My Checklist

487. Drive a tank on the Golan Heights

2010-05-15T09:01:00.000-07:00

I think if I were to collect all of the sentences in the English language that follow the construct, "I was _______ when he was _______," this one would come out on top as my #1 favorite:

"You tell that fucking guy to stay out of my face! I was driving a fucking tank in the Israeli Army on the Golan Heights when he was watching ‘Scooby-Doo’!”

It's from Connie Bruck's New Yorker profile of entertainment mogul and political influencer Haim Saban.

486. Share your love of animals with others

2010-05-10T11:50:00.001-07:00

I like to call this game "One-Eyed Nash or Three-Toed Sloth?"

One-Eyed Nash or Three-Toed Sloth?

One-Eyed Nash or Three-Toed Sloth?

One-Eyed Nash or Three-Toed Sloth?

One-Eyed Nash or Three-Toed Sloth?

One-Eyed Nash or Three-Toed Sloth?

One-Eyed Nash or Three-Toed Sloth?

485. Defeat all the Internet haters one by one

2010-05-08T20:42:00.000-07:00

I had never noticed a restaurant owner or manager taking to Yelp to fend off negative comments. Until now. And I'll tell you what, it tickles me. Sure, it's hopeless and self defeating and petty, but I really appreciate the spirit. I think my favorite part is when he unironically complains that a particular review "invites pointless drama."

12/18/2009

Your server sent you home with our Jambalaya for no charge and when it was available again as a gesture of goodwill . . . and you then chose to opine on it after it had sat in your refrigerator and was COLD for who knows how long? Hmmmmm.

Rillettes would not be rillettes if you could differentiate the proteins.

The faintly 'muddy' taste of our gumbos means (to us) that we're making them properly. The authentic ones taste like they're from the Bayou, and the best ones from down there are not exactly clean and refined. We understand that this may not be everyone's preference though.

2/12/2010

John, I am quite respectful to the people I interact with.

And I treat those who work here very well. Toulouse enjoys a genuinely happy and capable staff who performs with sincerity.

I respectfully disagree that pointing out blatant mendacity and nonsensical expectations by those who use this forum to rip on and present a distorted picture of a new business's efforts is being a 'jerk'.

And I am not interested in taking any shots at you. Your 'review' is not based on any personal experience with Toulouse, engages in adolescent name-calling, and invites pointless drama.

3/11/2010

We very much remember your visit with us, and it's not surprising to us that you showed up here. Those who might are now pretty easy for us to identify.

You declined the table that Kristal had at your reservation time, and she quite diplomatically informed you that you may not take the table that would be occupied by a party who was celebrating a birthday.

We appreciate your 'review' insofar as it affirms why so many food writers, knowledgeable diners, and those who work in this business consider this forum filled with adolescent blather that no one should trust or take too seriously.

3/19/2010

Nice hit piece. Only it's not believable that this experience ever actually took place. Our Seafood Gumbo is $13.75 not $20, btw. But what do facts actually matter here?

Apparently you posted on a different site the exact text of this 'review' and also another one two months earlier where you said the same things about over-salting of an entirely different menu preparation . . . and of course depicted your server as the kind of walking bimbo you apparently deeply resent.

One would think that you could at least be a bit more inventive. And less obvious about being emotionally in Jr. High.

484. Feign outrage

2010-05-03T21:13:00.000-07:00

There are myriad reasons why Seattle Weekly should avoid commentary on the Boston Celtics. In fact, they should pretty much avoid commentary on all things. Still, they persist. For the most part I avoid the publication, but occasionally it confronts me when I am absent reading material, and so I peruse. Tonight while I was waiting for my Thai take-out I had one such encounter with its impuissant pages. The happy hour guide was awful enough, but this is a complete abomination:

The Seattle Storm are the Boston Celtics of the WNBA: A recent champion looking to surround a trio of aging all-stars—Sue Bird, Swin Cash, and Lauren Jackson—with enough competent youngsters to again top the league before meniscus tears doom them to the rebuilding bin. In the recent collegiate draft, the Storm finally did what the Celtics have either been too smug or stupid (or both) to do: draft a promising point guard to back up Bird.

I am left dumbstruck by the thought of what utility the writer believes Sue Bird's back up could possibly serve the Boston Celtics.

But seriously, the "smug or stupid" line has me irked. The Celtics have had exactly one first round pick in the previous four drafts. That pick was the final pick of round one in 2008 and they used it to take a flyer on JR Giddens. Other first round picks were dealt for Ray Allen and Kevin Garnett. So, no, the Celtics have not been too smug or too stupid, they've just been too busy collecting future Hall of Famers. And, oh by the way, they picked up a fairly promising point guard along the way. So eat it. Also, it's been six years since the Storm won the title. Call it recent, if you must. But must you? Anyway, please do not let these facts disturb your Sue Bird back up euphoria. Go on with your bad self. And I do mean bad.

I desperately wish not to depart on a sour note. Ladies and gentlemen, Sue Bird!

483. Go Blue!

2010-05-03T00:35:00.000-07:00

I was looking at this picture here and thinking to myself, "Wait a second, How did Jim Abbott get his number retired before Barley Larkin? Yes, that's right, because Jim Abbott has ONE HAND! That's pretty damn cool that he went to Michigan. I often forget that."

And so I present you with this trip down memory lane....

You know what else is pretty damn cool? Obama in the Big House....

Also cool, athletes getting degrees. Well done, Mr. Sims and Mr. Graham!

482. Create your own myths

2010-04-30T15:00:00.000-07:00

It is being reported by a variety of highly reputable news organizations that Tiger Woods bedded down with some 120 maidens since his betrothal to the fruntimmer Nordegren. But let us remember, his transgressions could have been worse. Far worse. For example, he could have sexed an entire farmyard of animals. In Jay Parini’s Thirteen Books that Changed America, we learn that William Bradford wrote of his disappointment in the failings of fellow men in his seminal work on the sexual practices of Pilgrims, Of Plymouth Plantation:

Among the worst sinners, he says, was Thomas Granger who admitted to committing buggery with a mare, a cow, two goats, five sheep, two calves, and a turkey. This eclectic taste went down very badly among the Pilgrim fathers, and he was tried and, as might be expected, executed according to the laws (as in Leviticus 20:15). Indeed, even the poor animals who suffered his curious attentions were executed and thrown into a pit.

The Pilgrim Granger buggered a turkey and thus was a spawned child. That child’s name, Thanksgiving. And so on the final Thursday of every November, Americans gather around the dinner table to honor Thanksgiving’s memory by feasting on turkey and reflecting on the horrible injustice faced by those who would experiment in Pilgrim-on-turkey buggering. Such is the symbolism of the ceremonial stuffing of the bird. The turduken is for only the most adventurous sorts, like Sir Thomas Granger himself. I learned all of this and more from Of Plymouth Plantation. It is a smutty, smutty book.

481. Defame

2010-04-30T09:32:00.000-07:00

It occurs to me that ever since Michael Jackson's death, when I think of him I picture Thriller-era M.J. and not disfigured, pervy M.J. It was not this way in life. It's a lot like during the rebel celebration on Endor when Luke sees the ghosts of the Big Three. He sees not disfigured, evil Darth Vader but rather Hayden Christensen. I guess what I'm trying to say is, if there is an logic in this crazy mixed up universe of ours, Hayden Christensen is probably scheduling plastic surgery and trying to lure unsespecting Ewoks into his bed as we speak.

480. Circle June 29 on your calendar

2010-04-28T20:35:00.001-07:00

There is now not only a title, a release date, and some lovely cover art, there's also an excerpt! Sadly, I've missed the deadline to request an advanced copy. You may recall that I listed David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas among my books of the decade. I could have included two more of his, number9dream and Black Swan Green, but I chose to share the love. Suffice it to say that I am rather excited about his forthcoming novel.

479. Reflect on simpler times when sluggers juiced with cuckoo clocks

2010-04-28T20:13:00.001-07:00

As you know, any mention of cuckoo clocks requires me to also share this:

478. Listen to Gang Starr

2010-04-24T20:36:00.000-07:00

Keith "Guru" Elam died Monday after a long fight with cancer. Guru partnered with DJ Premier to form Gang Starr, one of the greatest hip-hip duos of all time—second only to Eric B & Rakim in my book. If you're not familiar with their work, now is a fine time to get familiar.

Yesterday the Globe featured a nice essay by Guru's brother. We associate Guru with NYC, and for good reason, but he was a Boston native.

Some music videos for your enjoyment:

477. Eat a croissant

2010-04-24T18:24:00.000-07:00

I suppose it was presumptuous of me to assume that he was honoring the fathers of filmmaking when he stated his intention to dress up as Lumière for the costume party. After all, he is of an age that I am certain was deeply affected by the kind-hearted candelabra of Beauty and the Beast. In my defense, there were a few misleading context clues. He was behind the counter at a French bakery and, I gather from previous conversation, currently attending to art school.

Him: I'm think I want to dress up as Lumière.
Her: Loooo-mee who?
Him: You don't know who Lumière is?!?!
Her: No.
Him: I can't believe you don't know who Lumière is!
At this point I am thinking to myself, "Come on, buddy, not everyone is scholar like you and I. Ease off the poor dame."
Her: No. Just tell me.
Him: The candle from Beauty and the Beast!
Her: Oh, I LOVE him!
At this point I am thinking to myself, "I feel old. Also, Auguste Lumiére would have been a really shitty costume. I am going to east my croissant now."

476. Celebrate the human body

2010-01-28T19:12:00.000-08:00

That my discovery of Pindar's victory odes and the world's discovery of Greg Oden's penis occurred on the same day is a wondrous thing. In the days of Pindar athletes competed in the nude. They competed in the nude not only because it was hot and the textile makers of Ancient Greece knew precious little in the ways of wicking, but also because athletic competitions were celebrations of the human body. Today? Embarrassment and shame with nude male form. But also praise. It's not quite in the same class as Pindar, but here we have a modern-day victory ode.

An additional note on Pindar: Reading this book on the bus, with its cover depicting two nude men wrestling (or perhaps, to the untrained eye, two nude men participating in precoital roughhousing) is an act not recommended for men who are insecure with their sexuality.

475. Celebrate the interplay of life and art

2010-01-27T07:32:00.000-08:00

It's funny how things work. I was on the bus reading a Cynthia Ozick essay. I read the lines below several times. Each time thinking, "Who is Pindar?" I got off the bus and entered the library to return some overdue books (including the Ozick). As I exited the library I spotted Pindar's The Complete Odes prominently displayed and of course I took it home with me. Turns out Pindar was a Greek poet and these odes are victory odes for champions of the ancient Games. The Olympics are about to hijack my February; Pindar hijacked my night. How about that for interplay of life and art?

Inventing a secret, then revealing it in the drama of entanglements -this is what ignites the will to write stories. The creation of forms has no part in this; I have no interest in "the new." Rupture doesn't attract me; I would rather inherit coherence than smash and start over again with enigma. The secrets that engage me -that sweep me away -are generally secrets of inheritance: how the pear seed becomes a pear tree, for instance, rather than a polar bear. Ideas are emotions that penetrate the future of coherence - in particular the idea of genesis. You cannot have Philip Roth without Franz Kafka; you cannot have Kafka without Joseph the dreamer. You cannot have William Gass without Walter Pater; you cannot have Pater without Pindar.

As for life, I don't like it. I notice no "interplay of life and art." Life is that which—pressingly, persistently, unfailingly, imperially—interrupts.

474. Assign blame for the spending freeze

2010-01-26T07:31:00.000-08:00

Ah, the spending freeze. At the very least it's a curious bit of pandering. More likely the Obama administration has lost its mind in a collective fit of panic after Scott Brown's victory last week. While it would be easy to assign blame for the current state of affairs to Martha Coakley and her mess of a campaign, I refuse to do it. No, to me it's clear that the Mooninites are solely responsible for all of this. The 2007 Boston bomb scare, led by a small band of Mooninite special operatives, was not one of Coakley's finer moments. Her reaction to the scare became the source of much giggling. Aside from her being a horrible candidate, the bomb scare fallout was probably the most important factor in Coakley's loss. Clearly the bomb scare was a far-sighted play by the Mooninites, who have been six or seven steps ahead all along—their race, after all, is hundreds of years ahead of ours and they live in a world of 5000-D. This is but the first volley in what shall be a centuries long struggle for supremacy of planet Earth. First they freeze our assets, then they freeze our women, then they freeze our Meatwads.

473. Tell Michael Steele to lick your balls

2010-01-23T10:13:00.000-08:00

Lick my balls, Michael Steele. You sent me a "2010 Congressional District Census." Enclosed with the census is a letter you penned yourself. The fifth paragraph reads:

Because of your high level of political involvement and steadfast commitment to the Republican Party, your personal input on the questions presented in your Census Document is critical to our Party's future.

Critical, you say? Well then how about I wipe my ass with it? Would you like that?

Then you ask me some questions, the first of which is,

Do you generally identify yourself as a:
Conservative Republican
Moderate Republican
Liberal Republican
Independent Voter who leans Republican
Other

Don't see it there, but I think I'll take "Independent Voter who leans Death to the Republican Party." There are several more questions and then, lo and behold, the final page is a donation form! There is even an option for "I cannot send a donation right now. But I am enclosing $15 to help defray the cost of processing my Census Document." A worthy cause indeed....

