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Monday, September 15, 2008

Ned Yost is Toast

After winning a lousy three games out of 14 midway through September and dragging a 5 1/2 game wildcard lead down to zero, the Brewers dismissed manager Ned Yost today. 

They appointed Dale Sveum as interim manager and I guess they also reassigned bench coach Ted Simmons. I disagree with that part of the deal and think Simmons should have got the nod.

It's an unusual move, firing a manager with twelve games left in the season while you're tied for a playoff spot. But while I've been a Yost-backer for years I have to say I agree with this decision. There's no excuse for their recent play, and small sample size be damned Yost has shown himself to be a manager that fails to 'close' the deal in the fall.

Am I alone in this viewpoint? Obviously not. At work this morning an employee was complaining about her husband's 'childish' reaction to the Brewers double-header loss yesterday. Her husband had boxed up his Brewers memorabilia and threatened to burn it in his backyard.

That's a little extreme, but I defended him. I'm sick and tired of the Brewers and this year in-year out pattern of F*ing with their fan's emotions. We are not Chicago or Boston. With all due respect to those fans I don't think this city can stomach celebrating a century of failure..

And people wonder why I like the Yankees. When they have one season, one season, where they don't play in October their fans act like the sky is falling. Good. It shows they care about winning.

Meanwhile, we have the sausage races.

Win the wildcard and visit the postseason, or for all I care they can pack up and go fill the void in Montreal. We'll still see baseball at Miler Park whenever weather screws up the schedule (a tip of the hat to Zambrano on the no-hitter against Houston here yesterday).

Bleeping Brewers.

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BTW, congrats to my favorite player, Alex Rodriguez, for crossing the 100 RBI mark for yet another season. In 128 games, including some hindered by injury,  he's hit .307/34/100. Yikes, the guy can swing a bat.


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The Last Day at my Childhood Home

When I last talked about my parent's home I mentioned plans to have a last dinner together there with the family. If nothing else it was a very touching thought, as was my obsessive desire to have a final game of catch there with my Dad. Neither one took place.

As the 31st arrived I issued repeated but polite warnings that the move would be difficult. The family had been in the house for 50+ years and the last time my parents had moved was 30 years ago; my sister K had never moved. In contrast I'd moved four times in my first three years on my own, and another two times since then.

"We helped you move," they'd say to refute their lack of experience.As I'm sure you know, that's like saying you know what it's like to have kids because you used to babysit. 'tis not the same thing at all.

Come the 31st both my Dad and I had to work until 2pm, leading to a late start on the day. It was not until 3 that my Dad returned with a rented truck and the fun began.

Lisa loaded up our van repeatedly and took my sister C's items to her apartment, while my nephew and I unloaded an entire truck of furniture to my parent's new place after my Dad showed signs of fatigue. In the process I tore my shorts from belt to hem and was forced to ask passerby's for a safety pin. Finding help lacking, I tied an electrical cord around my leg to hold the garment together - at least until I felt the circulation stop ;)

By evening we were well behind schedule and more and more items appeared from corners unseen for years. This final truckload, compiled mainly of my sister K's items, was destined for storage. It was a decision I argued against (in my mind, paid storage is for the rich or the fool, and no one in between. It seems a worthless sap of resources best spent in the present)

My sister K quit on us early, saying an old injury was acting up. Instead she spent the night directing our efforts. Several times I good naturedly ribbed her about it, because I think the work just overwhelmed her, but to both our credit it did stay good natured, against our traditional yin and yang relationship.

On the other hand my meek and conciliatory sister C went off on me in a foul mouthed tirade. It was worth it for the entertainment value, like seeing a shy person sing karaoke when they're drunk. Priceless.

By ten o'clock I felt it was time to get my Mom moved to the new apartment and so began planning our exit. My sister C asked if I thought they could get more time from the new owners to finish the job. I shook my head. "This place is ours for two more hours only," I said. "When that clock strikes midnight, it's over."

Near the end my Dad pulled me aside and told me to take whatever tools I wanted. These were items handed down from my Great-Grandfather's on both sides. My Dad had hung onto them zealously, and I find it hard to put into words the emotions that ran through me when he made that offer. It was  . . well, it felt like the most sincere 'Love you' I'd heard from him in a long time.

[not that we don't have a good relationship, but most days the man talks less than Smiley]

When I was in the attic a wave of nostaligia took over me. I remembered cleaning the attic with my Dad one night, the radio barking out the play by play of a Big Mac at-bat at the All-Star game. I looked around and realized the new owners had had the roof redone; the wood I was looking at would no doubt stick around for decades to come.

So I left my mark behind.

I began to take my Mother out of the house. "Say goodbye to the house Mom," I said.

