Happy Halloween

Sorry for the unoriginal title, but that's just about all I've got to say. Why so taciturn today? Well, I went and had fun this weekend rather than getting ready for this week and now I'm having to play catch up.

Yes, I went to Mary-Tom's (old HS friend) annual Halloween bash again this year. I really debated whether or not I'd go, but then I kept reading (from other bloggers) about how excited some of them were about the holiday and it kind of got me in the spirit. Plus, I read a few accounts of how Halloween is just another example of the evil American plan to take over the world, so I figured, by golly, I'd better take advantage of it.

In reality, M.T.'s party tends to be my kind of affair -- no costumes, food, drink, a bonfire, and a place to crash at the end of the night. What more could you ask for? As evidence of my "advanced age", I mostly behaved myself -- didn't drink too much, remember the whole evening, and didn't have any lingering effects Sunday morning. I did, though, have to contend with a couple of guys trying to set the world record for loudest snoring. Still, it was fun. Oh, Ang, you know who was there? Leslie (freshman year at Ole Miss) and her husband. They have a child now, but he stayed with his grandmother. Hadn't seen her in years. All-in-all it was a fine evening.

Sunday morning in The Tennesseean I saw a story that I'd like to blog about. When I tried to find it today, though, it didn't seem to be there. Hmm, maybe I can work on that for tomorrow.

In the meantime I'll leave you with yet another example of a what's the world coming to story. I'm not a big Halloween person, but if you like it then go all out. Still, I think it's a little tacky (that's Southern for gauche) when you try to use Halloween as a call for breast feeding. Don't these people have lives?

More book blogging

WARNING: LONG POST!

Okay, I seem to have hit on something people like to comment on. Good. It's more fun when y'all give feedback. Hence, today I will revisit the issue to address some points brought up in yesterday's comments.

First, some commenters seemed to think I was criticizing people who read popular books. Not at all. That's how books get popular -- people read them. I don't have enough time or knowledge to find out about and analyze every book that comes out. I have to rely on the suggestions of others. I do that by listening to the general buzz, checking out bestseller lists, looking at the "also bought/viewed" selections on Amazon, reading book reviews, or just listening to friends' recommendations (more on that later). I find absolutely nothing wrong with this as a method of selecting reading material. I do think you're likely to miss out on some good stuff if you only use one source, but we all have to narrow our choices somehow.

Second, Vol Abroad talks about the fact that she often has more than one read going at once. I think most serious readers often do this. Which book do I read when? Well it often depends on the environment. If I were riding the tube (believe it or not, we don't have a tube here in Decatur), I figure I'd take the latest Robert Crais or Elmore Leonard rather than Public Choice III or the latest Haruki Murakami. While all these books would interest me (probably) and I'd like to read each, I figure Murakami would lose something in such a setting. Would it make me look "smarter" if I read Public Choice III while eating dinner at CiCi's Pizza? Yes. But I wouldn't get the same enjoyment (yes, I would enjoy that book) from it.

As an aside, this actually comes up fairly often with me. Being a single guy, I eat a lot of meals alone. I'll blog another day on which restaurants I will and will not go to alone, but I often end up as a party of one. Given my addiction to reading, I keep a "car book" in the car at all times for just such an occasion. Now choosing a car book is not as easy as one might think, but I'll blog on that some other time as well. By the way, science fiction does not make a good car book as that immediately marks you as the weird Trekie guy who probably lives with Mom and spends his weekends at SciFi or comic book cons. Now I like to think I don't care a whit for what others think, but there are limits. Besides, given my weirdo magnet, I really can't run the risk of attracting other SciFi types. Please, no angry comments from SciFi fans. I read some SciFi, I'm just not that taken with it. It seems like it's a hard genre to do well and if it's not done well, then it's just silly.

Sometimes the choice of reading material is not based on the concentration level required. Vol also seems to indicate that she sometimes has a trash book that she would not want to read in public. I, too, have been guilty of that. Though not as bad as the time I got caught at a summer job reading one of the Longarm books [Really, I found it in the boat dock shack where I was forced to sit 12 hours a day and there was absolutely nothing else to read, I promise!], I will admit that I sometimes read a book that I don't relish taking out in public. Unlike Vol, I'll fess up to an example. To shorten this as much as possible (really, I'm trying), about 6 months ago I found myself in possession of See Jane Date -- the story of a singleton female in the big city dealing with the shame and hardship of being unwed. This is a common theme in the "chick lit" genre, but some of them are well written and enjoyable. I read the book and it turned out to be about what I expected. Still, I wasn't eager to run around showing everyone that I was reading even more "girly books" (see the coffee shop post). Though I know "there's nothing wrong with that", I just didn't take that book out in public. So, yet again, I too am guilty of book snobbery. I don't like it, but it is true.

Melusina's comment really describes my utopia of reading habits. "I'll read what I want to read, whenever I want to read. And I'll read it in public if I have cause to." This is pretty much my philosophy for choosing reading material and locations for reading. I would, though, be a little dishonest if I didn't admit to having a little bit of the book snob in me. Confession is good for the soul, no?

Finally, I'll wrap this up with a brief mention of a couple of good book suggestions I've benefited from of late. Back when I first started blogging, Vol suggested that I read The Price of Loyalty. Though I don't have a good story about the book, as she does, I thought it was well worth my time and I do endorse the book. The other recommendation, though, flat knocked me out.

I heard a lot of positive buzz about The Time Traveler's Wife, the most compelling from my friend, and commenter, Ang, but I had been slow to read it. This was one of my QPB books from a while ago, but I got sidetracked by the wonderful thesaurus. Anyway, I finally read it and I was AMAZED! The highest praise I can give it: I stayed up until 2:00 a.m. this morning to finish it. Yes, my discussion of long run aggregate supply and the monetarist theory of inflation likely suffered a bit this morning, but it was worth it. Wow!

I'll probably do a full review later, but I have to share a couple of thoughts. This simply is a wonderful book. The writing may not be outstanding, but it just works. The premise is that Henry randomly drops in and out of time. Plus, he has this really odd and confusing habit of dropping in on Clare, his (future) wife, from the time she is 6 until she turns 18. This has the unusual consequence that from 6 to 18 she worships him as this "all knowing" grownup from the future, but when they finally do meet in real life the tables are turned. She knows all about him and he's never met her (all his visits were from when he's older). Yeah, you have to stop and think a minute. If you've ever read a SciFi time travel book you know that it's hard to pull off. Though I think I'm as critical as most any reader (don't get me started), I did not find a "time inconsistency" (no, not the macroeconomic policy version) anywhere in the story. There's still one little episode I'm not 100% sure about, but I'll have to go back and check it out again. Still, I was incredibly surprised that Audrey Niffenegger was able to make time travel work, apparently without a hitch.

Beyond just the technical aspects of time travel, she also wrote a pretty darned good story. I never lost interest in the characters and I didn't end up identifying more with Henry or Clare. Furthermore, if I weren't such a manly man, I'd have been bawling at the end. Seriously, folks, if you haven't done so, read this book now!

P.S. Speaking of manly men, a "little bird" told me not to knock men who knit as her daddy is a FINE knitter. I am casting no stones at Mr. G, I just don't think I'll be joining him on this one.
P.P.S. The coffee shop woman told me this morning she'd found a man who DOES, in fact, knit -- her hairdresser. Case closed!

Book snobs

I'll admit it, right up front, I'm a book snob. Da Vinci Code -- trash! James Patterson books -- drivel! Though I'm sure I have been guilty of both sins I'm going to rant about, most of the time I have read a book (or at least other works by the same author) before I trash it. Now to my rant ...

According to this story in The Guardian, book snobbery is the new "black". That is:

Books are the new snobbery, ... Social competitiveness about which titles we read has become one of the new mass forces of the era and only middle-aged people are relatively free of it.

Okay, lots of folks have accused me of being "born old", but I really don't think I'm middle-aged, am I? Anyway, according to the story, more than one-in-three consumers in the London-area survey admitted to buying a book "solely to look intelligent." Yes, statements such as, "Bookshelf contents are fast becoming as studied and planned as outfits as a way to impress others," do reflect a certain amount of snobbery, but I don't think it's a bad thing if folks are buying and READING certain books because they are perceived as intelligent. That's how a little thing called learning occurs. No, what bugs me is the rest of the story:

Yet the results indicate that "reading" is a relative term. When asked about specific titles, only one in 25 people turn out to have read the novel chosen as the best in the Booker prize's 25-year history, Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children - and half these had failed to finish it.

Only one in 100 had read Andrew Levy's Small Island, picked earlier this month as the best of all Orange prize winners. Not a single reader had yet opened this month's Booker winner, John Banville's The Sea.

Other strongly publicised titles endorsed by literary panels fare only slightly better. One in 20 members of the public has read Zadie Smith's White Teeth and only one in 25 Yann Martel's Life of Pi or Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist.

Furthermore:

Some consumers hedge their bets by keeping two titles on the go - one an impressive book to show other people, the other an escapist work to enjoy.

C'mon folks, we're not sheep! If you're reading something just because others are reading it, well that's trendy but at least you're READING. If, though, you simply buy the book to look intelligent, then you're just killing trees and wasting money!