My first question is, Is this legal? Something posing as an official census document that is actually a party fund-raising tool? Very suspicious indeed. And unethical!

My second question is, Why are you mailing this to me? Better still, Why are you mailing this to anybody in Washington's 7th District?

My third question is, What will the Tea Baggers say when they receive a census commissioned not by Chairman Obama and his Census Czar but by the leader of their very own party? Will they revolt? Splinter into warring factions? Go back to living productive lives?

In closing, lick my balls, Michael Steele.

472. Learn from the pros

2010-01-21T20:24:00.000-08:00

I've got a buddy who is a real smooth operator with the ladies. He might disagree, but it is so. On occasion he has been known to employ a particular question as an icebreaker. He asks, "What is your favorite dinosaur?" It's his go-to move. Kareem was to the sky hook what my friend is to this question. I've always been humored by it. Recently, I put the question to use myself just for kicks—picture Dikembe Mutombo attempting a sky hook and you've almost got the picture. The response was rather unfortunate. "My favorite dinosaur is a Stegosaurus because of Cera from The Land Before Time," she said. Now, I have nothing against the film, it's a true classic of American cinema, and I'd chill and drink a brew with Petrie any day of the week. But come on, everyone knows that Cera is a freaking Triceratops. That's why she's named Cera! I corrected the gal, which is great because now she knows I'm a man of science and the arts, a real polymath. We have a date upcoming.

471. Find something to do other than mope

2010-01-21T07:37:00.000-08:00

The writer's quest has traditionally been to figure out the right human questions to ask, and if we still love the novels of, say, George Eliot, it is because we are nostalgic for the sobriety of time when the right questions could be divined. In the disorderly aftermath of Joyce, Kafka, Agnon, Borges, all the questions appear to be used up, repetitive, irrelevant; and their answers—which only recently did take an experimental form—have been marred by struggle, stoicism, and a studied "playfulness" more plucky than antic. After Kafka, after Borges, what is there to do but mope?

Cynthia Ozick, "Italo Calvino: Bringing Stories to Their Sense," Metaphor & Memory

470. Express disappointment in your native land

2010-01-19T20:33:00.001-08:00

I gave my parents a call this evening. As always, I got their answering machine. My parents are supremely busy people and they cannot be bothered to answer the telephone unless they know with a strong degree of certainty that there is someone important on the line. It just so happens that I am of tremendous import. To them. I left a message, "Dear Massachusetts, I hate you. Sincerely, Ben." My mother answered and we discussed the topic du jour.

I should explain that my parents live in Massachusetts. They voted today. I am pleased to say that they voted correctly. Others, however, did not. As it happens, the majority did not.

The nation at large might think of Massachusetts and think of Kennedys, Kerry, Dukakis. Super libs, favorite whipping posts of the right. But if you grew up there when I grew up there you're just as likely to think of Weld, Cellucci, Swift, Romney. From 1993-2007 the Commonwealth was governed by a quartet of fiscally conservative, socially moderate Republicans. Massachusetts is not the deep-blue ocean of liberal ideals that it's cracked up to be. Yes, Taxachusetts is fun to say, but in the end it's just a word, not a clarion call.

The popular political narrative seems to be that today's vote was some kind of a referendum on Obama's first year in office. That in Massachusetts we had a snapshot of the mood of the nation and the mood is, generally speaking, "Fuck change!" I'd say this is a simplification of the truth, except that the truth is actually far simpler. The truth is that this election was about a charismatic, good-looking gent with a good-looking family who ran a populist campaign of "fiscal responsibility" against an uninspiring candidate with a shoddy record as District Attorney and a history of alienating her supporters. That Coakley closed about as well Byung-Hyun Kim in the '01 Series suggests that her candidacy was inept from the start—we just didn't realize it on the outside because it was widely assumed she would win going away.

But that's not the story you're likely to get from the people who are shouting at you through your television set. Instead, this is what they will say: "If Democrats can't even win in Massachusetts, it's curtains for Democrats 2010." Narratives of sweeping political change are fun. I seem to recall pundits not so long ago blathering on about how America was aligned for a generation of Democratic dominance. The pendulum had swung and it would not soon swing back. That lasted all of, oh, about 14 months. A virtual eternity in the world of mainstream political punditry where original insights are scarce and astute insights even scarcer.

Perhaps Democrats are in trouble in 2010, but it's not because Obama is a weak, indecisive president who is too liberal for the heartland, or too conservative for his base, or too idealistic for the Tralfamadorians. The Democrats could be in trouble in 2010 because THAT'S HOW AMERICAN DEMOCRACY WORKS! None of this is new, none of it is surprising. The pendulum swings. Then it swings back. Occasionally events either hasten the pendulum's pace or reign it in a tad, but you cannot stop the pendulum. When the economy is shit the pendulum swings right through you with the quickness. The party in power gets the gas face. So it goes . . .

What happened today was unfortunate. Massachusetts dropped the ball because Coakley lathered it with Crisco and horseshit. November is a long way away. The people shouting at you through your television set will probably reverse their story three or four times between now and then. That's kind of their job. In the meantime, the death of health care reform is not a complete certainty.

Dear Massachusetts, I don't really hate you. But please do better next time. Sincerely, Ben.

469. Make a list of your favorite songs of the decade*

2009-12-21T22:06:00.000-08:00

Aught-O-Tune: Songs of the Decade
All My Friends - LCD Soundsystem
Time To Pretend - MGMT
D.A.N.C.E. - Justice
B.O.B. - Outkast
Heartbeat - Annie
Heartbeats - The Knife
Paper Planes - M.I.A.
Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Idioteque - Radiohead
I'll Believe In Anything - Wolf Parade
Wolf Like Me - TV On The Radio
The Rat - Walkmen
Hearts On Fire - Cut Copy
One More Time - Daft Punk
And I Was A Boy From School - Hot Chip
Archangel - Burial
Ignition (Remix) - R. Kelly
Int'l Players Anthem - UGK
Get By (Remix) - Talib Kweli
Dirt Off Your Shoulders (Grey Album) - Jay-Z
Since I Left You - The Avalanches
Jesus, Etc. - Wilco
Chicago - Sufjan Stevens
The Way We Get By - Spoon
Rebellion (Lies) - Arcade Fire
The Funeral - Band Of Horses

*I don't know if these are actually my favorite favorite FAVORITE songs of the decade. But I do know it's a kickass two-hour playlist of songs I really like.

468. Make a list of your favorite books of the decade

2009-12-21T07:36:00.000-08:00

Pastoralia
As I watched the Balloon Boy escapade play out in front of me I thought of George Saunders. Saunders was the perfect antidote to the Bush years. He is as keen an observer of American culture as we've got, possessing a wealth of humor, darkness and humanity that allowed him to craft incisive satire of our society as we witnessed the decay of news media and the ultimate victory of noise and bluster and illusion over substance; a period where it was possible for Two and a Half Men to become the most-watched comedy on TV and for Dan Brown to become the favorite novelist of a generation of men who had never before read a novel in its entirity. That we are now beginning to resemble a Saunders story more and more is unfortunate. Balloon Boy and Joe the Plumber and Glenn Beck could have been lifted straight out of his work. There is probably no return to respectability for this culture of ours. But if you want respectable and original and sophisticated and hilarious, look no further than George Saunders and Pastoralia.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
Sure, the first chapter is a bit of a bore and there are a few patches that could have been excised completely, but trust me, that title don't lie, if you stick with it you're in for a pretty swell adventure. Certainly if you were ever into comic books this is a must read. Personally, I don't give a shit about comic books but that didn't dampen my appreciation any. People have complained. They have said, "I read Kavalier & Clay with a dictionary on my lap and some of the words found in Kavalier & Clay could not to be found in the dictionary." Chabon invents words, I think that's awesome. Still, there are those who have said that the writing is showy, needlessly erudite. Not entirely unfair, but that's part of its charm. Just take a deep breath and go with it. I don't know, maybe I just like it because you get to see Jews are something other than lonely Bellovian intellectuals and Rothian sex hounds.

Cultural Amnesia
Clive James is a treasure. Here the witty Australian polymath gives us 800+ pages of scholarly riffing on fascinating figures of the 20th century. The essays are organized in alphabetical order by subject, from Stalin-era Russian poet Anna Akhmatova to Austrian writer Stefan Zweig; with the likes of Coco Chanel, Mao Zedong, Duke Ellington and Marcel Proust in between. To call the book a collection of "biographical essays" does it a great disservice. The essays focus less on the specific lives and ideas of individuals than on the larger themes of the century. Each essay's subject provides James a launchpad for discussing whatever he wants. The entry on homeless, womanizing Austrian poet Richard Altenburg ruminates on theories of love and lust in the 20th century; the essay on Louis Armstrong is as much about white jazz cornetist Bix Beiderbecke and the role race played in jazz music of the era. Magnificent stuff and far funnier than I could ever convince you it is.

Last Evenings on Earth
The Savage Detectives and 2666 got a lot of attention these past few years, but I think even their biggest proponents might admit that those novels are rambling and occasionally a bit of a mess. This collection of short stories is a better introduction to Roberto Bolaño.

American Romances
One thing that I thought was unique about coming of age in America during the Age of Terror is that one's concept of what it means to be American is all mixed up. Turns out it's always been this way. Rebecca Brown's first collection of essays mixes criticism and autobiography, pop culture and American history. Very funny. Gloriously footnoted.

The Macrophenomenal Pro Basketball Almanac
A sportswriter, a philosopher and an anthropologist walk into a bar. All three are smart, hilarious, passionate fans of the NBA. Imagine the conversation the three might have after several drinks. Then imagine that conversation, in book form, accompanied by glorious artwork. That's what this book is. I would be lying if I said FreeDarko is solely responsible for my renewed interest in the NBA—Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen had a lot to do with it. But that blog and this book did some of the heavy lifting. I love this book so much that it lead me to hang a painting of Kobe Bryant on my office wall. I hate Kobe Bryant. This is a powerful book.

On Chesil Beach
I was home on vacation for ten day last summer. Having already completed the two books I brought with me I scoured the bookshelf for something I could read in one afternoon. Deciding it was high time to pop my Ian McEwan cherry I picked this one up. It kind of fucked up my head for the remainder of the vacation. In a good way. In the way that only a brief, beautiful, devastating story can leave you feeling broken but hungering for more.

The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis
The most recent addition to this list. A month ago I had never read anything by Lydia Davis. Now I'm starting to think she might be our best contemporary short story writer. I don't quite know how to sum her up. I'm still reading the book. She's experimental but completely under control. She does things I didn't know you could do and she makes it all look effortless.

State by State
Original essays on all fifty states by some of our greatest writers. Included in the book are Jhumpa Lahiri on Rhode Island, Dave Eggers on Illinois, Ha Jin on on Georgia and Jonathan Franzen on New York. The tone is light, most of the essays are personal. In the back of the book you'll find a helpful set of thrity tables showing all the standard state-by-state census rankings but also great things like 'Roller Coasters Per Capita' (New Hampshire!) and 'Toothlessness Rate' (poor West Virgina) and 'Cigarette Consumption' (Kentucky first, Utah last). My copy came damaged. Half a page is torn out in the Mississippi entry. Kind of poetic, no?

Netherland
The best book about New York that I have read. The best post-9/11 book that I have read. The best recent novel about America and the American Dream that I have read. The comparisons to Gatsby are unavoidable, but it's more involved than Gatsby. It's also darker. This book is destined to become a classic. The fact that I have an autographed first edition makes me happy.

Cloud Atlas
A superb, ambitious, Matryoshka doll of a book. Story A begins and abruptly stops in the middle, and then Story B begins and, again, abruptly stops halfway through. Same with C, D and E. Then you get all of Story F, followed by the last half of Stories E, D, C, B, and A. It's probably worth noting that the six narratives belong to six different genres. Gimmicky? Sure, a little bit. But it's so much more than that. The stories tie together in myriad ways, creating an unforgettable narrative exploring bondage and freedom, how we bind ourselves, how others enslave us and where true freedom lies. David Mitchell is a genius and his work is elegant and tender in a way that you would not except from a writer with such a calculated approach.

467. Make a list of your favorite movies of the decade

2009-12-12T18:21:00.000-08:00

I began the decade believing that anyone who watched and enjoyed a lot of movies with subtitles was probably an asshole. I conclude the decade compiling a list of favorite movies that is littered by movies with subtitles.

How did I get here? Am I an asshole?

How did I get here?

For me the 2000’s bridged the gap from childhood to old age. I am perhaps unique in this respect. The decade dawned in the middle of my freshman year of college. At that time I already loved movies and had spent weekends in high school fastidiously crossing off classics from AFI’s list of the 100 greatest American films. But I went out of my way to avoid being perceived as anything even remotely resembling a film snob. To this end, subtitled films were all but verboten. My parents watched them. I laughed at my parents.

I used to say I would never grow a beard because beards were stupid. I used to say I did not like beer because I did not like the taste of beer. I used to say rap music was the only music I cared about. I used to say foreign films were for assholes.

It didn’t take much to make me stop saying all of these things. All it took was time and curiosity.

Am I an asshole?

Most definitely. But it’s got nothing to do with the movies I enjoy.