"Goodbye house," she said, and I cracked up.

"What?" she said smiling.

"Nothing, nothing. I just didn't expect you to be so literal," I said.

I got her in my van and went back for something or another. My last sight of the house (in our family's possesion) was of a brightly lit downstairs and my Dad sitting on the concrete steps outside.

And then I got in my van and drove away.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Nothing to Lose - A Review

Nothing to Lose is the latest of Lee Child's novels featuring Jack Reacher, an ex-MP turned wanderer. Reacher is forcibly removed from the town of Despair, Colorado on a charge of vagrancy and quickly forms a bond with a female deputy from neighboring Hope. You heard me right - Hope and Despair, one good town, one 'bad'.

I'm not going to beat around the bush. This was awful tripe, a true waste of my time. I was so very bitter when I looked up and saw I was on page 357, with fifty more to go. "Why are you reading it then?", my nephew asked.

"Inertia," I replied.

Lee Child is a hell of a writer. It might seem odd given this mess, but he is. The man can craft a sentence that will make you weep. But that's irrelevant here, like saying a batter has a pretty swing as he goes 0-4.

Forget about the cheesy Hope/Despair thing, which was actually explained cleverly. The plot here is non-existent for most of the novel and then haphazardly latches onto a dastardly deed so ludicrous it wouldn't pass muster on an episode of Voltron. 

Near the end of the book Reacher launches into a strident anti-Iraq War, anti-Washington spiel. You would think that alone would ruin the book for a Republican like me, but you'd be wrong. Child has a right to his goofy opinions, which thankfully are expressed so poorly as to tick off even the leftists he's courting. That's not the problem.

Political rants are fine. Breaching a characters 'self' is not. Reacher's father was a Marine, his Mother a member of the French resistance.He spent 13 years in uniform as an MP. Time and again he has stepped forth as a champion of the military structure and attention to duty.

It is therefore impossible for me to believe that Reacher would abandon all of that, ALL of that, to aid illegal and arguably traitorous activity that is detrimental to the United States military.

I have also had ethical concerns about this series for some time as Reacher descended more and more into caricature. He is now pompous, all-knowing, and apparently invulnerable to attack as he quickly dispatches six men at once in one scene. He burns down a police station for reasons that boil down to nothing more than his own ego and destroys the town police force. He injures a man so severely as to put him near death and shrugs off the wounds.

Throughout the book he comes across as an oversized bully, throwing threats of violence and harassment around, and why? Because he was (correctly) classified as a vagrant and asked to leave town.

I hesitate to even bring up the strident anti-Christian bent of the book. I'm Catholic and put about as much thought into the Book of Revelation as I do the owner's manual of my vacuum cleaner, but I do not appreciate the constant  ridicule of fundamentalist Christians in Child's work.

At one point he dares a preacher to commit suicide and when he does not (duh!) he calls him a coward and a hypocritical non-believer. What f*ed up philosophy is floating in Child/Reacher's head to explain that? Will Child follow up with a book slamming the 'Religion of Peace',  Islam? Let's see if he has the guts for that.

1 star out of 4, 20 out of 100.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Just a little housekeeping

First to baseball. The Brewers have just flat-out sucked this month. By my unofficial count they've won all of *two* games in September and now lead the Wild Card standings by only three games over Philly. Worse yet, we're in the midst of a Phillies series now. They better pull their heads out of their [redacted] and get to winnin'.

Second, Angel pitcher Fransisco Rodriguez (I refuse to call him K-Rod) tied the single season saves record last night. Congrats to him, but if I'm honest I have to say it's one of the most overrated 'records' in baseball. Granted, I'm influenced by sabermetric philosophy on this point, but I think saves themselves are more hype than actual value. There's something wrong with a stat that enables a pitcher to go out to the mound for a single inning with a two run lead, load the bases, bring in one run, load the bases again, and then finally get out of the inning and 'save' the game. Blah.

Since the stat is currently celebrated we should acknowledge the record and tip our hats, but I think in my grandchildren's time closers will be far diminished in perceived value.

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Something that irks me: when an employee's mother or wife or boyfriend calls on their behalf to report in sick, question their timecard, etc. I don't have teenagers working for me. There's no reason any employee should fail to speak for themselves if physically able.

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You'll note that on the sidebar I've placed a McCain logo (cue the boos) and have also chosen to display a graphic from Election Projection regarding the electoral college count. It automatically updates every few days to stay current and I think it'll prove a popular item.

I've linked to EP and a similar site (Current Electoral Vote Predictor) from this page's 'favorites' since 2004. Truthfully, I like the layout and ease of use of  CEVP better and have enjoyed frequenting it since 2000. But while they've always leaned prominently to the left, this time around they've chosen to completely dump impartiality and spew some heavy negative vibes towards anything GOP. Since EP leans right but tries to play it down the middle I chose to go with them (and frankly, never even looked for a similar widget on CEVP).

