Benjamin Kepple

Just Another Day in Los Angeles

IF YOU THINK this is weird -- well, just go down to Venice Beach, that's all I'm saying.

So Much for My Career as a Gunslinger

SO I WAS at the grocery this morning when a most amazing thing happened. There I was, standing in the deli section, when I noticed a nice old lady puttering along in one of those motorized carts. Suddenly, the nice old lady took out an entire display of pita chips with her cart, and appeared well on her way to take out one of the bakery displays, before store personnel intervened and convinced her she ought lay off the throttle.

I mention this because I realized today that I really don't have a very good reaction time to sudden physical events. While other people had realized something was amiss and moving to help, I stood there like a deer in the headlights and watched in fascinated horror before my brain kicked in and said, "Hey, smart guy. Why don't you help the old lady who is careening towards the bulkie rolls?" Looking back, I didn't even have the excuse that the cart was heading right towards me. Which is probably a good thing, since knowing me, I probably would have ended up face down in a nearby container of chicken salad.

Anyway, this does not bode well for my prospects in the growing and exciting field of gunslinging, in which I would traverse the West and bring law and order to tiny hamlets. Nor, for that matter, does it bode well for my prospects in a formal law and order career. Or the military, for that matter. Although the military, unfortunately, is right out for me -- I'm pretty sure I'm 4-F, if they still have that any more.

Which is too bad. I was really thinking about joining the Navy, but I'm not medically fit, and I can't get medically fit either. These aren't issues of weight or body fat, which can be fixed -- rather, I looked over the medical qualifications and found ... well, a lot of different grounds for disqualification. I think the Navy would overlook one or two if they were minor, but I think we're past the minor issue category here. And they're not my fault, either -- it's not like I wanted to have flat feet, bad sinuses, a bad shoulder or a bit of asthma. And I needed the tracheotomy when I was a boy.

On the other hand, though, that might not be a bad thing -- at least, for the Navy anyway. I'm not bad at shuffling paper, but when it comes to gunnery practice, they might want guys who wouldn't end up accidentally shelling the officers' club.

Yuppie Larvae Miss White House Tour, Steelers Blamed

LEAVE IT TO a bunch of whiny suburban parents to rain on the Pittsburgh Steelers' parade.

Yesterday should have been a day to again celebrate the Super Bowl victory of the nation's greatest football franchise, and with the President, no less. Unfortunately, this great event was overshadowed, thanks to the self-absorbed antics of some witless Virginia parents.

You see, their kids' school had arranged a trip for a large group of kindergarten students to tour the White House on Thursday morning. According to the White House, their tour was supposed to begin at 9:30 a.m., and they had been given a grace period of up until 10:15 a.m. Despite this -- and "heavy traffic" was supposedly to blame -- the kids' bus did not arrive until after 10:30 a.m., and thus the mandarins in the executive mansion said the tour could not proceed. Naturally, in the eyes of the parents, the White House has become the bad guy -- as WRC-TV in Washington reports:

Parents say they tried to make it on time, but their chartered buses hit heavy traffic that slowed them down substantially. They thought they were supposed to show up by 10:15, but they say they arrived at 10:25 instead, and couldn’t get in.

"The person who headed this White House trip up came out and said, 'I’m sorry, the White House tour's off.' There were a lot of crying kids," parent Barbara Stine said.

The White House tells a slightly different story. A spokesperson said the group was actually supposed to be there at 9:30, but they held the gates for the group until 10:30, 15 minutes longer than they told the group, but when they still hadn't arrived, they had to draw the line.

Paty Stine said the White House staff should have made an exception. She feels the kindergarteners were snubbed for the Steelers.

"Here we have President Obama and his administration saying, 'Here we are for the common, middle class people,' and here he is not letting 150 5- and 6-year-olds into the White House because he’s throwing a lunch for a bunch of grown millionaires," Stine said.

Well, lady, the Pittsburgh Steelers had the good sense to show up on time.

Honestly. It's not like you can just show up at the White House any time you want. These things have to be cleared well in advance, it usually requires assistance from Capitol Hill to arrange, and there's always the chance the tours may be called off. You know, 'cause the Government may have something come up. It is a high honor and a privilege to visit the White House, and when such requests are granted, they ought be taken seriously. If that means showing up 30 minutes or an hour early, and spending the time out on Pennsylvania Avenue talking to the kids about the Old Executive Office Building, then that's what you do.

One would hope the kids would learn something from this whole debacle, but one doubts that. You see, even though the White House graciously offered to reschedule the kids' visit, the parents are naturally now in a snit, and won't likely take the rain check, WRC-TV said:

Thursday night the White House released this statement: "The President and First Lady are dedicated to opening the doors of the White House to the public, and it is unfortunate to see young people miss a tour. The visitor’s office is already working to reschedule the group."

Parents say it's probably too late. The school year ends in a few weeks and they doubt the tour can be made up in that time.

Dare I say it, but this is probably a good thing. Besides, let's face it: the parents and kids are from Stafford County, which is a bit south of Washington, D.C. As a result, the parents' animus and disgust must undoubtedly be rooted in support for the Washington Redskins. I mean, it makes sense to me -- after all, Redskins fans are generally (generally, I said) annoying, obnoxious and unpleasant. So it's understandable they would take out their frustration on the glorious Pittsburgh Steelers, who beat them soundly in Week 9 of the 2008 season.

23-6, I might add. Yeah. Go Steelers!

My suspicions about this are also raised due to WRC-TV's impolite cutline for a picture posted with the story, showing the President with a Steelers jersey at the special ceremony to honor the team. As of now, it reads: "President Obama enjoys his new Steelers jersey after making children cry."

This is not the type of comment one expects from a professional news organization, and only lends credence to the idea that Redskins fans -- deluded in their belief that the NFC East is football's toughest conference, and deluded in their belief they'll make the playoffs this year -- are behind this sinister plot to discredit the Steelers.

Finally, the Terminator Movie We All Wanted

SO I WENT AND SAW "Terminator: Salvation" tonight. It ruled.

This was something of a surprise to me. You see, I haven't really been a fan of the Terminator franchise, if only because the series doesn't make a lot of sense. For one thing, the idea that a self-aware military defense program would try to destroy mankind with nuclear weapons is laughable. It's a computer. It's smart. It knows this wouldn't work. Besides, even if it did try it, it would soon realize the bug in its system.

GENERAL: Dear GOD. It's launching our nuclear missiles! We've only got thirty seconds --
PROGRAMMER: Hey! Computer! Got news for you! When those nukes go off, it'll create a giant electromagnetic pulse that will fry your CPU, not to mention the entire infrastructure you need to survive.
COMPUTER: ERROR ERROR FWZZHHHHHIP
GENERAL: The blue screen of death! You did it! You did it!
PROGRAMMER: Yes, I did -- say, where's Major Kong?
GENERAL: Uh oh.

Also, the whole time travel thing? Yeah, that's a bit silly. You know the drill, of course -- SKYNET, the computer program, sends its killing robots back through time to prevent the birth (or simply liquidate) John Connor, the resistance leader, while Connor sends back his own agents to prevent that. Then, when Connor's team triumphs, SKYNET tries it again, and Connor foils it again. If this kept up, it would get a bit silly. The next thing we'd know, SKYNET would send back a terminator robot to liquidate the chef at John's favorite lunch place in the hopes he would contract botulism.

Still: let's be clear, though. This is a fun movie. It is mindless and enjoyable and things blow up to spectacular effect. For that matter, the effects themselves are spectacular. The cinematography is outstanding and the desert landscapes -- it was shot in New Mexico, apparently -- really make for a gritty yet enjoyable war movie in which approximately eight million rounds of ammunition are fired, giant machines tromp around the landscape and wreak havoc, lots of things explode, and the resolution is satisfactory, but not to the point where there can't be any sequels. And if there are sequels -- well, I'll be there for them, at least if they're anything like this.

Hello Cleveland!

OFFICIAL TOURISM ADS always have a bit of lameness associated with them. This is not often the fault of the advertising people who create the spots, but rather, it's indicative of the rather difficult subject material with which they have to work.

Take Cleveland, for instance. Now, you would think a tourism ad involving Cleveland would involve a thirty-second slow-motion clip of LeBron James slam-dunking a basketball, and that's all. After all, Mr James is cool. Thus, by extension, Cleveland is cool. But no. Instead, whomever conducts tourism campaigns for Cleveland came up with a lame-o five minute video extolling the virtues of The Forest City. And here it is:

Now, normally, I wouldn't post such a video, because it's lame -- and for the following reasons:

* The narrator is woefully miscast. He was clearly chosen as a blue-collar, steelworker type. However, he then goes on to spend the first minute going on about the cultural wonders of Cleveland, such as its symphony (which is admittedly quite good). The trouble is, you can't help but think the steelworker would prefer having a Bud and listening to Bob Seger after his shift at the foundry.
* Cleveland ... stretches a bit. For instance, around the second minute, the movie focuses on the Pro Football Hall of Fame, which is not in Cleveland. It's in Canton, which is not only not in Cleveland, but 60 miles away and closer to Akron.
* Also, at 2:23 in the video, the Pro Football Hall of Fame clip clearly shows a Steelers jersey in the background, said jersey appearing to be that of "Mean Joe" Greene.
* The clip, which is an amazing five minutes and twelve seconds long, does not focus on sports until the final minute. This is ridiculous, considering going to a sporting event in Cleveland is an amazing experience. I have known people who were so impressed by what they saw that they raved about it decades later. It's not so much the prowess of the athletes but rather the passion and excitement sports fans in Cleveland show for their teams that makes it a fun time.

But hey. I did post the video. Also, it presents a great backdrop for the following video to which I was recently alerted. This was posted on YouTube showing tourists ... well, a different side of Cleveland. (Do note: if you're at work, put on your headphones, 'cause there's not-appropriate-for-work language in it, unless you're a journalist).

"Hastily Made Cleveland Tourism Video"

The video was made by a Clevelander, so don't take it too seriously. Besides, Cleveland isn't all that bad of a place -- and I'm not laughing too hard. At the rate things are going, I may be back there in a year and a half.

Kalamazoo 1, Hideous Sewer Stench 0

AND TO THINK -- it only took them nine months or so to figure out from where the rotten stench was emanating. Still, this result beats the alternative!

It's a Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left

Oh No!
It's Time for Yet Another Installment of ...
BAD CINEMA WITH BEN!

Today: The Special Summer Movie Preview

AH, SUMMER. Truly there is no better time to revel in the sun and heat. That's why many Americans, your correspondent included, will spend much of their time this summer cowering in dark, air-conditioned movie theatres.

Of course, it's not as if we're all going simply to avoid the sun and heat -- it's not as if we're going to watch the Los Angeles Clippers. There are plenty of potentially good movies out there this summer, and I'm looking forward to seeing many of them. Then again, there are also plenty of stinkers just waiting to be unleashed upon the unsuspecting American people.

So in an admittedly biased, unscientific exercise, I'm grading this summer's films in advance, solely based on my like (or dislike) of their plots and subject material. So you've been warned -- some of these films may be great, but I'll never see them because the subject material has no interest to me; while other films may seem deadly dull to you, but which I'll go see because I want to do so. And with that -- well, here we go!

X-MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE
Opening Date: Now Playing

PLOT: Executives at Marvel Entertainment Inc. discover a magic formula to make bank like nobody's business and extend the life of a movie/comic franchise, thus causing various "Marvel Universe" superheroes to relive their origin stories.
UPSIDE: For the ladies, I guess it's Hugh Jackman. For everyone else -- meh.
DOWNSIDE: I'll be honest -- I'm not a fan of superhero stories, unless the superheroes in question are clever types like Batman. For one thing, the superheroes have it all too easy; they rush around and break things and foil perfectly good attempts to take over the world. Plus, the superheroes got silly. It used to be superheroes could do things like bend steel and what not; now they're causing tornadoes and sucking the life force out of people. Call me when they start doing really amazing stuff, like accurately predicting the fortunes of the S&P 500.
Also, Wolverine is not -- from what I can tell -- a graduate of the University of Michigan. And why not, one asks?
WILL I SEE IT: No.

STAR TREK
Opening Date: May 8

PLOT: Paramount Pictures goes where .. well, we've kind of been there before, but this actually looks pretty cool.
UPSIDE: The original Star Trek story, given a modern update and expanded back story, could actually turn out pretty damned special. I guess we'll see, but this certainly seems like it could work out. Let's just hope they don't treat McCoy, who was the best character on the old show, like a third wheel.
DOWNSIDE: Installing young kids -- by which I mean actors who look like they're in their twenties -- in what are now iconic roles could prove risky.
WILL I SEE IT: I just might.

ANGELS AND DEMONS
Opening Date: May 15

PLOT: Much bad dialogue and convenient plot devices likely ensue as Tom Hanks' nutty professor works to save the Vatican from the Illuminati, who supposedly still exist even though they got wiped out in 1785. Also, the intellectuals are really ticked off.
UPSIDE: None that I can see, particularly since I'm a Roman Catholic, and thus would have to say like 80 Hail Marys if I saw this movie.
DOWNSIDE: The Church has overreacted to what will almost certainly be a crappy Hollywood movie. This would have been an excellent time for the Holy See to remember it is the Holy See, and does not need to defend itself against Hollywood.
WILL I SEE IT: I'm spending enough time in Purgatory as is.

TERMINATOR: SALVATION
Opening Date: May 21

PLOT: FINALLY we get to see the remnants of mankind fight the machines in a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
UPSIDE: Did I mention mankind fights evil machines? Oh, and it's a fair bet to say things blow up real good. Also, the director's from Kalamazoo, so -- you know -- I got to represent.
DOWNSIDE: What downside? Mankind! Fighting! Evil! Machines! SWEET!
WILL I SEE IT: I -- am -- so -- there.

THE TAKING OF PELHAM 1 2 3
Opening Date: June 12

PLOT: John Travolta's character hijacks a New York subway train, and forces the straphangers to watch "Battlefield Earth."
UPSIDE: Denzel Washington.
DOWNSIDE: Meh. It's been done.
WILL I SEE IT: Nah.

TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN
Opening Date: June 24

PLOT: The Decepticons come back and attack Earth. The Autobots try to stop this. Megan Fox looks pretty.
UPSIDE: Gee, I guess Optimus Prime didn't have prostate cancer after all!
DOWNSIDE: Gee, I wonder how this is going to turn out.
WILL I SEE IT: Highly doubtful. The Transformers were fine when they were a marketing vehicle in my youth for various toys, but nowadays, I'm not at the point where I'll spend $10 to go see a bunch of robots create havoc on screen.

PUBLIC ENEMIES
Opening Date: July 1

PLOT: John Dillinger runs around robbing banks during the Depression.
UPSIDE: Hey, somebody figured out how to make money in bad economic times. Could be a valuable teaching tool! (I kid, of course. Besides, let's remember how Johnny's career ended).
DOWNSIDE: Dillinger was kind of a jerk.
WILL I SEE IT: Better than even chance.

G.I. JOE: THE RISE OF COBRA
Opening Date: Aug. 7

PLOT: The good guys at G.I. Joe fight the bad guys of COBRA, the evil terrorist organization which seeks to take over the world through a variety of hare-brained schemes.
UPSIDE: I have to admit that, as a boy, I rooted for COBRA while watching the cartoons. Especially Tomax and Xamot, who as I understand it went on to sell collateralized debt obligations on Wall Street. Although they're not apparently in the film, which is disappointing. They'd be great villians.
DOWNSIDE: Film could, in theory, be serious and not contain key elements of old cartoon, including everyone going along with yet another stupid idea from Cobra Commander, and uplifting moral lessons during the end credits.
WILL I SEE IT: Doubtful.

DISTRICT 9
Date Opening: Aug. 14

PLOT: Aliens land in South Africa. However, instead of trying to conquer humanity, they're forced to work for a multinational corporation, which seeks to make money from their alien secrets and technology.
UPSIDE: Finally, we have a realistic alien-encounter movie. I mean, let's face it: we would try to reverse-engineer the aliens' technology to make money from it. Also, the trailer and the associated Web sites make this movie look really, really good.
DOWNSIDE: Not seeing any.
WILL I SEE IT: Yes.

INGLORIOUS BASTERDS
Date Opening: Aug. 21

PLOT: Our Boys kill Nazis during World War II.
UPSIDE: Tarantino directs, so we know Our Boys will absolutely kill every Nazi in the room.
DOWNSIDE: What downside? I mean, aside from the title's spelling errors, which make me wince.
WILL I SEE IT: Yeah.

Obviously, these aren't all the movies being released this summer. There are, for instance, a bunch of romantic comedies, which didn't look all that appealing. Plus, there are a bunch of family films, although as I don't have a family, I'm freed of any obligation to actually go see them. As for the rest -- well, we'll see how these actually turn out.

Oysters, Check. Baseball, Check. Summer, Check.

SO IT OCCURRED to your humble correspondent, as he was pondering what to do after being given an incredible surplus of free time, that he ought embark on a Massive Road Trip. This will not surprise Loyal Rant Readers, who know I go on road trips pretty frequently and on the flimsiest of pretexts. But this road trip was special for a few reasons.

For one, I spent much of the trip (which ran from Sunday, April 19 to Tuesday, April 28) traveling with Simon From Jersey, who as it happened also had a bit of free time. For another, much of it was spent in the Deep South, which is known for its surplus of fresh seafood and barbecue. For a third, it was the longest road trip I've ever done. As in 4,100 miles long. In ten days. No, I'm not kidding. Not only did I hit every state on the Eastern Seaboard, I hit every state in the Deep South east of the Mississippi.

Now, I will not deny this destination raised some eyebrows among my friends back here in New Hampshire. One conversation I had, with a friend of mine originally from New York, summed up many of these talks.

FRIEND: So you're going to Alabama. On vacation. Who does that?
ME: I do! Besides, it's warm and cheap.

There is a lot to be said for the South. This was my second visit to that part of the country and I have to say it is a pretty nice place, all things considered. But we'll get to that in a bit. First, though, I must share certain observations made on the drive down to Dixie and back up to the Granite State:

1. When listening to terrestrial radio stations, it is theoretically possible to drive from one end of the Eastern Seaboard to the other listening only to the song "Blame It" by Jamie Foxx (feat. T-Pain).