Were I to compile a list of the "best" movies of the decade, I would probably start by trying to identify what I think are the funniest, the most moving, and the most important movies for the widest variety of human beings with reasonable taste. In compiling in a list of my favorite movies of the decade, I tried to identify the movies that are the most important to me. Some make me laugh, some challenge me, some educate me, they all entertain me and affect me in unique ways. Most importantly, they all stuck with me with me through a difficult decade and will continue to provide important artistic touchstones that I will return to for the rest of my life.

Here are my favorite movies of the decade:

The Best of Youth (2005)
This film is six hours long, an epic that follows two Italian brothers from the 1960s to the current decade. I watched it in one sitting and was sad to see it end. I’ve watched 90-minute films that feel longer and have more wasted energy than this beauty. The rest of this list is not in any particular order, but this one is at the top for a reason. It puts you through the ringer, but I don’t know if I’ve seen a film that has made me care more about its characters than this one does. And on top of all that you get a nifty Italian history lesson and a free tour around Europe.

The Taste of Tea (2004)
For those who would say that I do not like comedies, consider this charming, visually imaginative film about a rural Japanese family my middle finger extended to you. This is one of those movies that snuck to the top of my Netlfix queue and sat on my coffee table for a week before I watched it. When I finally did watch it I was won over by its warmth and quirkiness.

3-Iron (2005)
Director Kim Ki-duk’s Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring is better known, but I prefer this surreal tale about a drifter with powers of invisibility and his love affair with a battered housewife. Part moody, metaphysical drama and part thriller, it pairs silence and violence in surprising ways.

4 Months, 3 weeks, and 2 Days (2008)
Two students arrange an illegal abortion in Ceausescu’s Romania. Tense, stunning, excellent.

Caché (2005)
France confronts its colonial past. It is not pleasant. Pity that Daniel Auteuil and Juliette Binoche must take the brunt of it.

The Edge of Heaven (2008)
An overwrought plot, but I forgive it because it's gorgeous to look at, well acted, and has important things to say about globalization, multiculturalism, generational disconnect and Turkey's place in Europe.

Far From Heaven (2002)
Oh shit, what’s this? An American movie? Acting, design, wardrobe and cinematography are all top notch. Plus, it's a good story. But I must confess, it makes the list because I love me some Douglas Sirk.

Happy-Go Lucky (2008)
Because we could all use more Poppy in ourselves are more Poppys in our lives.

The Incredibles (2004)
It really does get better every time I see it.

Layer Cake (2005)
Early on there were those who said Daniel Craig was a horrible choice to play James Bond. To them I simply said, “Layer Cake.” Love it. Also, Sienna Miller.

The Lives of Others (2006)
The quietest, most elegant of spy films. It's a thriller and an art film! Oh my! It's kind of unfair that someone can make a movie this great on their first attempt. Ulrich Muehe, RIP.

Me and You and Everyone We Know (2005)
I’ve been something of a Me and You and Everyone We Know evangelist. The results have been mixed. I love the tone, the humor, and the characters. Miranda July, sigh.

Mulholland Dr. (2001)
Nope, I will not pretend to tell you I understand it. But any film that I’ve seen twice (both times nearly a decade ago) that I think about as much as I do this one deserves a spot on the list, right?

The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)
Wes Anderson at the height of his powers. A perfect ensemble cast. Melancholy by the pound. Not without flaws, but they are forgiven.

Spirited Away (2002)
Probably the best animated movie ever.

Travellers and Magicians (2005)
Single-handedly put Bhutan atop my list of must-see destinations.

The World (2005)
Tragically this movie only has a 69% on Rotten Tomatoes. Rosenbaum, Ebert and myself like it a lot, which should be good enough for you. China is important. This is an important movie about China.

25th Hour (2002)
Three fine actors acting their asses off. Rosario Dawson in that dress (you know the one). Spike Lee, for the most part, showing tremendous restraint.

Before Sunset (2004)
I have no way of knowing whether I'm in the minority on this (I suspect that I am) but I like Before Sunset better than Before Sunrise. If you know me you might not be surprised to hear that middle-aged malaise interests me more than youthful optimism.

The Fast Runner (2002)
Inuits! Spectacular movie about at a vanishing lifestyle that is rarely captured on film.

Gomorrah (2009)
The best mafia movie not called The Godfather. Seriously. See it.

Old Joy (2006)
Like No Country for Old Men for liberal, hipster pacifists who enjoy walking in the woods. Ah, the Cascades. A friendship expiring. A country expiring?

466. Take a cheap shot at a hairdresser after she gives you a fright

2009-10-31T16:26:00.000-07:00

Some observations from an early afternoon stroll around downtown Seattle on Halloween:

The Seattle Public Library has special sections dedicated to "Dead authors" and "Disability in fiction." Unclear to me whether these suggestions were coincidentally aligned with Halloween or the SPL staff has a heretofore unexhibited edginess to it.

Walked past a man who I thought was dressed up as iconic Bond villain Oddjob. I very nearly complimented him on the costume, but it turned out he just happened to be a squat Asian man who works as a bellman at a nearby luxury hotel.

Got quite a fright from, of all places, a Vidal Sasoon salon when a manikin wearing a paper tiger mask clawed at me through the window. Turns out it wasn't a manikin at all. It was the manikin's less advanced colleague, the hairdresser.

Spotted a picture-perfect Luigi in front of Pacific Place. Unfortunately he was chatting on a cellphone and not carrying a plunger, which was sad. Also, there were no Koopa Troopas chasing him, which, like, if you're gonna do it, go all out.

The costume du jour in Pioneer Square, just as it is any other day, was Homeless Person. It occurred to me that on every block of this city there is a homeless person with more fashionable attire than I.

465. Visit the land of the giants

2009-10-29T07:14:00.000-07:00

We are only a couple of weeks into my immersion in the world of Twitter and already I am overrun by updates from basketball players, basketball analysts and basketball sites of all shapes and sizes. It's a side effect of jumping into the game just as the basketball season begins. Oh, I'm not complaining. Quite the contrary. Just look at all that I have learned:

Former UNC guard Bobby Frasor is adjusting to life in Bulgaria, where sandpaper has not yet been invented:
Im afraid to dive on the floor for a loose ball cause Im pretty sure I'll have a serious sliver when i land. The courts over here are brutal

Former Michigan forward, and reigning NBDL Defensive Player of the Year, Brent Petway is adjusting to life in Greece, where he is finding the supply of performance-enhancing corn syrup to be lacking:
Yo is it bad that I gotta have my sweets so much that I'm bout to order my fav candy online and have em' shipped to Greece!!?! Sour Punch Straws, Super Blow Pops, Sour Skittles and maybe Sour Starburst...The candy selection here is awful unless you a chocalate lover.

Apparently Ty Lawson thinks vampires are gay:
Yeah..yeah...all the teams that ain't pick me....I'm going at they neck...no homo....

Someone has pooped in Kevin Durant's swimming pool:
Man it's a ugly day in Okc...my pool is brown, look like coffee wit 2 creams and 3 sugars

Nate Robinson offers his first of many apologies for the Knicks:
I want to be the 1st to say sorry for that game tweeps we will play better, and I will make a shot sorry again yall, word aapp!!!

Pops Mensah Bonshu offers an astute political observation:
When 2 republicans want to criticize a democrat they compare him to a another republican. Reps states obama is nixon-fying the white house

Michigan wing Anthony Wright has an intriguing post-graduate plan:
I wanna be a bus driver on campus and stop at a crowded bus stop, look at the people and just drive off

Sometimes it's not even the interesting posts that interest me. For example, it's rewarding to learn that Shelden Williams is just as boring as I had always imagined:
Just got done with the game we played well and got a good W

464. Find your hidden talent

2009-10-26T21:50:00.000-07:00

This is part one in a never-ending series examining great sports scenes in non-sports movies.

"The moment where I realized comedy could be both funny and beautiful." - Terry Jones on M. Hulot's Holiday

Forty-seven minutes into Jacques Tati's eighty-seven minute comedic masterpiece begins perhaps¹ the greatest tennis scene committed to film. M. Hulot's Holiday is the first of four films to feature Tati's awkward and endearing Monsieur Hulot. Whereas the later films portray Hulot hopelessly out of place in an increasingly modernized, mechanized, sterilized, impatient and unfriendly world, in Holiday we encounter Hulot vacationing in a small, French seaside town. The pace is languid, the mood merry, the surroundings beautifully old-fashioned. Here Hulot's alienation is dependent much more on social class and etiquette than on his outmoded way of being.

Hulot is a Mr. Magoo-like character. His awkwardness and obliviousness tend to create havoc wherever he goes. This makes it is all the more remarkable that his bizarre approach to tennis is so wildly successful. I think I'm correct in saying that this is the only time Hulot displays any form of physical prowess in Tati's four Hulot pictures.

The scene begins as Hulot, apparently thinking that his trademark hat is not sporting enough, buys a newspaper and quickly crafts a hat suitable for tennis out of it. He then enters a gift shop where he buys a tennis racket and, a neophyte at the game, picks up a crucial pointer from the shopkeeper. It is unclear why the lady instructs Hulot to serve the ball with such unique flair, but I sincerely thank her for it.

Hulot's car pulls up the tennis court² and emits some sputtering followed by a loud bang. The cacophany of his car engine and the disruption it causes are recurring themes throughout the film. We see two young women, presumably experienced tennis players, gracefully and artfully warming up with practice swings. Hulot steps up to serve and hilarity ensues. He rockets a service right by them. And then another and another in quick succession. The women are taken aback by the incivility of his play. After exiting the court in a huff, Hulot gets a challenge from proud a young gentleman who struts onto the court and is swiftly run ragged. Sprawling on the ground, unable to keep up with Hulot's rapid services, he is embarrassed.

A Young boy enthusiastically emulates Hulot's style on a neighboring ping-pong table. An old man in a captain's hat mimics Hulot's form and exclaims, "But that's not right. That's not tennis."³ Hulot's young challenger, out of breath, unable to speak, throws in the towel after failing to return a single service

Hulot stands poised, ready to serve, waiting for his next opponent. The old man says, "Fine. Well I'll go on the attack." Hulot gives the man a nod and serves. The old man does a full 360, whiffs on the ball and loses his captain's cap in the process.

The excellence and audacity of Hulot's play upset the stuffy vacationers⁴ in much the same way his loud jazz music and sputtering car engine agitate the resort vibe. That Hulot excels at tennis while completely ignoring the game's etiquette is important. He does it not out of disdain for those who take the game seriously, but rather out of simple naiveté. He's one of few in town who is not putting on some kind of an act, who is not more concerned with social grace than having an enjoyable vacation.

It is important to note that not everyone is annoyed by Hulot's tennis play and various other eccentricities. The pretty young blond, the young boy and the kooky chair umpire are delighted by his antics. Throughout the film, the more unlikable a character is the more they are bothered by Hulot's innocent obliteration of social mores. Tati sides strongly with Hulot and those who would befriend him. In the end Hulot wins over more than he losses. He brings energy to the staid surroundings and ushers a conclusion that I think is far more optimistic than the Hulot films that would follow.

I'll close with the following from David Ehrenstein's essay that accompanies the Criterion edition of the film:

Tati’s penchant for realism, combined with his taste and restraint, make M. Hulot’s Holiday the sort of comedy that one can enjoy again and again. A first viewing will have you laughing at the classic comedy scenes like Hulot’s tennis game, or the uproarious scene in which the hapless Hulot finds himself mistaken for a mourner at a country funeral—and that’s not to mention the bits with the muddy footprints, the raucous jazz record, or the runaway car.

But later viewings reveal something else, for Tati is the antithesis of the laughs-at-any-price gagman. He wants us to laugh, but he also wants something more. In the words of critic Pauline Kael, “Tati is sparse, eccentric, quick. It is not until afterward—with the sweet nostalgic music lingering—that these misadventures take on a certain poignancy and depth.” For film director Jean-Luc Godard it’s this subtle afterglow—a comic yet becalmed view of the world—that really counts. “This is what interests Tati. Everything and nothing. Blades of grass, a kite, children, a little old man, anything, everything which is at once real, bizarre, and charming."

______________________
1 We'll get to some others later. There are at least two other contenders that I have in mind. A cookie goes to the first person who can name them both!

2 The old man's annoyance reminds me of the time I attended the men's foil finals at the 1996 Summer Olympics with my old man. The Cubans won the bronze and my most salient memory of the event is my father's annoyance with their style of fencing. His reaction to the Cuban's aggressive and, to an untrained eye, almost reckless approach amounted to, "But that's not right. That's not fencing." Meanwhile, my response to the Cubans was very much like what we see from the little boy who emulates Hulot on the ping-pong table, I thought they were the coolest.

2 Regrettably. the tennis court no longer exists.

4 An interesting note about France and vacations: "When [Tati] made this film, summer vacations were not the institution in France they are now, when Paris is deserted by Parisians in the month of August. In 1953, workers had only two weeks vacation, few traveled, since hotels were expensive, and only one person in 25 owned a car."

463. Find the namby pamby who's married to a supermodel

2009-10-22T20:43:00.000-07:00

Well, can you spot him in the picture below?

What the eff, Thomas? You're boarding a jet plane to fly across the Atlantic Ocean. The rest of the gentlemen in your company are wearing comfortable, sensible, matching sweats. They are dressed this way because they are on their way to a play a football game. And you, what, you're on your way to the London fucking Stock Exchange? Tea with the Queen Mum? Addressing parliament? Modeling for a dapper wax sculpture at Madame Tussaud's? What? Lose the suit, you jackass.

