies, but I'm not about to waste more
time redoing them.
On Feb 12th we took advantage of a fresh snowfall and took the kids
sledding near my childhood home. There's a huge hill in the park across
the street (Suicide Hill, growing up) and an equal sized one right next to it.
This second hill is neatly cut in half by a plateau, and that's where we took
the kids.
And yup, we took Parker too. He rode down the hill with both the Mrs. and I,
giggling each time.
The worst part of the whole thing, aside from the legitimate fear that
my 300# frame will be shattered on the way down, is the long, lonely climb up.
On the 18th, for no real reason at all, my wife made a butterfly cake
with YaYa. Just wanted to show off what a good Mom she is by including this pic.
Yesterday, to celebrate my sister's birthday, the family met at the Ale House,
a bar/restaurant downtown. I wasn't too keen on taking three kids to a bar
so late in the evening (my fear being they'd bug out and make it
miserable) but honetly, it was a really nice time.
No family tension, everyone was cheerful, and both the kids and myself
were 'on'. No pics, though, as I anticipated disaster, not fun times.
Quote of the night:
ME: YaYa, who's the girl that I love the most?
Stunned silence from the room, all of whom thought I was setting
Middle Child up for a fall.
YaYa: Mommy!
Right answer. Sometimes the Mrs. says I don't give my family the
impression I'm happy with our marriage (I am) and for once, I think I
won the day.
Today, we took the girls to go see a performance of Cats by an excellent
children's theater. It (as always) was a high quality, entertaining show, all
choreagraphed by a 16 year old performer who seems destined for
Broadway.
The show started at 7:30, which is just pleading for trouble
(as it's half an hour past their bedtime when it started).
We wound up having to leave two songs before the finale when
Middle Child wigged out, but it was fun and they enjoyed it.
The kids will see just about every musical out there by the time
they're adults.
They had their faces painted by a local anchorwoman during
intermission. Excuse the pics, as they were EXHAUSTED by the time we
got home. Still cute tho'.
I missed half the show courtesy of American Idol, but what I saw was pretty worthy of a yawn.
Yeah, yeah, the baby was almost kidnapped by some weirdo Other medical faction. Whoohoo. Guessed that already, thank you.
Echo's little speech to the captive was pretty interesting, leading me to think he believes the Other's are more than mere humans - angels, perhaps? I don't know what the beard trimming was about, but I'm sure there's a hundred theories already in circulation.
The captive, who I'm sure is an Other, was pretty obvious about his attempt to split Jack and Locke. That it worked just points out how impotent and emotionally weak Locke really is.
BTW, if you like American Idol (AI in my parlance) check out Coldhearted Truth's blog on the sidebar. A conservative political blog, it has a seperate AI blog attached to it. It's worth a look.
* * *
Bought a laptop by the way. Not much to say about, but this is the first post I've typed out on it.
Wouldn't you know it?
I spend the week in a shirt and tie, my wife and kids ride around in a minivan, and most days I'm cleanshaven (sans my standard goatee).
But today I go bumming to the grocery store wearing pants older than my kids, a scrubby t-shirt, and two days worth of facial hair (which for me, is dang near a beard by itself). In additon, I'm driving the same ten year old, $8,000 (when new) car my wife and I took on our first date.
And I run into some old co-workers I haven't seen in six or seven years.
Nice.
But overall it's been a positive week. Last Wednesday was the 11th anniversary of the day my wife and I met, so at the last minute we dumped the kids and spent the night at a bed-and-breakfast in Cedarburg, WI.
It's a nice place, built in 1847 and still in business. We were the only guests, and the innkeeper doesn't stay overnight, so it was a wee spooky in the dead of morning. But aside from the obvious uses of a hotel room (heh heh),which came w/ a fireplace and whirlpool big enough for my hearty frame, we went up and down the street browsing through stores.
According to a Wall St. Journal article, the candy shop down the road has the 'world's best' carmel apples, and at a bookstore across the street I found a great Andre Norton novel "Empire of the Eagle".
By noon the next day I was back at work, but it was great while it lasted.
* * * *
YaYa's commercial premiers this Monday. A sad lack of respectable enthusiasm among family and friends has embittered this household, but we push on . . Wednesday, right before the trip, I volunteered at her school and then gave a speech to her class for career day (which included playing the commercial!). YaYa seemed proud and the kids said I was 'funny', but the Mrs. felt I should have been more informative. Next time I guess. Oh, YaYa went to Libby Lu this weekend too, and had a blast.
* * * *
I've spent more alone time with P-Diddy (Parker) this weekend then I have in - well, maybe ever. While the Mrs. took the girls to the mall YaYa's godfather and I went looking at laptops. Parker was a blast while my friend was around, laughing and smiling and not making any trouble.
Then we split up and I went solo, and things changed.
Not too much tho'. He got moodier as he got hungry and tired. We stopped at McDonald's, and as all the highchairs were taken we (nervously) sat side by side in a both sharing a meal. Then we hopped over to my nephew's Championship Basketball game, where Parker really started to lose it. I made a quick stop at the post office and Blockbuster and we were home.
Total time together: 5 or 6 hours.
Ditto today, minus my buddy. With the girls and Mrs. at a birthday party Parker and I went shopping here and there, including the grocery store (where he was my only saving grace with those co-workers).
Overall, I'm really starting to dig the little guy - except for the fact he never EVER sleeps through the night.
* * *
The championship game went poorly, as my nephews team was dominated by a larger squad that took the title by 16 points. He did pretty well though. As one of the few big guys on the team he nabbed a few rebounds, stole a ball, and wound up on the court three times when fouled.
********
The kids are all in swim class. I take YaYa first. She's gotten over the fear she had in the last semester and is kicking butt. Then Middle Child and Parker share a class, with the Mrs. taking the baby.