This whole thing reminded me of an experiment the Wall Street Journal , I think, ran back when the John Adams biography was such a runaway hit. The way I remember this, they went to various bookstores in town and put a certificate that could be redeemed for $20 (or maybe it was the full cost of the book) at their offices. They put these certificates toward the end of the book and I assume they were inserted in such a way that they wouldn't accidentally fall out. Anyway, the point of the experiment was to see just how many people were reading this book that everyone was buying. The story I read was written a good long while (6 months? a year?) after the book hit the shelves to much acclaim and they had yet to have a single certificate redeemed!

In a way such behavior really disappoints me. I take books and reading very seriously and it pains me to see books treated as fashion accessories. On the other hand, I'm sure this is not just a modern trend. I'd be willing to wager a few minas (I had to look that one up) that the ancients walked around with unread copies of Antigone rolled up under their arms. I know the behavior of others should not bug me, but it does. One day I'll learn to let such things go.

Of course I do recognize that this book snobbery cuts the other way as well. I'm sure lots of folks would not deign to read The Da Vinci Code just because it was so popular with the masses. Now I'm not a huge fan of pop culture and I do tend to be skeptical of the latest hot book, but at least I read them before coming to such judgments. I was reminded of this while talking to my cousin, Chris, at the family's 4th of July get together. Chris is a PhD candidate in English or Lit or not sure what exactly they call it at Purdue. Somehow Da Vinci came up and I gave him my take on the book [not positive -- too predictable, lots of confusing detail that served no purpose, and an ending that really invalidated the whole life-and-death mission of the book!]. He said he was glad to have an outside perspective because all his friends soundly denounced the book, yet none of them had read it. News flash guys -- that's just as bad as buying "smart books" and not reading them.

Regardless, I like the article's close:

"We seem to have lost sight of the fact that reading a book should be a personal, enjoyable and relaxing experience, not one dictated by social pressure."

I think that sums it up rather well.

Hat Tip to Marginal Revolution.

Coffee shop happenings

Given my blogging name, it should come as no surprise that I happen to like coffee and coffee shops. Two quick notes:

1. I like COFFEE, not sweet, frothy, whip cream topped drinks with a splash of coffee in them. No, I like coffee.
2. I like coffee SHOPS, not coffee SHOPPES. I remember a Dave Barry column from long ago where he proposed a "superfluous E tax" meant to penalize those who insist on naming a coffee shop something like Ye Olde Towne Coffee Shoppe -- though they do have good coffee there.

Now back to the story. This morning I was at my favorite local coffee shop, Java Jaay's. Java Jaay's has its collection of regulars and one of them is the mother/mother-in-law of the owners. I've gotten to know her a bit as she is there most mornings waiting for the arrival of her grandkid (she keeps the little girl during the day) and she now knows that I have no interest in things like home decoration or ironing my clothes or lots of other things that some people (sorry, but especially females) find interesting.

Anyway, this morning the mother tells me that I'm going to have to start showing up a little earlier in the morning because she and another regular are going to start learning to knit. Yes, I told her, that's just what I need to add to my life -- a single guy, with cats, who can knit. Yep, that'd work out real well. I'm pretty sure she was kidding about this, but she did seem to think that it might NOT be such a turn off for women because then they'd see that I was in touch with my feminine side -- you know, a sweet, sensitive man.

Those of you who know me well will immediately know why I rolled around the floor laughing helplessly when she said that. The last thing I need (if I were on the prowl for a wife) is another sweet, sensitive factor. I've been fighting that label my whole life! [Yes, Ang, feel free to throw in your comments on this.] It's the kiss of death. My friend, Nathan, and I used to have a whole "bit" about the fatality of the "sweet" label. Many's the time I've been (jokingly, I think) marked as a gay man due to my sensitivity and just how much I am in touch with my feminine side.

As my department secretary told me the other day, ... She'd been having a conversation with a friend about good "chick lit" to read when she realized all her recommendations were books I'd let her borrow. A pair of sisters I used to hang out with reached the same conclusion when they learned I'd read the Bridget Jones books and I could converse about other books in the genre. They eventually, and reluctantly, concluded, though, that I could not in fact be a gay man because I just didn't have the wardrobe or the fashion sense -- I think the lack of ironing really was the deciding factor -- to pull it off.

To get back to the woman in the coffee shop ... Once I got over my fit of laughter, I got to thinking about it from her perspective. She might not immediately know that I'm well stocked with sensitivity. All she sees is a guy who doesn't shave every day, never irons his clothes, and has a serious jones for coffee and newspapers. Hmm, I can see now how she might think a little knitting would be good for me. Sorry, not going to happen -- though I did hurt my manly image by knowing that a big wad of knitting yarn is called a skein. Damnit!

Milking it

This one is so easy, I started not to even mention it, but I found I couldn't resist. Major League Baseball is pissed at the California dairy folks! I'm sure you've heard about it, but in case you haven't ...

The CA milk guys are running "got milk" ads about fictional players who have been caught using a "performance enhancing" substance that will help regenerate muscles, build stronger bones, etc. Of course the substance is milk, but the ads are eerily similar to player and coach reactions to steroid allegations. My favorite is the "Never Poured" one in which a scrawny little guy is proud of the fact that he's never poured (i.e., taken milk). Furthermore, he maintains that there is no link between his refusal to "milk up" and the 7 year slump he's in. Heck, they even have one ad where a former player admits that he used to pour for another guy in the locker room before the game. They may not be the funniest spots ever, but they are amusing -- especially the way they mimic the actual reactions around MLB.

Now I understand why MLB might not be a big fan of bringing attention to the steroid scandal, but their reaction is a bit over the top.

"There is nothing humorous about steroid abuse," said Tim Brosnan, executive vice president for business for the league. "I would think that the California Milk Processor Board and their advertising agency would know better regarding an issue that threatens America's youth."

C'mon, guys, lighten up. Geez! Not only is this a huge overreaction, but it's bound to draw even more attention to the whole ad campaign. For instance, I'd probably never have heard about it if not for MLB's disproportionate reaction. Actually, I'm ashamed to admit that I heard about the whole thing from someone in Greece! Greece, you say? Yep, Mel, over at Mel's Diner brought this to my attention. Part of the reason I haven't blogged on it earlier is that I really didn't think I could add anything to her take. As I said earlier, though, it just kept calling to me and I had to throw my 2 cents in. By the way, I'm still not completely over the fact that I got scooped on this all the way from Greece. I may have to take out one of my B's. Thanks Mel.

Anyway, MLB's reaction shows just how out of touch they are. Anyone want to venture a guess why? I vote for ... ANTITRUST EXEMPTION! Yep, MLB still has that exemption which allows them to act as a "legal monopoly". [BTW, got to be one of the top 10 worst SCOTUS decisions ever!] As such, they can disregard a lot of the competitive market pressure that other sports must deal with. Think the NFL would do something so stupid? No. C'mon MLB, give up the exemption. It's not only the right thing to do, but it'll be in your own long-term interest. Which sport has the strongest players' union? Baseball. Why is the baseball union so strong? I'm sure there are lots of reasons, but one (in my opinion) is that the union knows it has MLB by the "short hairs". If they pushed it, the union knows it could get Federal Baseball Club v National League overturned. Furthermore, MLB knows this. Hence, MLB caves to the union again and again in order to keep them from pushing the antitrust thing. If MLB would just give up the exemption, they'd take away one of the union's strongest bargaining chips. Make sense? Does to me.

So, how should've MLB responded? Well, they could have taken a cue from Jeff Goodby, co-founder of the ad agency that came up with the spots. "It's just milk," Goodby said.

Yep, it's just milk. C'mon MLB. If you really want to worry about something that might tarnish the image of your sport, why don't you look into the horrible umpiring that has gone on in this year's playoff games? Huh, how about that? Grrrr!

Lo mein and kismet

One of my very favorite things in life is a good plate of Chinese food, especially the spicy stuff. At the end of a meal, though, there is the issue of the fortune cookie. There are lots of clever little things to do with the fortunes (e.g., add "in bed" to the end of your fortune), but I'd like to think I'm more mature than that. I usually take a bite of the cookie (most of the time it's awful), read my fortune, and then go on with my day.

Lately, though, I've had a couple of disturbing fortune cookie experiences that have led me to question whether I can continue to eat Chinese food. Yes, I could eat the food and throw away the cookie, but that just seems like cheating. Regardless, ...

Recently, the lunch crowd went to Canton House. When I got my fortune cookie at the end of the meal, I was told, "Someone you recently met will play an important role in your life." I'm used to fortune cookies that don't really give fortunes. You know, they're more adages than fortunes -- an ill wind blows no good, a happy life is its own reward, stuff like that. This, though, seemed a little more direct. Someone I recently met will play an important role in my life! What's that about? Had I met anyone new recently? Is this a female someone? Is this a romantic role or a professional role or just what kind of role?

Wait, a little more info is needed here. As I mentioned yesterday, this is my favorite time of the year. Fall is the one time of the year when I most regret not having a significant other. It just seems like a romantic time of the year. Anyway, all that was playing into my projection of significance onto this fortune cookie. Think about it; "Someone you recently met will play an important role in your life," is just so full of possibility. No, I do not put any real faith in the ability of a slip of paper in a cookie to foretell the future, but it was just so darned optimistic. It got me to thinking and I did hold onto that fortune, just in case. I mean it'd make a great story if it turned out to be true.