Adalius Thomas knows what this trip is all about. You could learn from him, Brady.

462. Kill your doppleganger

2009-10-20T19:41:00.000-07:00

The thing about doppelgangers is they're kinda cool until you've got one yourself. I have a doppelganger and he lives in my apartment building. Not only that, he lives on my floor. Today he offered to hold the elevator for me while I fetched my mail. I told him "Thanks but no thanks, you scare me." Said it with my eyes. He got the message.

I relayed the first part of that tale on Twitter, hoping for some sage advice. It was not long before I received some: "Rub him out. Take his stuff. Wear his clothes. Write about it. But first, the murder."

I laughed it off. That is until I conducted a cursory investigation which revealed that the doppelganger may be more than a mere nuisance mirror-image who taunts me with hollow gestures of neighborly goodwill: "the double will often impersonate the victim and go about ruining them, for instance through committing crimes or insulting the victim's friends. Sometimes, the double even tries to kill the original."

First, a disclaimer to the police, If I commit any crimes in the coming days, including murder, please know that it was my doppelganger who has done it and not me. I will murder him shortly. Sit tight.

Second, a disclaimer to my friends, If I insult you in the coming days, please know that it was my doppelganger who has insulted you and not me. I will murder him shortly. Sit tight.

Third, a disclaimer to me, If I kill you in the coming days, please know that it was because you are a doppelganger and I had to kill you before you killed me. I will murder you shortly. Sit tight.

Fourth, a disclaimer to my doppelganger, If you die in the coming days, please know that it was me who has killed you and not you that has killed me. And, if not, it was probably me that has killed me. Unless there is a third party involved, which isn't very likely. To be honest, I don't think anyone wants to kill you expect for me and vice versa. Anyway, I'm gonna kill you. Sit tight.

Fifth, a second disclaimer to my friends, If I insult you in the coming days, please know that it is because I am duty-bound to insult the friends of my doppelganger as retribution for insulting you. Because my doppelganger claimed you all as his friends, I must insult you. Just ignore it, unless you think it's my doppelganger doing it, in which case please report it to me. Thank you.

UPDATE: I've given it some thought and, doppelganger, I do not wish to kill you anymore. The cable guy is coming by the apartment to fix my DVR today and, well, I'm wondering if you could sit in for me as I have to go to work. I would be willing to pay you, of course. How does $20 cash sound? Provided that you do not go about ruining me, for instance through committing crimes or insulting my friends or even trying to kill me. Sound good? If this goes off without a hitch I'm thinking maybe Tuesdays and Thursdays you could go to work for me. We can negotiate your salary later. Also, I've signed myself up to fly home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Not sure I'm up for all that. I'll pay your way, just pick one. If you pick Christmas I'll let you keep one present of your choice and all the candy in your stock- my stocking, my stocking. I trust you with this assignment, doppelganger. I can trust you, right? Please don't let me down.

461. Dabble in vampire detectivery

2009-10-19T22:16:00.000-07:00

Although I had a vague notion of the existence of a historical figure known as 'Vlad the Impaler,' my knowledge of 15th century Romanian princes is, regrettably, thin. Had you asked me yesterday I probably would have guessed that he was a Russian czar, or a Visigoth pimp, or the DH for the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim.

I had no idea that Vlad the Impaler was the inspiration for Count Dracula. Learning this news in the Believer's fine piece of reportage on the booming vampire tourism industry in Romania delighted me. While in a delighted state, my mind wanders..... and you get a blog post!

Degrees of Separation

Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia
Bram Stoker
Bela Lugosi
Gene Autry¹
Arte Moreno
Vladimir Guererro

Evidence for Vlad Guerrero is a vampire:

Career OPS is 70 points higher at night and 52 points higher indoors, suggesting Vlad might be moderately fearful of daylight.
Spent the first 10 years of his career in the Expos organization, a tragic hero in the classic vampire mold.
Feeds on the pranic energy of pitchers.
Ability to hit balls "from his nose to his toes' is tantamount to sorcery.
Approach at the plate is immune to conventional means of attack.
Name is an anagram for 'Gal devourerr'

Evidence against Vlad Guerrero is a vampire:

Chronic back and knee pain would seem to suggest that Vlad is mortal.
Two-run dong in the California sun today.
LOVES garlic!
There is only one black vampire and his name is Blacula.

Final assessment: Vlad Guerrero is probably a vampire.

________________________
1 The Lugosi-to-Autry connection is far less tenuous (and far more hilarious) than you might imagine: "Ed [Wood's] unrealized Ghoul project was to have cowboys come upon a seemingly deserted wild west town that secretly is populated by blood-thirsty vampires who duke it out fang-to-gun in a tense Woodian climax. Cowboy superstar Gene Autry came to Bela's aide in the days following his exit from the [drug rehabilitation] clinic, saying that he would star in the cowboy lead if Bela Lugosi would star as the villanous vampire. Very touching words from a heroic American cowboy ... until legend has it that Gene Autry actually had a chance to SEE one of Ed Wood's films, at which point the heroic American cowboy quietly backed out of the project." - The Life of Edward D. Wood Jr.

460. Finish what you started

2009-09-27T18:33:00.000-07:00

Forgive my silence. I too am surprised at how deeply the death of legendary newsman Walter Cronkite has affected me. The fact is that while a friend of mine gave Cronkite tennis instruction on a handful of occasions I neither met the man nor had any emotional attachment to him. Hell, I wasn't even alive when he stepped aside as anchorman for the CBS Evening News. And yet this blog has been in mourning, dark since his death more than two months ago. I cannot explain it.

At any rate, much has taken place since we last spoke:

I bought a new shower curtain. I disposed of the dark blue deal that was in place when I moved in and replaced it with a white one. The change has given a new vibrancy to my bathroom. Change is good.

I have not been to the gym in several weeks and have only visited five times since my last post. I plan to go to the gym tomorrow.

I have been reading a book on Weimar Germany for approximately as long as Weimar Germany existed.

While vacationing for the Fourth of July an insect no larger than a poppy seed latched onto my leg in the woods of West Tisbury. We exchanged bodily fluids is a non-consensual manner. The first sign of disease was a three-day spell of dizziness, weakness and the chills. It went away and I thought little of it. A few days later a large bruise formed the top of my left foot. I blamed it on my new Sperry Top-Siders, still in the process of being broken in, and thought not much of it. The bruise went away but was replaced by a swollen ankle. A blood test would soon follow and then a 21-day course of medication. I am all better now.

I bought a new jacket at Patagonia for the fall season. This is the first jacket I have purchased for myself in more than five years. Kind of odd, no? I am very enthusiastic about this new jacket. I can't wait for the first brisk fall day so that I can wear it.

I went on a business trip to Los Angeles and displayed such skill at bar room darts that I was mistaken for a hustler. I won no money but drank much free Newcastle.

My friend Michael, well aware that providing a heavy dose of flattery is the best way to convince me to do something foolish, asked me join Twitter because I "have potent observations and provide links to interesting internet content." Done. I now Tweet. Nothing potent yet.

Moments ago I read this essay by my dear friend Bryan. It is an elegant essay that summons many of my own feelings about rooting for a familiar team in a strange land among strange fans.

We have some ways to go to reach our target of 2009 Things. I am confident that with your help we can get there with plenty of room to spare.

459. Mourn

2009-07-17T20:52:00.000-07:00

"He was so widely known that in Sweden anchormen were once called Cronkiters." Awesome.

The truest thing he ever said:

Mr. Cronkite, a keen sailor, had a seasonal relationship with Martha’s Vineyard that endured far longer even than his tenure in the most influential media job in the country – some 40 years. "I don’t know of any place quit like it, and I’ve traveled a great deal around the world and this nation of ours. This is unique," he said.

458. Coup

2009-06-14T20:10:00.000-07:00

Andrew Sullivan deserves a big fat medal for his tireless coverage of the ongoing election fallout in Iran this weekend. I have been impressed with his blog in that past, but this weekend he took it to a whole new level. Phenomenal. Glued to my Google Reader these past few days I have also read valuable insights from Juan Cole, Nate Silver and many, many others. The blogosphere has been brilliant and once again on the cable news channels we see nothing but neglect. Pathetic.

457. Spend a few nights with Robert Osborne

2009-06-13T19:52:00.000-07:00

Oh mercy, Turner Classic Movies has been on fire lately. The Lady Eve and Sullivan's Travels on Wednesday night. Seven Samurai on Thursday night. A double feature of Double Indemnity and Sunset Boulevard on Saturday. It is entirely possible that TCM exclusively airs my favorite movies and I just hadn't noticed until now, but I doubt it. TCM and I are simpatico like never before and probably never again. I'm enjoying it.

And since we're talking TCM, I believe I neglected to mention that when I watched The Third Man in the theater a couple weeks back TCM's own Robert Osborne was there in person to introduce the film. It was undoubtedly one of the highlights of my young life. Osborne told the tale of how one of The Third Man's producers wanted Jimmy Stewart to play Holly Martins and Robert Mitchum to play Harry Lime. What an odd movie that would have been. Jimmy Stewart in Vienna, it's probably impossible for it not to be a comedy.

456. Dream sweet dreams of Gordon Ramsay

2009-06-10T07:24:00.000-07:00

I had a tough final stretch of sleeping this morning.

4:17 - Awoken by a loud thud in the apartment above me. It sounds like a sleepwalker falling headlong over a coffee table, or alternately a drunkard stumbling around and throwing something large, perhaps a St. Bernard.

4:30 - A lone gunshot rings out on the city street. Probably unrelated to the drunkard and his St. Bernard but it is unclear.

5:27 - Emerge from a dream that went like this: Me in restaurant eating. Two patrons a few tables away are being loud and obnoxious. One of them approaches my table and, thinking I am finished my meal, snatches my plate away. I get up from the table, grab him, grab the plate, and hit him over the head with the plate. Gordon Ramsay rushes out of the kitchen, puts me in a headlock and calls me a racist for picking a fit with the guy who snatched my plate because apparently the guy who snatched my plate is British. I argue my case to no avail. Gordon Ramsay has won.

6:21 - My Snooze button fails me. Or maybe I failed my snooze button. Whatever the case, I oversleep.

455. Share a joke from John Wayne

2009-06-09T20:48:00.000-07:00

Roger Ebert on John Wayne:

Once I was on location for "Chisum" in Durango, Mexico. Clive Hirshhorn of the London Daily Express was there, too. "Duke" he asked, "what do you think about Nixon's policy in Vietnam?"

Wayne sized him up as if to judge if he was one of those goddamned hippies. "I think the President is conducting himself with honor," Wayne said, "and there's only one thing better than honor"

"What's that?"

"In her."

454. Crash Chelsea Clinton's wedding and/or dunk on Obama's face

2009-06-06T17:04:00.000-07:00

If there is to be a Clinton wedding and an Obama vacation on Martha's Vineyard this summer, I have but one request: Please don't let either coincide with my summer visits. I don't want the paparazzi buzzing around me as I go to and fro la playa. I suppose if Obama and I happen to be on the Vineyard at the same time we can hoopi it up at the Community Center and I can dunk on his face.

For those that care about these things, I will take up residence in my Martha's Vineyard vacation home July 3-12 and August 15-23.

453. Make a brief appearance just to be polite

2009-06-03T07:10:00.000-07:00

The situation is this: I work in front of a computer screen all day and lately I've been feeling like when I come home I don't even want to turn on my computer. So I haven't. Hence no blog. But this won't be permanent. It could be that I'm just recalibrating to the nice weather and urge to be outdoors. There should be some time for blogging in the near future. In the meantime, please enjoy this documentary about a super smart sloth.

452. Share some AZ with your friends

2009-05-26T20:53:00.000-07:00

I hadn't listened to this one in a while. Pretty much forgot all about it. Through the magic of iPod shuffle it returned to me today. It's so very good.

And if you're going to have a post about AZ it's probably against the law to not include "Life's a Bitch." So here you go, a pretty cool homemade video with clips from the great film La Haine.

And if you're going to have a post with hip-hop videos and La Haine it is rather crucial that you include this bit of greatness.

451. Buy artwork to decorate your new office

2009-05-26T20:18:00.000-07:00

For some days now I have been waffling on whether to purchase Free Darko artwork to decorate the walls of my new office (more on this later). The fortune in my fortune cookie said, "Life is a series of choices. Today yours are good ones." Denying the possibility that the fortune could be referring to a hypothetical scenario wherein I decide not to order any Free Darko prints, I went ahead and ordered three Free Darko prints. I think it was a good decision. I recommend it.

As long as we're on the topic of ordering aesthetically pleasing shit online, a while back my pal Mike and I signed each other up for McSweeney's "A Year of New Shirts." His idea. His best idea ever. I really like these effin shirts. And the best part is now we don't need to buy each other birthday presents for at least a year.

450. Attend as many festivals as possible

2009-05-23T19:30:00.000-07:00

We in Seattle have an embarrassment of riches in our lap this weekend. The weather is spectacular, Northwest Folklife Festival is going on at Seattle Center, and the Seattle International Film Festival has just begun its twenty-five day run. My SIFF experience has gotten of to a slow start this year. Zero films viewed through the first three days. Tomorrow I get my feet wet with an 11 a.m. screening of a restored print of The Third Man. Should be spectacular. Then at 6:30 I'll be watching Summer Hours. Between the movies I'll spend the afternoon outdoors at Folklife, listening to music, looking at arts and crafts, eating food, and generally feeling very old and very sober in the presence of hoards of young folk whose look and demeanor suggest they are high on drugs whose names I do not even know. Then on Monday two more movies: Laila's Birthday and Wild Field.