2. In Virginia, many small communities located along I-81 are listed as "certified business locations." I didn't know whether this meant the business owners are actually certifiable because they're trying to do business in the ass-end of Virginia, or whether some ISO standard organization came along with a checklist and did a few site visits and determined that yes, Marion, Va. is a fine place to engage in commerce. Then, after looking on Google, I found the state of Virginia no longer certifies towns as Certified Business Locations, apparently because everyone went and got certified. Yeah, you ain't kidding about that.

3. The first day's drive was a grueling 15 hour journey from Hopewell, N.J., to Birmingham, Ala., started at 5 a.m. on a Monday. By 9 a.m. we had left greater Philadelphia far behind and had actually made it to Winchester, Va., which is perhaps 30 miles from the Pennsylvania border. When we went in to grab some breakfast at a local burger establishment, the manager of said eatery used the phrase "y'all" frequently. I submit this as proof the South takes the Mason-Dixon line rather seriously.

4. The South has a chain of hamburger eateries known as "Krystal," which is a knock-off of the White Castle chain of hamburger eateries. That's not to take away from the places, though. Their burgers are pretty damned good. Also they have these miniature hot dog things. Plus, they have the benefit of not being based in Columbus, Ohio.

5. The route back, which went from Auburn, Ala., to Richmond, Va., to Hopewell, N.J., innocently passed within a few hundred yards of the only Del Taco outlet within 1,000 miles. It's fair to say this was my main meal for the day. Amusingly, several of the customers in the store were from or spent time in the Southwest. Attention Southerners: you deserve Del Taco, and you can get it if you travel near Spartanburg, S.C.

6. I have learned that M&T Bank Stadium in Baltimore does not care if you stare at it from the freeway and mutter curses in its direction. I hate M&T Bank Stadium because it is the evil home of the evil Baltimore Ravens and the Ravens' fans, who by extension are evil.

7. I have realized the idea of me saying "y'all" in an unironic context is so ridiculous I struggle to even fathom it. This is not because I have anything against the phrase, but rather because I sound ridiculous saying it. I tried once and found my mouth grinding around the word like I was chewing nails. I mean, I'm from Kalamazoo, Mich., for Christ's sake. It comes out "you all" no matter what I do. About the only way I can see myself saying y'all is if I was using the rare all y'all form of the phrase, as in: "All y'all can go to hell for supporting the Tennessee Titans."

But anyway. The South!

As I said, I rather like the place. The people are friendly, the food is fantastic and the weather is great, except in summer, but this is why God invented air conditioning. Also, I can assure my fellow Northerners that the stereotypes we all secretly hold about the South are not true.

Not all Southerners are like this. Northerners, on the other hand -- well, how you doin'?

What's that? Yes, you do think that way. Come on, Northerners, admit it. You associate the South with a lot of things, most of them bad -- things like waving the Confederate battle flag and Bull Connor and racial oppression. Also, you associate it with bad country music, stock-car racing and the consumption of hideous domestic beer. All these associations are patently unfair in this day and age.

Now, this is not to say the South did not have a troubled history for a very long time. It's also not to say that backward racial attitudes don't still exist here and there in the South. Nor do I deny Nashville produces bad country music, or that auto racing isn't popular in the South.

But the thing is, as Rod Serling once put it, people are alike all over. God knows the North has its backward racialists, even if they largely exist in secret, and people in the North enjoy bad country music and auto racing as much as people do in the South. And a lot of what the North thinks about the South is rooted in a past that no longer exists.

Besides, if the South was truly an intolerant place, would U.S. Sen. Richard Shelby (R-Toyota City) so openly and brazenly attack the domestic auto industry, and would foreign automakers flock to set up shop in Alabama? I think not!

Oh, wait, I said that out loud. Oops.

Anyway, my point is this: if you haven't been, give the place a chance. Force yourself to open your horizons, and limit your irrational beliefs to things where it's OK to be irrational -- such as hating the South's college football teams. Especially Florida. And Alabama. And Tennessee. And Arkansas. And Florida State and Miami and -- oh, you get the point.

-------------

That's because there's a lot of cool stuff in the South. Especially in Birmingham, Ala., where my trip began.

Let me first say Birmingham surprised the hell out of me. After all, who the hell knows anything about Birmingham except what we see in old newsreels? Trust me when I say the city is surprisingly cosmopolitan and yet maintains a lot of Southern charm.

Now, Birmingham may seem like an odd place to stay on vacation, but as it happens my friend Simon From Jersey is actually a native of the Magic City. We stayed in The Hotel Highland, a really nice boutique hotel in the fashionable Five Points district. The hotel is well-appointed and good for both business and leisure travelers; weekday rates were about $130 a night for a standard room. Tip: don't use the valet to park one's car; simply park it yourself in the garage behind the hotel. There, I just saved you $14 a night. I rule.

Anyway, as I said, the hotel was really quite nice, and I have to credit Simon for doing a great job at booking our hotels along the stay. (In comparison, my efforts were only adequate). The hotel is in the middle of a nightlife district and there are great restaurants and bars within walking distance.

As for things to do, there's plenty for one day, and arguably two days, in Birmingham, depending on what you want to do. One thing Simon and I did was to travel around the city's nicer neighborhoods -- and yes, the city has plenty of actual, real, old-style neighborhoods that feel like, well, neighborhoods and not soulless suburban tract developments. Interestingly enough, the city has plenty of hills and an actual mountain -- it is apparently at the base of the Appalachians, so there are some great views to be had, particularly at Vulcan Park.

This is me at Vulcan Park, relaxing, with the city in the background.

Vulcan Park is notable for a giant statue of Vulcan, the ancient Roman god of fire and metallurgy or something like that. The statue is something like 50 feet tall and impressively enough was somehow hoisted long ago on top of a giant base, which must be a good six stories high. It symbolizes good things like progress and industry, as we can see in this picture.

This is me standing optimistically in front of the statue, hoping for more progress and industry.

Also, the Vulcan statue is a bit ... well, it's kind of risque.

You know how there's that statue of Kim Il-sung in Pyongyang? And all the Western tourists are taken to it to, I don't know, prostrate themselves in front of it and listen about the Dead Eternal President's Towering Achievements? Well, word has it that you can only take pictures of that statue from the front. The authorities at Vulcan Park might want to consider politely asking tourists to do the same. Yes, yes, I know, this is America, and we did pay $6 each to go up to the top of the view tower, and we have rights and all that. But ...

... Vulcan's asscheeks are in full view of the God-fearing public. See what I mean about the South being a tolerant place? Giant, well-formed, iron asscheeks! I can bet that required some explaining back in the day.

SOCIETY MATRON: The Ladies Club of Birmingham wishes to welcome the Ladies Club of Montgomery to our wonderful Vulcan Park, with its views over the Magic City, and --
VISITING LADY (looking up) Well, this is certainly quite some -- EEEEEEEEEEEEK! (*keel* *thud*)
AUDIENCE MEMBERS: Help! Fire! Murder! Mrs Haversham has taken ill! And -- DEAR GOD! LOOK AT IT!
SOCIETY MATRON: Oh, get out the epsom salts.

One can only imagine the newspaper headlines. ("City Reels as Giant, Unbeclothed Posterior Unveiled at Mountain Top.") ("Citizens Complain Over 'Asscheeks Each the Size of an Oldsmobile.' ")

----------------------------

But then it was time to deal with far more serious matters.

Our next stop was the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute, where the city's past racial troubles are presented in shocking detail. Seeing the Institute's exhibits really made the injustices faced by the South's black population hit home. One certainly can't describe the visit as fun; it was very sobering. But it definitely brought home the very real injustices that Jim Crow brought upon millions upon millions of people -- and the sheer, outright wrongness of it all. Near the Institute -- actually, on the same corner -- are Kelly Ingram Park, where decades ago demonstrations for civil rights were brutally repressed, and the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, the site of the 1963 bombing which killed four young girls, hurt 22 more people and badly damaged the church.

All these things are worth seeing, even if they are not easy things to see. So take an afternoon to do so.

Still, after seeing what I did, I felt a bit of hope. The things I saw presented a stark picture of how things were, but they are not how things are now. The old ways were so alien to modern life that I'm hopeful we'll be able to eradicate these attitudes and prejudices once and for all. We may still have a way to go, but I think it's a challenge we can meet.

-------------

If there are two types of food in which I would suggest visitors to Birmingham indulge, they are barbecue and seafood. The barbecue aspect of it may not be a surprise; it is the South, after all, and so barbecue is a pretty standard thing. We had it twice in the city: first for dinner, after our long drive, at Jim 'n' Nick's, a chain with a location in Five Points; and the next day for lunch at Carlile's.

Barbecue, I realize, is one of those intensely personal and subjective things, in which everyone believes what he likes is the best of the art form. For instance, I myself am partial to Carolina barbecue, particularly that known as Lexington-style barbecue, where the sauce is based both on tomato and vinegar. Other people, of course, like Texas barbecue or Memphis barbecue or what have you. According to my friend Simon, who would know, Alabama barbecue is a Memphis-style variant.

And quite good, I might add. When the meat is prepared correctly and you have a good sauce, it's hard to go wrong, and in both cases the meals I had were fantastic. One thing Alabama barbecue has going for it is that, generally speaking, the meat is only one part of the presentation. That's not to say it's not the focus, because it is. But with Alabama barbecue you're almost certain to get a lot of other good food along with it, usually including expertly-prepared vegetables. The greens and other side dishes were almost as good as the barbecue -- and again, that's not to take away from the barbecue!

But Birmingham also has good seafood. Simon had one restaurant in mind that he highly recommended, although I was so much enjoying having drinks outdoors in Five Points that I convinced him we ought stay in that vicinity for the evening. I had a fish sandwich at the Five Points Grill that was downright spectacular, and one that beat any fish sandwich I've had in New England. It was that good. Take a piece of fish, grill it, then serve it on fresh French bread with onions, top-quality leaf lettuce and remoulade; you have something close to perfection.

This brings me to another fine point about the South -- it is difficult to eat badly even when -- especially when -- one pays little for a meal. A good breakfast can be easily found for less than $10, as I found when we visited one of Simon's old haunts in Birmingham, Bogue's Restaurant. At Carlile's, for instance, lunch was perhaps $12, and it served as the main meal of the day. My light dinner, that fish sandwich,was $8. This is not bad for vacation, particularly when one considers it is difficult to get fast food for $8. On Wednesday morning, when we had breakfast in Five Points prior to our departure, the value was even more ridiculous.

This was at the Original Pancake House, and although a chain, the values there were ... well, dig this. I ordered buckwheat pancakes for breakfast. The waitress, upon returning with my meal, presented me with a giant helping of pancakes -- four massive buckwheat pancakes. Then she apologized; she had screwed up my ticket, she said, and was thus delivering just a half-order.

I'm sorry, what? Well, how many are in a full order, I asked? Six, she said. Oh. My God. Whatever would I do with just four pancakes? As if I didn't have enough trouble finishing those -- and for $4.50, no less!

----------

From Birmingham we went south to Mobile and Biloxi, Miss., on Wednesday. This was primarily because we wanted seafood, and boy did we get it:

Mr. Kepple gives the universal Seal of Approval following his, uh, American-sized seafood meal.

If there is one regret I have about this trip, it is that I only ate two dozen raw oysters on it. Raw oysters are fantastic and I love them. In Mobile, we ate at the Original Oyster House overlooking Mobile Bay, and it was fantastic. Along with our oysters -- for all of $8 a dozen -- both Simon and me got a giant platter of fried shrimp, fried oysters, fried crab claws (which worked, surprisingly) and fried fish. Said platter booked in at $14.95 and it was FANTASTIC.

I do wonder, though, if I would not have been advised to follow the lead of the two older gentlemen at the next table, who were also on a road trip. I am guessing they ordered three dozen raw oysters each, and were chowing down like the oysters were manna from heaven.

But there was more seafood to come. In Biloxi -- actually, in Gulfport, Miss., -- we ate at the Blow Fly Inn and each had a downright decadent crawfish etoufee. Each was all of $12. Add in fried green tomatoes (which are a way for me to eat actual tomatoes, which I oddly don't much like, even though I love tomato sauce) and the total bill including tax and tip was like $23 each. Almost as amazing as the food was the view outside -- it overlooked a bayou, and you could see flying fish pop out of the water and bounce along the surface.

Now, Loyal Rant Readers may have noticed that my friend Simon and I often ordered the same thing. I found this quite amusing, as we would independently come to our determinations, and I submit it as proof that when you know someone for a very long time, you get to know what the other person is thinking. This point was driven home on the trip, during one point when Simon was driving.

(silence in car)

SIMON: Let me drive, Ben.
ME: What? I didn't say anything!
SIMON: Yes, but you were thinking it. I had plenty of time to get over there. I was just keeping an eye on that truck behind us and seeing what he was doing, which is important when you're driving someone else's car.
ME: I didn't say anything!

(silence)

ME: But you're right. I was thinking it.

(laughter)

One cool part about the Mobile-Biloxi swing was seeing the USS Alabama, a World War II-era battleship now on display in Mobile Bay. The battleship is open for tours and so we went hither and yon upon its decks, staring in awe at the massive guns and, really, the fortifications built on this massive ship.

I did realize, however, that I may not be cut out for a career in the Navy, should it ever come to that. The trouble with scampering up ladders in an old battleship is that you eventually have to climb down them, and having been on a modern ship I know it hasn't gotten much easier. Eventually it got to the point where it was like, "Oh! Another goddamn ladder!" and I would grit my teeth and try to manuever down it without cracking my head. It got so bad I started thinking the Air Force would be a better career decision!

The last day in the Deep South was really quite relaxing. We drove from Biloxi to Auburn, Ala., by way of the Gulf Coast. This allowed us to tour Dauphin Island, off Alabama's coast, take the car ferry across from the island to the other side of Mobile Bay, and then drive to the extremely enjoyable Flora-Bama Lounge and Package, a roadhouse on the beach in Pensacola, Fla.

Now, this place was fun. You can have raw oysters here for $9 a dozen and get a giant box full of boiled crawfish. You can drink beer. You can do so just steps away from the beach. Also, there are girls in bikinis everywhere. You really can't go wrong with this place, and you could do a lot worse than if you decided to just spend an entire day here relaxing, drinking beer, and eating seafood.

And in Auburn, before the trip home, we had one last dinner of barbecue before heading home. It too was pretty damned fine.

--------------

But the trip wasn't over, not by a long shot. After I dropped Simon back at home in New Jersey on Saturday, I headed back south to Washington, D.C. on Sunday, where I joined several of my old college buddies for an annual lunch we have. As with all said lunches, we had Mexican food -- although we switched up the venue this time. Instead of going to Lauriol Plaza in Washington, we went to Los Tios' in Alexandria, Va.

After having an excellent frozen margarita there, I am convinced Los Tios alone accounts for roughly half Mexico's sales of tequila. I mean, the size of this margarita -- which was $14 -- is difficult to describe in words alone. I daresay it involved a quart of liquid and God knows just how much actual tequila, but it was downright fantastic. Also fantastic was the food, particularly the steak. The company was great too -- it was fantastic to see my friends again. Of our Grupo del Cuatro, tres de nosotros are, to use the Spanish phrase, "unemployed," but in all other respects everyone seemed to be doing pretty well.

On Monday, I headed up to Wilmington, Del., and saw my old friend Scott Rubush, who works at a think-tank there. On tap that night: the baseball game between the Philadelphia Phillies and the Washington Nationals. Yes, that one with not one but TWO grand slams in it!

True, the pitching on both sides was downright horrendous -- but to see TWO grand slams in one game? Including a game-winning grand slam? Boy. You can't ask for more than that at a baseball game!

The seats we had were fantastic. They were nosebleed seats in the fourth deck, but with a great view just a bit of the left behind home plate, and one could see all the action taking place on the field below. Also, the seats were quite reasonably priced -- $22 each.

Citizens Bank Park is a nice ballfield and I have to give Philadelphia credit for arranging its sports complex the way it did. Across the way from the ballpark is Lincoln Financial Field, home of the (evil) Philadelphia Eagles, and all of it is admittedly very nice. It was also nice to see all the tailgaters out before the Phillies game, and a group of Scott's friends and me took part in this tailgating, cooking burgers and drinking beer. Of course, this is what baseball is all about -- it's not really about the game, although it's fun, but about the socializing and relaxing and enjoying oneself.

This was especially fun because I got to meet some new friends and, well, had a great time on a nice, summer-like day. It's hard to go wrong with that. It was also fun to see the reaction of one of those new friends' fathers, who had come to the United States on vacation from Scotland, to the whole thing. He was really impressed with how much fun everyone had at the game and particularly before it, although I don't think the baseball particularly impressed him. Had the sporting event been held in Scotland, he related, the pre-game events would likely have devolved into partisan fighting and public drunkenness.

It was a shame to hear that. Come on, Scotland, man up.

Fortunately, you don't see much of that any more at American sporting events, if only because the authorities have taken steps to crack down on licentiousness and boorish behavior at games. Plus, the culture is different: you don't have the organized hooliganism that exists across the pond. Besides, why argue with another team's fans when your teams will settle their differences on the field, and your team will undoubtedly prove superior?

-----------

And then, on Tuesday, I drove home.

It was good to get back, but I have to say it was good to get a bit of summer early. Although it is already starting to arrive here. The trees are green and the weather is starting to get nice, and before we know it, summer will be here. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Love That Tribe!

TONIGHT, at the Verizon Wireless Arena, the announcer said the following:

"At New Yankee Stadium ...
Yankees 4,
Cleveland 22."

And there was much rejoicing. What I want to know, though, is: what the hell happened?

Texas: It's Like a Whole 'Nother Country

AS A MATTER OF COURSE, The Rant approves of secession movements in principle but not in practice.

In principle, they're nice because free people everywhere should have the right to organize their own affairs. If that means they decide to scrap their current arrangements and set up their own shop, that seems fair enough to me. Also, it stands to reason that in a situation where polities peacefully co-exist and compete with each other to provide better lives for their citizens, that competitive tide will lift everyone's boats.

In practice, however, secession movements are rarely neat. After all, look what happened the last time -- and that was before the invention of things like tanks and fighter jets, much less tactical nuclear weapons. Also, they're generally bad for business. In the best-case scenario, you get a whole new set of rules and regulations and cross-border issues with which to deal; in the worst-case scenario, you get your factories nationalized.