So I kept the fortune, but I'd pretty much forgotten about it until I went to Tuscaloosa last Friday. Though I was disappointed in the overall trip, I figured I'd take the opportunity to go eat at Trey Yuen (my all-time favorite Chinese restaurant). Sure enough, that helped lessen the sting of the snafu at the lecture, but then I got my fortune cookie. Before I looked at it, I remembered the positive vibe I got from the last fortune. Though I put no faith in the cookies, I was curious to see just what sort of direction I'd get from this one. So, I opened the wrapper, extracted the cookie, broke it in half, and took a bite (I don't know why or who, but someone once told me you're supposed to take a bite before reading the fortune. Though I have no reason to believe that is true, I always do it. It's like Kelly Palamino in Sex and Sunsets. At some point he made the statement that one should always put on the right shoe first and I've been stuck doing that ever since. I'm very susceptible to suggestion.) Anyway, back to the fortune cookie ...

I extricated the fortune from the cookie and I read:
Being an able man there are always.
That was it. No more. I was crushed. What was I to do with such a fortune? There are always WHAT? Besides, I wouldn't really describe my self as an able man. I'm pretty much useless unless you need help with some academic matter or you just need a strong back to help lift something. Sigh, I was greatly disappointed.

Though I have recovered, somewhat, I don't know that I can face the vagaries of fortune cookies any longer. Hence, I think I'll just have to eliminate that from my diet. I'm gonna' miss ya' Mongolian beef. Hey, anybody wanna' go get a taco?

Brrr, it's getting chilly

I absolutely LOVE the recent change in the weather! This is my very favorite time of the year. There is a chill in the air, the leaves are turning and/or falling, the whole world seems to be on the brink of change, battening the hatches before winter. Yep, I love it.

I am, though, a little concerned for the porch kitty in the coming months. I prepared him a sleeping box (as insulated as I could make it) and put it out on the porch, but I doubt he'll use it. Given his nature, I can't see him voluntarily being trapped in such a confined space. Still, if it gets cold enough ...

So anyway, I was on my way to work on this glorious 42-degree morning when I saw an amazing sight. I guess because of warm water and cold air, the TN River had a glorious coating of fog this morning. What was cool about it, though, is that the fog wasn't uniform. Instead, it looked as if someone had dotted little individual clumps of fog across the river. Viewed from above, it looked like a bunch of fluffy polka dots on the water. I immediately pulled into the marina and tried to capture the effect in a picture. Alas, it did not work. I'm not sure how effective my cheap little camera is at capturing fog patterns, but the biggest problem was that I was at water level rather than looking down from above. I really wanted the shot, but not enough to walk out onto the bridge to take the picture. Oh well, here's what I got.

That's all for today. Tomorrow I'll discuss my an issue that has been weighing heavily on me -- whether I can continue to eat Chinese food. I would get into it today, but I left the fortune cookies at home and I really have to get the wording just right.

Condi and Jack

Well, I made the trip to Tuscaloosa to see Condi and Jack. I can sum up the event in one word -- but I don't like to curse in my blog. The event was a disaster! When I told others I was going, I kept telling them that I couldn't believe this was just an open to the public, first come first served. Though I understand why they would not charge for the event, I thought they should have had some sort of rationing system for admission. As I suspected, there was a huge demand for the event and, of course, lots of people canceled classes so their students could go. It was doomed from the outset.

According to the announcement, the doors would open at 10:00 and the event would start at 11:00. I left home before 8:00 and got there a little before 10:00. As I approached the Bryant Conference Center, I started to get worried. There were cars parked everywhere, though I truthfully didn't know if they were there for the lecture or the football game on Sat. As I drove by the building, though, my question was answered. More than an hour ahead of time, there was a queue around 3 sides of the building! I found a parking space and gamely waited with everyone else. I know my trip down there was a sunk cost, but I figured I'd wait it out and give it a shot. Heck, I'd even shaved and put on a jacket and tie. Yeah, I knew I didn't have to do that, but it just seemed like the thing to do when going to see exalted personages. Fortunately, I'd also brought along a book -- okay, it was a book on the history of the Federal Reserve System, but it was better than nothing.

So, anyway, around 10:00 the line did start to move -- slowly. I assume security was the holdup. At least my little part of the line did get to see the cavalcade of black vehicles being escorted into the back of the conference center. I've never seen such dark tint on windows! The coolest thing, though, was that some of the big SUVs had their windows rolled down with security agents turned sideways, kneeling on the seats, scanning the crowd. It looked just like the movies. They were all young, muscled, and dressed in dark suits. I don't know why, but it was kind of cool.

As 11:00 approached, though, we were still a good way from the door. Mumbles and rumors starting going through the line. Finally we got the official word -- the auditorium was full, but we could get tickets that would allow us to watch the lecture as it was simulcast on some big screen monitors in another part of the conference center. I felt ripped off, but not everyone even had that option. Many couldn't even get into that.

The whole thing just smacked of poor planning. If they were going to have such a high profile event and make it open to the public, then I think they should have had it in a larger venue (e.g., Coleman Coliseum). I guess security might have been a problem, but I think they should have chosen one or the other -- either move it to a larger hall or somehow limit admission. It was ludicrous that folks who waited that long in line did not get into the lecture itself or even the TV room! Heck, I could have stayed home and just watched the lecture on the the internet after the fact. The whole thing was poorly done.

As for the lecture itself, ... Condi seemed very poised, though she was hamstrung by having to parrot the company line. I would much rather have seen her make her own speech on issues of interest. She did manage to throw in some humor and local color, but it just seemed that most anyone from the administration could have delivered her speech. She did, however, loosen up a bit in the Q&A session afterwards. Her best moment was when a young lady asked what advice she'd have for young people today thinking of going into politics and running for office. She let Jack take the question because, "He's actually run for office, I never have." I realize out of context that's not much of a line, but given the move to draft Condi as the GOP's next candidate I thought it was quite clever. Jack Straw, on the other hand, came off quite well in his prepared remarks and the Q&A. I thought his speech was much better than Condi's, though again, I feel she was limited in what she could say.

Oh, I forgot the protesters! Of course there was a protest, but given that this was in Tuscaloosa, AL, the protest was pretty pathetic. A group of young folks in hippie attire were stationed across the street. I applaud their willingness to stand up and speak their minds, but I got the feeling they were parrots too. Of course they had signs -- NO BLOOD FOR OIL, BUSH LIED, STOP IMPERIALISM, etc -- but I didn't see or hear anything original from them either. Unfortunately, they chose to push things too far, in my opinion. To drum up support for the protest, the leader printed up some flyers. According to an article (reg. req.) in the Tuscaloosa News, some of them had a caricature of Dr. Rice with the tag line, "I'm fighting for Whitey." Now why do folks have to go there? Can't you protest the Bush administration's foreign policy without resorting to that stuff? I found that flyer hard to square with the woman's comment that she wanted "for people to know there are progressive people on campus."

By the way, I hate "progressive" as a political label. Back when I was at UAH, Pres. Franz liked to talk about the "progressive" members (meaning they wanted to give higher ed more money) of the AL legislature. I don't think he and the protest woman have the same definition of progressive. It reminds me of the famous Inigo Montoya line in The Princess Bride, "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

Oh, on the way home I listened to a talk radio program. I promise, I don't usually do that, but I wanted to hear what folks were saying about Condi's visit. The consensus seemed to be that it was a trial balloon for her candidacy in 2008. One guy, though, just took the cake. He called up to talk about how there was no way white folks in AL would vote for her. I suspect that he is right about some white folk in AL and maybe a larger percentage than I'd like to think. I do not, though, agree with his estimate of 70%. Of course he insisted that he was NOT one of that 70%. When the host asked him, though, if he'd vote for her, this guy said no, but not because she's black. No, the biggest problem he has with her is that she's not married! Can you believe that? He claimed that if Condi were a white woman, everyone would be saying she's a lesbian. Why the white/black thing matters for whether she's a lesbian I don't know, but what really amazed me was that this clod thought saying he wouldn't vote for her because she's never been married was a more palatable statement than saying he wouldn't vote for her because she's black! What the ...?

Okay, that's about it. I enjoyed the lecture, though I wish the remarks had been less scripted. I came away impressed with Condi as a public presence, but I really felt Jack Straw did a better job on the whole. I know nothing of his domestic (UK) politics, but he played okay in AL.

Random thoughts

My beloved Cardinals lost last night. Alas. No more discussion is needed.

Also, I saw a disturbing item in this morning's Decatur Daily. An elderly woman was fleeced in a foreign lottery scam. You all know the routine. Someone called her and told her she'd won $4.8 million in the Canadian lottery, but to clear up all the paperwork, she'd have to send them some money. Over the next six months she sent them $36,000 and now her bank account is empty, yet she never did get her $4.8 million. [Was it supposed to be C$ or U.S.$?]

I know the elderly are vulnerable to these scams; heck my grandmother was once CONVINCED that she really had won the Publisher's Clearing House sweepstakes because it said so right there on her envelope. Still, I don't see how this scam continues to succeed. Didn't this woman realize she'd never purchased a ticket in the Canadian Lottery? Also, they asked her to use an alias on the wire transfers in order to keep her winnings secret.