Middle Child, who I repeat is a Kewpie Doll incarnate, is becoming a dang good swimmer in her own right. Parker doesn't act afraid, but seems to be rather bored.
** * * *
After swim class on Saturday we took in one of the earlier rounds of the basketball tournament. My nephews team was down by three baskets with 90 seconds left.
With 1.6 seconds left and the defense pressing hard, a teammate of Jonah's eased up and hit a shot from three point land to give them the lead.
Man, I was on my feet screaming like the Yanks just took the series!
My nephew got a piece of the inbound pass, but it landed in an opponents hand. A teammate stepped up and covered him, and time ran out.
Oh Nellie! My immediate family accounted for 4/5ths of Jonah's fans in the stands - this was enemy ground. But let me tell you, we made enough noise to drown out a Madison Square Garden crowd.
Even the Mrs. was thrilled. "More exciting than any pro game I've seen" she said.
And the best - if most immature - part: the other team's fans were certain, dead certain, the game was in the bag. And then booya!, their hearts were ripped away. I wish I could have bottled the dead silence that came after that shot. Oh man!
.
This Thursday my business had our annual city inspection.
In recent years this has been a disaster - nothing worthy of a 20/20 report mind you, but pages of nicks and scratches against us. Traditionally we put it off as long as possible, until the city said 'time's up'.
Nothing against the previous administration, mind you, both of whom I respect, but it just wasn't made a priority.
This year, on the heels of some recent improvements and a stronger diligence in upkeep, I asked the city to schedule it for last week. Kind of caught them off guard, I'd imagine.
The results? Half an hour into the exhausting five hour inspection the inspector started using phrases like " this is the best its ever been" and "nice, nice".
After completing one building he had a half page of notes. According to him, he'd usually be up to a few pages by that point.
If there is such a thing as 'aceing' an inspection, this was it. The inspector wrote us up for tiny things that have been in place for years.
"Frankly, I don't know how I missed them before," he told us. "Except there were just so many big things in the past."
I was so damn happy I took the family to Ponderosa to celebrate.
In other, much more memorable news in the scheme of things . . .
Today, as I’d briefly mentioned awhile back, my wife and YaYa taped a radio commercial for the company.
I hadn’t told anyone the details because if my daughter had freaked out we’d have backed out with no harm done.
It was my wife’s idea to tape us doing the commercial, so that we could play it to and from school each day. It was the best way for YaYa to learn her lines, since she’s still too young to read.
Tommorow, we'll burn the thing. No one should hear a 300# man say "Mommy, can I ever be a real Princess?" on a loop tape.
We pulled her out of school a wee bit (okay, okay, a few hours) early to make sure she had a nap.
So was she eager, or were we just being typical stage parents?
Well, she’d been nervous one day, excited the next. Today she was both, depending on the hour.
(She’d told my sister yesterday that she was ‘scared of the radio’. My sister, in the dark all along, thought she was bonkers)
So we got to the radio station. It was an otherwise inconspicuous building tucked into a wooded area in a southwestern suburb. From the vesitbule you could look into the working DJ booths of two local stations.
That got YaYa’s excitement up.
The sales rep, a really nice guy, came and took us to a recording booth where we all chatted for a bit. I started to get worried that YaYa was going to go stir crazy, and as it turns out it was the wrong booth – the right one was down the hall.
Then it was showtime.
It was a much smaller room than I imagined. Just a chair, a table of mixing equipment, and a producer’s station with a computer in front of it. A single microphone was mounted to the table.
[The sales rep asked if I brought my camera and bemoaned the fact that I didn't. I had left it behind because I thought it was a no-no, but if I'm being honest with myself I can't be too upset. It was rather dim in the studio and in all likelihood my camera wouldn't have been up to the task.
Can't seem to get the hang of low light shots, dangit. That's the only time I miss my old Olympus Stylus.]
Wouldn't ya know it, YaYa started to cry.
Here’s where it got dicey; should the crying have gone aminute longer she’d be in a full blown fit, and the commercial would have to be scrapped.
I don’t remember what we did to shut it down, but she sucked it up and we got down to business.
It wasn’t flawless, but it was much better than I think anyone could reasonably have expected from a four year old. The girl had five lines and 38 words to speak on cue for Pete’s sake!
In the end there were several takes, and the producer had YaYa ‘practice without the microphone’ (wink wink) to get her to relax as they redid some individual lines. She had just the most adorable expression everytime she goofed up a line – her eyes bugged out and she brought both hands to her mouth ‘speak no evil’ style.
I haven’t heard the completed commercial yet, as they still have to add the ‘announcer’s’ voice, but they played some of it back.
And heck, I’m not embarrassed – their equipment blew the heck out of the $19 K-Mart recorder we’d used to practice.
It was like listening to the Voice of God, it was that crisp and clear.
Only, you know, audible.
As far as my wife’s part? The sales rep seemed genuinely impressed by her performance and called her a natural. I don’t think it was b.s. – she really is good, and I think he was wondering if she’d done it before in a past life.
After ten years of poverty, I’m finally making her a star :)
So the commercial went well, if not spectacular, and soon I’ll have a copy on CD, and be able to listen to it on the radio.
And YaYa?
I stopped at a custard stand and bought her a strawberry dipped cone that promptly dripped all over my tie.
Such is the price I pay for being married to one star and father to another.
Assuming Sawyer was capable of planning the whole thing out means you think he had the foresight to know everyone on the island was going to act out of character.
Locke, while my least favorite regular and IMHO a boob, would not have fallen for such a blatant ploy and certainly not with such meekness. He acted downright wimpy in the episode.
Jack, while prone to bouts of temper, clearly didn’t think it wise to give Chin a gun. Yet minutes later he’s knocking on the door to give him one. Huh?
Charlie wants to humiliate Locke, so he agrees to assault an innocent woman? Again, huh?