449. Buy a new umbrella

2009-05-23T18:04:00.000-07:00

My old umbrella was a rickety bag of bones that toughed it out through a particularly harsh Seattle winter. I bought a new umbrella the other day, ensuring that we will not see rain again until October. See.

448. Locate the cutest blog in the world

2009-05-22T19:51:00.000-07:00

Thank you, Erica C. Barnett, for bringing Tiny Art Director to my attention. I don't think I've ever wanted a child more than I do at this very moment. This is great.

Bill Zeman is an illustrator whose very cute blog operates on a simple concept: His 4-year-old daughter tells him what to draw, he draws it, and she critiques it. He's been doing it since she was two.

447. Find a reason to go to San Marcos, Texas

2009-05-20T21:08:00.000-07:00

At least one reader of this blog will be thrilled to know that if he pays a visit to Texas State University-San Marcos there he will find the Cormac McCarthy archive:

Those keen for a glimpse into the writing life of the notoriously reclusive author Cormac McCarthy may just have to plan a trip to Texas. McCarthy's entire writing career, from his debut The Orchard Keeper to an unfinished novel The Passenger, is meticulously documented in a new archive that goes on display today in a Texas university.
The Pulitzer prize-winning author's notes, handwritten drafts and correspondence for each of his 10 novels are included in the archive at the Southwestern Writers Collection at Texas State University-San Marcos. Also featured in the 98-box archive, which spans McCarthy's literary career from 1964 to 2007, is his 1994 play The Stonemason, about an African-American family in Louisville, Kentucky, and four screenplays, including No Country for Old Men – which McCarthy started as a screenplay in 1984 and adapted into a novel 20 years later.

446. Purchase the book you want even though the man at the book store attempts to thwart your every effort

2009-05-20T20:45:00.000-07:00

I was a little offended when I told the man at Elliott Bay that I wanted to buy a book I saw in the display window by James Hamilton-Paterson but I could not find it anywhere in the store and he assumed I was talking about James Patterson, the thrillingest thriller writer around. Did he think I looked like a semiliterate fool? "No," I said. "It's not James Patterson. Different guy. Hamilton-Paterson. One T. He writes fiction, but this isn't fiction. It's a collection of essays about the ocean, I think." As far I'm concerned I provided him with more than enough information. I didn't give him a title, but whatever. He typed in "James Patterson" on his computer. I reminded him that we were dealing with a different Paterson altogether. He hopped over the desk, an "Aha!" expression on his face, and took me directly to the James Patterson thrillers. Did he not believe me or was he just fucking with me? "Richard North Patterson?" he asked. At this point I brought him to the literature section and showed him James Hamilton-Paterson's novels. "This guy, but not a novel," I said. He went outside to take a look at the display window and after five minutes he returned with a copy of the book I was looking for. This man is not an auditory learner, he is a visual learner. Next time I will take a Polaroid of the display window and deliver it to him, saving us both the trouble of words and movement.

445. Learn to translate Japanese

2009-05-20T20:33:00.000-07:00

There is much speculation about what Haruki Murakami's new novel, 1Q84, is all about. It's set for a May 29 release in Japan but it sounds like we'll have to wait indefinitely for an English translation.

...the secrecy surrounding the novel's contents has created a heated debate in the Japanese blogosphere, leading amateur and professional book lovers alike to engage in fevered attempts to decrypt the book's title. One popular theory claims the book is inspired by George Orwell's dystopian classic Nineteen Eighty-Four (the number nine in Japanese is pronounced like the English letter Q, thus in Japanese 1984 and 1Q84 have the same pronunciation). Another finds inspiration for the title in the novella The True Story of Ah Q, by Chinese novelist Lu Xun, an early 20th century writer and intellectual.

The latter opinion has been fueled by the comments of a prominent Tokyo University professor Shozo Fujii, who argues that Lu Xun is one of Murakami's primary influences. The 1 in the book's title, he argues, should be read as the personal pronoun I. In other words, I am Q. What the 84 might stand for is unclear. Fujii's analysis of Murakami's work breaks with the commonly held view of Murakami's influences, primarily Western writers and literary heavyweights like F. Scott Fitzgerald and Dostoyevsky (a view confirmed by Murakami himself). Nevertheless, Fujii's theory about 1Q84's meaning has developed a large following online, and has been bolstered by his close readings of Chinese literary themes in Murakami's early novels, Hear the Wind Sing and The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.

444. Welcome Big Papi back to the land of the living

2009-05-20T17:42:00.000-07:00

9 hours ago on Twitter: "Papi's going deep tonight. Consider that on the record."

5 minutes ago in Fenway: Papi went deep.

And so it was that Bryan became Twitterdamus.

To those who are unaware (and frankly I envy you because this has been a very stressful time for many of us) it had been 8 months since David Ortiz last hit a home run. That's a long time between homers for the Danny Bautistas of the world, to say nothing of the magical jolly giant we call Big Papi. It barely crept over the centerfield wall but it might as well have gone 800 feet. This was not just a home run, this was a reaffirmation of everything I know to be good and just in this world. A planet with a homerless Big Papi is not a planet that any of want to inhabit. Much like a planet without sunshine, a Papiless planet simply cannot sustain. Long live Big Papi!

Also, Penny is mowing down the Jays and Ellsbury, with 11 putouts in centerfield through six innings, is one putout away from tying the Major League record.

I can't believe you forgot to mention the putout record, Twitterdamus.

443. Buy a sloth

2009-05-20T07:49:00.000-07:00

"The main concept behind Snoozy is to create an intimate, yet passive, toy interaction that relaxes and comforts a user through the tactile experience of steady breathing patterns."

I find it not the least bit creepy.

More here.

442. Visit the Guggenheim

2009-05-17T09:34:00.000-07:00

The Times presents a panoramic image of the inside of the Guggenheim’s rotunda. I'm already little light-headed on account of not yet eating breakfast and the dizziness that playing with this puppy caused nearly rendered me unconscious.

441. Plan a trip to scenic North Korea

2009-05-17T09:15:00.000-07:00

The award-winning Globe photo blog presents a series of photographs looking into North Korea from the outside.

Also, a smaller, but far rarer collection of shots from inside North Korea with an excellent back story:

Renowned documentary photographer Tomas van Houtryve entered North Korea by posing as a businessman looking to open a chocolate factory. Despite 24-hour surveillance by North Korean minders, he took arresting photographs of Pyongyang and its people—images rarely captured and even more rarely distributed in the West. They show stark glimmers of everyday life in the world’s last gulag.

Spring Break 2010? Who's coming with me?

440. Accept the karmic comeuppance of the free bratwurst

2009-05-17T08:45:00.001-07:00

On Friday night I attended Red Sox v. Mariners at lovely Safeco Field. I won a free bratwurst with onions and sauerkraut. What did I have to receive this $8 prize gratis, you ask? Well, not much actually. I ordered the brat from the brat maker, requested onions and sauerkraut be placed on top of the brat, was handed my brat, and, seeing that nobody was collecting money, I walked away. There was a brief moment of moral dilemma, I paused a couple of extra beats just to make certain that they had absolutely no interest in my money. Karmic comeuppance came in the late innings in the form of two back-breaking Ichiro home runs that carried the Mariners to a come-from-behind victory.

Also, there was some good old fashioned Sox-on-Sox violence behind the right field seats. A Mariners fan with a sign that read. "Where were you before 2004?" left me personally offended but in agreement with the general principle. An old lady Mariners fan who was sitting behind me rubbed me on the shoulders to ease my pain following Jason Bay's sky-high would-be go-ahead home run that landed harmlessly in Waldimir Balentin's mitt at the base of the wall for the game-ending out.

Side note, I recently noticed that since KOMO is no longer airing the Mariners' radio broadcasts they have removed the giant Ichiro window decal (above right) from Fisher Plaza. Totally unnecessary. The man is more than marketing tool, he is a civic leader and intergalactic hero of the highest order. They should have left him up. I miss it. I also miss the excitement of the Japanese tourists as they snapped what seemed like several dozen photographs of their pals posing in front of Ichiro's mammoth likeness.

439. Watch Pitfall

2009-05-12T07:51:00.000-07:00

What do you get when surrealist author Kobo Abe and avant garde director Hiroshi Teshigahara team up to make a ghost story slash police procedural slash critique of the mining industry slash creepy ass movie. Well, for one you get the best film I've seen in months. But you also get one of the creepiest trailers I've ever seen. The film is roughly 47% creepy, the trailer is 100% creepy. Pitfall!

438. Think of a satisfactory title for this post

2009-05-12T07:49:00.000-07:00

Interesting segment on last week's On the Media:

Stephen Colbert parodies an outraged conservative TV host every night on Comedy Central. A recent study looked at liberal and conservative reactions to his satire. One of the study's authors, Heather LeMarre, explains that both liberals and conservatives actually think Colbert shares their political beliefs.

437. If you see the man in Edmonds who drives an Audi and carries a Rand McNally world atlas please punch him in the face for me

2009-05-12T07:47:00.000-07:00

It had been a long time since I wanted to fight somebody in a bookstore, at least since the time I got into it with the dandyish Jacobite at the Bernard-Henri Lévy reading. This weekend, before I waltzed into Elliott Bay Book Co. and bought Weimar Germany: Promises and Tragedy, I was sitting on a stoop around the corner, having a phone conversation with my brother. A man parked right in front of me, emerged from his Audi, took a glance at a homeless man passing by, looked to the sky with a pained expression and said audibly to himself, "What a horrible place." It was odd. My phone conversation over, I trailed the man into the bookstore. He marched straight to the information desk and I pretended to browse the adjacent reference section while I listened to his bitch ass complain about the harrowing experience he had SEEING A HOMELESS MAN ON A CITY STREET. "It's a great store but it's in such a terrible location. It's probably okay for some people but I'm from Edmonds. I wish you would just pick up the building and move it to a different neighborhood. Like the U-District. Plus, you used to be open to 11 and now you're only open until 9." Friend, if Pioneer Square scares you at 6 o'clock on Sunday, trust me, you don't want to be there are 11. The freaks come out at night. Also, he was there to get a new book jacket for his Rand McNally world atlas.

436. Become a caricature of yourself

2009-05-10T15:23:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I sat in Macrina Bakery, sipping green tea, nibbling a muffin, and reading a book titled, Weimar Germany: Promise and Tragedy. Ben's life: Promise and tragedy. But seriously the book is fantastic. For some time know—probably since I watched the The Threepenny Opera and Berlin Alexanderplatz—I've been wanting to learn more about the Weimar Republic, the a 14-year period after World War I and before the rise of the Third Reich that saw profound cultural and artistic evolution. We're talking freedom of speech, freedom of the press, equality for men and women, voting rights, Bauhaus, German Expressionism, New Objectivity, Walter Benjamin, Bertolt Brecht, Marlene Dietrich, Martin Heidegger, Hermann Hesse, Paul Klee, Fritz Lang, Thomas Mann, F.W. Murnau, Josef von Sternberg, Max Weber and on and on. All this during a time of intense political fragmentation and dire economic circumtances. Fascinating times, incredibly well-written book. I highly recommend it.

435. Eat To Kill a Mockingbird

2009-05-05T06:34:00.000-07:00

I have so many questions about of this story:

1. How do they know everyone finished the book? Was there a test?

2. Is this Kelleys Island, Ohio, a real place? I find it hard to believe that Ohio has inhabitable islands, it's cities are not even inhabitable.

3. If it is a real place why is its name missing an apostrophe? All islands named for a person or persons should include an apostrophe, that's the rule.

4. "Twelve people listened to the audiobook version of the title, which Kipen said was fine." Bullshit! They did not read it! You must eat it! Eat it, Kipen! I want you to kill a mockingbird and eat it. You big cheater!

5. Why To Kill a Mockingbird? Were I David Kipen, a man in the practice of shaming an island of quasi-literates into reading a book, I might have laid down the gauntlet thusly: "Listen here, island dwellers. You must read Lord of the Flies in week. If you do not complete this book in one week I will eat you. The first person to complete the book gets the conch. Go!"

Literature director's pledge to eat Harper Lee's novel – if island's population could not be persuaded to read it – proves unnecessary
Would he really have done it? Fortunately for the digestive tract of David Kipen, the residents of Kelleys Island in Ohio proved to be a literary-minded lot and he wasn't forced to make good on his promise to eat a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird if the entire population of the island failed to read the book.
Kipen, literature director of America's National Endowment for the Arts and programme director of the community reading scheme The Big Read, had been searching for some time for a town "small enough and brave enough to accept the challenge of dragooning every last literate resident, without exception, into tackling its chosen book". When he found the four square mile Kelleys Island – population 131 – he laid down the gauntlet, with the added incentive that if residents failed to finish Harper Lee's classic southern tale, he'd eat a copy of the book.
"The prospect of 'terrible indigestion' already has me up nights thinking about it. Can I maybe inoculate myself now by eating a page a day, like King Mithridates taking a daily drop of poison to thwart assassination?" Kipen asked, as he waited to see if residents would live up to the challenge – or if "a few renegade islanders" would "feel a low temptation to read the book and then claim otherwise, all for the dubious pleasure of watching a federal employee ingest an American classic".
Now, happily for Kipen and for literature – less happily for the meaner-spirited among us – all 131 residents of the island, situated in Lake Erie, have completed To Kill a Mockingbird. "I waited for a rainy day, and I began reading at 10am in the morning and I finished it at 10.30pm that night," Jackie Finger, co-owner of the island's.