Accordingly, The Rant is not impressed with Texas Gov. Rick Perry's claim the Lone Star State can simply up and leave the United States without so much as a by-your-leave. It is not even true on a theoretical level, much less a practical one. In theory, the only special status Texas has, under the rules of the Texas Annexation of 1845, is its ability to divide itself into five separate states. Why the Texans have failed to use this to their advantage over the years is beyond me, but they haven't. In practice, we told them once they couldn't leave, and one would think the resulting actions would have settled the matter.

Of course, that was a long time ago, and I realize Texan secessionists may make that argument in defending their homeland's honor. So let's consider what it might be like if Texas were to secede, and everyone was all right with that.

Well, first off, there's this little matter of the national debt. As of Tuesday, the national debt stood at $11,172,298,738,031.41. (Yes, the Government calculates this to the penny). Texas has roughly 7.84 percent of the nation's population, so that would mean the Great Sovereign State of Texas, as successor to the American Government, would thus owe $875,908,221,061.66 to the national fisc for its share of that debt. Yes, that's $875 billion. Yes, that works out to $36,005.64 per Texan. No, I don't know where they would get it, although I would be cool with the new Government of Texas remitting part of this sum in barbecue.

Then there's the little matter of dealing with the innumerable programs from which Texas citizens now benefit. Since Social Security and Medicare are both pay-as-you-go systems, in theory Texas could still take part in these if it kept remitting the payroll taxes necessary to fund them. But if it didn't, there's no reason citizens of Texas would simply get to keep taking part in these. After all, they wouldn't be part of the United States any more.

Also, Texas now benefits from the federal Government's expenditures for national defense. These expenses will total $551 billion in FY 2009, according to the Department of Defense. So if Texas wants to keep benefiting from the United States' military shield, it will have to pay roughly $43.2 billion per year to do so. Of course, it wouldn't have to do this, but in that event, Texas would have to kiss all its military bases goodbye. Plus, Texas citizens now in the U.S. military would undoubtedly have to pledge allegiance to the remaining 49 states or lose their jobs, 'cause having hostile foreign nationals in one's army could be rather troubling.

Finally, Texas -- as a foreign polity -- would either have to come up with its own currency to replace the dollar or effectively cede any control or input it had on setting interest rates and monetary policy to the Federal Reserve. This would get especially interesting if Texas decided to go ahead and form its own currency -- maybe they could call it the tejano. If it did this right -- and agreed to peg it to the price of gold -- the new money could generate a lot of interest and become more valuable than the dollar. If it did this wrong -- well, that wouldn't be pretty. Think Mexico in 1982.

This is, of course, the best-case scenario. Obviously, the 49 remaining states could make things a bit more difficult for Texas if they wanted. For instance, if the 49 decided that Texas citizens couldn't enter the United States without a visa. Or if the 49 decided they'd slap tariffs on Texas-produced goods. You can see where this is going; and it's not like Texas would be able to do anything about it. What are they going to do, invade Oklahoma? Not bloody likely.

On the other hand, Texas might decide that it's still worth it to proceed with seceding, no matter the cost. After all, Texas would get to set up its own tax rates, its own laws, its own courts and its own constitution, without dealing with those pesky issues of federal supremacy. So if Texas wanted to outlaw abortion, for instance, it could. If it decided to get rid of environmental protection for some feeble animals in the way of development, it could. In that regard, leaving the union could have some benefits in terms of self-determination. But one would think the costs associated with doing so would outweigh the benefits considerably.

My Favorite Things

My Favorite Things
(as a fan of the Pittsburgh Steelers)

(with apologies to Julie Andrews)

New England Patriots stuck with Matt Cassel
When Manning finds out protection's a hassle
An offensive line that's not on the blink
These are a few of my favorite things

When the Bears strike --
when the Colts win --
when I'm feeling sad --
I simply remember my favorite things,
and then I don't feel so bad!

Ben Bowman, American Hero

INSPIRING STORIES ARE all too rare in American life these days, but here's a great one out of Chicago that should warm everybody's hearts. Ben Bowman, a producer for WMAQ-TV, the NBC affiliate in the Windy City, delivered an on-air rant blasting his own station for delivering breathless reports about ... snow. You know, in winter. In Chicago.

Mr Bowman, who amazingly writes about his job on his own blog, writes as follows:

Another reason for rage (sorrow?) is the fact that a dusting of snow fell overnight. This, of course, is reason to throw out lots of interesting stories so we can tell you what you would already know if A) you have access to windows or doors in your home or B) you’ve lived anywhere where snow falls at this time of year.

As I frequently point out, I grew up in Michigan, where 12″ of snow is barely justification to wear mittens, let alone raise the terror alert level to red. And even though I didn’t see a single snowflake on the way in to work, we still rang the alarm bells and blew up my show to herald the arrival of our white, flaky overlords.

I will make a guarantee right now. Once we get some real snowfall, a dusting of this consequence won’t even be mentioned on the newscast. We led with it today merely because the roads were previously clear. There will be days when the roads will be much worse, and we won’t even mention them.

You should lead with weather when something unusual happens. Winter is not unusual. Today was the equivalent of leading with the news of an 80 degree day in June.

The full video of Mr Bowman's rant is here:

Mr Bowman's outburst should be required viewing for local television news directors everywhere. He is clearly a scholar and a gentleman, and as such, someone worth heeding. Also, he's from Michigan and is named Ben, which means he's OK in my book.

Mr Bowman is right in that weather should be covered when it is unusual, or when news results because of it. For instance, if the first snowstorm brings with it a rash of accidents -- as it often does -- well, then that may be news. If the first snowstorm is especially fierce, and dumps 18" of snow all over the tri-state area -- well, that's probably news. But if there's a dusting of snow ... meh. News, not so much.

Yet even a dusting of snow can cause news stations to go a bit overboard with Team Storm Coverage, which all can agree is an unfortunate circumstance. Why, back in Ohio where my folks live, I can assure readers that a football game was once briefly interrupted in the name of Team Storm Coverage. (If there was justice in this world, the people behind said interruption would have been publicly flogged, but sadly our laws do not properly account for such abuses of the people's airwaves).

This tends to generate unwanted side effects, too: for instance, when major events are interrupted for crappy storm coverage, people get upset; and when the news stations hype weather stories that turn out to be nothing, people tend to get desensitized to the latest breathless bulletins. Thus, Team Storm Coverage should be used sparingly -- and, ideally, only when the situation is especially dire.

But I do have to give Mr Bowman a lot of credit for delivering his rant. For one thing, he's a local television news producer, a job I wouldn't want for all the tea in China. After all, consider the challenges he faces:

1. He has to arrange and put together a local newscast every morning. This is not easy. (YOU try to summarize an important story in two minutes and tell me how it turns out).
2. He has to deal with reporters. This is not all that easy either, particularly as reporters are often cynical, hard-bitten types who may not see eye-to-eye with a producer on certain stories. ("You want me to WHAT?")
3. He has to deal with his news presenters. There are many good news presenters out there, of course, but Mr Bowman's video makes it pretty clear that his early-morning presenters are not the brightest bulbs in the lamp store. Such situations can often lead to amusing television, but that often means the producer feels like clawing his own eyes out -- particularly since the anchors make obscene sums of money compared to what he's making. (Television is a horribly unfair medium in many respects).
4. Along with this, he has to deal with pressure from his superiors in the news organization, who want him to deliver, or else.

As a result of the above four items, I do hope Mr Bowman won't get cashiered as a result of his rant, but will rather cause his superiors to think about how they deliver the news and the resources they devote to doing so. There actually might be some value in doing so, too.

A Reflection on Bad Football

SO THE DETROIT LIONS lost again today. The 47-10 beatdown they suffered at the hands of the Tennessee Titans was an awful and painful thing to watch, and it was a performance so wretched one believes the Lovable Losers will do the impossible and go 0-16 this year. They looked that bad. Whether it was the fumble on the second play of the game, or the pick-six that put the Titans up 21-3, Detroit could do nothing right. Nothing.

There were a few flashes of brilliance from the Lions' offense, but the wretched play of the team's defense amazed me. I've seen some bad teams play this year, and I don't think there's any defensive unit in the league worse than that of the Lions. When running backs can sprint for sixty-yard plays without getting touched, and walk into the Lions' end zone without a finger being laid upon them ... well, it's time to go back to the drawing board. Detroit's coach, Rod Marinelli, last week famously challenged a reporter to find better players; well, I have a few in mind. Coach, if you're interested, just let me know.

The Lions' wretchedness has led many football fans around America, who perhaps understandably would like to see quality football on Thanksgiving, to call for the Lions to be stripped of their Turkey Day berth. I do not think this is warranted, although today's game did make me slightly more sympathetic to their argument. I mean, I don't know about you, but unless my team has a commanding lead, I like football games to be competitive beyond the first quarter of play.

Still, I do think there are plenty of reasons why Detroit should keep its Thanksgiving Day game. For one, they've been doing it for nigh on 70 years. That's a lot of tradition and not something that should be thrown away lightly. For another, despite Detroit's present miserable state, many Turkey Day games have been hard-fought and competitive contests, and there is no reason to think they will not be again.

If the main issue is that Detroit isn't very good, this can be easily rectified through doing a better job at scheduling. Next year, for instance, the Lions could play the Cincinnati Bengals. True, that's a game that might not have playoff implications, but at least it would probably go four quarters. Besides, it's not as if the Lions are alone in stinking things up. The Seahawks-Cowboys game is just as grim, and as I write the 2-9 Seahawks are getting their feathers plucked in Texas Stadium.

Plus, who the hell wants to root for the Cowboys? I mean, at least with the Lions, everyone can root for them without feeling guilty or vomiting a little in their throats. Try doing that with the showboating, pompous windbags that make up the Dallas Cowboys. Well, no, don't -- you'll get physically ill if you try -- but you see where I'm going with this. I'd sooner see Dallas lose its Thanksgiving Day privileges than the Lions.

Of course, today's general awfulness was only compounded by bad halftime shows, bad announcing and bad commercials. I don't know about you, but if I hear any of the Toyota Motor Co.'s truck commercials one more time, I'm going to go throw up. Then, I'm going to go find Mr Deep-Voiced Rural-Dwelling Real American and kick him so hard that Toyota might as well use Celine Dion to broadcast the virtues of its pickups. Stick that in your pipes and smoke it.

Even in Defeat, Michigan Outclasses Ohio State

SO I IMPRESSED EVEN MYSELF on Saturday with my calm demeanor when the rabble from Ohio State ran roughshod over the Michigan Wolverines in our annual football matchup. I can assure readers that not only did I not openly curse, I managed to maintain a Romeo Crennel-like zen during the game, even as Ohio State started running up the score in the closing moments. Only once did I lose my bearings. As the score hit 35-7, I felt compelled to respond after some of the Ohio backers made fun of my alma mater:

ME: Go flip over a car!
OHIO FAN: What's your license plate?

The folks from the Big Zero did have Michigan beat when it came to the singing of fight songs. After a while, it got like that scene in "On the Beach," when the Australians keep singing "Waltzing Matilda" as Gregory Peck's character is trying to sleep with the girl played by Ava Gardner. But I am proud to report that Michigan once again triumphed in terms of organization and class.

I mean, let's see. Which alumni club arranged for its fans to have nachos and other finger foods? That would be Michigan's. Which alumni club had a special football cake made for the game? That would be Michigan's. What alumni club brought swag for its partisans? Hmmm. Oh, yes, that would be Michigan's. (I got a tote bag and a Michigan-themed stack of post-it notes).

After a while, we Michiganders took pity on our younger brothers and invited them to partake in the bounty of buffalo wings and other goodies on offer. This show of good will was repaid in the third quarter, when the Ohio partisans engaged in a rousing rendition of "We Don't Give a Damn for the Whole State of Michigan."

The Ohio State University shows off its organizational skills during its bowl game appearance last year.

Admittedly, we did have extra buffalo wings because only about two dozen Michigan alumni showed up for the Big Game, and there were roughly five times as many attendees from Overturned Subaru. And only a few Michigan partisans -- myself included! -- stuck around for the entire thing, but hey. The important thing was that Michigan's alumni club (of which I am not a member) had the cash and the forethought to make this happen.

As for the class issue, I thought Michigan was far more classy than our rivals from Ohio State, as one might expect. OK, so I broke out the dance moves when Michigan intercepted the ball on Ohio State's opening drive, but that was more of a celebratory dance than an actual taunt. It's not like I unleashed the moonwalk. Although I was planning to unleash the moonwalk if Michigan took the lead, that didn't come about, so I didn't.

But I congratulate the Ohio Staters on their success. It was an impressive victory for them, and one I know that mattered a lot, what with their inferiority complex and all.

Also, to the one lady from Ohio who admonished her friend for feeling bad for the Michigan Wolverines ("Don't feel bad for them!"), let me just say that I understand. Really. I do. When Michigan next defeats Ohio State -- God willing, next year! -- I won't feel bad at all. Not only won't I feel bad, I hope we do it when you're 11-0 and have a national championship on the line.

We will have our revenge. And you will fall. That's all there is to it.

And the Towels Are Kinda Scratchy

CLERK: We've got one room left -- but I doubt you'll want it.
PRESIDENT-ELECT OBAMA: Why not?!
CLERK: It's a dead zone. Can't get your calls, your precious e-mails -- it's like you don't even exist.
PRESIDENT-ELECT OBAMA: But I've got the Verizon network.
VERIZON GUY: You're good! We're tapping into your account right now!
CLERK: Oh! Well.

A Bit of Proper Mortification

OVER THE PAST WEEK, there was a lot of discussion over the state dinner held for leaders at the G20 meeting, and a lot of caterwauling about the supposedly luxurious food and wine served at this occasion. Based on media accounts of the whole affair, it appears the American People are once again outraged with their Government, this time because the Government had the audacity to serve one decent wine during the dinner.

The Rant, as one might expect, takes a contrarian view of this whole matter. Namely, we've got twenty heads of state on hand for one of the most important financial summits in modern history, and we only served one decent wine during the occasion. Well, that's just great. All the other heads of state, after politely offering their goodbyes for the evening, must have come away thinking, "Jesus Christ, the Americans can't even put on a proper state dinner, and they're going to lecture us about economics?" At least, that's how I would have taken it.

Now look. As a taxpayer, and one who sends thousands of dollars to the national fisc each year, I expect my Government to forcefully remind the other nations of the world that the United States remains rich, prosperous, powerful and able to outfox and outmuscle any of them. The Government does not remind the world of its imperium maius by acting like Andrew frickin' Jackson. It also does not remind the world of its economic supremacy by serving blah wine. Have we no Lafite Rothschild in the White House's wine cellar? And if not, couldn't that have been arranged for one dinner?

I mean, I'm sorry, but we look cheap when we do things like that. Consider: the wine to start the meal went for about $40 a bottle, while the dessert wine went for about $30 a bottle. Are you kidding me? Why don't we send out to the Olive Garden while we're at it? Hey, here's an even better idea: why don't we have Pizza Hut prepare the pasta, and see how our invited heads of state react on hidden camera? God!

But why stop with complaining about the wine? Let's complain about the food too, while we're at it. Our invited heads of state got treated to a four-course dinner, which consisted of: a quail starter, a lamb main course, an endive salad and a pear torte. I don't know about you, but I think we were a bit light. No soup? No fish? No amuses?

I mean, come on. If the Russians had held a state dinner everyone would have eaten for five hours straight, gone back to their rooms, slept for ten hours and then would have been able to work for three full days based on the strength of that one meal alone. I mean, say what you will about the Russian Government, but the Russians are no slouches when it comes to putting on a fancy meal. It's no wonder we didn't accomplish anything at the summit.

Now, I know there are those who would consider it abhorrent and wretched were the Government to actually spend a lot of money on a fancy state dinner, but I do not think these arguments should be given much weight. After all, when you think about how rare state dinners actually are, they're not all that much money, and spending more on them could be easily accomplished if our lawmakers would hold off on spending, say, half a million bucks to renovate Lawrence Welk's boyhood home. So it is difficult to argue the Government ought act with austerity here when it spends money like drunken sailors on innumerable projects of absolutely no utility.

----------

After the jump: the state dinner we should have held, and would have if I had been Maximum Leader.

White House Menu for the Dinner
for the Summit on Financial Markets
and the World Economy

(Revised as if Benjamin Kepple was Maximum Leader)

AMUSE-BOUCHE

STARTER
Royal Baerii Caviar (Fla.) and accoutrements
1996 Bollinger Grande Annee Prestige Cuvee

SOUP
choice of:

She-Crab Soup (S.C.)
Fish Consomme (New England)

FISH

Broiled Maine lobster tails
with potatoes and vinaigrette

INTERMEZZO

BEEF

Filet mignon (the Plains)
with mixed vegetables or spinach sauteed in olive oil

SALAD

Michigan salad

PUDDING

Creme brulee

CHEESE

A selection of fine American cheeses

COFFEE, MINERAL WATER, etc.

-----------

NOTES: This meal plan is clearly superior to the White House's G20 summit meal for several reasons. Most notably, it recognizes state dinners can be used to send subtle hints to our friends and allies, plus nations we're somewhat annoyed with but with whom circumstances require we deal.

Take the starter, for instance. This should impress pretty much everyone and make them feel at home, and send a signal that we are honored to have them present, and care deeply about their ideas on how to solve the economic crisis. It will also send a signal to the Russians that we can produce caviar that's just as good as their sevruga and we would not care if the supply of Russian caviar suddenly dried up. And if we can produce caviar, maybe we can produce oil too. Try us, you bolshy scoundrels.

The soup course, with its choice of two soups, is a clear homage to proper service a la russe and should thus mollify the Russians after we started off the meal with the diplomatic equivalent of a kick under the table.

The fish course signifies that we do lobster better than anyone. It will also tell the Canadians we remain willing to argue over aquaculture just because we can, so don't oppose us just because you can, please.

The intermezzo -- a sorbet or something -- will impress stodgy foreigners *cough* Gordon Brown *cough*.

The beef course should please the South Americans and hopefully make them temporarily overlook the various excursions in their territories we've undertaken in the name of the Monroe Doctrine.

The salad is a classic Michigan staple, which should send a message to the Japanese that we do care deeply about our domestic auto industry and we'd appreciate it if they'd lay off a bit.