Kate’s a professional con artist, at least so far as bank robberies go, falls hook line and sinker for the ruse. Ugh.
And Sawyer himself - the new sheriff in town – is a moron. Everyone hates him now, and quite frankly, who cares about the guns? Haven’t done any of ‘em a bit of good yet.
Tonight’s episode was much better, with characters acting true to themselves. Jack is unwilling to see a man tortured and (hypocritically?) is willing to resort to violence to stop it. Locke stands his ground until his precious island is threatened. The secret of Hurley’s weight is revealed as nothing more than stolen food, but he admirably stands up for himself. Sayid is wickedly awe-inspiring (the line "My name is Sayid, and I am a torturer" sent shivers down my spine).
Of course the guy Michelle found is an Other, though you’ll probably see a balloon in the jungle somewhere just to mess with our heads.
Two quick new Lost ideas to try on you folks:
The island seems to be riddled with people that have Savior complexes. Jack for sure, but Kate killed her stepdad to ‘save’ her mother. Charlie is obsessed with ‘rescuing’ his family, Locke donated a kidney to his father, etc. I’m too tired to elaborate tonight.
The second thing is more of a question that an idea: Charlie was hanged by The Others. If memory serves Judas met a similar fate, and he’s already shown himself to be a betrayer of the group. Coincidence?
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I can't believe it's been a week since my last post. Tonight I'll have another Lost post for you all to ignore, as well as some exciting news on the job/home front. Oh, and my wife has dared me to try and write one of my old 600 word pieces defending Cheney's shooting accident. I just might do it.
Later.
This is another one of my sister's Fwd: emails. Again, not normally my cup of tea, but kind of cute and inspiring.
The next time you feel like GOD can't use you, just remember...
Noah was a drunk
Abraham was too old
Isaac was a daydreamer
Jacob was a liar
Leah was ugly
Joseph was abused
Moses had a stuttering problem
Gideon was afraid
Samson was a womanizer
Rahab was a prostitute
Jeremiah and Timothy were too young
David had an affair and was a murderer
Elijah was suicidal
Isaiah preached naked
Jonah ran from God
Naomi was a widow
Job went bankrupt
John the Baptist ate bugs
Peter denied Christ
The Disciples fell asleep while praying
Martha worried about everything
The Samaritan woman was divorced, more than once
Zaccheus was too small
Paul was too religious
Timothy had an ulcer...AND
Lazarus was dead!
Normally I detest Fwd: emails, but as of late my sister Katie's been coming up with some halfway good ones to pass around.
*******************************
An elderly couple was attending church services, when about halfway through she leans over and says to him:
"I just let a big silent one, what do you think I should do?"
He leans over to her and replies "Put a new battery in your hearing aid."
I can't believe I forgot Middle Child's favorite saying:
"Snow White run away" - a reference to Snow White fleeing the Evil Queen in the Disney movie. Spoken (inevitably) whenever it's on the vcr (which is always). When spoken, an adult must oblige her by following her into her room to view the pivotal scene. Also verbalized whenever she wears her Snow White dress, sees a picture of the princess, or hears something that possibly/conceivably/maybe/could be a reference to the movie or any attempt to flee authority.
I'm in a bit of an unusual pickle with my current reading material.
The Wheel of Time is an excellent fantasy series by Robert Jordan. In fact it's the only fantasy series I've ever liked enough to endorse. Keep in mind it's hard to recommend the series to someone new because each book is ~1000 pages, give or take a few hundred, and there are eleven entries so far.
Knife of Dreams, the latest installment, is a vast improvement from the tenth book. That one drrrragggged on, and was just a great waste of time. There was no plot or character development; you really could skip that mammoth killer of trees and not miss a thing in the series.
Now the tempo is greatly increased, the end of the tale is in sight, the fate of the characters is soon to be revealed . . and I can't make any headway.
Seriously, I've read what, ten books in the last few weeks? Yet its taken more than a week to chug through 300 pages of Knife of Dreams.
Aside from the fact that the main character has yet to appear in the book 300 pages in I have no qualms with the story or the writing. Scratch that: after a two year hiatus it's too hard to remember which of the dozens of characters belongs where, much less who is secretly a two-faced agent for whoever.
A nice little 'previously in Wheel of Time' would have been a nice preface . .
I'm enjoying it, but I just can't make headway. With no intention of being a wiseass, I imagine this must be what it's like for a learning disabled reader. You love the material, you want to finish . . . but something holds you back.
Ugh.
Here's hoping I snap out of it.
Well, congrats to the Steelers. Even if they hadn't been able to rack up a score or so courtesy of the NFL, they'd have taken the day. I'd still like to see those refs canned, as they were the true difference makers in the game.
A disapointing end to the season for me. Although I rooted for the Steelers through the end of conference play, I was pure and simple a fan of Holmgren and the 'Hawks.
Shame the season had to end like that. At least it wasn't a sport I care about, like baseball. Hard to imagine that I don't really care about football, given my postings, but I'm no more than a casual fan, albeit (I think) a pretty knowlegable one when I give a da**.
Oh well. At least I had a good time with my nephew Jonah, who came over to watch the game. A rare treat nowadays, to see the kid in something more than passing, even if he was a Steelers fan. Check out his blog, located on the sidebar. He's never met a spellcheck program he liked, but other than that its a pretty decent read for an eleven year old.
Oh, btw, I annoyed the heck out of my wife tonight. Not only was I very distracted, my volumne at times kept the kids up and ruined her evening. Time to kiss and make up.
My apologies hon.
Now, two months of rest. And then . .
BASEBALL!
8:26 PM Nice to see the ref's call holding where there was none, negating that huge seahawks gain and setting the stage for the interception.
And, while I risk sounding like a whiny sore loser, that penalty against Hasslebeck on the pickoff was bogus - and as I write this, Al Michaels and John Madden just agreed with me.