434. Applaud the man in the white suit for his adventurous bathrooming

2009-05-04T22:33:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what exactly the workmen who are working on Fourth Ave are attempting to achieve. If I had to make I guess I would say they are regrading the thoroughfare, but really I know nothing. All that I know is that the street is torn up and there are migrating pockets of closed sidewalk. My 15 minute walk from home to bus stop is one long construction zone and it has been this way for about a month. Although Fifth Ave and Third Ave exist as reliable alternative routes, I stubbornly continue to take my morning constitutional amidst the upheaval of Fourth Ave. This morning I saw a man exit a work site porta-potty on the corner of Fourth and Blanchard. Were this man a workman, the sight would have been unremarkable. This was not a workman, he was a businessman. He was a businessman in a white suit, exiting a work site porta-potty located in the middle of the street on a closed portion of Fourth Ave and nonchalantly ducking under the police tape and continuing his walk to work at some downtown office building. I imagine that this fellow is afraid to use public restrooms because of the threat of swine flu and so he relies instead on the private, enclosed accommodations of the work site porta-potty. It's perfectly understandable. As for the white suit before Memorial Day, that I cannot forgive.

433. Thank Scanwiches for saving you a trip to the bagel place when you're still too afraid to go outside because of the swine flu

2009-05-02T09:11:00.000-07:00

Scanwiches, this is remarkable. I wake up on Saturday, underfed from Friday night, and I don't think I've got any food to eat in my apartment. But then your lovely scan reminds me that I have all the components to make this sandwich with organic peanut butter, honey, banana, and whole grain bread. It shall be done!

432. Hide in your apartment and wait out the passing pandemic

2009-04-30T06:20:00.001-07:00

Now that there are three probably cases of swine flu in Seattle I am thinking of wearing one of those masks like the Asian people wear. Unfortunately I do not have one that matches my outfit today. I guess I'll just have to throw caution to the wind and risk contracting swine flue. It's a shame, too, because I wanted to hold out for goat flu. I like to keep kosher with my deadly viruses.

Six probable cases of swine flu have been identified in Washington State — three in Seattle, two in Snohomish County and one in Spokane County, public health officials announced at a news conference Wednesday evening in Seattle.

431. Feast on brains with a zombie sloth

2009-04-29T07:12:00.001-07:00

I'll be the first to admit that my 'Sloth' Google Alerts have not been fruitful of late. So while we bide our time for the next big news from the world of sloths I will share with you this wonderful tale of friendship from the folks at Wonderglen. Just look at what a great pal a sloth can be!

Sure, zombies might be played out, but zombie sloths never go out of fashion. That sloth looks he could be one hell of a foot soldier in my sloth lemur army!

430. Ask your lesbian friends if they like Vampire Weekend

2009-04-28T21:04:00.000-07:00

I watched The Wrestler last night and all day today a question has been nagging at me: Are there actual lesbian couples who hang Vampire Weekend posters in their living room? I don't know much about this situation, but I am skeptical. Any guidance my lesbian readership can provide would be much appreciated. Thank you.

429. Develop new skepticism towards the reliability of fortune cookies

2009-04-28T20:44:00.000-07:00

Fortune Cookie says, "Rely on the written advice you receive this week for good fortune."

OK, that's fine, but how about next time you assume that I will rely on your written advice, Fortune Cookie, and give me some. Let's not complicate the process with this unnecessary preliminary step. Indeed, if I needed assurance that written advice I encounter is reliable, why would you presume that I would rely on your written advice to rely on written advice? Why are you toying with me, Fortune Cookie. A month ago you told me, "The project you have in mind will soon gain momentum," and yet here I sit today no closer to realizing my dream of having my very own a page-a-day calendar than I was on January 1.

428. Apologize to the friend with whom you may be holding a grudge but you can't really say because your brain did not come with a user's manual

2009-04-28T20:19:00.001-07:00

I don't think of myself as a one who hold grudges. My brother, now that son of a bitch holds onto a grudge like a child clinging to a blanky. But me, I'm a fairly even keel sort who far too insecure with his place in the world to presume that others mean him ill. It recently occurred to me, however, that I have not spoken to a friend since he complained about the quality of my toilet paper while staying at my apartment. I cannot say for sure whether the complaining and the silence that followed it are related. Perhaps they are and for that I apologize. But seriously, get some fucking manners.

If you're curious, no I did not go on hiatus so that I could do some deep soul searching on the state of this friendship. I went on hiatus so that I could do some deep soul searching on the quality of my toilet paper.

427. Go on hiatus

2009-04-23T07:38:00.000-07:00

Yup. Gimme a week. Or maybe until tomorrow.

426. Demand a cessation of diplomatic relations with France on account of their laughable anti-smoking laws

2009-04-20T20:22:00.000-07:00

This is almost enough to make me start saying "freedom fries" again:

More than fifty years after he first appeared on-screen, it seems that Monsieur Hulot has finally quit smoking. And not voluntarily. In accordance with a 1991 law prohibiting tobacco advertising in subway stations and on buses, the Paris Public Transport Network has demanded that Hulot’s iconic pipe be removed from posters for the Cinémathèque française’s ongoing tribute to filmmaker Jacques Tati, and replaced with . . . a toy windmill. Political correction or (cough, cough) silly censorship? For details on the controversy, check out this short video item from the international news channel France 24. Apparently, even the author of the original law, former minister of health Claude Evin, has called this particular application of his edict “ridiculous.”

425. Consider keeping the beard

2009-04-17T00:11:00.000-07:00

On second thought, I might take the beard with me to Las Vegas. Surprise the friends who have not seen me hirsute since the days of the playoff beard that spawned a dynasty. It's going to be a game-time decision. I'd add a poll below but I have a sneaking suspicion it would receive one vote.

Pros

Incognito is good, I hate signing autographs
Copious beard stroking as wagers are contemplated
Intimidation of would-be quarrelsome folk

Cons

My face itches
I look dirty
Extra insulation not required in desert

Feedback in the comments section is appreciated.

424. Visit Las Vegas

2009-04-16T07:54:00.000-07:00

Complicating my confusion over whether I survived the noxious fumes and made it into Thursday is the fact that I still have my beard. Did I ever mentioned that I have a beard? Well I do. In the afterlife I've always assumed that I would not have a beard. Heaven for me is best represented by perpetual clean shavenness without ever having to shave. That is, in fact, the biggest perk of heaven. And speaking of heaven, or the opposite of that, I'm going to Las Vegas this weekend. Don't worry, I'll shave the beard before I go. It's only ten days old, far too young to take to Sin City. I'm looking forward to the trip because this is the first time I have been to Vegas for something other than a birthday party or a bachelor party. This trip is all about hookers. Just kidding. This trip is all about doing blow with retired NFL cheerleaders. No, that's not quite right either. This trip is all about emptying my savings account and betting it all on black. A distinct possibility, but there's more to it than that. This trip is about reveling in a city that features all the things I hate about the world (fun, games, booze, available women, etc.) and none of the things I love (solitude, long walks down empty streets, quiet restaurants, clouds, etc.). If I don't make it back, should some tragedy befall me, killed by Palms security, say, or eaten by a tiger, or felled by a bacterial infection contracted at the Imperial Palace, please know that I love you all. To be continued...

423. Eat a wholesome breakfast daily

2009-04-16T07:46:00.000-07:00

Jealous, aren't you? Did I mention these waffles have flax in them?

UPDATE: OMG the blueberries are putrid!

422. Build a personal library

2009-04-16T06:49:00.000-07:00

I woke this morning to find the offensive odor from last night gone. It is either Thursday morning of the afterlife. My guess is it's Thursday because that's what my page-a-day calendar says and the page-a-day calendar never lies. Although, if there is a heaven page-a-day calendars are obviously part of it, so this is rather difficult to untangle. To be continued...

But before I go, some of you may know that I am in a years long process of transforming my childhood bedroom into a library. I work on it about four hours a year during my visits home. All the old furniture save for a desk and a futon has been removed. Bookshelves now line all the walls and on the bookshelves there are books. Even with all of the books, the room is decidedly un-library-like in demeanor. What I'm saying is, I want this personal library kit for my birthday. Or rather, I want 50 of these kits. Also, I think now is the time I clarify for my very suggestible parents that I do not really want a personal library kit for birthday. Of course now that I've said I don't want it I'm probably more likely to get it. But seriously, no.

421. Live your life as though it were a serialized novel

2009-04-15T23:10:00.000-07:00

There is a horrible odor emanating from the air duct in my apartment that constantly circulates recycled air from regions unknown. Only very rarely does it smell but right now it really smells. It smells faintly like burnt popcorn but mostly like decaying bodies. I hope it is not a poisonous odor. I am going to sleep now but I might also be dying. To be continued...

Before I go to bed, a brief story about the sandwich ladies at the cafeteria. The sandwich ladies, they constantly bicker. One of them is speedy and also crabby, one of them is slow of mind and body. The crabby one always crabs when the slow one goes slow, which is to say, the crabby one always crabs. The crab can make three sandwiches in the time the sloth can make one. Sometimes the crab grabs a sandwich that the sloth is working on just to keep the line moving. Personally, I prefer a slow sandwich made by the sloth over a fast sandwich made by the crab. When I ask the sloth for turkey she repeats, "turkey," and searches for the turkey as though it has relocated itself since she last prepared one of her fifty urkey sandwiches since noon. Same with the cheese and toppings: a request is made, followed by a verbal repetition of that request, a hesitation, a search, and finally an application. Today a giant toaster oven appeared behind the sandwich counter. Whereas the crab and the sloth used to have grilling capabilities, now they have a grill and a giant toaster oven. My first thought was, "My god, the sloth is going to kill herself with that oven." Then, upon seeing the sloth struggle mightily with the oven, so much so that the crab dropped what she was doing and came to her aid, I thought, "My god, the crab is going to kill the sloth with that oven." Then, upon considering the plight of the oven, forced as it is to sit with the crab and the sloth all day, I thought, "My god, that oven is going to kill himself." To be continued...

420. Try to ignore the teabaggers and fail

2009-04-15T20:21:00.000-07:00

On my way home from work I saw a woman carrying a sign that read, "No taxation without representation." As far as I know I did not enter a temporal portal somewhere along 5th Ave. The woman was on her way to the teabagging event held at Westlake Park this evening. Turns out her confounding sign was only the tip of the teabag. Idiots. They've made me mad. I'm turning off my computer now.

419. Mad Lib your worries away

2009-04-15T06:54:00.000-07:00

The bad news is woke this morning and discovered that the Paulus rumors were not just a horrible nightmare. This good news is I woke this morning and discovered that there is a new collection of wit and wisdom at The Great Baseball Blog. My favorite offering is the Mad Lib. Here's hoping these Mad Libs become a regular feature. I love Mad Libs and I love baseball. The elegant pairing of two things I love. It's kinda like how I love Michigan football and I love not having Duke point guards play quarterback for the Michigan football team.

418. Countenance your greatest fear in the world

2009-04-14T21:57:00.000-07:00

I don't want to talk about it. I would be obligated to sit the season out. There is no way around it. This might be my final post on account of my brain exploding.

The Green Bay Packers aren't the only ones who are interested in Greg Paulus.

According to sources close to the situation, the former Duke point guard was in Ann Arbor on Tuesday meeting with Michigan football coach Rich Rodriguez about the possibility of playing this season for the Wolverines.

The 6-foot-1 Paulus, who was the Gatorade National Player of the Year as a standout quarterback at Christian Brothers Academy in New York, has one year of eligibility left for football after playing four years of basketball at Duke.

He watched Michigan practice Tuesday afternoon and could fit in with Rodriguez's spread offense. The Wolverines don't have a clear-cut starting quarterback, and Paulus could come in and play immediately.

417. Pick up your toys when you're done playing with them

2009-04-14T21:12:00.000-07:00

Via Boing Boing here's a fascinating post by a man who visited the jungles of Peleliu and the WWII detritus therein:

Peleliu is a small island that forms part of the nation of Palau in the Pacific. It’s about five hours flying time south of Japan and three hours east of the Philippines. It’s now, like the rest of Palau, beautiful, peaceful and home to more shades of blue in the sea and sky than you or your camera lens would ever have thought possible.

Blue wasn’t always the colour.

Between September and November 1944, it was the site of an incredibly fierce battle between US and Japanese armed forces. Peleliu island is about 14 square miles of terrain; during the three months of fighting, the casualty rate worked out at just under 1,000 men killed per square mile of island. Close to 1,800 American servicemen died; of the 11,000 Japanese soldiers defending the island, only 202 were captured alive.

The battle was fought over the fact Peleliu had an airfield, and was within range of the Philippines, from where the US planned to eventually launch strikes against the Japanese mainland. The plan to attack Peleliu was a contentious one - not all of the US high command thought Peleliu was strategically important, and after the battle, the US found the airfield was barely operational, and posed almost no threat to US forces elsewhere in the Pacific.