The pudding is a sop to Sarkozy. A clever protocol director would sit Sarkozy next to Berlusconi, just because everyone else at the dinner would want to see how Sarko responded to Berlusconi's inevitable outbreak of foot-in-mouth disease. By the time the cheese course came around, Sarkozy should be about ready to strangle Silvio, and the resulting diplomatic fireworks would divert attention from the fact we would probably fail to accomplish anything at the summit.

I Have Finally Joined Facebook

IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD as we know it, but I feel fine.

You see, I have finally joined Facebook, despite my well-known aversion to social-networking sites. Much to my surprise and delight, however, I have found the site is actually really cool. Based on the number of people I know on it, the company has apparently managed to convince roughly half the United States to join. Its interface is easy to use and its graphics are uncluttered, yet it is powerful enough for a user to customize one's profile with as many bells and whistles as one wants.

Still, I wonder: now that I have finally joined Facebook, what can one draw from that? I mean, the way I see it, it means one of two things. Either Facebook is on its way to complete domination of the social networking field, or it has fully and completely jumped the shark. Only time will tell which outcome will result, but I am hoping it's the former. After all, if I signed up for it and liked it, I think that's a pretty powerful statement. It shows that Facebook has broken through one of the technology field's great barriers: convincing normal, technology-resistant Americans (like me) to sign up and become active users. It may also show that Facebook missed the boat and should have held its IPO two years ago, but we'll see.

Another interesting thing I discovered upon joining Facebook is that there are other people in the world named Benjamin Kepple, which was really cool yet somewhat disconcerting.

Sure, I can take comfort in a few things, such as the fact I've Got the Domain Name and that none of the other Benjamin Kepples are cynical journalists. Thus, there's no likelihood of confusion between us. But I must admit I had privately enjoyed what I had thought was my name's uniqueness.

Having studied my family history, I know my last name is rare enough in the United States so that others with it are, if not close family, often (but certainly not always) distant relations. And up until now the only other Benjamin Kepples I knew were close relatives. But learning there are other Benjamin Kepples who are not family is ... I don't know, it's just rather mindblowing, that's all. Particularly since one of the other Benjamin Kepples has a goatee.

Daylight Saving Time: The Silent Killer

IN THE LATEST PROOF that Daylight Saving Time is an evil monstrosity -- a wretched, dastardly scheme our political masters have devised to rob God-fearing Americans of their freedom -- researchers have found that "springing forward" leads to an increase in heart attacks.

No wonder. Every year in spring, the American people are rousted out of bed an hour early, and for what? There are no conclusive benefits to changing the time every year. Daylight Saving Time actually leads to greater electricity consumption, increases gasoline consumption and causes losses on the stock markets. Don't just take my word for it; click on the link; all these things are proven and documented.

This does not even begin to address the human cost of Daylight Saving Time -- the grumpiness, the lost productivity, the confusion as to just what time it is elsewhere. It will be bad enough figuring out just how many hours London is ahead or Tokyo is behind, but it does not stop there, of course. My Midwestern readers do not need reminding that for decades, no one had any idea just what time it was in the entire state of Indiana, including the poor Indianans. (In some cases, they still don't!) And now we know Daylight Saving Time actually kills.

So how long must we bow to Washington's tyranny? Are we not free men? Do we not enjoy God-given rights, including life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and sleeping in if we please? You just bet we do!

Clearly we must demand the Government put an end to this wretched, evil scheme -- or at least limit it to circumstances when Daylight Saving Time might actually prove useful.

Of course, there is only one circumstance under which Daylight Saving Time may reasonably be used. That's during an epic, cataclysmic struggle between civilizations. Then we can call it War Time and use it to constantly remind the American people that our enemies must be destroyed. Plus, it's an extra incentive to destroy our enemies, as the American people will get to sleep in an extra hour once that's accomplished.

But unless the very existence of our polity is at stake, the Government must reject Daylight Saving Time in all its forms and return to pleasing, right-thinking Standard Time -- which here at The Rant is known as God's Time. The American people deserve nothing less than to live on God's Time all year, every year, and people who would argue otherwise clearly hate freedom, democracy, capitalism, hard work, Protestantism, football, motherhood and apple pie. Well, that, or they're mutants who can somehow internalize such clock changes without spending a week in a sluggish, unproductive haze. Either way, they're not on our side.

Also: while I'm thinking of it -- Loyal Rant Readers should check their smoke detectors to make sure they're in good working order.

Well, There's Always Next Year

SO THE LOS ANGELES CLIPPERS, my favorite basketball team, started the season in Proud Clipper Fashion this past evening. Not only did they lose to the Los Angeles Lakers, they lost by 38 points.

The Clippers play in Boston on Mar. 23. If this turns out to be a trend, the guys at the TD Banknorth Garden can plan to queue up Gino sometime in the second quarter.

Michigan: Yeah, That's Familiar

Fish Out of Water

PORTSMOUTH, N.H. -- SO TODAY I figured I would take a break from my usual Saturday routine, which involves work, and head over to the Seacoast to take in what was left of the fall scenery and get some good seafood. Although I usually approach ventures like this with a degree of regimentation -- I like to know what I'm doing -- I simply hit the road this time around, and after about an hour of driving found myself in downtown Portsmouth.

Downtown Portsmouth, I think, is where New Hampshire's hipsters hang out, to the extent that we have any up here. The colonial section has some impressive old architecture and draws plenty of locals and tourists alike. It also has plenty of shops, selling goods ranging from specialty foods to objets d'art. It was only natural, then, that I would spend my time in the colonial section looking for a cheap lunch.

MARKET SQUARE, Portsmouth -- Members of the upper-middle class take in the bourgeoisity on a Saturday afternoon. (Photo: Benjamin Kepple)

This quest, as I found, was not in vain. However, it certainly seemed futile at times. Initially, my plan was to get some cheap fried seafood at some seafood shack, and I figured there would be at least one in the immediate area. After all, it's Portsmouth. As such, it's a port. A port on, you know, the Atlantic Ocean. So I was sure I could find some place offering this type of lunch in the Market Square area.

Unfortunately, my assumption was faulty. When I asked a nice lady at an information booth where one could find a good seafood restaurant within a few blocks, I was told there were few such places. However, she then offered two recommendations. The first I discounted immediately because, although only a quarter-mile or so away, it was in Maine. I'm sorry, but I was in no mood to hike across a bridge only for the privilege of spending my hard-earned in Maine, a state all can agree is godforsaken and wretched. The second, which sounded promising, ended up being closed -- it was only serving dinner. So this led me to wander around for a bit looking for some place to eat.

Many of the restaurants I stumbled upon, despite being jammed into every nook and cranny down by the water, were only serving dinner. Although I must admit I don't know if I would have eaten at them if they had been open; the prices were simply out of my league. I'm sorry, but I am but a poor writer and given the economic climate, I cannot justify paying $8 for a bowl of clam chowder -- as I saw on one menu -- or $16 for an entree at some place selling fusion cuisine. $8 for a bowl of clam chowder! That reminded me of this:

What's that, you said? "But Ben? You hate Miller?" OK, so I'm not a fan. But that's not the point. The point was I felt like a fish out of water down there, among the coffee shops and art stores and people who clearly had no interest in college football. The whole experience was just strange, as I normally move well in such circles, but it had absolutely no draw for me whatsoever.

But anyway. I did finally "find" a place -- "The Rusty Hammer" -- that sold a decent and cheap lunch. I say "find" because it was the first restaurant at which I had considered eating, but on which I had taken a pass, trying to find a place devoted to cheap seafood. Oh, if only I had heeded its sign proclaiming its generous value for the dollar in the first place! They weren't kidding, either.

Anyway, annoyed at my failure to find a cheap seafood place, I sprang for a bowl of clam chowder, which was about $6. For my $6, I was astonished to find the bowl held roughly half the contents of the kitchen's soup tureen. It was an amazing amount of chowder and enough for a whole meal. I had also ordered a Caesar salad, which was all right, but it ended up being too much food. All told, the final bill came to about $15, not including tip, and it was a quite satisfying lunch. The only minor quibble I had was the programming on the bar televisions -- one was tuned to golf -- golf, for God's sake -- and the other was tuned to some professional football preview. That's fine on Sunday, but Saturday? Put on some ESPN!

Posting Limited This Week

PARENTS HEADING UP FOR A VISIT. That means I'm engaged in housework and what not -- which given my adeptness in these matters, goes somewhat like this:

(I Can't Drive) 75

Rapid motion through space elates one. -- Joyce

THE RANT NOTES WITH disapproval the latest bright idea to come from the establishment, which is that cars ought have speed governors on them. This is because when people drive cars really fast, they sometimes get into accidents. As a result, a prominent doctor -- it would be, wouldn't it? -- has suggested in The New York Times that cars should be prevented from traveling at speeds greater than 75 miles per hour. Ever. Because.

Alarmingly, this idea -- which in a sane and just society would be dismissed out of hand -- has received some acclaim. Ezra Klein, for instance, suggests the idea might be workable if applied to reckless drivers. And Ryan Avent, in responding to a critic who suggests the doctor in question must not drive all that much, writes:

So our blogger recognizes that it is dangerous to drive at very high speeds. And that in fact, some proportion of highway fatalities–less than 30% but likely appreciable–can be attributed to driving at high speed. And yet it was deemed necessary to get in a dig at those crazy eastern elites, who don’t understand the charming, speedy ways of real America? Who will stand up for the right of rural and suburban teenagers to wrap their cars around trees? Who will defend the VERY IMPORTANT commuter riding the tailgates of people driving ten miles over the speed limit, because don’t you know that car can go faster.

Well, Mr Avent, allow me to explain how Flyover Country works.

You see, I'm originally from Michigan -- you may have seen pictures -- and in Michigan, one must often drive long distances to get where one needs to go. Sadly, in Michigan, the population density is insufficient to warrant an excellent public transport system such as exists in Washington, D.C., which according to your blog is where you currently reside. Indeed, I can assure you that in Michigan, there are instances when driving at Very High Speeds is not only perfectly appropriate but an accepted part of the social fabric. Driving at a mere 75 miles per hour on the freeway does not cut it in the Great Lakes State.*

I realize the idea of driving at a speed greater than 75 miles per hour may seem alarming and dangerous -- especially when one considers that in New York and Washington, it is difficult to get anywhere close to 75 miles per hour in heavy traffic. I know this because I used to live in Washington and have driven through New York too many times for my own liking. However, there are places in this country where driving at speeds of 80 miles per hour, 90 miles per hour, or even higher is perfectly reasonable. I know this because I have driven there.

Now, there are times when such speeds are clearly inappropriate -- for instance, during inclement weather. When one is driving through the Cajon Pass in heavy fog, and one must navigate the road through following the tail lights of the car in front of one's vehicle, one must drive at 30 or 40 miles per hour. When one is driving through white-out conditions in northern Indiana, or through a downpour in Cleveland, prudence may even require one pull off the road. But when weather conditions are fine, and it is daylight out, and there is little traffic, and there is great music on the radio, there is no reason not to drive as fast as one wants provided one is capable of handling it.

For instance, on US-23 between Toledo, Ohio, and Ann Arbor, Mich., a straight stretch of freeway, I can assure Mr Avent that I have driven 85 miles per hour with no ill effects. In fact, this may have been too slow for conditions, as I have frequently been passed on the right while doing so. When traveling I-15 between Los Angeles and Las Vegas, I have driven 85 miles per hour and hummed along with the rest of traffic on that glorious desert road. When traveling on certain desert freeways in California, I have found that no speed is inherently unreasonable, although in my age I have held the needle about 80 miles per hour.

Of course, a key element of this is being able to handle driving at high speeds, something which not everyone is capable of doing -- or wants to do. These people should, then, drive at lower speeds, in the lanes set aside for driving at lower speeds. In fact, in my old age, I have found myself traveling much closer to the speed limit on the freeway, in an attempt to save money and take it easier while driving. Driving fast is more expensive, due to greater gasoline consumption, and it also requires more mental energy. One must keep acute concentration on the road and traffic, as opposed to simply keeping an eye on things. These days, I have found the joy in driving slower. (Memo to Mom and Dad: I haven't driven faster than 80 in a long time, so stop worrying).

Furthermore, I readily admit that traveling at extremely high speeds -- say, over 100 mph -- is inherently dangerous. Although my preferred cruising speed is about 80 miles per hour, and there are times when I would like to push it about 90, there are almost no circumstances when I would drive 90 miles per hour these days. Under absolutely no circumstances would I travel faster than 95 miles per hour. When one gets close to (or into) triple digits, you deal not only with greatly reduced reaction times to road obstacles and other concerns, but also physical limitations -- namely, the limitations of most passenger car tires, which generally can't take much more than 100 miles per hour. It is a poor decision to risk a blowout when driving like Mad Max.

However, there's no reason why one must drive achingly slow either -- unless, of course, one wants to. As it happens, there are some insurers who are testing out this concept, and giving their slower-driving members discounts for doing so. That's a much better solution than forcing the vast majority of the populace to slow down via speed governors.

-----------------
* For those readers who do not believe me when I speak of driving in Michigan, I would invite them to travel along I-94 between Kalamazoo and Detroit, especially during rush hour. Try traveling 75 mph. Really. Go ahead. When you get sick of the semi trucks and sport-utility vehicles determined to test how well your rear bumper reacts to high-speed collisions, pull off at the nearest exit, find a quality family restaurant, and relax with a refreshing Vernors ginger soda. It's deliciously different! Also, the bite of the stuff might put you in a scratchy mood, mentally preparing you for getting back on the freeway.

Conference Loyalty Cemented for Life

LOYAL RANT READERS know that as an alumnus of the University of Michigan, I detest the Ohio State University and all its works. The Columbus institution, second to Michigan in all but sports, is glorious Michigan's chief rival and total adversary. To defeat Ohio State is a Michigan athlete's crowning achievement; to lose to Ohio State is a Michigan athlete's most burning shame.

Yet I have moderated in my views towards Ohio State over the years. This is not to say that I will not eternally pine for its defeat at Michigan's hands, but rather that I have developed a more realpolitik view towards our situation. Sometimes, you see, the enemy of my enemy is an even worse enemy. As a result, when civilization must be defended from the barbarians, or when the infidels threaten all that is holy, or when USC could become national champions, one must grit one's teeth and root for a team one would normally like to see drown in a festering pit of its own bile.

This is a long-winded way of saying that I have completely and utterly come around to the principle of conference loyalty. Similar to how America's internal squabbles stop at our borders, I realize that no matter how much I detest certain teams in the Big Ten, I must root for the Big Ten to stand triumphant against all opposition. I must pull for the Big Ten to achieve more than its many enemies. And I must defend the Big Ten's honor against all grave insults.

As such, The Rant notes with disapproval the recent remarks of the latest Playmate of the Month, a Florida native and University of Florida public relations major (Gawd!) who disparages the Big Ten -- specifically, the fairer sex of the Big Ten -- in no less than the Gainesville Sun:

The 22-year-old Carrington — Kelly Carrington is not her real name, it’s the pseudonym she uses for the magazine — is a UF public relations major who took a break from school to be photographed and promote her appearance in the magazine.

The annual college edition features a spread on the girls of the Big Ten, so Carrington admits it’s funny that a Southeastern Conference girl made the front.

“There weren’t any girls from the Big Ten who were hot enough to be on the cover, so they had to pull someone from the SEC,” she quipped.

Ha ha ha ha ha!

Ha ha!

Ha.

Oh, no she didn't.

This, my friends, is an insult that cannot be borne. Clearly we should avenge our honor by burning down Atlanta again. Well, OK, that might be a bit much, but we can't just let the hotness of the Big Ten's women go unchallenged. I mean, why else do we keep Michigan State in it? Besides, although several SEC schools do offer their students a decent collegiate education -- and Florida is one of the better ones in this regard -- one fails to see how this is equal to the top-notch education one receives at, say, the University of Michigan. So our course of action is clear: the Big Ten must strive valiantly to defeat the SEC in everything -- and especially football.

And to borrow again from Orson at Every Day Should Be Saturday, I would simply note: SPACE, you wretched Floridian succubus! SPACE!

P.S. For those readers interested in Miss Carrington's cover picture, you can see it here, thanks to a Florida television station, which reports: "Stuart naitive is Playboy's Miss October." Yes, that's what the headline says: "naitive." Let's hear it for that Florida educational system!

P.P.S. I'd rate her an eight, but that's just me.

We Have Met the Enemy, and He is ...

SCIENTIST: This district is probably what you'd call the southwestern United States. That was before it was destroyed in the war.
MILES MONROE: War?
SCIENTIST: Yes. According to history ... a man named Albert Shanker got a hold of a nuclear weapon.

-- Sleeper (1973)

A GROUP OF MY FRIENDS are in the midst of an animated e-mail discussion, prompted by this op-ed essay in The New York Times, about the myriad threats facing the United States from Our Enemies. The threat being discussed most is the explosion of a nuclear device somewhere within the United States' borders, most likely in the vicinity of Washington or New York.

One of my friends notes writer Jeffrey Goldberg's assertion that the chances of such a detonation over the next decade are perhaps 10 pc to 20 pc, although another of my friends dismisses this suggestion, saying "suitcase nukes" are not only quite detectable, but likely to kill the terrorists hauling them before they can be set off. My own viewpoint is more in line with my second friend's thoughts, and so I must say that I am not all that concerned about Our Enemies setting off a nuclear device within our borders, whether the target is Washington or Sheboygan, Wisc.

Generally speaking, I do not have a lot of faith in our Government, but one area where I think it has done well is protecting us against foreign terrorism. We have prima facie evidence of this in that there has not been another attack against our shores since 2001, despite several attempts which have come to public light. It stands to reason that if several attempts have come to public light, many more have been thwarted in secret. It also stands to reason that although the Government's power is limited within the borders of the United States, due to our political freedoms, its power is far less limited when operating in the international sphere. Thus, certain things have undoubtedly happened to make us here at home much safer. Bob Woodward, the journalist, has reportedly learned of certain secret programs that have caused untold numbers of our enemies to enjoy early arrivals in Hell, and with the Government's unlimited resources at its disposal, those programs are undoubtedly being refined and improved as I type. I would suggest it is difficult to work on acquiring a nuclear weapon when all one's forces are surrounded and beset by a vastly more powerful enemy.