Thank you Ben (7:57 PM) Sure, I get melodramatic - a man who doesn't live and die during in the heat of competition has no business taking part (even as a fan).
I thought the game was over, and what does Benny do? He tosses it loosy-goosy, 'Hawks intercept and run it back, eventually converting it to a TD.
Thank you Ben.
Signed,
All Seahawks Fans
Overall, a lame first half. The penalty negating Seattle's touchdown was a joke, and if Big Ben really crossed the plane with his 'touchdown' Amelia Earheart will land any minute now. . .
In the NFL, the refs seem to favor whoever is the darling of the fans.
And as for the Rolling Stones - lordy, who's going to play SuperBowl forty-one, Scott Joplin? Didya notice that while the folks up by the stage were into the band (and no doubt plants), no one in the stands seemed to give a rip.
The second half just started and the Steelers scored a big TD . . shame. The game's not over, but it serves as a reminder that the good guy doesn't always win the day . .
I still say/hope/pray Seattle will pull it off. Stay tuned.
My wife recently found these sad Gummy Bears on Ebay.
"This gummy bear was pulled from a bag in cleveland Ohio on 1-29-06.It is siamese the red one on the top Is Phil and the yellow one is grover.Grover was born with a birth defect and is missing his bottom left leg.The Highest bidder will save there lives.I will eat both of them in 10 days if they are not sold on Ebay.You and only you can save them.I will assume the highest bidder will give them the best life possible.
I wanted to bid, but the Mrs.said $5 was too much money to save this Bears' life . .callous Republican.
I was originally in line with your theory....but have since revised my position on the whole LOST experience...it's all about the power of the mind and suggestion. . . Those known as "the others" to the survivors are simply those who are aware of the physic suggestion and the origin of the experiment those who do not yet have this knowledge are "the survivors".
Legitimate studies have proven that children have a heightened physic ability which deminishes over time. This may be the reason children are garnered by "the others". they strengthen the illusion that is shared by the collective illusion being produced by those participating in the experiment.
My guess is the reason for the connectivity and background similarity has to do with where the study subjects orginally came from....All could be part of a program that participated in such an experiment or study.
I'm impressed, but not convinced. I think the best explanation is my purgatory argument. I do concede that their is a smattering of clues lately that point to a psychological explanation: namely, that this is all a figment of Hurley's insanity.
* The numbers, which pop up everywhere, are directly connected to the event that started Hurley's fall (the lottery)
*Hurley 'recognized' Libby, the psychologist among the Tailies
*Hurley hasn't lost any weight, despite spending two months on a deserted isle. This has been commented on by both fans and a character in the show. I realize it's probably nothing more than the actor's inability to lose weight, but if it's intentional - maybe his shattered psyche can't imagine a less overweight, 'more worthy' self
*Alone among all the castaways, Hurley seems to be a neutral and universally liked character on the island. Evidence? of him being the unintentional puppet master who's unwilling to ostracize himself?
I'm sure there's more, but Ican't think of it right now. I hope it isn't true. I'd hate to have the show end the way St. Elsewhere did, with the whole thing being written off as the product of an autistic kids imagination.
Might as well have Bobby Ewing pop out of the shower and call it all a dream.
I know there's message threads that debate these things endlessly, so maybe all three of these theories have been disproved - but ya know what? No one short of the writers know the truth, and depending on how long the series runs, the 'truth' might alter as the cast and audience changes.
In the meantime, while I might pop on a message board for a minute or two, I prefer to dwell on my theories here - and I'm more than happy to hear your opinions.
Lest you think I forgot, today is the day, 47 years ago, when 'the music died'
Buddy Holly remains one of the greatest of all rock legends, and one of (if not the) personal favorite of mine.
Rest in peace.
You know, maybe it's normal behavior, but this strikes me as crazy.
As I wrote a post last week, my youngest daughter started yelling for help in that 'Daddy, you're gonna be mad at me' kind of a way.
I went to her room and found her hanging from the top bunk with her arms extended to both sides, suspended only by the muscles in her tiny shoulders. I guess she had been trying to do some stunt, chickened out, and got stuck.
YaYa, of course, was laughing hysterically.
I comforted the little one, scolded YaYa for enjoying her sister's dilemma, and put them both back to bed.
Five minutes later, YaYa calls me: She's hanging the same way, only she did it intentionally.
Her explanation for trying to drag me in there: "You love her better. I like you, but you don't like me. You only like her"
This, if I may be so bold, is her mantra. Doesn't matter how many times you praise her, how often you point out how smart/pretty/articulate she is, it's YaYa vs. the world.
You can't even praise her sister without hearing "But I'm a good girl too. . "
Now, mind you, the gal doesn't have confidence issues. If there's one thing she seems to have inherited wholesale from my adult personality it's a brazen arrogance about her own worth.
It just happens to be mingled in with a stunning lack of faith in other people seeing that worth.
Odd.
In a bit less pedestrian piece of news, there's a chance (a very slim one, mind you) that YaYa will be playing the part of 'little girl' in a radio ad for my company. She's been practicing her lines but I think the part will go to someone older and more experienced.
[Note: out of the darkness of her room, I just overhead the following line from the ad: "Mom, will I ever be a real princess?"]
One thing hurting her at this point are her tonsils. The things are huge, and I'm thinking she may have yet another bout of strep throat. The doc's already said they'll have to go when she's six or so, but that means two more years of sore throats and the occasionally congested voice.
On the personal front today, I completed the final step towards my teaching license. Well, substitute teacher, er, reserve teacher, they call 'em now, thank you - but that's good enough.
Eight years ago I graduated college with the intent of going back and getting a full-fledged teaching license, but for a variety of reasons I never finished all the classes.
I don't have much use for the dang thing now, but I did feel the need to wrap up loose ends and validate an otherwise wasted chunk of my scholastic life.
Yay me.