Have a good day.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

YaYa goes up North for a week

Immediately following summer camp YaYa went up North and spent a week with the family we'd visited for the 4th of July. I freely admit bawling (secretly) the night she left, but the week passed quickly.

Except for a bout of homesickness early on she did fine and spent the week biking, visiting the neighbor's farm, and swimming in the lake.

Translation: Jolene's Home - I was at Jolene's home for a week. Their backyard is a lake. I like to swim in it and their neighbor is a farmer and we go to the farm a lot. We went to the Milky-Wikly [ice cream stand]. Their car has a TV.

Thanks to Jolene and her family for hosting YaYa for the week!

'My' pillows

On this, the seventh anniversary of the 911 attacks, I thought I'd forego the solemn tributes that dominate the day and offer a glimpse of married humor.

Arlo and Janis has long been a favorite comic of mine. Today's strip is stolen right out of our nighttime routine. Lisa is obsessed with 'her' pillows, which include a body pillow and of late 'big fat kitty'. Big Fat Kitty is the stuffed animal LuLu got at the same time YaYa purchased the long-haired cat that I mistakenly shrunk in the dryer. Apparently, he makes quite a good pillow.

Then again, because of a pillow shortage caused by a houseful of guests, I slept with an alligator shaped stuffed animal as a pillow last night.  

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Girl Scout Camp

For a week in July Lisa volunteered for both YaYa and LuLu at the Girl Scout's Camp Silverbrook. Four days out of five it was day camp, with a single nights sleepover (and then only for YaYa and the older Brownies.). I had nothing to do with this event and simply enjoyed the relative quiet while Lisa ran the show.

Everyone at the camp went strictly by nicknames. Lisa became Ruby, YaYa was 'Squirt', and LuLu 'Toto'.
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They did oragami and made ragdolls, swam and did tye-die, and generally just had a blast.
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I can tell you this much: when they came home I was subjected to the sight of Lisa and the girls singing ridiculous songs about bananas and dancing around the front porch. :) I have a feeling they'll be going back next year.

My Grandma's Painting

This is a photo I took of a painting my Grandma did in high school. It won an award at the time (1939 I believe). She was always proud of it and hung it in her house. Anyhow, here it is.

On Football and the Kids

I had third pick in my fantasy football draft, and with the two best running backs gone I'd decided to go with a star quarterback. "Peyton Manning or Tom Brady," I thought to myself. I debated for much of the three minute time limit and then, largely on a whim, chose Peyton and left Brady on the table.

Hee hee. Go Danny. Not that I wanted Brady to break his knee (but not that I'm crying for the Pats either)

Pointless story showcasing the Holy Favre mentality in Wisconsin:

An employee came up to me today and said she'd skipped the Packer game because she hoped they'd 'fall on their as*es' and that Favre would take the Jets deep into the playoffs.

To me, this is like saying you want the U.S. to collapse because Kerry lost in '04. It's about more than just one guy, isn't it?

"The hell with Brett Favre," I said.

She was shocked. "He led us to the Superbowl," she said.

"Yeah, eleven years ago. Whoo-hoo."

"The Packers had no business saying they didn't want him," she continued. "That was lousy of them."

Lousy? To take a man at his word (on retirement) and act accordingly? Like I said yesterday, a large number of people here are rooting against the Pack. It's sacrilege.

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Anyhow, here's some random pics of the kids.

Aaron Rodgers 1, Critics 0

Tonight I hosted the D. family for dinner and the Monday Night Football season opener. Naturally the matchup was Pack-Vikings up in Green Bay. Great game. A sloppy contest, and one where I question the conservative play calling of the Pack, but a great game none-the-less.

Aaron Rodgers had so much to lose tonight. Lots of fools, er, 'people', were just itching for him to screw up so they could mourn Favre and curse the Packers GM. Heck, you know Favre was sitting at home hoping for a Pack loss too, although I'd hope he harbored no ill will for Rodgers. 

Instead Aaron gave them all a solid, no-nonsense game. 18 for 22, 178 yards passing with 1 TD and no interceptions, and 35 yards and a TD rushing. [There was also a great passing TD that was called back on a penalty and does not show in the stats]

The kid can play, and he is cool and calm under pressure. There was a great downfield pass that should be on Sportscenter rotation tomorrow, and after his rushing TD he attempted the Lambeau Leap (pictured above). The sincere affection the crowd showed him was heartwarming.

Is he Steve Young to Farve's Montana? Waaay to early to say, but I'm happy for the guy and proud of his proverbial day in the sun.