This last tidbit led LeJuan George, an official with the BBB of N AL, to say:

Anyone asking you to use an alias in a transaction should serve as a red flag that you are being scammed.

Thanks Mr. George.

The next thing from today's paper may be controversial. Okay, on reflection, I see that there's no good way for me to present this argument, so I guess I'll wimp out and just give you the condensed version. Blogging really makes me think about things like this. I'd hate to have my words floating around the web come back to haunt me later if someone were to claim that I'm in favor of sex offenders. That's not at all what I was goint to write, but ...

Today's Daily has a story about how the Sheriff's Office website now allows you to type in an address and see all the sex offenders living within one mile. I understand why people want to take all reasonable measures to protect the children, but remember 1984, The Crucible, and the Amirault case in Massachusetts? I guess my point is that we should be careful in our attempts to establish a safe society.

Actually the Sheriff's Office thing reminded me of another big brother issue I just ran across -- Google Earth. Do y'all know about Google Earth? It's a program that you can download and then see zoomed in street-level images of almost any spot on Earth. You can even do this by address. A couple of disclaimers. First, not all areas have good images. My address, for instance, shows up as a blob of green trees. True we do have lots of trees in my neighborhood, but I think they just don't have good, detailed images for my street yet. Just a few streets away, though, you can get a pretty good shot, even zoomed in close enough to see details. For instance, I did find my previous house up on the mountain in Huntsville. It was a little blurry when I zoomed in close, but I could make out details -- the garage next to my house, the little well house behind the house, the little clearing across the road where I buried Ozzie (my beloved cat), etc. I also checked on the addresses of some of my readers (even some in other countries) and it was kind of freaky.

I don't want to go all Unibomber, but maybe technology is just going a little too far. Yep, I'm thinking I'll go practice my Morse code and dust off my abacus and get ready for a return to the simple life. I wonder if the Amish will accept me? Oh well, y'all shouldn't be surprised about this from a guy who doesn't have a cell phone.

Tomorrow is my trip to Tuscaloosa. I'm sure I'll report on that next week.

P.S. Speaking of The Crucible, check out Salem Possessed. I haven't read the more up-to-date books on the subject, but stuff like this is why I love studying economics. We can make anything an economic question, if one properly understands the meaning of economics.

Sec. of State or VP?

Hmm, looks like my trip Friday might be a chance to see the Vice Pres rather than the Sec of State, at least according to Drudge and perhaps U.S. News. Personally, I thought they'd do this before the 2004 election. I never understood why they didn't.

Need reading material?

Okay, I'm really rushed today as I need to get all my work done here at the office so I can devote my full attention to GAME SIX tonight. Go Cards!

Anyway, because of the time crunch, today I'm going to shamelessly steal from The Vol Abroad. Yesterday she pointed the way to Time Magazine's list of the 100 Best English-Language Novels from 1923 to the Present. Looking over the list, I was surprised by a few things.

1. First, I thought it was a pretty good list. It didn't go too far off the deep end with obscure works, though there were some of those. No, it really did seem to be a list of what is generally considered the best of English-language lit over the past 80-odd years, with some curves thrown in. Of course, one could quibble ...
2. One thing I did notice, though, was that some authors were over-represented. For instance, I really don't see why you need 2 Philip Roth books on there (for that matter, why was American Pastoral chosen at all?). Same thing with Thomas Pynchon -- though I speculate this was a bogus choice all around as I don't believe anyone ever had the wherewithal to make it through TWO Pynchon novels!
3. Something I did like about the list is that it tended to disregard hot books that have not yet stood the test of time. The glaring exception to this, in my opinion, is The Corrections. I thought that was one of the most overrated books I've ever read, yet it made the list. Oh well, no one is perfect.
4. The best thing about the list is that it attempted to strike a balance between acknowledged classics and underrated works. For instance, two hard-boiled detective books rightfully made the list -- The Big Sleep, by Raymond Chandler and Red Harvest, by Dashiell Hammett. The Chandler choice is far and away his best work, but I'm a bit surprised they chose Red Harvest over the better know Maltese Falcon. Either, though, is a fine choice.

Since this is a best of list, I feel I have to grumble a bit. Hmm, let me think on that a minute ... Okay, off the top of my head I see a few glaring shortcomings. First, I was disappointed in the absence of Ellen Gilchrist, though I really don't know that she should make the top 100. Wait, the list is for NOVELS and Ellen's best work is in short stories. Okay, I can leave her off with a clear conscience. Here are two, though, that I am significantly troubled by:

1. The Prince of Tides -- the book, not the movie. This is one of the finest novels ever. The use of language and description is perfect and it has big, meaty themes. I could see leaving it off if one was going to concentrate only on venerable classics, but several of the books on the list are newer than P of T. Final verdict -- no excuse.
2. Nothing by Larry McMurtry? My personal favorite is All My Friends Are Going to Be Strangers, though there are many to choose from -- Lonesome Dove, Last Picture Show, ... Yes, I know these are popular novels, but the list didn't seem to shy away from that. Final verdict -- maybe excusable.
3. Oh, I just noticed the total lack of Edith Wharton and Henry James! How can that be? Hang on a sec ... Okay, I just checked. This makes sense due to the start date of 1923. Final verdict -- my bad.

So, those are my thoughts. Feel free to chime in if you'd like to suggest ones to drop or add.

Oh me-o my-o won't you look at miss ohio

I've tried to avoid the whole Toledo mess because it seems to have turned into a racial squabble and once that happens no lessons are learned. Still, I feel that I have to speak out about what I find to be the most troubling aspect of the whole thing -- the fact that the rioters won!

Think about the lesson this sends: If I don't agree with you, all I have to do is threaten or engage in violence and the government will withdraw your right to speak and I'll win. Does anyone else suspect this same strategy will be adopted the next time a controversial issue arises in Toledo? I sure do.

Now I think most people (not all, but most) would agree that the neo-nazi movement is despicable and morally bankrupt. Still, if you have free expression and free speech, you can't say, "No, you can't speak because we don't like what you have to say." I know it's simplistic, but that's the way it is -- at least in my (and most courts') opinions. Yet this lesson seems to be lost on the folks in Toledo.

Much of the anger boiled over because people were upset that city leaders were willing to allow the supremacists to walk through the neighborhood and shout insults, residents and authorities said.

"You can't allow people to come challenge a whole city and not think they weren't going to strike back," said Kenneth Allen, 47, who watched the violence begin near his home.

What really gets me about that is the idea that the government has the power to deny speech rights because the speech is offensive. I know it's hard to stomach when the speech is something like neo-nazi propaganda, but it's still free speech. The disagreement over this can be seen quite clearly in Sunday and Monday headlines in the Washington Post:
Neighbors: Neo-Nazis Had No Right to March (Sunday)
Toledo Mayor: Neo-Nazis Had Right to March (Monday)

Now it's not just Toledo that struggles with this issue. I remember several years ago the Klan wanted to march in Pulaski, TN (birthplace of the modern Klan), but the good folks in Pulaski managed to thwart them through (sort of) legal means. The Klan then came on over to Lawrenceburg to have their march. Now we good Lawrenceburgians weren't overjoyed at having the Klan march in our fair town and I feel sure our leaders tried to come up with a way to stop them, but, much as it might have disappointed us, they had a right to assemble and speak.

This is what really scares me about the trend toward "speech codes" today. Yes most of the time the actual issue at hand is petty, but the principle IS NOT! This is the ultimate slippery slope argument, in my opinion. Once you start banning the nazis, where do you stop? What about a pro-life march in a liberal city? What about a pro-choice march in a conservative town? I don't think this is a game we want to play. The Vol Abroad has commented on this in the UK and I agree with her 100%. It might sound good, but it's a dangerous precedent.

The whole reason I was moved to post on this is that I haven't really seen this bigger danger pointed out in the mainstream outlets. True, I didn't watch all the Sunday talking head shows, but I haven't run across it in my casual reading of coverage. Let me make a distinction. Yes, I see lots of folks (like the mayor of Toledo) who admit that the neo-nazis had the right to assemble and speak, but most then move right on to the question of whether outside gang members were involved in the riot. Then it goes right into a veiled discussion of racial issues. What's missing from the coverage I've seen is the discussion of the message sent by this whole ugly episode. Again, if I don't like your message, I can engage in enough mayhem that the government will just shut you down! That scares me.

Though I sometimes take issue with the ACLU, I greatly admire their stance on free speech issues -- even when the speech is unpopular. Heck, I even give them money (don't tell Mom), but I am a little troubled by their lack of apparent response here. If it were a court case, I have no doubt that the ACLU would back the neo-nazis. As for the troubling (to me) implication of the "let's get violent and they will make the nazis go away" strategy, though, the ACLU is mum. At least I can't find any mention of this on their website.

So here it is folks -- if speech is free, then that has to apply for disagreeable as well as agreeable speech. I really do think it's that simple.

Glorious Day (in baseball)

Yes, glorious is the only word I can think of (without my handy thesaurus). I got the tingles.