Back on the family front, Parker continues to stand/crawl/smile, but has recently decided he doesn't want to eat anything - with the exception of some pizza we cut up for him tonight.
I also came up with one more saying of Middle Child:
"Sorree bay bee" the apology issued to her brother whenever she accidentally steps on him, steals his pacifier, drops his toy, or just generally makes him upset.
Here at home we're starting preparations for Parker's 1st birthday.
Granted, it's in March, but we tend to make the 1st birthday a blast - a Chuck E Cheese party for YaYa and a backyard picnic (complete with clown) for Middle Child.
Parker's party will be Jungle Safari theme, with the Mrs. displaying her artistic talents with elephant invites. When the time comes I'll post an example here.
I can't believe the little guy is almost one. Granted, he's not very small. Not fat mind you - none of my kids seem to have inherited my shape, at least not yet - but solid - tall and thick, with a peach fuzz dome and a charming little smile. By high school he should be the size of a small mountain, but so far he's played the role of the baby far longer than I thought. I think his Mommy wants him to stay an infant longer than with the girls.
He started crawling in the last month, the real deal, on his hands and knees. For a few months he was content to pull himself along by his arms. 90% of our place has hardwood floors, and that method was just too convient for him, allowing him to zip from one end of the place to another in record time.
Lazy boy.
By this time both the girls were already walking, but the best he's done is pull himself up on everything from our end table to the toilet (the boy has a facination with toilet water). He's still on soy formula, but samples table food routinely and is equally attracted to the cat's food dish.
He's the first of our kids to EVER have an ear infection, being cursed with a pair of them so far. Even so he holds the record for the friendliest, most personable baby in our family. Sometimes he wakes up and plays quietly in his crib for an hour before we realize he's awake. Short of a wet diaper (which leak through far more than the girls did) he almost never cries.
He and middle child are inseperable, and I predict that in a few years we'll regret letting that friendship grow. "Makers of trouble" is how Mrs. describes them, and it is a bit like having Ramona Quimby and Dennis the Menace grow up as siblings .
But Middle Child loves him, let me tell ya. She can't get enough of him, and loves him dearly.
YaYa . . well, let's just say so far it's two against one among the kids.
Speaking of middle child, here's a few of our resident Kewpie dolls favorite sayings:
"I won't! I won't" - said whenever you warn her that she is balanced precariously on something about to tip over and break her arm. Often accompanied by a furious head shake and side-to-side hand movement, ala hand jive.
"Thank you your highness" said whenever she is granted something by YaYa. Said by royal decree of her older sister.
"What the heck!?" - a new one, said in a cute, endearing, and totally exaggerated way. Often said with a grin, knowing she is amusing us.
"Hide, zombie" - inspired by my hide-and-seek zombie game. Often said out of the blue and right before she dives under a blanket.
"ParkerandmeandDaddyandParkerandMommyandmeandParkerandme" - her convoluted, repetive attempts at identifying a group, be it at the dinner table or in a description of a car trip. Regardless of how many times she says it, she always ends on 'me'.
"Daddy's work!!!!" - said whenever she sees something resembling our company logo, whenever we pass the place, and whenever I pop onto our website.
There are more, but at 11:36 at night, I can't think of 'em. I'll update them later.
CAMBRIDGE, England (Jan. 30) - A museum visitor shattered three Qing dynasty Chinese vases when he tripped on his shoelace, stumbled down a stairway and brought the vases crashing to the floor, officials said Monday.
The three vases, dating from the late 17th or early 18th century, had been donated to the Fitzwilliam Museum in the university city of Cambridge in 1948, and were among its best-known artifacts. They had been sitting proudly on the window sill beside the staircase for 40 years.
More here
Just a quick note to say that Ted Ferguson, Bud Light Daredevil, is too damn ugly to have a girlfriend that fine.
I'm just sayin' . . .
Today is the twentieth anniversary of the Space Shuttle Challenger accident. You can follow this link for a timeline of the accident, which includes audio (with transcript), and multiple videos from that day.
I remember riding in my Dad's car when they said one of the initial launch dates had been scrapped, and hearing that Christa McAuliffe had gone bike riding to relax.
That was the extent of the attention I paid to the flight.
So it wasn't a surprise that I didn't watch the launch live, but when word of the explosion spread my sixth grade teacher wheeled a television into our classroom. We spent the rest of the day watching network coverage.
I remember being a little put off that Christa McAuliffe received so much attention. Six others died that day, but how many people knew their names at the time - or now? It didn't seem fair.
I strongly believe in the value of manned space flight, and look with regret at the two-plus decades wasted on the costly and limited shuttle program. I'm glad to hear that, with a little luck, American's will walk on Mars in my lifetime.
In the words of Commander Dick Scobee's widow "Without risk, there's no discovery, there's no new knowledge, there's no bold adventure,"
"The greatest risk is to take no risk."
A year ago I asked for some info on a movie I saw twenty years ago.
Nothing so obscure with this request, but it is rather lame.
In grade school I had a science teacher who made us memorize what various parts of a word mean. That's a lame definition, but you'll see what I mean below.
Most have slipped my mind over the years, but a few have stuck with me.
auto = self
graph = write
ology = study of
morph = change
bio = life
tele = far, distant
astro = star
The theory being this: if you didn't know what 'autobiography" meant, you could decipher its meaning just by consulting the list.
If anyone knows where I can find a comprehensive list, drop me a line.
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I finished two more books recently, Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman and The Pale Horseman by Bernard Cornwell.
Anansi Boys is the story of Fat Charlie, a simple, boring Englishman who just happens to be the son of a god. After his father's funeral he discovers a long lost brother who inherited all the supernatural gifts in the family.
Embezzlement, murder, and general chaos ensue.
Gaiman is a natural, one of those guys you despise because God gave him more than his fair share of writing talent. A bit too much Douglas Adams in him though, and I feel he could lay off the dry British humor a tad.