There are many threats facing us in this world, but to me, actively fearing nuclear terrorism makes little sense. That is not to say the Government should ignore it, of course; but rather that there is no need for the people to worry about it, at least to the point where they are going out and buying plastic sheeting. If you ask me, the greatest threats to our way of life right now are economic-based. God knows these concerns may not be as sexy as nuclear weapons, but I fear that hidden amidst the balance sheets and general ledgers and government statements, there may be problems that are invidious -- and far closer to home.

Stupid Tropical Storm Aiming for New Hampshire

SO I CHECKED THE National Hurricane Center's Web site tonight and found, much to my dismay, that the remnants of Tropical Storm Hanna are on a direct course for New Hampshire. Naturally, the storm should hit right about the time I get out of work for my weekend, which starts on Saturday night.

What the hell? I mean, if a stupid tropical storm has to hit New Hampshire, why can't it happen at a convenient time, like Wednesday night? The last thing I want is for the stupid storm to hit as I'm about to start my weekend. Besides, other parts of the country -- like Georgia -- need a good tropical storm a heck of a lot more than we do. Earlier this summer, it rained every day for like three weeks.

The only advantage to having a tropical storm hit -- if not here, than elsewhere -- is that it could potentially mean Weather For Football. Like all football fans, I believe football is meant to be played outdoors, and ideally in miserable conditions. Remember last year, when Miami and Pittsburgh slogged it out at Heinz Field in a downpour? Remember how the turf turned into a soupy quagmire? Well, I watched the whole stupid game and loved it, just like all the Steelers fans at Heinz Field. (We did win, 3-0, so that was something). And if you didn't remember it, here's the video!

Also, just because I can show this, here's a video of Hines Ward decking Ed Reed.

Yeah. Oh, right. Where was I? Tropical storm. Anyway, I can assure you that as of this writing, the National Hurricane Center is forecasting a 12 pc chance of tropical storm force winds hitting south-central New Hampshire sometime on Saturday or Sunday. Well, as long as they don't knock out any power lines.

Touch and Go

LAST NIGHT, I GOT A CALL from Mr Kepple back in Ohio. It was a short call, but one with an important message: the game between Appalachian State and LSU had been pushed back to 11 a.m., due to the approach of Hurricane Gustav. Stupid hurricane, I thought to myself. It did, however, mean that football started an hour early on a day when I had Saturday off, so there was that.

Unfortunately, the game had been switched to ESPN Classic. This posed a problem. My cable provider, in a fit of Comcastic pique, decided some months ago it would switch ESPN Classic one "tier" up from my present channel lineup. However, it apparently forgot to mention this to everyone, leaving me somewhat annoyed. While ESPN Classic is not a channel I would normally want, it is starting to show more live events, and as a result it has turned from a novelty into a quasi-necessity.

As a result, after I went out and got breakfast this morning, I came back and steeled myself for the call to my cable provider, which went Comcastic. Well, actually, it went fine. The young man on the other end of the line was polite and friendly, and flipped on ESPN Classic for me. True, it did cost me $10.95 per month extra, but the annoyance associated with this faded once I realized I got Bloomberg, BBC America, and ESPNews. Oh, and I got a bunch of channels just for women.

Ahem.

I'm not saying, I'm just saying. Besides, I have the NFL Network.

Unfortunately, as it happened, there would not be a repeat of Aintgonnawin State's shock victory over Michigan. After 45 minutes, it was LSU 17 and ASU nil. Ugh. That didn't work, I thought. So I switched over to the Big Ten Network -- sweet -- and watched plucky Youngstown State take on the (evil) Ohio State Buckeyes. Then that game went badly. I switched that off when that hit 17-0.

I had hoped the Big Ten Network would have shown the Coastal Carolina - Penn State game, because my first cousin once removed, Brian P. Kepple, was an offensive guard for Coastal Carolina a few years ago. Then again, the game didn't really go all that well -- Penn State was ahead 45-7, last time I checked -- so I was again adrift. The other big games were also blowouts.

Except for East Carolina v. Virginia Tech. I detest Virginia Tech, so the fact East Carolina is giving them hell is wonderful. If you're reading this as of now -- it's 2:10 p.m. -- we're close to the end of the third quarter, and East Carolina is only down a field goal. Oops. Big pass play. They're about to be down two scores. But it's good to have at least one good early game to kick off college football season.

Fun With Mikhail Saakashvili

PROPOSED CAPTIONS ARE BELOW THE VIDEO:

1. What?! Where? HOW many divisions? The ENTIRE province? Well, organize a counter-attack with -- what do you mean, "organize with what?"

2. Honey? It's Mikhail. Yes, ah -- we've got to cancel the vacation. I know you always wanted to visit the south of France, but -- honey, that's not fair, and besides, I -- hello? Hello!

3. I can't believe you picked me as your lifeline. I'm kind of busy, and -- no, I don't know who Heathcliff is and what he does in Wuthering Heights.

4. What? No, I did NOT purchase a 52-inch plasma television from Best Buy! What else did -- a wrench set? What the hell would I need with a wrench set?

5. Out? How can you be out of kung pao chicken? Great, now I have to coordinate the entire order all over again!

6. Aucune?

Why I Don't Hike

THE BOSTON GLOBE has published an important article for any hikers considering a leisurely jaunt in the White Mountains National Forest (or anywhere else, for that matter). Its title? "A Beautiful Place to Die." If you're an amateur hiker, read it, please.

The situations described in the article are a major reason I Do Not Hike. My idea of outdoor recreation is going for a nice walk after dinner. However, for reasons that escape me, many people voluntarily venture out into the Godforsaken wilderness, which is far from the comforts of civilization and contains things like angry woodland creatures, miserable weather conditions and unforeseen dangers, like the bubonic plague. (There are a few cases reported each year in America, and most of the people that get it are hikers). Yet amazingly, a considerable subset of these outdoors enthusiasts go about their "leisure" underprepared or woefully unprepared for the dangers that face them.

Going unprepared -- or even underprepared -- when roughing it is a very bad idea. Trust me on this. You need to be prepared for bad weather. You need to let people know where you're going. You need to have proper equipment and clothing. You need to plan for the worst. This goes especially in New Hampshire, because we bill you if we have to rescue you because you weren't prepared.

So don't become a statistic. Be smart about hiking. Then again, you could just do what I do, which is look fondly at the hiking gear in the mall, and then go have dinner at your favorite Mexican restaurant.

Day of Sun "Threatens Blade Runner Remake"

By QUINN QUIMBLEY
Financial Rant

MANCHESTER, N.H. -- Producers scouting Manchester, N.H., as a shooting location for a remake of the iconic science-fiction film "Blade Runner" warned that today's perfect summer weather threatened the city's potential as a production site.

Although the day was the first in three weeks in which torrential, soul-crushing rains did not fall upon the city, the producers expressed concern the spate of good weather might actually last, thus frustrating their plans to use the city as an inexpensive filming location.

"When we came here two weeks ago, we thought this place was perfect," said executive producer Sidney Argyle, with Wapcaplet-Stone Productions, which is financing the remake. "There wasn't a day without rain. Not only that, the rain was so pervasive and unpleasant that it got on everyone's nerves, giving Manchester the despondent, hopeless aura for which we were looking."

"Today, on the other hand, entirely sucks," Argyle said. "It's sunny, it's shaping up to be a perfect summer evening, and there's very little humidity. We can't shoot Blade Runner if there's no humidity."

The famous 1983 version of the film, which starred Harrison Ford and Sean Young, depicted a futuristic, rain-soaked Los Angeles, in which Ford hunted androids amidst a dystopian megalopolis. Argyle warned that a continued bout of good weather would make Manchester look "like a city, you know, where people were actually happy." As a result, he said, it would thus prove unsuitable for the production's purposes.

Although New Hampshire officials have no means at their disposal to change the weather -- "What are we, China?" asked one official who demanded anonymity -- film buffs in the Granite State are hoping the producers will change the film from a remake into a sequel. This would give them the creative freedom to take advantage of the city's bleak, unforgiving winter, in which citizens must suffer through practical polar darkness, considerable snowfall, and subzero temperatures.

"It's pretty nice here in spring, and there's certainly no better place on Earth to enjoy fall," said Manchester resident Franklin Klurz. "But there are times in winter when this place looks like Pyongyang."

Analysts: Ramirez Trade to "Pull New England Out of Recession"

by QUINN QUIMBLEY
Financial Rant

BOSTON -- The Boston Red Sox's decision to trade outfielder Manny Ramirez in a three-way swap that saw Ramirez head to the Los Angeles Dodgers should pull New England, and perhaps the nation, out of the current economic recession within nine months, financial analysts said.

Financial experts said trading Ramirez to the West Coast, a move that would effectively end public knowledge of the outfielder's notorious antics, would spark a productivity boost in New England that could cut unemployment in half, increase durable-goods orders by one-fifth, and boost consumer confidence. This was directly attributed to the fact that New England's baseball-mad populace -- who follow the sport with a devotion not seen elsewhere in America -- would not spend hours talking about Ramirez's latest stunts at the office.

"Now that Ramirez has been exiled to Los Angeles, where more people would pay attention to Los Angeles Galaxy goalkeeper Steve Cronin berating his defense, New England finally can get back to work," said economist Fred Carsten of the Rozelle Institute in Wakefield, Mass. "Untold man-hours of productive time will be freed up, which should spark an economic rebound that will push the Northeast towards unparalleled prosperity."

Signs this might actually happen were evident on the streets of Boston last night.

"It's like some great weight has been lifted from my shoulders," said Dorchester resident Alvin Peters, a data-entry clerk. "I think I'm going to have a good night's sleep, go into work tomorrow feeling great, and finish all those reports my boss has been wanting."

"I haven't wanted to go to work for years," said Ted Wojciechkowski, a viral marketer from Brookline. "But now, I think I can live with the soul-crushing existence of my job without Ramirez being a distraction."

Carsten warned, however, that any economic recovery could be sidelined if New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady were to get injured this fall, although he noted such an incident would cause a burst of productivity and increased consumer confidence in Indianapolis, Pittsburgh, New York, and southern Florida.

It is unclear how the greater Los Angeles market will react to "Manny being Manny," but most analysts believe the impact will be relatively small, citing the greater popularity of football, basketball, soccer, arena football and hockey among Angelenos. Experts also believe the lack of attention publicly paid to Ramirez's antics will lead the outspoken player to become a shambling, withdrawn remnant of his former self within two years.

Wait -- A -- Minute!

I NEVER THOUGHT I'd see the day when I would write this, but ... someone has come up with an intelligent plan for a Los Angeles subway/light rail system. What's that? No, I'm not kidding. Go take a look at the schematics.

Truly this plan is a thing of beauty, and actually recognizes that to make a good subway/rail system work, you need to have stations that are relatively close to each other and convenient as well, even for people without cars. Now there's a concept.

So it would cost about $40 billion. Big deal. That's what America spends in two weeks on gasoline. We would not spend $40 billion in two weeks on gasoline if the Californians, of which I used to be one, would not spend untold thousands of man-hours stuck in traffic on the 405, thus wasting the stuff. But the Californians have no choice, as anyone who has been stuck on the 405 -- and the 10, and the 101, and the 110, and the 5 -- will gladly tell you. I mean, it's not as if anyone wants to spend an hour of their day going to the grocery, or spending half an hour trying to drive from Venice to Santa Monica only to spend an additional half an hour looking for a parking space. Had this system been in place when I lived in Los Angeles, I wouldn't have had to do that weekend after weekend.

An effective light rail system would take hundreds of thousands of cars off Los Angeles' choked freeway and surface street networks, allow lots of people to travel cheaply between far-flung locales, cut down on sigalerts, allow private drivers the amazing experience of driving the speed limit, and perhaps most importantly, bring down the price of precious fuel for everyone else.

So build it already. Find a way.

Also, name a station Shady Grove.

Baseball's Ad Campaign Improves

CLOSE TO SEVEN last evening, I was flipping channels waiting for the All-Star Game to begin when I stumbled across a replay of the LSU-Kentucky college football game from last year. Oooooooooooooh, I said to myself, and settled in on the sofa. I couldn't remember who won -- it was Kentucky, in triple overtime -- so it made for a great start to the night sports-wise. Then ...

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

By the time I woke up, it was the end of the second inning and scoreless in New York. The game, I think all can agree, was incredible. Since I have a late start at work today, I was able to stay up and watch all 15 innings. God help me. But God, what a game. The National League's defense -- well, except for Mr Three Errors -- was incredible.

Loyal Rant Readers know I am not a baseball fan, but watching Mariano Rivera emerge to close the top of the ninth was a beautiful thing. And I was rooting for the National League. This is liable to get me in trouble up here in Red Sox Nation, but I don't care. I'm rooting for the Cubs this year.

Of course, this admission of pinkhatism will undoubtedly cause a few frowns among readers, but don't worry: by the time October rolls around, I'll have forgotten all about baseball. Speaking of baseball and October, though, I do have to give credit to Major League Baseball for improving its post-season ad campaign this year. The first ad aired last night -- and unlike last year, it's not the equivalent of a double-play!

I'd rate it as a single. I liked the earnestness of the spot; it was uplifting and enthusiastic, as opposed to last year's snark-infused spots. Major League Baseball loses style points, however, for making the passionate fan a blogger sitting at his desk writing. As much as I like the idea of encouraging people to write, making the blogger the centerpiece of the spots detracts from the sport itself and seems ... well, a sop to the legions of bloggers out there who would otherwise lay into its decisions with furious anger.

All in all, I suppose my issue with the campaign is that -- yet again -- it tries to make baseball seem hip and with it to the young people, without realizing that it has no need to do this. There is no reason why baseball can't make a really, really sharp yet simple commercial focusing on the greatest baseball miracles of all time, with some powerful music and crowd noise for the sound. If you had an actor, he would play third fiddle -- or perhaps even better, you would have no actor at all. Unless, of course, it was an actor who could really carry the weight of such a spot. Because the one baseball-themed commercial I really liked last night wasn't for baseball itself -- it was for Holiday Inn. Philip Baker Hall does serious very well too, you know.

Which gives me an idea: the NFL should immediately figure out how to use Philip Baker Hall in its post-season commercials for the year. That and footage of the Freezer Bowl.

Theologians: Danger of World Ending Lowest Since 2003

By FLIP ARGENTI
The Sporting Rant

TOP THEOLOGIANS have confirmed the danger of the world ending is at its lowest point since 2003, citing religious principles that connect the performance of certain sports teams with God's desire to judge mankind and welcome the elect into the Kingdom of Heaven.

Religious experts widely agree no man knoweth the day nor the hour of the LORD's judgment, citing Matthew 25:13. But the experts also agree the LORD's Generally Accepted Rules of General Principle will prevent Him from ushering in the Apocalypse until He believes the world's events and doings are properly aligned. As a result, many observers are hopeful the end of the world could be tens of millenia off, if not longer.

“According to our analysis, the LORD will stay His hand upon the wretched earth until certain signs and miracles appear heralding that our time is up,” said the Rev. Paul Caldon, SJ. “Thus, it is entirely possible -- indeed, quite likely -- He will hold off until the Detroit Lions win the Super Bowl. As a result, even if that was the only criteria remaining for the LORD, the world could have decades or even centuries of continued peace. You know, before the horrible seven-headed beast rises from the sea to subjugate the nations of man.”

However, Caldon continued, it was likely the LORD has decided several improbable criteria would need to be met before exacting His judgment upon mankind. Other religious experts agreed.

“Even the ascension of Petrus Romanus to the primal seat would not result in the LORD's hand moving against the material world,” said the Rev. George Pistone, SDB. “No way. Based on our calculations, it would require the Detroit Lions, the Cleveland Browns and the Minnesota Vikings to win the Super Bowl, the Los Angeles Clippers to win the NBA playoffs, the Chicago Blackhawks to win the Stanley Cup and the Chicago Cubs to win the World Series, all within a span of three or four years. The chances of that happening are so small the earth could well fall into the sun prior to that taking place.”

“Besides, what if we added the Buffalo Bills into the mix? I mean, the LORD works in mysterious ways, but if He had wanted the end of the world to happen, He would have caused Scott Norwood's kick to go through the uprights,” Pistone said. "Don't get me started on Philadelphia either."

According to cultural historians, the last time serious discussions arose about sports events leading to world-ending calamities arose in 2003, when the Boston Red Sox and the Chicago Cubs were both in the League Championship Series for their respective baseball leagues, thus leading to the possibility of a Red Sox-Cubs World Series. However, theologians now believe that certain actors in those series, notably Red Sox manager Grady Little and Chicago baseball fan Steven Bartman, were divinely inspired to prevent the beginning of what could have been an apocalypse-heralding event.

It is also possible, experts believe, that the LORD may require sporting events around the world to take place before moving to end existence as we know it. If so, this would require not only the events listed above to happen, but also events such as the Bolton Wanderers winning the English Premier League, Scotland winning the Euro soccer championship, US Citta di Palermo to win Serie A, and Venezuela to win the World Cup. The odds against all these events happening within any given five-year period are roughly 600 billion to one.

Oh My God.

WSJ: Pittsburgh's Rooneys Quietly Shop the Steelers.

Are You Kidding Me?

SO THE Colorado Rockies beat the Florida Marlins in the bottom of the ninth just now -- scoring two runs to put the game away. Here's the amazing thing:

FLORIDA 17 22 2
COLORADO 18 21 0

Yes, that's right. 18-17. IN BASEBALL.

That's one for the ages. Forty-three total hits. Eight home runs from both sides -- including one grand slam. Colorado overcame a deficit that at its largest was nine runs. Colorado fans sure got their money's worth tonight!

And here I thought the "ball on the wall" in the Red Sox-Yankees game was something else.

Weird Senator Suggests Return to National Speed Limit

Then Jove resolved to send a curse
and all the woes of life rehearse;
Not plague, not famine, but much worse --
He cursed us with a Congress.

-- Loyalist anthem

VIRGINIA, WE EXPECTED BETTER. You are the cradle of American Government and as such should be cognizant of the value of freedom. Despite this, one of your senators has made the impudent and wretched suggestion that Congress might want to consider again establishing a national speed limit.

The Rant has a two-word response to this idea. Well, actually, two two-word responses. The first response readers should be able to figure out on their own. The second one, however, is a bit more obscure but one I am sure the Rt Hon Senator will recognize. Those two words are: Danny Rostenkowski.