I'm skeptical

I read about this in the newspaper this morning. I find it hard to believe that just any old Joe can walk in and grab a seat for this, but I think I'm going to try. Of course that means two things:

1. I will have to return to Tuscaloosa and y'all remember how my last trip there turned out.

2. I'll have to cancel classes Friday. Now I know the students won't care too much about that, but I HATE to cancel class. Still, I think this is too good to pass up.

One More Thing ...

I have a bunch of errands to run today, but I thought I'd leave you with a story about my porch cat, Rufus. This cat basically adopted me a month or so ago. I first found him the same day the big black dog tried to adopt me. Long story there, but I pawned the dog off on a neighbor and when I got back from their house, here was this scared gray cat on the roof. He was meowing all pitiful which led me to believe he couldn't figure out how to get down. I stared up at him a while, but I figured he'd get down eventually. The next morning, though, he was still up on the roof and he was still pitiful. I went to get the ladder and tried to get him down. How did that go? Well, just picture your favorite Marx Brothers skit and you'd have a pretty good approximation of my attempt to rescue Rufus.

I'd put the ladder at the front of the house and he'd run to the back. I'd put the ladder at the back of the house and he'd run to the front. Finally, I just climbed up on the house and figured I'd trap him somewhere. In all honesty, though, I wasn't looking forward to capturing a nervous cat bare armed. Fortunately it never came to that as at some point while I was chasing him around the roof, he must have found a way down. After that he started hanging out on my porch. I resisted for a few weeks, but after Katrina I felt bad for him so I broke down and started feeding him a little bit each afternoon when I get home.

Now, though, I've decided Rufus is not really the smartest cat in the world. I noticed that I hadn't seen him all weekend, so I got out looking for him Sunday morning. After a while I heard a pitiful MEOW coming from somewhere, but where? Finally I looked up and there he was again -- on the roof. As I thought back I realized that I'd heard the MEOW the night before, but I never could see him. Once again he'd gotten stuck on the roof and couldn't figure out how to get down. Once again I pulled out the ladder and tried to rescue him. Once again, he wanted no part of me touching him. Finally he ran to the back corner of the house where he found himself trapped like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (c'mon, y'all remember the famous cliff jumping scene).

Rufus really wanted to get away from me, but he wasn't sure about jumping all the way from the roof to the ground. If he'd just gone a little bit around to the back, he could have jumped from the roof to the deck, but he was in a bit of a panic. So Rufus stretched and stretched and really tried to make his body longer so he wouldn't have as far to fall, then he took the plunge. I didn't see him land, but there are a bunch of dead leaves there so I could hear him. I quickly went to check and I saw that he'd gotten away. I then went to the front porch and put out some food. I figured that would bring him around. Sure enough he showed up, edgy as ever, about 10 minutes later and he seemed none the worse for wear. Sigh, I've just resigned myself to the fact that Rufus is not smart enough to get down off the roof on his own. I foresee repeat performances. Regardless, here's my not so bright porch cat:

Dragons is sooooo stupid!

I almost forgot, I DO have a rant today! Sorry, but it is a long one.

As you may, or may not, know, the Food World grocery chain (BTW, do you go to the "grocery" or do you go to the "grocery store"? Just curious.) recently changed the name of all its stores to Southern Home Market. Since it is the exact same company and all, I didn't expect I'd see any changes, but I hadn't been in one since they changed (I'm a Kroger guy).

Last night, though, I needed to make a chip run. The baseball game was coming on and I not only was out of chips, I also needed some milk. Hence, I figured I'd make a quick run to the store. I didn't want to go all the way to Kroger for such a small list, so I figured I'd try out the new Southern Home Market. Sure enough, it looked just like Food World did a couple of weeks ago, but then I got to the checkout.

First, there was the express lane (10 items or less). I didn't choose this lane for two reasons.

1. It really should be "10 items or fewer" and that really does bug me. Hat tip to Publix -- the only grocery store in my area that uses fewer.

2. The real reason I eschewed the express lane, though, (c'mon, I'm not that anal) was that there were too many people in it. I looked down the store and saw a checkout with only one customer. I knew she probably had lots of items, but I figured one woman with 50 items would go faster than 5 with 10 items. Make sense?

Well, I thought it made sense so I hurried on down to that checkout. Sure enough, the woman had a lot of items, but the modern checkout process is designed to get a lot of items out of the way in a hurry, right? Well it is unless the checker is a complete and total IDIOT! I hate to be hard on the young lady, but she was totally incompetent -- bless her heart. First, she had to have a conversation with the woman regarding every fifth item she'd scan:

Checker: scan, scan, scan, ... Oh, do you like V-8 juice? I drink it all the time.
Customer: No, that's for my Dad. He's got high cholesterol (or something like that) so he has to drink it.
Checker: Oh that's too bad; my grandpa has the same thing. Scan, scan, scan, ... Oh, don't you just love these little crackers? They're the only kind I'll eat, though my mom says I should try this other kind.
Customer: Yeah, my kids will only eat those. We tried the other brand, but they just wouldn't have it.

Seriously, this stuff went on forever! In addition, Southern Home Market evidently does not believe in bag boys (or girls) so the checker not only slowed things down with inane conversation, she also had to stop every 15 items or so and go bag. I was going nuts! Wait, though, it gets worse (or better if you're reading to enjoy my misery).

Finally, she finished scanning and opining about all the items in this woman's buggy (or cart or basket if you prefer) and she announced the grand total -- $130.78. The customer slid her Visa and the checker did her thing and I thought I was about to get my turn -- wrong! The checker entered the wrong amount so the woman was only charged $13.78 (she skipped the zero). Now I didn't think this should have been a major obstacle. There was still $117 to be paid, so just slide the card again and key in the right amount this time, right? Well first the checker had to completely freak out about her mistake, but then she did calm down and ask the woman to slide her card again. The only problem was the checker didn't change the amount charged, so once again the customer was charged $13.78 (rather than the full $117 remaining). ARGH!

Now the checker was in complete meltdown mode and she had to go get a manager. The manager arrived and everyone fixated on what the original total was, though I didn't see why that was important. There was now $103.22 remaining to be paid, so what did it matter what the original total was? Regardless, they seemed to think it was important and the checker kept insisting the original total was $113.78, but since that didn't add up they couldn't seem to figure out what had happened. Finally, I had to step in and tell them the original amount was $130.78 rather than $113.78. No, I didn't remember the cents, but I did remember the dollar amount the checker first announced. This should have satisfied everyone, but they were somehow convinced the woman had only been charged ONCE (despite the fact she'd swiped twice) and $13.78 plus the remaining balance of $103.22 just didn't add up to anything recognizable.

Still, the point was that $103.22 remained to be paid, right? I was just about to give up and go to another line when the manager told the customer, "Oh well, I can't figure out the original numbers, but there's still $103.22 to be paid, would you slide your card again?" Now I understand the customer's reluctance to keep sliding her card, but it was clear she wasn't being charged $100-plus each time, so she agreed, the register cleared out, the drawer came open, and everything should have been fine. Note the use of SHOULD.

The customer now went to sign her receipt when she and the checker realized she had been charged THREE times! [See explanation for that above.] It didn't matter how many times she'd been charged, the grand total was $130.78, but these two put their heads together and had a joint meltdown about this! Finally I could stand it no longer. I did give up my spot and go to the express lane. I had to wait behind several customers, but at least we were moving. Of course the woman in front of me was writing a check (c'mon woman, get in the modern world) and the register wouldn't read her check, but that delay only lasted about 2 minutes.

Finally, almost 45 minutes after walking in to get a bag of chips and a gallon of milk, I managed to get out. Some would ask why I didn't just give up and leave altogether. Well, two things. One, I still had to get milk and chips somewhere. Two, to borrow a phrase from ... wait, I'm not sure if the phrase originated with big bro or one of my UK readers ... Well, to borrow a phrase from someone, there was an "escalation of commitment" in that the longer I stayed the more I hated to leave. Plus, there was the whole train wreck aspect of watching the disasters unfold. Regardless, I finally got my milk and chips.

Needless to say, I wasn't in the best of moods and it was already past 7 -- the ostensible starting time for game 2. So all I wanted to do was get back home, eat my chips, and watch the game. Since I had just planned to run out for a minute to get some chips, I hadn't locked the door at home. I was gone longer than planned, but I wasn't worried about that. The only implication of leaving the door unlocked was that I didn't grab my full set of keys on the way out. Instead, I just grabbed a single car key (why I have a single car key not on the full ring is a longer, unimportant story). Thus you can imagine my surprise when I got home and found my door LOCKED!

Evidently, out of habit, I did in fact lock the door on my way out. Hence, I found myself, after surviving the Southern Market fiasco, locked out of my own house. I'd left the windows open and the TV on, so I had a nice view of the cats watching TV, but I hadn't left it on the right channel for the game so I didn't even have the consolation of watching the game as I pondered my fate on the porch. Of course Gumbo and Emmylou each came to the window several times to ask why Daddy was cussing on the porch instead of watching TV inside with them. I had no good answer other than, "I'm sorry kitties, Daddy is too stupid to live."

Finally, I set about trying to get in the house sans key. The only good break was that the windows were open. I tried for a while to pop the screen out of the window on the porch, but I soon decided that I'd ruin the screen frame if I kept that up. No, in the end, I went to the other window, higher off the ground, and was able to remove the screen itself from the screen frame. I then had to crawl up on the hood of my car and shimmy through the window. Given the way the evening was going, I can't believe no one called the cops about a guy crawling through the window.