Pale Horseman is the continuing tale of Uhtred, a Saxon with Danish leanings, who plays a pivotal (and fictional) role in Alfred the Great's defense of Wessex from invasion.
Sure, it sounds lame, but Cornwell is a master of historical fiction who's adept at elaborate and stunning battle scenes. He is, after all, the author of the famed Sharpe series (popularized by Sean Bean's TV portrayal).
A great second work in what looks to be a trilogy.
An overtly religious episode, one that certainly doesn't refute my purgatory theory.
Not a whole lot to discuss, frankly. I think Claire turned on Charlie awfully quick in the last few weeks, given that he's been her go-to guy from the time of the crash.
Charlies actions in this episode seem to validate Claire's mistrust - if that is, the viewers didn't know that the dreams and sleep walking were real.
Locke continues to be an obnoxious a**, and I'm probably reading too much into his role as the guy preventing the baptism. In the teaser for next week, Locke is again on his high horse and in opposition to Jack; the guy makes me ill.
Kate and Sawyer: He can have her. I fail to comprehend where her newfound attaction to him comes from.
Hurley and Libby: she gave me the creeps. She quickly deflected his "Do I know you?" question, and I'm eager to learn her crooked past.
She is cute though.
Was there any significance to the burning bush, especially in light of the whole Aaron/Moses theme running through the episode?
I came across a link to this on myufo.com. According to a list of WI locales, my old grade school features some bonafide ghosts and ghouls.
The school building used to be the church. Rumor has it that a boy fell to his death from the balcony. The balcony has since been walled over and converted to a room. Former teachers and students at the school attest to a strange feeling in the former balcony area. There is also a rocking chair in the attic that keeps rocking with no one around and no breeze. A strange man has been seen by staff and children in the church basement. Neighbors report that a former building on the site had a light that never went out even when the electricity was cut. Teachers also report feeling uneasy in the basement bathroom and hearing a strange ?wooooooing? sound.
My opinion? The school was spooky, sure, but mainly due to my classmates. .
In all seriousness, I remember the balcony, which overlooks the current (?) gym. It was kind of creepy, but only in a 'never used/dark and dusty' kind of a way.
Although, come to think of it, reading the paragraph brought back a dim memory of a teacher cracking a joke about a/the? ghost when I went with her to get some paint jars off the balcony.
I never heard of any rocking chair, though, and in nine years there (K-8) I never saw a 'strange man' in the basement. If anyone had I'm sure the police would have been called - the '80's were hardly a time of naive, blind trust.
As far as the other building, when I started there in the late seventies an old school building still stood on part of the lot. It was torn down when I was in Kindergarten or 1st grade. Like any abandoned building it sometimes gave you goosebumps, but I never saw the perpetual lightbulb they refer to in the paragraph.
Maybe I'll stop by again, just to check it out.
I came across this article on last week's episode of Lost. I hope the link still works 1000 years from now when the only remnant of civilization is a copy of Slapinions, because it's far too much text for me to reproduce. Read it or this won't make much sense.
I agree with the gist of the statements about Jack in this episode. He seems to be nearing the breaking point, as evidenced in part by the depressing flashbacks to his past. The marriage certainly seemed doomed from the start, and life never seems to have been very enjoyable for him.
BTW, I think he had to take Locke (their tracker) along on the quest, but Sawyer ???
I don't know what his true, subconscious rational was for pursuing Michael, but I'm willing to take it on face value: Michael was on a suicidal mission, and Jack wanted to find him and bring him home so he could screw his head on straight.
I'm a little sick of Locke's holier-than-thou laizzes faire attitude. Not only is it ridiculous, it's hypocritical: he sure sticks his nose into things when he has an interest in the outcome. His obsession with the island has brought a lot of grief, and he does view the place as a 'holy land' of sorts - hence his look when scolded by Zeke for opening the hatch.
As to Kate - well, you have to doubt her worth (even if you overlook all the bank robbing and murder in her past) if she can be attracted to a loser like Sawyer . er, James. She'd have come in handy on the quest, though, and I imagine Jack left her behind because a) he's annoyed with her b) he still cares for her and that could have - and did - interfere with the search.
As for the Others: sure it was a pompous speech, and instinct is to yell "well, then help us off the da** island then!" but in real life, the survivors would mention the Others to the outside world, and someone would be compelled to return to the island and look for them (if for no other reason then to find the kidnap victims). I doubt that's what Zeke wants.
I too, think the torches were a trick, an automated sleight of hand meant to disguise their true numbers. I didn't see anyone else in the jungle, tho' in fairness I also didn't see whoever fired the shot at Sawyer.
I think they very well could have quizzed Kate on the way home; it just wasn't shown. And I too would have approached Sayid, but he's not exactly stable at the moment . .
I think this theory is fascinating:
"It's a schizophrenic delusion of Hurley's. Hurley is really still in a mental hospital, and Libby is his doctor. She's trying a new treatment to bring him out of it, hence her appearence.It's a schizophrenic delusion of Hurley's. Hurley is really still in a mental hospital, and Libby is his doctor. She's trying a new treatment to bring him out of it, hence her appearence."
But . .
I hold fast to my belief that no one survived the crash. The island is purgatory, where the sinners onboard who were unable to reach Heaven - but still capable of redemption -have gone to be tested.
No matter how the series ends, a part of me will always believe that's what the writers intended. I just fear they may be forced along a different route because of Lost's popularity (and the fact ratings will stretch the length of the series).
My evidence, in Cliff Notes fashion:
* No survivor seems to be without a messy, often violent past. Not a one seems to be able to show us a 'normal' life in flashbacks. Even when not a criminal, their lives are full of anger and pain.
* The children, presumably innocents, were the first to be taken. Their presence at all was troubling, but I believe it was to simply magnify the pain of folks like Michael and Anna. Michael's sins seem to have been in his relationship with his son. Anna still holds a secret, but latched on tight to the kids. Her flaws might lie along the same path.