As Washington has a long memory, I am sure everyone there still vividly remembers that whole debacle, in which an angry mob of senior citizens chased the Illinois Congressman to his car over changes to Medicare. I would suggest that imposing a national speed limit would make that look like a walk in the park.

This is because the only people who would actually support a national speed limit are incompetent drivers, who support a low speed limit because they are incapable of operating a motor vehicle in traffic. Nothing would give these tired prudes more satisfaction than being able to joyfully saunter in the passing lane going 60, and being able to do so with the full force of the law behind them. Perhaps the senator in question is an incompetent driver. Perhaps the senator has forgotten how miserable trips on the freeways are when you can only drive 55 or 60 miles per hour.

I have not forgotten. When I was a boy, my parents would annually gather the family together in a car for a trip to western Pennsylvania, a trip that involved traveling 420 miles from home. I can assure readers this trip, which should have taken about six hours -- seven hours at tops -- took eight hours to complete -- and sometimes more, if bad weather or road construction complicated matters. Do you have any idea how grueling that is? Staring at marker miles along the way and finding you're still in Ohio, and even worse, have 123 miles to go before you get out of it? If you're not sympathetic to that, then never mind the effects it had on me -- think about my poor parents, who had to put up with me for eight hours.

Speaking of Pennsylvania, here's another two words the senator might want to consider: Whiskey Rebellion. I'm not saying, I'm just saying.

The last time we had a national speed limit imposed, it took twenty-one years for it to get repealed. This was despite the fact the original reasons for the national speed limit had faded out in the early Eighties. I do not want to wait until 2029 to travel at a reasonable speed on the freeway, particularly as by that time I'll be driving a spiffy hydrogen rocket.

Besides, with the price of fuel, even inveterate lead-foot drivers like me see the wisdom in traveling at a moderate rate of speed, like 60 or 65 miles per hour, as in my car doing so saves $1 per 20 miles driven compared with ... uh, my normal traveling speed. The savings per tank of gasoline is more than $20, which is more than enough incentive to ease off the accelerator a little bit.* All it requires from me is a bit of courtesy to my fellow drivers, which involves me traveling in the slow lane and not in the travel or passing lanes. I'm happy to do that, and I would suggest more drivers are doing so as they too realize the economic benefits of slowing down. Gee, there's a concept; the free market working.

That said, there are times when traveling at a normal rate of speed (somewhere in the eighties) is a good idea. Like if I'm traveling through northern Ohio, particularly that awful stretch of I-80 east of Toledo. Americans' freedom to travel fast on the freeway when they want and need to do so cannot and must not be abridged, and I am confident all right-thinking Americans will resist any attempts to have this wretched, miserable boondoggle of an idea -- an idea from the Seventies, no less -- imposed upon us again.

------------

* My trusty Ford Taurus has an 18 gallon gas tank. If I use 17 gallons while driving on a trip, I can travel 340 miles doing my normal and customary speed, but 486 miles traveling at 65 miles per hour. This works out to a difference of 146 miles, the equivalent of saving 5.4 gallons of gasoline. At $4 per gallon, this works out to a savings of $22 per tank.

Coke Zero, Check. Crowded House, Check. Hubris, Check.

OH NO!
It's Time for Yet Another Installment of ...
YOUR SEARCH ENGINE QUERIES ANSWERED!

An occasional Rant feature

I MUST BE the only person in the world who dislikes summer. For most people, of course, summer is an enjoyable time: a time for family vacations, a time for months away from school, a time for enjoying the beach and the surf. For me, summer is a time for avoiding the hated heat, the brutal humidity, the wretched stenches of perspiration and rot and filth that goes along with it. I don't mind the mornings or the evenings, but generally speaking, the hours between 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. are better spent indoors.

True, the opposite season ain't exactly a walk in the park either, and the major downsides to winter -- the shortened days, the long depression, the weeks-long deep freeze and the difficulties of travel -- are just as bad. Once February rolls around I have nothing to which I can look forward except months of despair and boredom. The one thing summer has going for it is that it's closer to fall. Ah, fall. I live for fall. The best three months of the year. The season of miracles. The pleasant days and cool, crisp nights.

But it's not fall yet -- and that means I'm in a worse mood than usual. That means one thing: it's a perfect time for another edition of Your Search Engine Queries Answered! So let's get to it, shall we?

QUERY: the teachings of dua-khety focus on

ANSWER: Dua-Khety was a wise Egyptian who realized that back in the day, life pretty much sucked for anyone who wasn't part of the nobility. Why, even merchants and tradesmen forty centuries ago had a bad lot, but Dua-Khety realized that officials who could read and write were making out like bandits. He told his son this accordingly, and sent his son to a school to learn how to read and write and become a scribe. This was back in the day when writers were lords of the earth.

There was something to that, I might add.

QUERY: if knowing is half the battle what is the other half?

ANSWER: Cynicism.

QUERY: only got four minutes to save the world what is this songs name

ANSWER: MacArthur Park.

QUERY: dollar maximum denomination

ANSWER: $10,000. No, really -- the $10,000 bills are still legal tender, even if they are far more valuable than their face value these days. But the most you'll ever see is $100, of which The Rant does not approve. We need higher-denomination notes.

QUERY: the team of increase of knowledge only discovered to me more clearly what a wretched out cast i was

ANSWER: Well, if you could write better, you'd be more popular!

QUERY: allowed to develop through debauched capitalism

ANSWER: The Rant approves of debauched capitalism, particularly if it means my retirement accounts grow fat upon the excess and debauchery.

QUERY: how to get a new air conditioner from landord

ANSWER: Well, if you're like me, you just ... ask, and you receive, because you pay your rent on time and are quiet and a general credit to your building. If that doesn't work, though, you could beg and plead and cry and scream. That might work.

QUERY: teachers foolish enough to post racy photos on line deserve punishment

ANSWER: Teachers who post racy photos on-line deserve my phone number! What? Oh, come on. Laugh with me!

QUERY: i feel better already

ANSWER: Well, don't let it get around. The devil is already laughing.

QUERY: group of law students taking legal action against university

ANSWER: I actually don't mind this. True, one could argue this is biting the hand that feeds them, but I like to think of it as a situation where the law school and the students get hoisted on their own petards.

QUERY: will christian nurses doctors police go to hell if they work on the sabbath

ANSWER: The fact they're Christian would seem to preclude that possibility, wouldn't it? Honestly.

QUERY: caught wearing shoulder pads in a minicamp in 1978

ANSWER: Hogan! I -- know -- NUTHINK!

QUERY: celebrity culture pros

ANSWER:

QUERY: this city is changing right under their noses and they don t know what up here redding we have taken this city for ourselves

ANSWER: Uh, dude? It's Redding. Nobody gives a shit, because you're in the northern end of northern California and we've all written you off.

QUERY: houston attorneys for homeowners/board of directors disputes

ANSWER: Here's an idea: why not just do what the homeowners' association wants? Because you're living in a neighborhood governed by a homeowners' association, and as a result you're screwed either way -- but not using an attorney is cheaper.

QUERY: plantlife patchouli soap- 4 oz $2

ANSWER: Dial's cheaper, you know. Yeah. Dial. One of the good things about this bad economy is that people are finally throwing the ecosmug movement overboard.

QUERY: is it proper to give a girl an engagement ring on her birthday

ANSWER: Good thinking! But make sure you have all your ducks in a row before you proceed -- you don't want her to say, well, no.

QUERY: what happened to the travelling rule in american basketball

ANSWER: Ask Tim Donaghy what happened to the traveling foul.

QUERY: editrix gender-neutral

ANSWER: Any editor who uses a word other than "editor" to describe his or her work is a cad, a scoundrel, and no one you want near your copy.

QUERY: airtime ohare to cancun

ANSWER: ORD to CUN? Roughly 18 hours. Oh, sure, it's only supposed to take about six, but I'm factoring in everything that could and consequently will go wrong. You see, it stands to reason that when you arrive at the airport, the flight will have been overbooked and you will get bumped. When you get on the next flight, something will happen to the main entryway's door handle -- it broke itself! -- and you'll be further delayed. Eventually, you'll have to pay $5 for a snack box but you won't have exact change, so you'll be out of luck there too. Lo siento.

QUERY: football is a detestable show of gladiatorship

ANSWER: Get back to your sociology homework!

QUERY: how can i make a bengals cake

ANSWER: You'll need cake mix, frosting, water and some eggs. After mixing all but the frosting together, lose 12 games in the season and get arrested.

QUERY: southern comebacks for insults northern

ANSWER: Ooooooh. This is a good query. I wish I had a real answer. But I would suggest tailoring your response to your inquisitor's home state or region. Just as Arkansas and North Carolina are very different states, so are Minnesota and Michigan. Some guy from Massachusetts won't blink an eye if you make fun of Big Ten football, while people from Michigan may arm themselves. So keep that in mind. Do remember that Midwesterners are your natural allies, so it might make sense to temper your criticism accordingly, while you can definitely hit hard against some guy from the mid-Atlantic states.

QUERY: do i have to tip the hand car wash attendant

ANSWER: YES.

QUERY: which is lighter coors or amstel

ANSWER: You call yourself a man!

QUERY: who is the 325 pound vegetarian who plays football for saskatchewan roughriders

ANSWER: I don't know, but as long as they keep winning, he can eat whatever he wants.

QUERY: lyrics to tacobells eighty nine cent double cheesy beef burrito

ANSWER: I hope the people at Yum! Brands are reading this. Are you happy now, you rotten bastards? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? The last thing we need are eight million teenagers thinking they too can be the Beastie Boys.

QUERY: three main groups of books in old testament

ANSWER: Well, there's the Pentateuch (the first five books). Then there's the Inspiring Books (Job through the Song of Solomon). Then there's the Dull Books of the Prophets. I know Holy Scripture was inspired by God, but I do think some books may have been a bit less inspired than others. I'm not saying, I'm just saying. Also, if you're a Roman Catholic, you get Extra Bonus Books in your Bible, which is yet another reason to consider the Roman Church. (I was not happy when I learned I'd been deprived of these as a Methodist).

QUERY: a haunting

ANSWER: I feel that way every time I watch the St. Louis Rams, but that's neither here nor there.

QUERY: is it illegal to practice law without a license in tennessee?

ANSWER: That you're even asking that question suggests you might want to reconsider your future career as an attorney.

QUERY: a. it's a lot of work b. don't aggravate me c. between you and me i think it stinks d. she is smarter then he is

ANSWER: But aren't they all correct?

QUERY: why did bubba fett nod at princess leia?

ANSWER: OK, first off, it's BOBA Fett. BOBA Fett. Second ... well, I'm sure you saw my essays on the Nod of Respect, so I'll leave it at that.

QUERY: why is it such an embarrassing error to mistake the sex of a new baby

ANSWER: It shows you're color blind, of course.

QUERY: fun ideas for trips with girlfriend not a lot of money

ANSWER: Good thinking -- travel without breaking the bank! Well, here are my ideas. First -- do something that's an honest to God trip but is still close to home. As long as it's a trip where you have to stay overnight, it will work, but staying in or close to your home state is a good way to save money. Also, I'd suggest that women like doing a lot of things that aren't inherently expensive in themselves -- what those are will depend on the woman, of course, but if the activities in question are fun they won't care that you're not spending money like water. Lastly, do splurge one night -- the last night, preferably -- and that will end the trip on a high note.

OK, that's it for this edition of Your Search Engine Queries Answered! I think I was on a roll with this one. Tune in next time, when the Summer of My Discontent gets channeled into another spiteful yarn! Until then ...

Credit Where Credit is Due

LAST YEAR, WHEN I took my massive two week long-driving vacation around the East/Midwest/South, I started out the trip watching an NFL Films special on -- of all teams -- the Houston Oilers. I was doing last-minute things, such as making sure the stove was turned off, while in the background this special was airing. As I was going about my work, I heard the stentorian voice of Harry Kalas intone, "The 1988 Houston Oilers tested the waters of greatness."

What? What did he just say? I thought to myself. Tested the waters of greatness? You have got to be kidding me. Of all the hackneyed, trite phrases to use -- I love it!

As such, I resolved to use it myself somehow, and with my new banner, I am glad to have a use for it. I might add the 2008 Grand Rapids Rampage -- in the fifth panel on the banner -- are testing the waters of greatness, and I wish them well in their playoff battle against the Arizona Rattlers Monday night on ESPN2.

Pot? It's Kettle on Line Three!

THE RANT notes with amusement the following summation of WALL-E, the new Disney movie for children arriving in theatres this Friday:

WALL-E is the story of the last little robot on Earth. He is a robot and his programming was to help clean up. You see, it's set way in the future. Through consumerism, rampant, unchecked consumerism, the Earth was covered with trash. And to clean up, everyone had to leave Earth and set in place millions of these little robots that went around to clean up the trash and make Earth habitable again.

Well, the cleanup program failed with the exception of this one little robot and he's left on Earth doing his duty all alone. He doesn't know he can stop working. But it's not a story about science fiction. It's a love story, because, you see, WALL·E falls in love with EVE, a robot from a probe that comes down to recover the last plant left on Earth, which curious little Wall-E has picked up. He absolutely falls in love with her.

According to Wikipedia, the speaker of these words was no less than John Lasseter, the chief creative officer of Walt Disney Animation Studios. Mr Lasseter reportedly made these remarks in a presentation to investors at Disney's 2007 Investors Conference, and a PDF transcript with his remarks in it is hosted at Disney's Web site. You're welcome, I'm sure.

My question: did any of the investors at the conference raise an eyebrow at this? I mean, for God's sake, it's The Walt Disney Co., which last time I checked made a lot of money off rampant, unchecked consumerism. (Not that I disapprove of rampant, unchecked consumerism, mind you).

So I'm torn here. In making a movie that implicitly bashes rampant consumerism, yet was undoubtedly made with an eye towards encouraging rampant consumerism through the purchase of toys, books and myriad other merchandising opportunities, has Disney achieved capitalist enlightenment or plumbed a new depth of soulless, hypocritical greed? I can't say I know the answer to that. But I bet the investors were happy, if perplexed at first -- as we can see in this dramatization:

-----------

EXECUTIVE: Thank you, John, for that exciting presentation. Now, we'll turn to the FY 07 forecast, and --

INVESTOR: Excuse me! Excuse me!

EXECUTIVE: Yes, sir.

INVESTOR: Uh, Mr Lasseter said the backstory for the movie involves an Earth littered with trash due to rampant, unchecked consumerism.

EXECUTIVE: Yes, sir.

INVESTOR: Uh, do we really want to bring that up?

EXECUTIVE: I don't understand.

INVESTOR: Don't we make billions of dollars a year encouraging rampant consumerism? I mean, Christ, everywhere I go with my kids, it's Little Mermaid this, Buzz Lightyear that, I want I want I want. Not that I mind this, of course.

EXECUTIVE: Well, "To infinity and beyond!" has always been our revenue target!

(Laughter).

INVESTOR: Right. Which is great! I mean, I want families to spend their hard-earned money -- preferably all of it, and even money they don't have -- at our theme parks, on our merchandise, and on our videos. Especially because we've got a net profit margin of like 14 pc. But aren't we running a risk implicitly bashing the very thing we want to encourage?

EXECUTIVE: But don't you see? That's our selling point!

INVESTOR: Eh?

EXECUTIVE: People want a feel-good summer movie they can take their kids to see, right? Well, this is certainly one of them. Parents can feel like their kids are learning a valuable lesson, while at the same time tempering their own consumerism. But they'll just limit it to other things, or buy carbon credits, or do something else inherently useless. They won't limit it when it comes to buying our merchandise, which their kids will love! And demand.

INVESTOR: But the DVD boxes to all our videos could fill Yellowstone.

EXECUTIVE: You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. Besides -- we're not Lucasfilm!

(Murmured agreement).

SECOND INVESTOR: You know, you can't argue with that logic.

INVESTOR: Well, yeah, but ...

EXECUTIVE: Did I mention we have a whole bunch of gelato left over from lunch? It's free!

(Cheers)

EXECUTIVE: That's right! FREE GELATO!

-------------

I'm not saying. I'm just saying.

Get Smart ... Got Smart

SO I WENT TO SEE "Get Smart" at the theatre today. I was actually pleasantly surprised -- it turned out quite good, I thought, and it was a much better movie than the paid critics had suggested. It was a well-written and well-shot movie that stayed true to the spirit of the original television show, while updating the franchise for a modern era that wouldn't have any familiarity with the "Get Smart" of the Sixties.

A few points to note:

* Steve Carell IS Maxwell Smart. He really does a fantastic job with the character and the role, and makes it his own, without trying to act like Don Adams, who ... well, was Don Adams.
* Anne Hathaway is smoking hot. It was the first time I had ever seen her in a movie, and I was impressed. Not just pretty, either -- there was, well, there there, as Gertrude Stein might have put it. An excellent choice for the role of Agent 99, particularly because she has the same type of intellectual charm Barbara Feldon had in the old series.
* The casting in this film was downright brilliant. Brilliant. I mean, it hit all the right notes.
* A plot point involved my favorite musical piece of all time. Talk about hitting all the right notes! (Sorry).
* Some of the jokes fall a little flat, but only some -- there are plenty of other funny scenes to carry things through, such as the scene in the trailer where That Guy (aka Champ Kind, Sports) gets stapled in the forehead.
* The cameo with Bernie Kopell -- who played Siegfried, the main villain in the old series -- was inspired too.

So, to review -- good summer escapist fare, funny, enjoyable, go see it.

This Weekend's Football Update

OK, BAD NEWS AND GOOD NEWS. First the bad news.

Fortunately, I was out with friends last night, so I didn't have to watch the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Pioneers (10-2, damn them) defeat my beloved Manchester Wolves (5-7), my city's minor-league arena football team. We lost 69-40. This loss can be fairly described as unfortunate. Since the Quad City Steamwheelers (6-6), based in Moline, Ill., also lost this weekend, a win would have put us in playoff position for the moment. Playoffs in the af2 are NBA style: eight teams from each conference of the 29-team league make the playoffs, with seeding along those lines. Right now, in the American Conference, we're No. 9.