Hmm, maybe hiding a key outside is not such a bad idea after all.

P.S. A prize to the first one (other than big bro) who can tell me the source of the title of this post! No fair to use Google, though I have no enforcement power.

Finally Friday

Many thanks to those of you who chose to respond to my call for advice. Oh, and shame on those of you who didn't. Now I have no illusions about the grand size of my reading audience, but I know a FEW more people read the third b. Still, there's time for your input if you'd like to voice and opinion. In reality, I know what I'll do. As the great philosopher H.I. McDonnough once said, "There's right and there's right and never the twain shall meet." Though I want the window, I just can't see myself using my ill gotten seniority to make it happen. I'll just have to take my chances in a fair method. Still, if you'd like to talk me out of that (please), give it a shot.

As for today, ... Well, today is Friday and I don't like to think too hard on Friday. Hence, no rant today. I am thinking I'd like to go see Elizabethtown. I'm sure it's a sappy, predictable story, but it's the kind of story I like once in a while. Plus, I hear that it's very similar to Garden State and I really liked that movie. Plus, since it is a Crowe movie, it's bound to make good use of music and I like that.

Still, the reviews are mixed. Roger Ebert gives it 3 stars (out of 4?), but the Christian Science Monitor gives it a disappointing C. I'm disappointed The New Yorker has not reviewed the film, but on the bright side, they have stopped using that inane response to an empty search (see archives, I don't feel like looking up the link). They now tell me, "Sorry, there are no results matching that search."

So, if any of you see it, give me your take. In reality, I know I won't go see it. I REALLY wanted to see Junebug and I never even got around to that. Oh well, maybe I'll just go to the Southern Wildlife Festival. Anyone need a mallard on black velvet? Seriously, though, I've seen some of the artists' work in the paper this past week or so and some of it looks pretty good.

Oh, in related news ... Mr. Mayor never called me back. I guess I'm just not that important.

I need some advice

I know there are scads of adages advising against asking for advice, but I need some input. Here's the situation, ...

Pretty soon (next few months) my department will be moving into a renovated building. As you might expect, the first question to be decided is, "Who gets a window?" This is very important in departmental hierarchies. Seeing as how I'm still almost brand new, I never considered that I'd be one of the fortunate ones -- especially since there are only two offices with windows. It turns out, though, my current boss doesn't want to pick one of the windowed offices because she's retiring in the next year or so and that would just make everyone go through the office shuffle again. Since she's not taking a window and there are only 4 full-time instructors in the business division, that means there is one window available for either me or the junior accounting instructor (we'll call her Lucy).

Now Lucy and I came in at the same time (last fall) so we should both be equal in terms of seniority. The problem is that due to some weird paperwork thing I actually have A DAY of seniority on Lucy. Since all things here at this institution run by seniority that legally gives me picking rights over her. Why is that a problem? Well, I don't think it's fair that I get to pick over her. I have done nothing special to earn the extra day of seniority. In fact, I don't even know how that happened. So, in all fairness, we should flip a coin or something to see who gets the office, right?

This would solve the problem if not for the fact that I WANT THE OFFICE WITH A WINDOW! It's not just that it has a window, actually 2 narrow windows, but the windows actually open! Yes, I could open the window and enjoy the breeze. I hate to be petty, but in my defense I am a huge fan of open windows. Except for the very hottest part of the summer, I keep my windows open at home. I just like the feel of natural air rather than stale, recycled, artificial air. The fact that I'd also be able to look outside also plays a role, but mostly it's just that I'd be able to open my window. You may not believe me, but it's really not a status thing. Regardless, I want the window, but I don't want to be an ass and try to use my one day of seniority to grab the window.

So, dear readers, what do I do? Do I just bite the bullet and look out for my own desires or do I take fairness into consideration and take the chance that I lose out on the window? A couple of things to keep in mind. I will have to work with Lucy for the foreseeable future (I hope), so there may be a cost to bear if I alienate her. Second, this decision likely will last for a long time. The other guy who will get a window has many years to go before retirement. So whoever doesn't get a window likely won't have a window for a long, long time.

Being an economist, I came up with a solution -- I should offer to pay Lucy to let me have the window. I figure that plan wouldn't go over so well among the general public (or the rest of the college). I sense that they would see that as dirty or tainted whereas it makes perfect sense to me. Who should get the office? The one who values it more? How do we determine that? See who will pay more.

Still, I don't think that plan is feasible. So, what do I do? Go for what I want or be fair? Help.

Mystery call

I have now been in my new house almost a year. For the first several months I got a ton of phone calls for one Jessie Lockett. I don't know old Jessie (heck, I don't even know if it's a female Jessie or a male Jesse), but I got the impression he/she wasn't a solid, upright citizen. Many of the calls sounded like collection agents and for a while I was getting collect calls from a prison in south AL. Fortunately, those calls have abated.

Yesterday, though, I got a mystery call and I'm not sure if it was for me, Jessie, or some unknown third party. I got home yesterday and there was a message on my answering machine. A message! In terms of excitement, that ranks up there with getting real mail. I eagerly punched PLAY and some guy named Ray Long, at the Somerville Town Hall, told me to give him a call. That's it -- no reason for me to call, just, Give me a call." Suspecting this might be a call for Jess, I listened very closely and it really did sound as if he said my name at the beggining of the message. I couldn't be sure as it was muffled, but it really did sound like my name. Hence, I'm thinking the call might have been for me.

For those who don't know, Somerville is a tiny (pop. 350 or so) town just down the road from Decatur. As far as I know, I haven't broken any laws in Somerville and I don't think I even know anyone who lives there. So what could this be about? Regardless, I figure when the government (even a tiny one) calls, one should respond. Otherwise the jack-booted thugs might show up at the door.

This morning, after class, I did indeed try to call Mr. Ray Long. The nice woman who answered the phone told me that Mr. Long actually is the MAYOR of Somerville! Okay, now I'm really getting worried. Unfortunately, His Excellency had just stepped out to take Mrs. Mayor to the doctor. All I could do was leave my work number and ask him to call me back. I must admit that I'm officially curious.

End result -- if y'all don't hear from me for a few days, please try to raise some bail money and head on over to Somerville.

I'll let y'all know if I hear back from Mr. Mayor.

Word verification

Super busy today, so no time for a rant. Just wanted to alert those few of you who are kind enough to share comments, I finally had to break down and turn on word verification. If you're not familiar with that, it's just like what you do when ordering tickets online. Before you can leave a comment, you have to type in a word that appears at the bottom of the screen. Yeah, it's a bit of a hassle, but I got fed up with all the comment spam.

In the meantime, just in case you're cruising the net with nothing to do:

Check out the Monty Hall problem. We're discussing this in stats on Thursday. I'm hoping to get the students fired up about it, but I figure it'll be greeted with blanket indifference. Your chance of winning really does increase if you switch.

This year's Ig Nobel winners have been announced. My favorite is the guy who makes and sells artificial testicles for dogs that have been altered. I guess it helps with their self esteem. Still, I don't think you can beat last year's winner who studied the effect of country music on suicide.

I'll be back to ranting tomorrow.

Walking the Sipsey

To celebrate the completion of the awful, no good, horrible week, I decided to go hiking on Saturday. The weather was great (a touch of chill in the air) and I had no pressing duties, so I got up and headed off to the Sipsey Wilderness Area. [Warning: the preceding link is the best I've found for the Sipsey, but please note that it is out of date. Hence, one should not rely on it for accurate info regarding trail status and such. More on that later.] I've heard great things about Sipsey, but the one time I really tried to explore it, well there was a deer hunt that same weekend and I thought it best for me NOT to traipse around the woods while men with guns were attempting to harvest venison (or kill Bambi if you prefer). Still, Saturday seemed the perfect opportunity.

I got to the Sipsey within 45 minutes, but it took another 45 or so to get to the remote corner that I wanted. Finally, though, I arrived. I checked my stock of necessary gear:

• GPS receiver -- check.
• Food and water -- check.
• Topo map and compass -- check.
• First aid supplies -- check.
• Fire starting materials -- check.
• Warm clothing and spare socks -- check.

Though you may find this hard to believe, I never was a Boy Scout (I blame my big bro for that, though in retrospect it probably was for the best). Still, I believe in being prepared. Given my preparation, I felt well equipped for a 3-4 hour hike around the woods and it all started innocently enough.

Since I'd never explored the Sipsey before, I figured I'd start with the Thompson Creek trail -- one of the most popular, according to my sources. I finally got there and hit the woods around 10:00. For the first hour or two things were fine. I saw lots of rocks, water, trees, etc. What I enjoyed most was the peace and quiet after my hectic week. Basically I was just mellowing out, communing with nature.

So I roamed around the woods for a couple of hours and I must say it was a beautiful way to spend a Saturday morning. The weather was crisp, the waterfalls were beautiful, I even saw a couple of deer. Eventually I made it down to the Eye of the Needle rock formation and even it was impressive. All-in-all it was a great morning. I can only imagine how spectacular it'll be in a few weeks once the leaves really start to change. People go to the Smoky Mtns. for this kind of stuff and it's available less than an hour from Decatur. Go figure. I was feeling so full of spunk, I even took off my boots and socks and waded across a river (well, really more of a creek, but it's called the Sipsey River). I didn't have to do it that way (see earlier note about spare socks), but it just seemed like the proper thing to do while wandering around Sipsey. Seriously, this place will get in your head and convince you that you are Davy Crockett.