416. Blow up some squirrels

2009-04-14T21:05:00.001-07:00

Carl Spackler's legacy lives on....

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

415. Free yourself from the shackles of The Elements of Style

2009-04-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

Yowza, Strunk and White get the gas face:

It's sad. Several generations of college students learned their grammar from the uninformed bossiness of Strunk and White, and the result is a nation of educated people who know they feel vaguely anxious and insecure whenever they write "however" or "than me" or "was" or "which," but can't tell you why. The land of the free in the grip of The Elements of Style.

So I won't be spending the month of April toasting 50 years of the overopinionated and underinformed little book that put so many people in this unhappy state of grammatical angst. I've spent too much of my scholarly life studying English grammar in a serious way. English syntax is a deep and interesting subject. It is much too important to be reduced to a bunch of trivial don't-do-this prescriptions by a pair of idiosyncratic bumblers who can't even tell when they've broken their own misbegotten rules.

414. Object to the objectivists while letting others come to their own conclusion

2009-04-14T20:18:00.000-07:00

There was a guy sitting across from me on the bus this morning reading The Fountainhead. You might have heard that Ayn Rand is having a renaissance these days. Her work has garnered much attention of late. Some would even have you believe that she is hotter than Marx right now. My distaste for Rand's work is well documented. When I saw the man on the bus reading The Fountainhead, more than halfway through the 752 pages of poppycock, I thought about asking him what he thought of it. And if he said he liked it, I wanted to tell him why he was wrong. But then I recalled when I was reading The Fountainhead one summer and my sister and her husband tried to convince me why Ayn Rand's philosophies on life were objectionable. I did not need convincing, I was not reading the book because I was looking for a model in the person of Howard Roark, I was just curious to find out what all the fuss was about. I let the man be.

413. Master the complexities of the modern elevator

2009-04-14T19:54:00.000-07:00

I entered the elevator in my apartment building along with a man who lives on the floor beneath me. He pushed the button for the fifth floor, I pushed the button for the sixth floor. Then, realizing he had forgotten something, he said, "I'll be right back," and made a dash for the garage. I was perfectly content to delay my elevator ride and wait for him, but he then stopped and yelled, "Oh, sorry, go along without me." So I did. The elevator went up and when the door opened I got off. I walked to my apartment and noticed that the lock on my door had changed color. When I left it this morning it was silver and now it was gold. I tried to insert my key but my key would not fit. "This is outrageous," I thought to myself, "they have changed the lock on my door without telling me." I realized then that I was on the fifth floor. The stairs to the sixth floor were found two doors down.

412. Try to be more helpful to fellow riders of the bus

2009-04-14T07:38:00.000-07:00

There is a young woman who wears large sun glasses on cloudy days and carries a bag decorated with a reproduction of the popular board game Twister, complete with spinner. She happens to be fairly attractive, but frankly I like it when women use subtler means of advertising that they might be game for sexual escapades at the drop of a hat (or bag, as it were). I see her at the bus stop a couple of times a week. She usually comes scurrying up, concerned look on her face and asks me or some other bus stop zombie whether they have seen the 33 bus go by. With me the conversation generally goes like this:

"Did you see the 33 bus go by?"
"I didn't notice. Sorry."
"Did it just come by in the last couple of minutes?"
"I didn't see it."
"Thanks."
"Sure."

I can't be expected to be this woman's travel secretary. Some days 20 buses go by before mine arrives. If it doesn't read "545 Redmond" on the front I pay it no mind. A bus could say "Fuck you, Ben" with it's glowing yellow signage and it probably wouldn't register with me. Like a dog who was been trained to respond to one word and one word only, my mind returns from sleep mode only at the sight of 545.

411. Retract your statement that Josh Beckett is a punk

2009-04-14T07:12:00.000-07:00

Top-notch Sox blog Surviving Grady made me aware of this:

There is now a Josh Beckett Cancer Treatment Room at Children's Hospital Boston.

Beckett cut the ribbon in a ceremony Wednesday morning and unveiled a room specially designed with a Red Sox-themed mural that features the Red Sox ace. It was designed and hand-drawn by Sara Morton.

"My general inspiration was to show the energy and strength the Red Sox bring to the game so that that strength and energy can be shared with the children as they endure their treatment," she said.

Beckett donated $100,000 to the hospital - all raised through his annual "Beckett Bowl" bowling tournament. He's also pledged to donate $100 to Children's for each strikeout he has this season.

410. Make friends with old, short Young MC with a trench coat

2009-04-13T21:17:00.001-07:00

There is an interesting cast of characters that I walk past on my way to the bus each the morning. For example, the two possibly gay midshipmen, the girl with the tiny head and big puffy jacket, the young man who reads a book while walking, and the old woman who jogs slower than I walk. But far and away my favorite sidewalk stranger is old, short Young MC with a trench coat. He wears the trench coat every day, rain or shine, winter or summer. I pass him most mornings, but about once a week I pass him standing on the corner of 4th and Virginia, studying the front page of the Seattle Times in the dispenser that sits in front of Dahlia Lounge. He never buys a paper, just reads the headlines above the fold before he moseys along to his office a block and a half away in the ominous 4th and Blanchard building. I can only assume he does this every morning. I find it interesting that the man makes a daily habit of sneaking a peak at the headlines just steps away from his workplace. Why can't he wait until he arrives at his desk to give the headlines a proper perusal online? My hunch is that he wants to be prepared in case a coworker pounces on him before he gets to his desk and asks, "Isn't that horrible what happened to those poor children in Enumclaw?" He strikes me as a fellow who is always prepared, the guy his coworkers go to when nobody else has the answer. Something about the trench coat gives me that impression. Or maybe he's the sort of man who is prone to striking up conversation with whomever he happens to be riding with in the elevator. "Did you hear about... blah blah... Boeing... this or that.... Starbucks... yada yada... Mayor Nichols... such and such... Alaska Way Viaduct... yackety yack... Griffey?" Whatever the story is, I want old, short Young MC with a trench coat to know that I value his existence more than the other strangers I pass each morning.

409. Dress your age

2009-04-13T07:11:00.000-07:00

What's with men who wear clothing decorated with Mickey Mouse to work? I hasten to say that I make the "to work" distinction because while I might frown upon a man wearing a Mickey Mouse T-shirt to, say, the bagel shop on a Saturday morning it does not upset me greatly and certainly not enough to inspire a blog post. In the interest of full disclosure, I owned and wore a Winnie the Pooh T-shirt and two Curious George T-shirts well into college. In my defense, the Winnie the Pooh T-shirt, made by a Vancouver street artisan, featured an airbrushed Tigger bouncing on the belly of an airbrushed Pooh, so it was pretty awesome; one of the Curious George T-shirts pictured George passed out, spilled ether bottle beside him, so it, too, was pretty awesome; the other Curious George T-shirt was a gift from my brother. So you see I have some fine excuses for my poor sartorial taste of yesteryear. What, then, is the excuse of the man who wore the Mickey Mouse sweatshirt to work last week? And what is the excuse of the man who I spotted wearing the Mickey Mouse varsity jacket at work? The varsity jacket is clearly the less defensible of the two indiscretions. The sweatshirt, sure, perhaps everything in the man's closet was dirty and so he turned to the comfortable old sweatshirt in a time of need. I get it. But the varsity jacket, well, that's outerwear, and I have a feeling the man wears it to work every day. It's a sorry state of affairs. At the very least he should trade it in for a Bugs Bunny varsity jacket and then trade that in for a Taz varsity jacket and from there maybe someday adult clothing.

408. Round up a posse to protect the Pedroia family

2009-04-13T06:23:00.000-07:00

The lives of the Pedroia family of Woodland, California have been threatened. My first impulse is to blame Glenn Beck, mostly because it's probably his fault. But it just so happens that this threat comes days after a Boston Magainze profile of Dustin Pedroia was published in which the Red Sox second baseman refers to his hometown of Woodland as "a dump," among other things. People of Woodland, California, please understand that lobbing death threats at one of your most well-known families will do little to reverse the image of the town Pedroia presented.

407. Find literary inspiration through pyromania

2009-04-12T19:25:00.000-07:00

From the ever-enlightening Boston Globe "Ideas" section, a fascinating story on how a large forest fire that Henry David Thoreau accidentally started might have pushed him to Walden Pond, to environmentalism, and to literary immortality:

On April 30, 1844, Thoreau started a blaze in the Concord Woods, scorching a 300-acre swath of earth between Fair Haven Bay and Concord. The fire was an accident, but the destruction of valuable woodland, the loss of firewood and lumber, and the narrowly avoided catastrophe that almost befell Concord itself angered the local residents and nearly ruined Thoreau's reputation. For years afterward, Thoreau could hardly walk the streets of his hometown without hearing the epithet "woods burner."

That the father of American environmentalism could have been the scourge of the Concord Woods may seem too ironic to be true. Yet, not only did this unlikely event actually occur, but it seems quite possible that, given Thoreau's general lack of direction at the time, as well as his growing interest in pursuing a career as a civil engineer, America's first great naturalist might not have undertaken his Walden experiment at all, had it not been for the forest fire he sparked a year earlier. The fire happened at a time when Thoreau seemed desperately in need of some catalyst to convert his thoughts into action.

406. Play "The Settlers of Catan" with your father and brother

2009-04-12T17:39:00.000-07:00

I was amused to see that Wired has a glowing article on "The Settlers of Catan." For one, board games are about as un-wired as you can get, but more amusing to me is that while I really don't like board games I have been talked into playing "The Settlers of Catan" by my father and brother on a few occasions and I must say as far as board games go it's pretty darn swell. Aside from "Catan" the only board games in my father's vast collection that you'll get me to play without complaint are "Talisman: The Magical Quest Game" and "Rail Baron." The interesting thing about my appreciation for "Talisman" is that board games and fantasy fiction are two of the most prominent things my father and brothers are into that have rejected almost entirely. The other things being wine, cheese, chess, sci-fi and fencing. It should be noted that I have not rejected all of the things my father likes. Quite the contrary, my appreciation for John Fowles, Franz Kafka, pumpernickel bagels, Tintin and Kurosawa must be credited to dear old Pops. It's odd how reading about "The Settlers of Catan" brings this all to mind but it does.

405. Cut off your toes to lower your 5k time

2009-04-12T16:52:00.000-07:00

A quick examination of my high school cross country times will reveal that not all humans evolved as long-distance runners. A new study on toes sheds some light on the topic.

Ann Trason, Scott Jurek, Matt Carpenter. These are the megastars of ultra-distance running, athletes who pound out not just marathons, but dozens of them back-to-back, over Rocky Mountain passes and across the scorching floor of Death Valley. If their names are unfamiliar, it’s probably because this type of extreme running is almost universally seen as a fringe sport, the habit of the superhumanly fit, the masochistic, the slightly deranged.

But a handful of scientists think that these ultra-marathoners are using their bodies just as our hominid forbears once did, a theory known as the endurance running hypothesis (ER). ER proponents believe that being able to run for extended lengths of time is an adapted trait, most likely for obtaining food, and was the catalyst that forced Homo erectus to evolve from its apelike ancestors. Over time, the survival of the swift-footed shaped the anatomy of modern humans, giving us a body that is difficult to explain absent a marathoning past.

Our toes, for instance, are shorter and stubbier than those of nearly all other primates, including chimpanzees, a trait that has long been attributed to our committed bipedalism. But a study published in the March 1 issue of the Journal of Experimental Biology, by anthropologists Daniel Lieberman and Campbell Rolian, provides evidence that short toes make human feet exquisitely suited to substantial amounts of running. In tests where 15 subjects ran and walked on pressure-sensitive treadmills, Lieberman and Rolian found that toe length had no effect on walking. Yet when the subjects were running, an increase in toe length of just 20 percent doubled the amount of mechanical work, meaning that the longer-toed subjects required more metabolic energy, and each footfall produced more shock.

404. Admit that Josh Beckett is a punk

2009-04-12T13:04:00.000-07:00

I am watching the Celtics game on my television and the Red Sox game on my computer. On both screens there is intrigue. The Celtics are losing to the Cavs 31-9 after one quarter. Will they lose 124-36? Meanwhile, the Red Sox and Angels just had a bench-clearing incident. Josh Beckett on the mound, holding the ball for an interminable period of time, Bobby Abreu calls time, Beckett throws the ball at Abreu's head. Words are exchanged, both bullpens get their wind sprints in, Torii Hunter and Justin Speier lose their minds and get ejected. Angels color guy Mark Gubicza surmises that the Angels reacted so strongly to Beckett's aggression because they are emotional after the death of teammate Nick Adenhart on Thursday. To which I reply, Uh, no, they're emotional because Beckett just chucked a baseball directly at Bobby Abreu's head. Ah, Josh Beckett, were he on any other team I would despise him. He's got a lot of Clemens in him, which is mostly a great thing.

403. Learn to walk more normal like

2009-04-12T11:36:00.000-07:00

Do you know what I like most about my Puma sneakers? I like that their soles have alerted me with greater urgency than any sneakers I've worn before how much I walk on the outside of my heels. That and their pebble retention is immaculate.

There is a Grand Canyon on the sole of my sneaker.