Now we are one game behind the playoff contenders, with just four weeks to go before the post-season. Not the best position to be in, although it is one that may be improved upon. Now I must root for the Louisville Fire -- at home -- to lose to the Lexington Horsemen tomorrow night. That would tie up the 7th and 8th placed teams in the conference at 6-6, and improve Manchester's chances of making it into the playoffs. The good news is that our remaining four games are against relatively weaker teams, and given this, a sweep is not out of the question. So there is certainly reason for hope and every expectation we'll make it into the post-season; it's just that being 7-5 would be a heck of a lot more comforting than being 5-7.

But hey, it's exciting. It's especially exciting due to the second piece of bad news, which is that I consider it very unlikely I'm going to get a Canadian Football League broadcast feed here in New Hampshire this year. God bless it. I checked the Web site for the New England Sports Network, which carried CFL games here last year, and on kickoff Thursday they're broadcasting repeats of old Red Sox games. Not a good sign. The CFL's Web site is useless and continues to pledge that a U.S. broadcast schedule "is coming soon." Right.

CFL games are apparently being broadcast on the America One network this year, but sadly for me there are no America One affiliates in New England. The games will also apparently get broadcast on ESPN360.com, but my cable provider doesn't carry ESPN360.com, which is Comcastic. About the only place I was able to find information about this was the CFL fans' forum, so I am guessing I am, to use the technical term, shit out of luck.

If I find out any further information, I'll pass this on to Loyal Rant Readers, who have expressed interest in the CFL's U.S. availability. I do realize I could stream the games on-line from TSN for the bargain price of $9.99 per game, but the value-for-money equation doesn't work. I'd pay $1.99 or $2.99 per game, but not $9.99, which would be better spent on 2.25 gallons of gasoline, if you ask me.

I would say this, however. I realize the CFL's primary focus is growing the sport in Canada. That said, I can't understand why a deal wasn't reached to secure truly wide-ranging broadcasts of the CFL in the United States. I can see why ESPN or ESPN2 wouldn't work, just because they have the college football franchise. Versus, the seeming natural choice for Canadian football, also has college football.

But Gad -- you'd think the CFL would at least cobble together something to get the games broadcast everywhere. You'd think the sport would do great in July and August, when football fans are downright dying. Eventually, you'd think that would help generate interest in the sport south of the border, and revenues from the broadcasts would grow accordingly.

Feh. But now to the good news.

The good news is that the Arena Football League's playoffs are here -- and I have two teams in the hunt. True, with 12 out of the league's 17 teams in the playoffs, it would be difficult not to have two teams in the hunt, but let's not quibble about that for the moment. My teams, as Loyal Rant Readers will imagine, are the Grand Rapids Rampage (ranked No. 6 in the American Conference) and the Cleveland Gladiators (ranked No. 4 in the National Conference).

I about fell out of my chair when I saw the Wild Card schedule, for I was delighted to see that I'll be able to watch ALL of the Wild Card games, despite the peculiarities of my work schedule (I work Saturdays, for those of you who don't know). The full schedule may be found here. My predictions, for what they're worth:

NATIONAL CONFERENCE
* No. 3 Dallas easily defeats No. 6 New York.
* No. 4 Cleveland defeats No. 5 Orlando.

AMERICAN CONFERENCE
* No. 4 Utah will probably defeat No. 5 Colorado, although it will be a tough go.
* No. 6 Grand Rapids defeats No. 3 Arizona.

Here's to a great couple days of football next weekend!

Important Safety Tip: Speak -- and Write -- Clearly

THE LOCAL GOVERNMENT ASSOCIATION, a British lobby that promotes the interests of local Governments there, has done the world a service this past week. The group wrote a letter to its members warning them they must use plain English if they want the people they serve to have any hope of understanding them. As such, it drew up a list of 100 words and phrases they ought avoid, ranging from "empowerment" and "sustainable communities" to "core value" and "facilitate." Better to use phrases like people power, environmentally friendly, belief and help, the agency said.

As an American, I can sum up my reaction in two words: many thanks. After all, as an American, I am subjected to an incredible and debilitating amount of jargon on a daily basis -- not only from the Government, but from business and sports leaders. I hope the worldwide coverage of the LGA's letter will cause people everywhere to recognize the value of clear yet precise language. This is not merely a selfish consideration, either. My greatest fear is that some American businessman will inadvertently stumble across a lethal combination of jargon from the commercial, sports and Government arenas, resulting in an economic and political panic that will make tulipmania look like a cocktail party:

IMPORTANT EXECUTIVE: Thanks to a bit of trickeration, we were able to audibilize on the ground and commit to a synergy-enhancing deal proving accretive in the third quarter, all while balancing stakeholders' interests with our revenue guidance, which will be in line with our previous estimates, and --
ANALYST (on mute): Dear God! He's mad!
SECOND ANALYST (on mute): SELL! SELL! SELL!

What's that? No, I'm not overreacting. Crises in confidence often start out with small things, don't they?

Anyway, since we're on a crusade to clean up the English language, here is my list of words and phrases that should be taken out in the back and shot. In no particular order, they are:

AUDIBILIZE: This alleged transitive verb is drawn from the world of American football, where a quarterback changing the play at the line of scrimmage "calls an audible." Use a form of change or quick change instead.

UTILIZE: You mean use, so use that instead.

TRICKERATION: Just because ESPN sportscasters use the phrase does not mean you should. Use trickery or deception.

IT IS WHAT IT IS: Athletes and their coaches can gain style points with the public through using more refined language. Try It can't be helped or, even better, The die has been cast. Julius Caesar said that, you know!

INCENTIVIZE: Instead of incentivizing the sales team, you gave them bonus targets.

ENHANCE: You mean improve.

ALLEGEDLY: Avoid this word through writing better. Do not write: John Smith allegedly robbed the Sixth Fourth Bank on Main Street. Rather, write: Police have charged John Smith with robbing the Sixth Fourth Bank on Main Street.

AT THIS JUNCTURE: Unless you're Dana Carvey doing an impression, forget it.

STAKEHOLDER: Group or party.

E- or WEB ANYTHING: Online.

WORKING FAMILIES: The working poor, or the lower-middle class, whichever is applicable.

LOW-INCOME: Poor.

VERY LOW-INCOME: Dirt poor.

WELL OFF: Rich.

WEALTHY: Filthy rich.

HOMESITE: House lot.

USER FEE: Use tax.

PARADIGM: Mindset.

PARTNER: In business, partner should be reserved for a colleague who has equity in your business. Do not use it when you are describing a company with which you do business or have a relationship. Especially do not use it in reference to the consultancy you've hired.

NEXT GENERATION: The (goddamned) kids.

METRICS: Standards.

ENTERPRISE: Corporation; a large company.

AT THE END OF THE DAY: At the end of the day, this is superfluous. Just strike it and say what you actually mean to say.

Well, now that I've thrown that out on the stoop -- oops! -- I hope it will, in some small measure, help people realize that if you say what you mean it can help you achieve your goals faster. Either that, or it will help spawn a resurgent interest in using Latin phrases, which could only be a good thing. For now, vale.

Bachelor Attempts Cooking Project

OH NO!
It's Time for an Installment of ...
STUCK IN THE KITCHEN WITH BEN

A new -- and occasional -- Rant feature

WITH THE ECONOMY the way it is, I've suddenly rediscovered the virtues of cooking at home. It's a heck of a lot cheaper than going out, I'm not half bad at it, and much to my surprise it actually is somewhat of a stress-reliever. (Of course, the fact I like spicy food helps).

Anyway, I had some success with a new recipe I dreamed up with ingredients on hand tonight, so thought I would share it. As such, here is my recipe for Bachelor Carnitas, so named because it's so easy to make that even a cookery-challenged bachelor like me can make it.

Bachelor Carnitas

Serves: 2
Time: Let's say 20 minutes

--------------

Ingredients:
1 lb. pork, cut into strips
2 tablespoons cooking oil
3 heaping spoons of recaito
something green and crunchy (lettuce, cabbage, etc.)
jalapeño pepper slices (canned or bottled works)
proper tortillas (corn, dammit, corn)

Preparation:

1. Get out a skillet. Throw in the vegetable oil and recaito, and turn the heat to medium. While waiting for the skillet to heat up, slice the pork into strips.
2. When the skillet gets nice and hot, throw in the pork. Stir fry it.
3. As the pork is cooking, prepare the sides -- which in this case are your lettuce or cabbage, your peppers, and your tortillas. You can microwave the tortillas and get everything else ready as the pork is cooking, but don't ignore the pork lest it burn. You want steady heat on the pork, but nothing too hot, or you'll boil off the recaito and burn the meat.
4. When the pork is thoroughly cooked, remove it from the heat. Serve. Before taking the stuff to table, throw the skillet in the sink and spray it down thoroughly, thus aiding cleanup.

Cost analysis:

1. Pork. Pork is the other white meat. Also, it is inexpensive. The pork for this dish cost $2.18 at the store. True, it was on sale, but still. $2.18 for like a pound of meat. If you're clever, you'll cut it fine and get as much off the bone as you can.
2. Recaito. A bottle of recaito will cost you $2. You will get roughly six servings out of this, and so the recaito for tonight's meal cost perhaps $0.33. You will find this is an invaluable aid in your cooking. Recaito is a cilantro-based seasoning which also includes green pepper, onion and garlic. As a result, buying the stuff saves you from actually having to buy cilantro, green peppers, onions and garlic for use in the kitchen. Recaito is your friend.
3. Cooking oil. Negligible cost.
4. Lettuce/cabbage. Cost -- oh, anywhere from $0.25 to $0.50. After all, you're not going to use the whole stupid head of cabbage or lettuce on one meal. If you live alone like me, you can buy a seven ounce box of fancy lettuce for $3.29 and have it last the entire week. Since I used one ounce, we'll cost this at $0.47.
5. Jalapeño peppers. Let's say $0.10. A giant jar of jalapeños will cost, I don't know, $2 or $3, and even though I am an enthusiastic fan of jalapeño peppers, even I only used a few tonight.
6. Corn tortillas. Cost: $0.76. If you are lucky, you live someplace where corn tortillas are relatively cheap. Sadly, they're not cheap anywhere, not even Mexico. For my meal tonight, I was forced to pay $2.29 -- Dear God -- for 12 corn tortillas, which works out to $6.05 per kilo. That's just wrong. When I was in Los Angeles several years ago, I could get a kilo of fresh tortillas for $2 -- so I would like to think one could get a kilo for $3.50 or $4, even in Manchester, N.H. I must find a good Mexican grocery.

-----------------

Anyway, the grand total for my meal tonight worked out to $3.84, which ain't bad at all. (I was starving, so I ate the whole stupid thing). If you made this for two people, you'd need more of everything except the meat and recaito, so that works out to like $4.73 -- or roughly $2.36 per person.

However, I realize some readers may say, "But Ben! I need to impress my girlfriend with my cooking skills! What do I do? I can't just make one dish!"

The quickest way to deal with this is to cook some rice and black beans, which go well with anything. A package of this costs about 89 cents and can be made in about 20 minutes. Start these off before you start cooking the pork and you should be all set. Also, buy some ready-made guacamole -- the real stuff, not that soya-based industrial crap -- and have it handy in the fridge for serving with the tacos. It will cost you like $4, and reputable producers such as Calavo Growers Inc. are now packaging the stuff in tiny serving sizes. (Calavo is based in Santa Paula, Calif., and as such is Avocado Central. I know this because good friends of mine live in Santa Paula, and have an avocado tree in their backyard. God, I miss California).

Also, remember to cook the pork thoroughly. This does two things. First, it renders the fat on the meat. This is good, because it adds a lot of flavor to the final dish. Second, it prevents you from an unpleasant experience a few hours later. It is pork, not steak, so act accordingly.

That's it for this edition of "Stuck in the Kitchen With Ben!" Tune in next time, when your humble correspondent finally figures out how to boil water without it boiling over and causing a mess on the stove.

When Competing Sports Loyalties Collide

SO I HAVE A FRIEND who has disturbing sports loyalties. Consider: I walk into the office Tuesday and my friend has taped on his door a picture of Kobe Bryant slam-dunking a basketball over some hapless Boston Celtic. As a quasi-fan of the lowly Los Angeles Clippers, and as such someone who passionately hates the Lakers, I was instantly annoyed at this. As such, I was forced to harangue and harass my colleague, as we can see in this dramatization:

ME: The Lakers?!
FRIEND: Yeah, I'm a fan of the Lakers.
ME: Are you wrong about everything?! Jesus. The Lakers, the Yankees -- I bet you like the Cowboys!
FRIEND: I do not like the Cowboys! I've always hated the Cowboys!
ME: Well, who do you like?
FRIEND: San Diego.
ME: San Diego?!
FRIEND: I was born there. Look, where I grew up, we had nothing. Nothing!
ME: God!

Yet my friend's wrongness does not stop there. In the Premiership, I accused him of liking Arsenal -- I hate Arsenal -- and he responded that he liked Chelsea instead. True, that's not as bad, and it could have been Manchester United, but still. Pick a team like Everton or Tottenham Hotspur or something. He is not an ice hockey fan, but if he was, I'm sure he would have picked an annoying team -- like the Philadelphia Flyers -- to support. Oh, and he roots for Germany in international soccer. Who the hell roots for Germany? (For the record, I root for Scotland, and barring that, any underdog, which means I was rooting for Austria in the two nations' recent matchup).

When Canadian football starts next week, I'll have to remind him to root for the Toronto Argonauts.

After the Lakers got humiliated at the Garden Tuesday night, the picture came down; but I didn't say anything. He is my friend, after all. Besides, even though we root for different teams, I can't antagonize him too much. That's because he is a rare commodity where I live -- someone who does not root for New England sports teams. This is important, because when the Pittsburgh Steelers and New England Patriots play on Nov. 30, I stand a good chance of finding the next workday rather difficult. If I arrive at work, and half my department serenades my arrival with shouts of "Guarantee! Guarantee!" -- well, I'll need to hide in his office.

Attention, George Will: Baseball Sucks

WE NOW HAVE PROOF POSITIVE that George Will's sociopathic love for the game of baseball has clouded his faculties. This proof may be found in Dr Will's latest column, published in The Washington Post and many other newspapers, in which he argues against the use of instant replay in the sport. I would not normally argue with Dr Will's observations on baseball, as he loves the game and I do not; but he crossed a rather sharp line in his latest work. Namely, he dragged football into it.

In doing so, Dr Will dragged America's greatest sport in the mud, delivering an insult that was not only maliciously unfair and unwarranted, but remarkable for its preening hypocrisy. He wrote as follows:

But it is not true that cameras positioned around a ballpark can answer every question, or even be more definitive than are baseball's remarkably skilled umpires, who render judgments close to a play. And even if cameras could deliver certainty, it is foolish to think that all other values should be sacrificed to that one.

In the NFL, coaches' challenges, which trigger replays, contribute to the sense that a game consists of about seven minutes of action -- seriously: Use a stopwatch, and you will confirm that -- encrusted with three hours of pageantry, hoopla and instant-replay litigation.

Oh, no he didn't.

Football's pace and timing, although sometimes unsettling to the outsider, is indicative of the strategy and cunning each team must employ throughout the game. Just as wars require devotion to planning and logistics, so too does football. Unlike baseball, with its petty emphasis on individual achievement and occasional tactical brilliance, football focuses on cooperative success and strategic excellence.

Furthermore, the questions facing referees in football are far more complex than those umpires in baseball face. For the umpire, there are two main questions: whether a runner is safe or out, and whether a hit ball is foul or fair. For referees in football, there are many more questions that regularly crop up, ranging from whether a player unfairly held an opponent to whether a player had possession of the ball as he was heading out of bounds. Since these questions are often decided when a dozen or more men are fighting for the ball, instant replay helps answer questions the human eye may detect imperfectly, in situations that are far more complex than the one-on-one interaction typical in baseball. Besides, the stakes in football are so much higher.

Also, as a baseball fan, Dr Will has some nerve in criticizing football for its pace and timing. In football, there is generally about one play a minute, perhaps a little less. Compare that to baseball, where one can get up, go to the bathroom, stop by the concession stand, talk with a colleague from the office, buy a souvenir and return to one's seat all while the same batter is at the plate. Then, after a stultifying session of futility, in which the batter vainly swats at the balls hurled at him, he will fire off a long fly or useless ground ball that will result in him being out, if not retiring his entire side. This perhaps explains why baseball became America's national pastime prior to the development of the Model T. It also perhaps explains why Dr Will is not a fan of the designated-hitter rule. I mean, God forbid The Powers That Be try to make the game more exciting.

As much as Dr Will may not like it, the era of Babe Ruth -- just like the era of leather helmets -- is over. Accept it and move on. However, Dr Will's unwillingness to accept modern improvements to the game is perhaps best summed up in his final analysis. He writes:

Baseball, like many sports, involves fast, muscular, semi-violent striving. There are inherent limits to how much precision is possible in enforcing rules. Or desirable: Human error is not a blemish to be expunged from sports, it is part of the drama.

Baseball probably will and probably should adopt replays, but only for the few "boundary" decisions. And only after considering how to make this concession to technophiles a prophylactic accommodation, one that prevents an immoderate pursuit of perfect accuracy until the rhythm of the game is lost and the length of the game is stultifying.

I've got news for you, Dr Will: the rhythm of baseball was lost a long time ago, and the length of its games, its season, and its wretched postseason are already stultifying. I'm sure it could be made worse, but it's already pretty grim: particularly in the miserable depths of summer, when the pre-season is just days away and baseball crawls to its 100th game of the year.

Finally, I would note with disdain Dr Will's bizarre claim that officiating errors are dramatic as opposed to blemishes. These are not the words of a sports fan: they are the maunderings of a sadly-detached mandarin suffering a bad case of ennui. Back here on Planet Earth, sports fans invest a lot of time and energy and love into the games they so enjoy, and they deserve officiating that is correct, just and fair. Given Dr Will's thoughts on other matters, I would have thought he was a passionate supporter of the rule of law, fair play and excellence unmarred by official incompetence. Sadly, we see he is prone to supporting tradition for its own sake -- and last time I checked, blind obedience was not a trait encouraged among free men.

---------

For a rather profane -- and funnier -- look at the trouble with baseball, The Rant would refer readers to Every Day Should Be Saturday's canonical essay on the topic, "Die, Baseball. Die."