It's hard to tell with nothing for perspective, but that is one HUGE rock.

So after I cross the river and eat my lunch, I figure it's time to head back. It's been such a great day, though, I don't want to just reverse the trail I took in. NO, I say, I'll just go "cross country" and make my own way to another part of the Sipsey that I wanted to visit. I realized there was no official trail from A to B, but I had some info from other sources that suggested there were unofficial footpaths that would take me where I wanted to go. Plus, I had put a waypoint in my GPS for the parking area I eventually wanted to come out at, so what could go wrong?

I'll tell you what could go wrong -- everything! There were footpaths, for a while. Suddenly the footpaths disappeared and Hubbard Creek seemed to be flowing in about 8 different directions all at once. Even though I knew I needed to head northwest, I almost convinced myself to turn around and go in the complete opposite direction. Eventually, though, I convinced myself that if I did keep heading northwest, sooner or later I'd get to the confluence of Hubbard and Quillan creeks. You know what, I did. Problem was, once I got there, the promised trail/path did not materialize.

So now I found myself about 2 miles (according to my GPS receiver) from the parking area I wanted to be at. 2 miles isn't so bad except that I was in the middle of a big old forest with lots of downed trees from years of storms and just general old age. Why was that important? Well, I was in a holler and I wanted to follow the creek back to civilization. With all the downed trees, though, I rarely got to go more than 50-100 feet without detouring to get around/over/through some rather large obstacle. At first that wasn't a problem, but after a half mile or so I was exhausted -- and I still had 1.5 miles to go. Oh, did I mention that I had about 300 feet of elevation to gain as well? Yep, I felt like the stupid idiot character they always had in the PLEASE DON'T BE THIS STUPID OR YOU'LL DIE videos we used to watch in Hunter Safety class!

After a while I almost began to despair. Though I had prepared for the possibility, I wasn't looking forward to the prospect of spending the night in the woods (that bit of chill in the air might have changed to COLD by morning), nor did I want to try to fight through all the deadfalls and such after dark. On the bright side, I did get to see some wonderful waterfalls that I would not have seen by sticking to the trails. [Of course when my co-workers asked what sort of things I got to see on this route, I told them, "Several closeups of the ground as I repeatedly tripped over snags." Sue almost spit food.]

Sorry it's kind of fuzzy, that was due to some settings I had to change on the camera and the lack of a tripod. It could be artistically fuzzy, no?

So after pulling my butt up one hill and down another for what seemed like forever, I made it to the parking area. Of course I still had 0.8 miles to go to get to my original parking area, but that was on a road -- it makes a big difference. Finally I got back to my car, a mere 7 hours after starting. Now I understand why the theme song felt the need to stress that the S.S. Minnow's cruise was supposed to last only three hours!

Regardless, I made it back safe and sound and really pleased with my trek. Yes, I was weary and I doubted my sanity a few times during the afternoon, but all-in-all it was worth it. Next time, though, I think I might stick to the trails. Nah, probably not. Why carry all my emergency preparedness stuff if I never get to use it?

In the end, I did learn two things -- creeks are ALWAYS deeper than they appear (not the one I waded across on purpose) and don't mess with a woman on a horse -- but those are stories for another day.

Random Friday Thoughts

Well it seems that I'm getting a lot of gruff from readers of late. Vol Abroad doesn't like it when I do (unlabeled) baseball posts and Anonymous doesn't like the long-winded, boring posts -- plus she often calls me a dork. So, to quote Eric Cartman, ...

Screw you guys; I'm going home.

Of course, I jest. I enjoy comments and I think most of you know that I don't mind folks picking on and/or making fun of me.

I had grand plans for today's post. I had a topic lined up and everything. Then lunchtime rolled around and it was decided that we were going to Macaroni Grill. After much bread, a big bowl of pasta, and a 5th of a huge piece of chocolate cake, I just can't seem to find the energy to rant. Hey, maybe that's the key to world peace -- pasta and chocolate cake. Too bad this year's Peace Prize was just awarded today. Oh well, there's always next year.

Anyway, today I decided just to post some random things that caught my eye while roaming the great big WWW.

1. Capote, the movie, has just been or is about to be released. I've always been a fan of old TC (Breakfast at Tiffany's is one of those rare works that's both a wonderful book and movie), but I never actually made it all the way through In Cold Blood. Somehow I got the idea that the movie is about that time in Capote's life, so a week or so ago I figured it was time I finally read the damned thing. So far I haven't been that impressed. I suppose it was groundbreaking at the time, but I've seen too many episodes of Investigative Reports. Still, The New Yorker is doing something kind of cool. The book originally appeared as a serial in the magazine, so they're now republishing the series on their web site in four parts. Here's part 1. Oh, they also review the movie.

2. Proof that I did pick the right field of study, if not the right place within that field. [WARNING, baseball related.]

3. You all know that I'm no fashion maven, but every time I see a new trend like this, I'm thankful that I'm not. The cape? C'mon, no one other than a few select DC and Marvel characters ever pulled that off. Wait, as I think about it, I don't think any Marvel characters really made a cape work -- well maybe Thor, but he was a god. Okay, I'm a nerd -- I know which comic book characters were Marvel and which were DC.

4. What's the world coming to? I saw this last week, but I never got around to posting. A hospital in the UK -- specifically, Halifax, West Yorks (UK readers, is that like a city/state combo?) -- has banned visitors from cooing at, talking baby talk to, and maybe even looking at newborns. A close reading of the story raises a few issues. First, it sounds as if newborns are just left out in some great big open room rather than kept in a separate room behind glass. Second, I'm not sure the hospital has banned the practice or if it's just trying to discourage the practice.

Regardless, it's hard to come off looking good when the neo-natal manager says, "Cooing should be a thing of the past because these are little people with the same rights as you or me." The real kicker, to me, though, is the card being issued to visitors:

"I am small and precious so treat me with privacy and respect. My parents ask you to treat my personal space with consideration. I deserve to be left undisturbed and protected against unwanted public view."

Pretty erudite babies over there, huh?

Peace out, folks. It's the weekend.

Sweet relief, almost

Someone give me a beer. My week from Hades is almost over. I gave the stats test today, so I can cruise for the rest of the week. Yes, I still have to grade it, but I've always been more the grasshopper than the ant.

How relieved am I? Well you may have detected a few changes to the third b blog today. Yes, I'm experimenting with new templates and color schemes. I may never decorate my house, but I will play around with my blog.

So what to "talk" about now that I have some time? Let's see, ... How about a book review?

WARNING: Per "Anonymous", this is a long, boring book review. If you don't like book reviews, skip it.

Have you ever read a "hot book", one that's generating lots of buzz, and at the end you just go, HUH? Well, that's what happened to me with The Ha Ha. In case you don't know, The Ha Ha is the debut novel by one Dave King. It's been lauded far and wide; it has a 5 star average Amazon rating; it even has a cover blurb by Richard Freaking Russo! The problem is I just don't get it.

The Ha Ha is the story of Howie Kapostash (strike number 1 -- I hate hard to pronounce names in books, though that's not a hard and fast rule or I'd never read any Haruki Murakami). Anyway, Howie is a disabled Vietnam vet trying to get by in the modern world. What is his disability? He fell on his head shortly after going in country and now he cannot speak, read, or write. It seems we've done the Vietnam vet novel before, but I don't hold that against the book. What I hold against the book is its suffocating dullness.

Howie has now moved on. He shares his house with 3 renters and he even has a job (off the books) as a handyman type at the local convent. His world is rocked, though, when his high school sweetheart, who he still pines for, dumps her kid on him while she checks into rehab. The gist of the story is how Ryan (the kid) pulls Howie out of his perpetual gloom and brings him into the sunshine.

Because of Ryan, Howie finally connects with his housemates and starts to come out of his shell. He takes Ryan to get a haircut. He signs Ryan up for Little League and even participates as a volunteer coach. Yes, everything is great now that Ryan is around. Where's this going? C'mon, you can guess.

The former sweetheart gets out of rehab, Ryan goes away, Howie is crushed. Of course that's not how it ends. There has to be a sweet moment of redemption where everything works out and Howie's new perspective on life is validated, right? Yep.

The ending, in and of itself didn't bother me too much, it's just that this particular ending was so painful (and predictable) to get to. Ryan is surly, then Ryan loves Howie. How'd that happen? I haven't a clue. King devotes long passages to the transformation in Ryan and Howie, but a careful reading shows said passages to be "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." There's one climactic scene where Ryan throws a fit and races around the yard crashing into various objects, injuring Howie, and basically raising hell. That particular scene drove me nuts because King takes 2 or 3 pages just to describe Ryan's path. He gives us such things as (this is paraphrased and exaggerated from memory):

"Ryan approached the trellis and cut hard left as dust spewed from beneath his red sneakers. He then tacked 45-degrees to starboard (okay, he didn't really use starboard) and headed for the crepe myrtle located just two feet right of Howie's bedroom window. Finally, he raced through the flower bed, just behind the begonias and in front of the day lilies, careful not to step on the petunias, until he reached the kitchen door, with the knob on the right rather than the left, like all the other doors on the house."