402. Make literature a cellphone-free zone

2009-04-12T09:09:00.001-07:00

There's a story in the Times' Week in Review section on how the digital age is "rendering obsolete some classic narrative plot devices:"

...missed connections, miscommunications, the inability to reach someone. Such gimmicks don’t pass the smell test when even the most remote destinations have wireless coverage. (It’s Odysseus, can someone look up the way to Ithaca? Use the “no Sirens” route.)

Of what significance is the loss to storytelling if characters from Sherwood Forest to the Gates of Hell can be instantly, if not constantly, connected?

Plenty, and at least part of it is personal. I recently finished my second thriller, or so I thought. When I sent it to several fine writer friends, I received this feedback: the protagonist and his girlfriend can’t spend the whole book unable to get in touch with each other. Not in the cellphone era.

Then I started talking to fellow writers and discovered a brewing antagonism toward today’s communication gadgets.

Ah but the solution is really quite simple. All a writer needs is one sentence to work around this dilemma of ever-present connectivity. There are several routes one could take: dead battery, no reception, left phone at home, lost phone, phone was stolen, or, if you're in a more adventurous mood you could steal a page from the "The Sarah Connor Chronicles:"

In one episode of this season’s television drama “The Sarah Connor Chronicles,” the show’s writers wanted to prevent two main characters from communicating. “We blew up the cellphone tower,” said the executive producer, Josh Friedman, one of those writers who critiqued my thriller-in-the-making.

401. Visit Tativille

2009-04-11T21:06:00.000-07:00

The Criterion Collection blog made my day today. First there was the Max von Sydow birthday salute, then they pointed me to the Wes Anderson essays and now I see a post on Jacques Tati, which includes a link to this delightful Tati site. Also, I wish I was in Paris right now:

Paris is turning into Tativille starting tomorrow, April 8, until August 2, with the Cinémathèque française’s appropriately large-scale retrospective of the famously ambitious French filmmaking legend’s work, “Jacques Tati, deux temps, trois movements.” Curated by Stéphane Goudet and Macha Makeïeff, the exposition is in honor of the director’s 102nd birthday (“just in time for an homage divorced from obligatory celebrations, which he was not keen on,” the curators tease), and will feature not only screenings of Tati’s films (including a new print of M. Hulot’s Holiday) but also exhibitions of props, costumes, screenplays, outtakes, and drawings and paintings by his friend and art director Jacques Lagrange. Add to all that guided walking tours of Tati-related architectural landmarks, screenings of a new six-part documentary on Tati called The 6 Lessons of Professor Goudet, and interviews about Tati with contemporary directors (including Michel Gondry, Wes Anderson, David Lynch, Otar Iosseliani, and Olivier Assayas) on view around the exhibit, and you have one seriously tantalizing Tati traffic jam.

400. Die tragically rescuing your family from the wreckage of a destroyed sinking battleship

2009-04-11T19:53:00.000-07:00

Wes Anderson is the focus of Moving Image Source's five-part series "The Substance of Style". The essays and accompanying videos explore Anderson's central influences, including François Truffaut, Charles Schulz and J.D. Salinger.

With just five features in 13 years, Wes Anderson has established himself as the most influential American filmmaker of the post-Baby Boom generation. Supremely confident in his knowledge of film history and technique, he's a classic example of the sort of filmmaker that the Cahiers du cinéma critics labeled an auteur—an artist who imprints his personality and preoccupations on each work so strongly that, whatever the contributions of his collaborators, he deserves to be considered the primary author of the film. This series examines some of Anderson's many cinematic influences and his attempt to meld them into a striking, uniquely personal sensibility.

399. Turn your television off

2009-04-11T10:15:00.000-07:00

Via Andrew Sullivan, BBC's humorous takedown of news anchors foreign and domestic:

398. Wish Max von Sydow a Happy Birthday

2009-04-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

Legendary film actor Max von Sydow, whose credits over the last 60 years include The Seventh Seal, The Virgin Spring, The Exorcist, Three Days of the Condor, Dune and The Diving Bell and the Butterfly turned 80 yesterday. Von Sydow friend and Ingmar Bergman scholar nonpareil, Peter Cowie, salutes Max on on his B-Day:

It’s all too easy to classify Max as a Bergman actor and not much else. But his work for Jan Troell has been enormously fruitful. They have made seven films together, at least three of which are classics—The Emigrants, The New Land, and The Flight of the Eagle—and the latest of which, Hamsun, features a subtle and perceptive portrait of Norway’s most notorious writer. Nor should we forget some of Max’s Hollywood characterizations, such as the assassin in Three Days of the Condor, the defense attorney in Snow Falling on Cedars, and Father Merrin in The Exorcist (“Not many realize, Peter,” he said to me, tongue in cheek, “that I am the exorcist in that film!”). And what about his marvelously petulant painter in Hannah and Her Sisters, and the scorn he puts into that memorable line: “Can you imagine the level of a mind that watches wrestling?”

When Max played the knight in The Seventh Seal, he was a mere twenty-seven years of age, and looked more than double that. When I last saw him, he was relaxed in T-shirt and chinos, and at eighty he must surely appear younger than the knight ever did. Happy birthday, Max!

See Max play chess with Death:

See Max comfort a crazy lady:

See Max raise Lazarus from the dead:

See Max admire Yul Brynner's knife-fighting skills:

See Max attempt to exorcise a demon:

See Max break up with Barbara Hershey:

See Max spook the shit out of Robert Redford:

397. Await the resurrection of goddess Eostre

2009-04-10T06:46:00.000-07:00

It is Good Friday and perhaps later in the day you will be eating hot cross buns with your afternoon tea to commemorate the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. As with most modern religious symbols, we have pagans to thank for these delightful hot moon goddess buns. Wikipedia tells you so:

It is believed that buns marked with a cross were eaten by Saxons in honour of the goddess Eostre (the cross is thought to have symbolised the four quarters of the moon); "Eostre" is probably the origin of the name "Easter". Others claim that the Greeks marked cakes with a cross, much earlier. Cakes were certainly baked in honor of deities since very ancient times, although it is not known if they were marked.

According to cookery writer Elizabeth David, Protestant English monarchs saw the buns as a dangerous hold-over of Catholic belief in England, being baked from the dough used in making the communion wafer. Protestant England attempted to ban the sale of the buns by bakers but they were too popular, and instead Elizabeth I passed a law permitting bakeries to sell them, but only at Easter and Christmas.

396. Tell Obama to stop blocking court review of illegal wiretapping

2009-04-09T23:41:00.000-07:00

This is a most unwelcome development:

Is the Obama administration mimicking its predecessor on issues of secrecy and the war on terror?

During the presidential campaign, Obama criticized Bush for being too quick to invoke the state secrets claim. But last Friday, his Justice Department filed a motion in a warrantless wiretapping lawsuit, brought by the digital-rights group EFF. And the Obama-ites took a page out of the Bush DOJ's playbook by demanding that the suit, Jewel v. NSA, be dismissed entirely under the state secrets privilege, arguing that allowing it go forward would jeopardize national security.

Coming on the heels of the two other recent cases in which the new administration has asserted the state secrets privilege, the motion sparked outrage among civil libertarians and many progressive commentators. Salon's Glenn Greenwald wrote that the move "demonstrates that the Obama DOJ plans to invoke the exact radical doctrines of executive secrecy which Bush used." MSNBC's Keith Olbermann called it "deja vu all over again". An online petition -- "Tell Obama: Stop blocking court review of illegal wiretapping" -- soon appeared.

395. Separate the arrogance of the artist from his art

2009-04-09T23:10:00.000-07:00

I've never read anything by T.C. Boyle and aside from a couple of visits to Monona Terrace in Madison I have never set foot inside a Frank Lloyd Wright building. Nonetheless, I remain intrigued by Boyle's new novel, The Women, based on the life of Frank Lloyd Wright, specifically the legendary architects relationships with women. Today Boyle appeared on KCRW's Bookworm. I have embedded the swell interview below.

394. Use your battle with disease to help others

2009-04-09T20:28:00.000-07:00

Fernando Pisani, my new favorite hockey player:

In the summer of 2007, Fernando Pisani was living large.

He was playing for his hometown team, the Edmonton Oilers, and entering the second season of a four-year deal. The summer before that, he was the toast of the town after a Conn Smythe-worthy performance (14 goals, 18 points in 24 games) in the Oilers' run to Game 7 of the 2006 Stanley Cup Final.

"I was diagnosed in 2005, but it wasn't until a couple of years ago I basically felt the wrath of my illness," Pisani said. "I lost about 40 pounds and lots of blood. I went from being 210 pounds, in great shape, and taking care of myself, to basically walking up a flight of stairs and being exhausted. That is what this did to me. It was just unbelievable what I was going through."

Ulcerative colitis is a rare disease of the intestine, specifically the large intestine or colon, that includes characteristic ulcers, or open sores, in the colon. Ulcerative colitis is believed to have a systemic etiology that leads to many symptoms outside the intestine.

393. Use herbal remedies for meegraines

2009-04-09T20:16:00.000-07:00

My television was left on KCTS after the NewsHour ended and Rick Steves finished telling me about Normandy. Now a man they call Doc Martin, a British chap with abhorrent bedside manner, is talking about migraines. Except he calls them meegraines. I enjoy the way he says. In fact, I rather enjoy the show. First time I've ever seen it and it ain't half bad.

392. Hatch a plan that will alow you to be an unemployed writer

2009-04-09T20:03:00.000-07:00

Jill Sobule, pop singer. I have never heard 0f her but she is now my idol:

Her new album, “California Years” (Pinko Records), is one of the first releases to be funded by listener anticipation. Sobule set up a Web site and asked her fans to contribute to her upcoming project. The funding was tiered: a ten-dollar donation bought a digital download of the album; a hundred-dollar donation brought a hard copy of the CD, a “Junior Executive Producer” T-shirt, and a mention in the liner notes; a five-hundred-dollar donation earned mention in a song. There was even a ten-thousand-dollar level that would let a fan sing on the record. This pay-to-have-her-play scheme could have been nothing more than a quixotic footnote, but Sobule easily surpassed her goal of seventy-five thousand dollars and made her record, complete with production by Don Was.

How would you like to fund my novel? A ten-dollar donation gets you a pdf version of the novel. A hundred-dollar donation gets you a signed copy of the book, a "Junior Copy Editor" T-shirt, and a mention in the appendices. A five-hundred-dollar donation and I'll name a character after you. A ten-thousand-dollar donation and I'll let you write a chapter.

391. Depend on the kindness of idiots

2009-04-09T19:01:00.000-07:00

Following up on a silly post from January, much to my dismay Pride and Prejudice and Zombies has become a best seller. This is the Snakes on a Plane of literature. All the ironic admiration for it will die a sad death once people actually read it and realize it is far shittier than they had ever fathomed.

Already sitting at number three in the New York Times bestseller lists, the novel – which sees Elizabeth Bennet and her sisters battling a zombie menace that has descended upon the quiet English village of Meryton – looks likely to make a similar killing in the British market. A UK sales representative for its American publisher Quirk Books said today that it was struggling to keep up with demand and is already going into a second printing, despite the book not being published until 13 April. This morning it moved into top position in the Amazon movers and shakers chart, having previously languished below 300, and climbed to 27th position in the online bookseller's overall bestseller listings.
"The idea of taking two completely separate, incongruous elements – Regency romance and zombies – you think it couldn't possibly work, but it's so intriguing and has really captured people's imaginations," said Bethan Jones, UK spokesperson for the book. "It's definitely exceeded our expectations – I don't think the publisher quite realised how popular it would be ... It's on sale next week and we've sold over 4,000 copies already, before it's even in the shops."

There is a formula here that I think could be replicated ad infinitum with great results. Try these on for size:

Pirates + The Great Gatsby
Bacon + In Search of Lost Time
Robots + Crime and Punishment
Cupcakes + Don Quixote
Cavemen + The Scarlett Letter

My guess is zombie Shakespeare will rise again.

390. Hold out hope for print journalism in the digital age

2009-04-09T18:53:00.000-07:00

"A conversation about print journalism in the digital age with Arianna Huffington of Huffingtonpost.com and Tom Curley of the Associated Press."

"Jacek Utko is an extraordinary Polish newspaper designer whose redesigns for papers in Eastern Europe not only win awards, but increase circulation by up to 100%. Can good design save the newspaper? It just might."

389. Find old meanings of new words

2009-04-09T07:36:00.000-07:00

Just in case you thought I had forgotten about my Forgotten English calendar, or about Page-A-Day calendars entirely, I would like to share with you today's word, "corvette." Obviously they did not drive automobiles in Old English times. Legend has it that the name for the Chevrolet sports car was selected by a PR chap who rather liked the current dictionary definition of the word corvette: "a speedy pursuit ship in the British navy." However, my Forgotten English calendar reminds us that the word once referred to "a young sodomite." This certainly puts a new twist on the beloved automobile. Not to mention the Prince tune. Though only slightly. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that Prince knowingly employed the triple entendre.

388. Outlaw use of the word "bacontrepreneurs"

2009-04-09T06:46:00.000-07:00

Jon Stewart is a powerful man:

Weeks after Jon Stewart's stomach-turningly savage taste test of their latest product on a recent "Daily Show," two Seattle bacontrepreneurs are seeing orders roll in for jars of the viscous hybrid, "Baconnaise."

If you thought baconmania was played out, Justin Esch and Dave Lefkow also are seeing an expansion of their corner of it that will make you wonder just what's too much of a good, savory, delicious thing.