* Why hasn't the baby been taken? According to the psychic in Claire's past, the baby is evil . .
*Remember that the mole among the tailies mentioned that the kidnap victims were taken in order of 'goodness', or some similar phrase . .
*And recall that Ecko was near the top of that list, but fought off his attackers. Among the islanders, his sins were the greatest - but his redemption was also the most sincere.
*Once Shannon proved her worth as a person, she was 'killed'. Boone too, seemed to have grown and matured.
*Charlie, who had made great strides, was nearly taken from the island (via death) but brought back - and his change of heart now seems to have temporary. I also attach some significance to his 'death by hanging in the garden' - some aspect of my parochial education recalls that Judas met a similar fate. Is he to betray the group at some point?
*Too many kooky coincidences. Ecko's plane is on the island? What about Jack's dad disappearing from the coffin? Slave ships, Dharma projects, polar bears, Others, and smoky monsters? What kind of 'island' is this?
Sadly, I'll miss tonights episode due to a big event at work. Damn our capitalist system! I will tape it of course, and I'm intrigued about the fate of Aaron. The teaser seemed to hint at the baby being tonights focus . .
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The following site advertised on a baseball forum I visit online, so I clicked to be generous. Turns out it's kinda interesting. Nothing all that wonderful, but it intrigued me for a minute or two.
How's that for an endorsement?
Check it out - it's a site allegedly written by a guy searching for the artist who created a strange painting he found hidden in his house. The artist, an otherwise normal farmer, then disappeared without a trace.
Yeah, my picks were dead on.
Sure, the SuperBowl is up for grabs, but forget that the Steelers are early 3.5 pt favorites - I firmly believe/hope/expect Mike Holmgren to walk away with the honor of being the first coach to win a ring with two different teams.
Sure, the 'Hawks had a decently easy post-season, and Pittsburgh had to walk through fire . .
But did they?
The Bengals lost their QB minutes into the game and (IMHO) were overrated anywho. Indy's defeat was a masterpiece, and I loved watching it, but let's face facts here: Tony Dungy and Peyton Manning are master choke artists. What a waste of talent.
And while you have to marvel at their domination of Denver, but did you ever really think Jake Plummer was going all the way?
I think Seattle will take it in relatively easy fashion, but give up part of their cushion as the clock runs down - just enough to make me sweat.
Seattle 27 - Pittsburgh 20
As the National Anthem plays in Denver, I wanted to get my picks out there in cyberspace:
Superbowl Extra-Large will feature: Pittsburgh and Seattle - and I sincerely hope Holmgren earns another ring.
Let's play boys!
I've been meaning to post this one for awhile now . . a week or so ago, we let YaYa take a princess video into her school to watch at 'rest time'. I asked her about it on the ride home from school.
Me: So how did your class like the video?
YaYa: They liked it a lot.
Me: They were impressed, huh?
after a moment . .
YaYa: No . . they were Kayla and Catrina.
No, as a matter of fact I don't sit around with a book in my hands and my feet up at work . . well, not often :)
Okay, humor aside, that happens not at all, despite the tongue in cheek comment Alphawoman left on my last post. Let me tell you though, for years that was the best part of working 3rd shift. There were hours were you had nothing to do but read.
Heck, at my interview the woman that hired me told me to bring a book along on my first day.
That being said, I have read a whole bunch lately. Once my library card was clear, all bets were off. I've taken to reading at night before bed, in my favorite room of the house (the bathroom), and on break at work.
It helps that I read fast (duh), but this also follows my usual m.o. of binge and purge. With books I'll go over the top and read everything an author has done, or everything on a single subject - then toss it away in disgust and not approach that author/subject for years.
Today, I finished The Closers by Michael Connelly, another in his famous Harry Bosch series. Connelly, in most people's opinion, is a master of the mystery genre. I more or less agree. My criticisms however, has always been that he does make you suspend your disbelief like no one else - which means that afterwards you stare at a hole in the plot and wonder how you enjoyed the book at all. . .
I didn't get that feeling with The Closers. It had a tight(er) plot, realistic action, and the fine writing style that is Connelly's trademark. Worth a look, and a nice book to start off your addiction to Harry Bosch.
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Howdy folks - it looks like my wife's cousin DeLaura was the 30,000th visitor. Sadly, she doesn't have a blog to promote, but a hearty thanks to her anyway . .
I just knocked off two more books in the last few days, both prose sequels to the Tom Hanks movie Road to Peridition, which began life as a graphic novel.
Both Road to Purgatory and Road to Paradise take up the story of Michael O'Sullivan Jr, the boy who accompanied his father on a bloody path of revenge against the Capone era mob. Whereas in the movie the boy forsakes all violence and boasts that he never held a gun again (which I thought odd at the time, given that WWII was right around the corner), in the books he follows his father's path into the mob, albeit with a hitch I won't give away.
Like his father, Michael is a s**t kicker, a man who can be perfectly calm one second and an unstoppable killing machine the next. There's no doubt he's the son of the man once called "The Angel of Death" - heck, in the Pacific he earns the Medal of Honor for single-handedly killing 50 Japanese soldiers in a cold-blooded frenzy.
Purgatory follows him from the war to his apprenticeship in the Frank Nitti mob through Nitti's 'suicide', while Paradise picks up the tale in the '70's, when the 50ish Michael has to account for his past while in the witness protection program.
Max Allan Collins is an underated author who's totally at ease with the printed page. Both books, like his Nathan Heller series, are worth reading. As a slight note of caution, it goes without saying that if violence puts you off, this might not be the ideal reading material for you.
Someone wasn't paying attention, 'cuz the site went over 30,000 in the last 24 hours and it went unheralded.