As I said, that was not an actual quote from the book, but King had a bad habit of wandering off into mind numbing detail rather than telling his story. Any excitement I might have felt at the beginning of Ryan's meltdown was dissipated long before King got through describing it. Much of the book read more like a script with stage directions than a novel. (More on that in a bit.)

Then there was the ending -- cue the violins. I know I said it wasn't the ending, in and of itself, that bothered me, but it sort of did. Every reader past the Dick and Jane level knows at least a somewhat happy resolution is coming, but this one was straight off the Hallmark Channel. Not to ruin it for any potential readers, but Howie and his female housemate, Laurel (a Texan of Vietnamese origin), go to visit Ryan and the book closes with them sitting in Howie's truck watching from the shadows as Ryan plays kickball with his pals. As they watch, Laurel, leans over and rests her head on Howie as they watch dusk fall on the cavorting kids -- fade to black and roll credits.

I think that was the biggest objection I had. The book read like a Hallmark movie. Evidently I'm not the only one to feel that way. At least one reviewer bucked the trend. The New Yorker (they do very nice book and movie reviews) said, "But it’s a setup waiting for pathos, and when Howie’s coke-addicted high-school girlfriend saddles him with her nine-year-old son the plot moves predictably (damaged vet cheering at school pageant; vet buying catcher’s mitt) toward movie-ready redemption."

Actually, that wasn't my biggest issue. The biggest problem I had was that I never got a feel for King's characters. He gives Howie a quirky war injury and though there are lots of flashbacks, I never got to know Howie. Laurel is Vietnamese/Texan and King throws in lots of little snippets about her accent and such, but all that seemed unnecessary. Oh, and the semi-attraction between Howie and Laurel -- where did that come from? King just drops it in once or twice so he can bring it up again at the end. Nowhere in the book did he build a relationship between them.

In the end it seemed to me that Dave King took a sympathetic protagonist, a hard luck story, and some quirky supporting characters and threw them in a blender. Here's my imaginary conversation with Dave King:

St. Caffeine: Your book is dull.
Dave King: But it's got a vet trying to overcome a disability.
SC: Your book is dull.
DK: But it's got a bunch of quirky, non-standard character types.
SC: Your book is dull.
DK: But it's got a mixed race kid and a strung out mom.
SC: Your book is dull.
DK: But it's got one quirky character overcoming prejudice to sort of admit attraction to the injured vet.
SC: Yes, but YOUR BOOK IS DULL!

Hollywood may welcome the story, but I found it dull as dirt.

I wish I could come up with a better closing simile, but it's late and I'm tired. Besides, I'd never top Tom Carson's review of Jane Fonda's recent memoir in the July/August issue of The Atlantic (sorry, subscription only). In describing Fonda's treatment of THE ISSUE, he says:

"[H]er own account of what happened during a "two-minute lapse of sanity [that] will haunt me until I die" is predictably overwrought, a mite disingenuous, and as fascinating as a lecture on zeppelin safety from the Hindenburg's captain."

Now that's a simile.

Useless trivia (only 2 concern baseball)

As I've stated earlier this week, I'm busier than a one-armed paper hanger right now. When I'm busy, my mind tends to fixate on useless trivia. Those who know me (especially if you were on the "nerd bowl" team with me in HS) know that my brain is filled with a massive quantity of such minutiae and it needs an outlet. Hence, today's note ...

Some little known facts:
1. The duck-billed platypus and (two species of) the spiny anteater are the only egg-laying mammals. Folks tend to remember the platypus, but I feel the spiny anteater is overlooked.
I had to look this up in 5th grade and I've always remembered.

2. As the crow flies, Memphis to Bristol (or another of the tri-cities) is a longer trip than Bristol to Canada. Get a map and check it out.
Thanks to Elmer Brown's 7th grade TN History class.

3. Squirrels always go up and down trees forward. You'll never see a squirrel backing up or down a tree.
Shout out to Encyclopedia Brown. This fact was the key to thwarting one of Bugs Meany's plans.

4. Light can be both wave and particle.
Thanks to Ellen Gilchrist.

5. West Virginia has the most "irregular" border of any U.S. state. I'm not sure quite how they measure that, but if you look at a map you'll see that there isn't a straight line anywhere around the circumference of the state.
I'm assuming I got this from some WV tourism pamphlet, though I guess your state is looking pretty hard for bragging rights if it has to laud this fact.

6. Speaking of bragging rights, ... Lawrenceburg, TN is home to one of only two monuments to the Mexican-American war in the U.S. Also, scant yards to the south, one will find what some claim is the ONLY statue of David Crockett in the country.
I find that hard to believe, but it's the tale we tell.

7. The first professional baseball game played at night was on May 24, 1935.
The Cincinnati Reds defeated the Philadelphia Phillies 2-1 at Crosley Field. FDR threw the switch.

Of course some of these facts might not be true facts. To round out the list (and because all lists need 10 entries), I'll include 3 popular misconceptions.

8. Following up on #7 (and to get Vol Abroad's displeasure out of the way all at once), Abner Doubleday did not invent the game of baseball.

9. Thomas Crapper did not invent the flush toilet.

10. Water does not flow down a drain with a different rotation in the northern vs. southern hemisphere.
This one really hung me up because I thought I knew this to be true. Seriously, at issue is something called the Coriolis Force. Check out Snopes or The Library of Congress if you don't believe me.

Whew, that was 10 little pieces of info that just had to come out. I promise I'll be back to what passes as normal as soon as things settle down. Oh, my stint as a guest lecturer has been extended one more day, so we'll see what that does to my mood.

Whoops, one more little thing. The stagecoach tips might be fake. C'mon, Vox Baby, I suspended my innate skepticism and trusted you on this one.

1 down, 10 to go

Though the bullpen tried its best to give it away, the Cards won game one. Carpenter didn't look sharp, but he left (with a cramp in his hand?) with a shutout. The bullpen looked really shaky, but at least Tony didn't bring in Ray "gas on the fire" King. Can anyone tell me why he is on the postseason roster? He was an absolute disaster down the stretch, though to be honest, Izzy and the rest of the guys weren't that much better. By the way, I'm assuming King is on the playoff roster. I looked at ESPN and MLB and I can't find the official playoff rosters for each team. If anyone knows where I could find those, please let me know. Note that both sites have "roster" links, but it's not the official 25-man playoff roster.

Anyway, just 10 more victories and WE will win OUR 10th World Series title. Okay, that's looking a little too far into the future, but I can dream.

By the way, did anyone else flash back to Don Denkinger on that play early in the game when the ump ruled Pujols did not beat the runner to first? I know Jon Miller and "his broadcast partner whose name I cannot bring myself to utter or type" (BTW, why must THAT man be assigned to the Cards' series?) mentioned the '85 Series an inning or so later, but the play put me into an immediate funk. Baseball is a superstitious sport and that was not a good omen. Of course my funk was lifted by Reggie Sanders a little later. Funny how a grand slam will do that, huh?

Okay, reading over that last paragraph, I realize you normal (i.e., non-baseball folk) will think it's a little strange that I remember the umpire's name. Trust me; if you were a Cardinal fan, it would make perfect sense.

Just a quick note ...

Wow! Today has been BUSY! I have 3 tests this week and tonight I had to guest lecture for a co-worker (her husband is in the hospital). Hence, no time for sharing my pithy insights today. I did, though, want to note a couple of things.

First, Andrew Samwick commented on the travel tips post. Okay, it was sort of a solicited comment in that I left him a comment noting that I had "borrowed" his travel tips for my blog. Still, Vox Baby -- someone whose blogging I admire -- left a comment. Cool. Okay, I already see a couple of disclaimers I need here. First, I do realize his "comment" essentially amounted to a great big -- hey, you idiot, here's how you do trackbacks. Second, Vol Abroad should not IN ANY WAY take my happiness about Vox Baby commenting as an insult. Of course I admire your blogging, Vol, it's just that I know you so it's not really the same thing. Plus, your Vols did humiliate my Rebs Saturday, so I'm a mite sore at you right now.

Next, I'm sure many of you were concerned -- Thailand Jeff is safely back in Thailand. I had an email from him saying he was back and busy cleaning his musty abode. Evidently there's some issue with dirty water; I don't know. More to the point, he made a comment about my musing on what would happen if I WERE to go to Thailand:

Oh, and regarding your blog about visiting Thailand. If you can make it, I can guarantee someone will try to show you his gun in a laundromat, in a bar, on the street, or on the beach - - and gun IS a euphemism.

Hmm, I guess it really is best that I NOT go visit. Also, I don't know why he won't leave these comments himself. Doesn't he know that I'm going to share such thoughts? Don't worry, Jeff, I'll use discretion -- to the extent that I recognize it.

Okay, I'm going home for the evening. I have to finish making out my stats test (DEAR LORD) and some supper might be good. Oh, please DO NOT email/call/smoke signal/... me about the Cardinals game tomorrow. I am going to be recording it, so I WILL NOT be aware of any results during the day. If any of you spoil the game for me; a pox on you and your house for all time!