If you have the screenshot - or even if you don't - drop me a line at slapinions@aol.com and let me give you the credit you deserve.
By the way, a new Tom Selleck movie based on a book by Robert B Parker premieres tonight on CBS. Take a look and support my favorite author.
Last week, courtesy of a tidy little commission I earned at work, I paid off the fines on my library card.
The results for that fine institution? Imagine keeping Babe Ruth on the bench for a year - then handing him a bat with a 50 year old scrub on the mound.
I have single-handedly raised their stats to the point where the mayor can’t touch their budget next year.
Happily, this all occurred when the planets were aligned: I’d just decided I needed to force myself to unwind at night, and my wife - normally only a voracious magazine and web reader - decided to binge on a bunch of books herself.
I have two stacks of books in my bedroom, each one 8 or 9 high, featuring most of the books I listed in a previous post. (one good thing about not having a library card for awhile; all the books I’ve been dying to read are now old news and sitting on the shelf).
I’m itching to get to Knife of Dreams by Robert Jordan, but because it’s a three-week rental, I’ve been busy polishing off the 7-day items.
Because I value my audience, as I know you value every single letter I type, I thought I’d give ya a short little review of the books I’ve finished.
Consider this Amazon-lite.
The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova - overall, an impressive debut. A young girl finds an old book in her father’s library. Otherwise blank, it’s pages feature a dramatic woodcut of a dragon - and the word “Drakulya”.
From this point, three storylines emerge: the tragic 1930 adventures of her father’s mentor as he hunted the apparently very much (un)alive Vlad the Impaler, her father’s tale as he followed in his footsteps, and the daughter’s quest to locate her now-missing father.
It’s a long book at more than 600 pages, and I walked away from it with mixed feelings. The author has talent, and except for brief periods it held my attention until the end, but there are three glaring faults.
At times it read like a travel guide to Eastern Europe, as the characters followed a meandering, tedious quest to locate Drakula’s tomb. You could have cut half the travel out and it still would have been over the top.
Kostova also isn’t the best at dialogue. Who meets a stranger and decides to dump their entire life story on them within minutes? Even if there is such a person, Kostova isn’t skilled enough to pull off constructing pages of oral reminisces that recall details as small as the color of a shirt, seen for a moment forty years back . . .
The last flaw? A tepid, foppish Drakula with all the menace of the Hamburgler.
One Shot by Lee Child - The latest Reacher novel. As usual, Child permanently hooks the reader within only a few paragraphs. Child’s mastered that as well, if not better, than anyone.
There’s always the danger that a character like Reacher will grow stale and predictable. I don’t think that’s happened yet, but I did find the resolution of the mystery a little over the top. It’s hard to elaborate without spoiling the book, but maybe it was a bit too elaborate for it’s own good.
Highly recommended if you’re a Reacher fan, but if this is your introduction to the series, close the book and pick up some of the older ones (but not The Enemy).
School Days by Robert B Parker - a great addition to the Spenser library.
Once upon a time, Parker was mailing the novels in, pasting together clichés and calling them books. And while the plots got thinner, the font size got larger, as if Parker himself didn’t have enough left in the tank to finish the job.
That’s changed.
School Days was great. Not only was the ever-annoying love of his life Susan absent (please, please keep her out of town forever) the plot was interesting enough to keep me turning the page.
Not only was the theme of the book strong - the aftermath of a Columbine-like school shooting- it went beyond the mere ‘facts’ of the case to address the gray nature of good/evil, guilt/innocence.
Spenser is at his best when his cases involve a philosophical examination of his world, and he hit’s a bulls-eye with this one.
Plus, the wise-ass Spenser is laugh-out-loud funny at times. J
Broken Prey by John Sandford - This was another series that I once thought was losing steam.
I felt the book started slow, but quickly picked up the pace and restored my faith in the Prey novels.
Lucas Davenport is investigating a Minnesota serial killer, who, influenced by the ‘Big Three” (three depraved and infamous killers under lock and key at a phyciatric hospital) ravages his victims in a disgusting fashion.
I didn’t see the identity of the murderer coming, and I certainly bought much of the smokescreen Sandford created hook, line, and sinker. Twists and turns abound, and the intelligence of the killer is frightening in and of itself . .
Recommended.
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It is hard to believe, but very soon - possibly even today - this site will reach 30,000 visitors.
(full disclosure: more like 29,600 as I've viewed the site at least 400 times. Whoopdeedoo - I'm not going to celebrate 30,400, for Pete's sake)
Should you be the happy visitor to tip the scales, send me a screen capture and I'll promote your blog and praise your name to the high heavens :)
I'll update later today, with some luck.
Oh man, what a great National Championship game, a classic people will talk about forever!. Vince Young is awesome, a one man wrecking crew!
Despite what I said in the previous post, 1/2 way through the 1st quarter I resented the cocky, too-sure Trojans and became a Texas fan.
I was sooo into the game my hands were shaking like a leaf when Texas was facing a 4th down with ~30 seconds left . .
Congrats to the players and fans of the Longhorns!
Hey, maybe it's just because I don't follow college football much outside the Big Ten, but I really don't have anything against the Trojans of Southern Cal. So I'm not sure what all the fuss is about in Norman Chad's new column.
Who cares? On a weak day he's one of the funniest writers I follow, and with a burr under his saddle he's over the top . . .maybe a little too over the top to be the 'ideal' column to introduce you to him, but what the heck . .
A guy in a bar leans over to the guy next to him and asks, "Wanna hear a USC joke?"
The guy next to him replies, "Well, before you tell that joke, you should know something. I'm 6 feet tall, 200 pounds and I'm a USC graduate. The guy sitting next to me is 6-2, 225 and he's a USC graduate. The fella next to him is 6-5, 250 and he went to USC. Now, you still wanna tell that joke?"
The first guy replies, "Naw, not if I'm gonna have to explain it three times."