An Open Letter to CONCACAF

TO: The Powers That Be @ CONCACAF, Whomever You Are

FR: Benjamin Kepple

RE: Round Two Qualifying

DEAR SIRS: I am watching the Round Two qualifying match between the United States and Barbados, which you have somehow managed to get broadcast on ESPN. Look, I don't know how to put this, but it might be a good idea to figure out a new scheme for World Cup qualification. My idea runs something like this:

1. Did you get into the World Cup last time around?
2. You get to go to the third -- or even fourth -- round for qualifying right away.

I mean, this is really rather pathetic. Don't get me wrong, it was cool seeing the United States score in the very first minute. But now it's the 89th minute and the US is ahead .... 8-0. EIGHT TO NOTHING. I mean, this is somewhat embarrassing for the poor Barbadians. Not only has their country been humiliated on national television in the United States, they now have to play a second game against us on their home turf, or wherever the nearest qualifying stadium can be found. That's probably not going to turn out any better.

Oh, sure -- I realize that it would be a grand coup were the tiny Caribbean island to somehow beat the Colossus of the North, but the likelihood of this event happening is roughly the same as the likelihood a cement mixer will crash into my apartment. It would be better if the smaller nations were given the chance to compete against each other, and then the best of them could face off against the big players like the United States and Mexico. Maybe, when qualifying for the 2014 World Cup comes around, we can shape things up.

The Conundrum of Chain Restaurants

SO I WAS BORED last night and was watching the Red Sox beat Baltimore when, much to my amazement, I saw a commercial for the Applebee's chain of restaurants that didn't make me turn white as a sheet and sweat in dreadful anticipation of the horror to come. This event so stunned me that I wondered if it might not be a turning point for the modern middle-class atrocity known as the chain restaurant.

Like most arrogant and over-educated young sophisticates, I have long regarded Applebee's with contempt and disdain. This chain, among all chains, has been the most egregious offender in the $70 billion industry's campaign to trick Hard Working, God-Fearing Americans from Working Families into believing the overpriced, processed industrial slop set before them is indicative of quality, upper-middle class dining. But much to my surprise, the commercial did not go down this route. Instead, it focused on the fact that it had a lot of cheap specials that tasted good, and for good measure slapped its rivals over at Ruby Tuesday's and T.G.I. Friday's in the closing.

What? No pseudo-celebrity chef? No supposed culinary masterpieces? No lame-o attempts at conveying the chain is hip and with it? And I can get a meal for like $10 plus tax and tip? Truth in advertising? What an idea! True, it will take me a long time before I'm ready to actually return to an Applebee's, but I'm not going to say this didn't open the door just a crack to the idea. Plus, I have to admit I kind of liked seeing them stand up for themselves. You tell those bastards over at Friday's who's boss!

Now, I should note that despite my remarks above, I am not opposed to chain restaurants. Why, I even ate at one this evening. I ate at this particular restaurant, part of a regional chain, because they have this calamari dish I like, their advertisements don't insult my intelligence, there is no nonsense about premium-this and featuring-that, and the staff are sharp. When I was done eating, my waitress brought me my check quickly, I left a nice tip, and the mission was accomplished. That's all I wanted, and it was done. Why other chain restaurants have problems with this boggles my mind.

For instance, take the Olive Garden. I am not fundamentally opposed to a casual Italian restaurant chain. They make a good basic salad. The food's not bad. I will never dine there again if I can help it, and I am proud to say it has been five years since I have. This is not simply because every time I think of the Olive Garden, I think of Joe Queenan placing a shroud over the "zuppa toscana," but because the place is a mockery of all the values that make Italian restuarants wonderful. (Also because it reminds of a relationship which I completely screwed up, but that is neither here nor there).

Consider: has anyone ever visited an Olive Garden where you haven't had to wait an unseemly long time for a table? I certainly haven't. Every time I have visited, there has always been an annoyingly long wait, even if the restaurant was half-empty. I once had to wait even though I turned up at like four o'clock. Such waits would be understandable if I was at, I don't know, Gino's East in Chicago, or Chez Jay in Santa Monica, or The Baricelli Inn in Cleveland. It is not acceptable at the fucking Olive Garden, which I would note is most certainly not Le Bec Fin. And what the hell are they doing anyway, making me wait? It's uneconomic! Get me in and out as quickly as possible and give the table to the next revenue source, I mean, customer.

Also, there's the whole rigamarole involving the Peddling of the Crappy House Wine, which Prof Doug Shaw has so eloquently denounced on his Web site. I mean, for Christ's sake -- the Olive Garden, at least one of them here in New Hampshire, has Riunite on its wine list. Riunite!

God! I thought I was a heartless capitalist, but I couldn't sleep at night if I served up Riunite or Sutter Home and passed it off as something worthy of drinking while enjoying a fine meal. I'm just not that cold-hearted.

Don't get me started on TGI Friday's either. Although I've eaten there recently, primarily because it had the good idea of selling reasonably-sized portions of food at reasonable prices, this latest ad campaign of theirs with that spiky-haired supposed chef makes me recoil with horror. For one thing, no grown man should have a haircut like that. For another, the guy comes off -- as the kids say these days -- as a complete douchebag. As such I have transferred my extreme dislike of him to the chain as a whole.

Still, there is hope. It may be that people will respond to Applebee's latest venture, prompting the company to realize it has a winning idea, and chain restaurants everywhere will dump the fraudulent bozoism that for years on end has oozed like a pustulent wound from their operations. Alternatively, T.R. Brennan's here in Manchester -- my old neighborhood watering hole that burned down in a fire on Christmas Day -- will rebuild and I'll finally have a good place to get breakfast again.

I can only hope.

Basketball is Not a Sport, Plus It's Crooked

LOYAL RANT READERS may recall the -- ah, enthusiastic -- response I received when I declared that basketball was not a real sport. Well, news today reveals that not only is basketball not a real sport, it's crooked too. At least that's the reasonable conclusion I drew from the explosive allegations just released in the Tim Donaghy matter.

First, some background. Mr Donaghy was a referee for the National Basketball Association until it emerged Mr Donaghy was a scoundrel and a cad. Mr Donaghy had not only bet on the games he was refereeing, but had passed on inside information to bookmakers, and these activities caused a great hue and cry when they were discovered. However, when Mr Donaghy pleaded guilty to related charges back in August, the scandal eventually died down. The public largely accepted that Mr Donaghy had been a rogue agent.

Unfortunately, the NBA -- committing one of the classic blunders -- did not see fit to let sleeping dogs lie. The league claimed, in a letter to the U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of New York, that Donaghy owed it $1 million in restitution over the whole affair. As Mr Donaghy is due to be sentenced next month on the matter, and potentially faces a rather long spell in the yank, this did not go over well. So, Mr Donaghy's counsel, John F. Lauro of John F. Lauro PA, did some beautiful lawyering.

Not only did Counselor Lauro smack down the NBA something fierce related to the restitution demand, he also innocently included details of all the secrets Mr Donaghy revealed to the prosecutors, in a letter to the court showing how cooperative Mr Donaghy had been with the Government. This tactic was so beautifully executed -- and in the middle of the NBA Finals, no less! -- that The Rant believes Counselor Lauro can now, under the General Principle Rule, shout in court at the NBA's lawyers, "You wanna know what happened? We just whooped your ass!"

The allegations are particularly serious too. They include charges that referees favored a team to cause a playoff series to reach seven games; that referees were told to avoid calling fouls on certain players; and that referees, despite policy, were socializing with coaches, accepting free meals, and so on. So much for your Lakers-Celtics rivalry -- now, people are asking whether you can trust the NBA.

I am not a basketball fan, so I don't know the answer to that one. Although I do think basketball -- due to its fast pace, innumerable rule violations and petty emphasis on fouls -- is uniquely open to these types of issues. With football and baseball, the pace of the game is slower and the fouls are concrete: one either held a player or did not; the player is safe or he is out. Plus, with instant replay and video closeups, everyone can see whether a call was made correctly or not. But with basketball, where fouls routinely are called for no discernable reason, or completely ignored if convenient, that "cut and dried" aspect of the game doesn't seem to exist.

I don't know how one would go about fixing this, but something needs to be done -- if only to assure the fans they're watching an honest game.

Tennis: Australia's No. 1 Sport

WELL, HERE'S TODAY'S SHOCK ITEM: Tennis is Australia's No. 1 sport. No, that's not a typo -- I did not mean to write No. 14 sport. Tennis is the No. 1 sport Down Under, according to no less a source than the Sweeney Sports Report, which knows Australian sports like nobody's business. Amazingly, a full 57 percent of Australians are interested in tennis, while a full 34 percent of Australians attended matches where other people played.

I have to admit I'm a bit -- uh, well, gobsmacked -- about this. I mean, for God's sake, it's tennis. It's a game where the fan's greatest reward is to work out some kinks in his neck. It's a game where a score of zero is referred to as "love." It's a game where you have to dress properly to attend the matches and a game where the preferred fan conduct involves absolute silence. Don't get me started on tennis snobs, either. All of these things explain why only one percent of Americans consider tennis their favorite sport, while in the hierarchy of American sport, tennis ranks below professional bowling.

True, what little I know about Australia comes from a brief reading of their papers once in a while and various American stereotypes of the place, but still -- it's Australia. It's our most dependable ally, the one country we can count upon when the chips are down, and everyone in America loves Australia and its people. So I guess I would have thought Australians would have chosen a more, well, manly sport, like rugby league.

Now that's a sport. It's something like American football -- it even has a gridiron-like field -- except the players are crazy and don't wear any padding. Their teams have even real names. Also, there's that whole University of Michigan connection. Yet rugby league only comes up sixth in popularity, with just 42 percent of Australians interested in the game and only 15 percent attending games.

I just don't understand it. So if any of my Australian readers -- I've got to have one, surely -- could help explain this strange state of affairs, believe me when I say I'd be all ears. However, there is one bright spot to the report -- golf is down to its lowest level of interest since the Sports Report began. That I can understand!

Being a Minor League Sports Fan is Tough

OK, THIS SUCKS. Here I am, all ready to watch the pivotal matchup between the Los Angeles Avengers and the Utah Blaze of the Arena Football League, and what do we have on ESPN2? A college baseball game between Fresno and Arizona State. A horribly long and wretched college baseball game, which 24 minutes into the AFL game is only in the top of the 8th inning. A game in which Fresno is leading 11-5.

You have got to be frickin' kidding me. We've got a game with major playoff implications going on, and we're forced to watch a blowout of a college baseball game?

Fortunately, I somehow managed to get a radio feed from Utah to listen to the game, which is turning out to be a shootout. But -- this is ridiculous. Even worse, I think the college kids are deliberately stretching out their game so they can take advantage of every second of their 15 minutes of fame. I've already missed the entire first quarter and at this rate, will miss the entire first half.

I hate spring. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Well, if I'm lucky, the future Class A kids will wrap up before midnight, so I can see the fourth quarter.

Demon Out, Lawsuit In

WELL, ISN'T THIS SPECIAL? A Tennessee man who collapsed upon receiving the Holy Spirit at a church service, and as a result struck his head, has sued the church over the injuries he sustained in the incident. Matthew Lincoln has charged the Knoxville-based Lakewind Church failed to have seconds at the ready to catch him, and as such is responsible for what Mr Lincoln contends are severe and permanent injuries. The lawsuit, which Mr Lincoln's attorneys filed in the Circuit Court of Knox County, Tenn., can be seen in full here.

I must say that Mr Lincoln, who is asking for $2.5 million in damages, is a very gutsy man. After all, it takes a certain bit of gumption to sue one's own church. It especially takes gumption when the proximate cause of one's lawsuit is none other than One Person of the Triune God. After all, if the Holy Spirit had not entered Mr Lincoln, Mr Lincoln would not have collapsed, and as such would not be in the situation he finds himself now.

Now, I realize some of my readers -- actually, most of my readers -- are looking at their monitors with confused looks on their faces. Surely, you are thinking to yourselves, Kepple does not actually believe in all this speaking in tongues and collapsing in agony bit. Well, here's my take on all that.

I fully believe there are usually other reasons -- with perfectly logical and scientific explanations -- which underlie these reported experiences of speaking in tongues and collapsing and what not. However, at the same time, I can't rule out the possibility -- no matter how odd it seems -- that the Holy Spirit may very well enter at least a few of these people and cause these effects. The Roman Catholic Church, in its great wisdom and intellectual majesty, apparently doesn't rule it out either, and I looked through the Catechism pretty thoroughly. I would particularly note Part Two, Section Two, Chapter Two, Article Five ("The Anointing of the Sick"), and in particular Paragraph 1508, which reads as follows:

The Holy Spirit gives to some a special charism of healing so as to make manifest the power of the grace of the risen Lord. But even the most intense prayers do not always obtain the healing of all illnesses. Thus St. Paul must learn from the Lord that "my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness," and that the sufferings to be endured can mean that "in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his Body, that is, the Church."

I take this as meaning that if He wants to give you a surprise, He can and will.

Now, I must say I do feel badly for Mr Lincoln, as the injuries his attorneys describe in the lawsuit do sound rather severe. However, part of me thinks Mr Lincoln might be better served through going to the library and picking up a copy of When Bad Things Happen to Good People, or a similar work which looks at the theological issues surrounding human suffering. For this case does bring along with it a whole host of serious theological and legal questions, such as:

-- What exactly would God think about one of the faithful suing his house of worship over an incident that He indirectly caused? Furthermore, if the parishioner won his case, how would God react?

-- Would God be upset if the church's insurer paid the damages? After all, that $2.5 million would have to come from somewhere and I doubt the church has $2.5 million. If the insurer did, this would consequently mean higher insurance rates for the church in future, leaving less money for charitable works, keeping the parsonage kept up and all that. What would He think of this? True, if one trusts in the LORD, the LORD shall provide; but still, that is $2.5 million.

-- If the Holy Spirit did in fact enter Mr Lincoln, wouldn't that mean the Holy Spirit is a natural defendant in this case? Surely He would share some of the liability for Mr Lincoln's situation. But how do you parse that out? Although Tennessee allows joint and several liability, thus allowing all the claims to get passed to the church, shouldn't jurors consider whether the Holy Spirit is at least partially liable for Mr Lincoln's injuries? I mean, not only did the Holy Spirit contribute to them, He knew full well He would do so, as He is omniscient and exists outside of time as we know it.

-- Since no one has deposed God since Pontius Pilate, how do you address these concerns? Could one use the Defendant's past statements in lieu of a deposition?

-- If the Holy Spirit did not actually enter Mr Lincoln, would that not mean Mr Lincoln was partially or totally liable for his injuries, and knew or should have known he was in a situation where the potential for injury would have occurred? And even if the Holy Spirit did enter Mr Lincoln, did he not have a responsibility to make sure he knew everything was safe and ready prior to the laying on of hands?

-- How much of a mess will voir dire be on this one?

Actually, that voir dire process should prove pretty important in this case. You'd have to question jurors on their theological views pretty closely, I think. Do they believe in free will and predetermination? Do they believe in charismatic practices such as the laying on of hands? What do they think of the Book of Job, which deals with issues like this? If it gets to that point, it will be interesting -- but I doubt it will. God knows, as the old saw has it, that a bad settlement is preferable to a good trial.

Defending Against the Zombie Menace

HERE'S THE SITUATION: You're in a mall. However, due to bad planning, you are in the mall because it offers temporary refuge from a horde of flesh-eating zombies, whose undead nature is driving them to attack the living and consume their brains and force them to watch reality television shows. Assuming you've kept your wits about you -- there's something to be said for running around witless in terror in these situations -- you face three choices:

1. What weapon -- you get one -- would you use?
2. You get one theme song to blast on the speakers.
3. You can have one famous person -- real or fictional -- to fight alongside you.

I should note, before I go any further, that I learned of this quiz at Dean's World, which is having a rather lively discussion on the matter. In this discussion, we have learned that a flamethrower would be a bad choice for a weapon -- crap -- and that one can make a good argument for having Barack Obama fight the zombie hordes with you. However, my thoughts on the matter are as follows.

For one thing, I must say that if I do happen to find myself in a mall during a zombie invasion, it will represent an utter failure of my disaster planning. At present, my plans to deal with major disasters generally involve sneaking out of the country before things get wretchedly serious, and showing up in Mexico on a tourist visa. This will give me six months in Mexico to wait things out and plot my eventual triumphant return to the United States, where I can buy up property on the cheap with profits from clever speculation in the currency markets. Although being a hero would have its benefits, I'm don't see how they compare with living a quiet and well-off existence in the beautiful highlands of central Mexico.

But let's say things have fallen apart and I'm stuck in a mall with zombies running around every place. OK, fine. My weapon of choice is an AK-47. Why, you ask? Well, a Kalashnikov is rugged, reliable, and so easy to use even I -- who have never fired a weapon in my life and have no plans to do so -- wouldn't shoot myself in the foot with it. It's so common that I should be able to find another one if mine breaks. Plus, I can switch easily between the semi-automatic and full automatic modes, meaning I can conserve ammunition while dispatching zombies, and then unleash death at 600 rounds per minute if I'm surrounded. Terrorize this, you brain-eating scoundrels!

So now that I have my weapon, I need a soundtrack to go along with my saving humanity. There are plenty of options here, but I think I'd go for something upbeat. "California Soul" by Marlena Shaw is upbeat, and it would work great if I had an entourage playing the song along with me. Plus, since I can listen to a song for hours without getting tired of it, that would work great as a theme song. Other possibilities include Eminem's "Lose Yourself," or perhaps "The Real Slim Shady," or even -- if I'm feeling ironic -- "Land of Confusion" by Genesis. Also, I understand Slim Pickens works too in these situations.

Along with that, if I'm fighting the zombie menace, I get to wear a suit and a power tie (properly loosened, of course). It's my thing.

But who would I want to fight alongside me? This is perhaps the toughest question of all, since I can choose anyone. The natural choice, of course, is Jesus Christ. If Christ can raise the dead, and send Legion into a herd of pigs, then He isn't going to blink twice at a zombie menace. But choosing the Son of God, although clever, is still lame in the grand scheme of things. Cheating, really. So, if I had to choose a character, I would pick ...

Col. Douglas Mortimer from "For A Few Dollars More."

Now, I realize Loyal Rant Readers will respond to this choice by saying, "Who?" But let me explain. Mortimer is a bounty hunter and a very good one. He is a fantastic shot. Also, he's played by Lee Van Cleef. Lee Van Cleef, people. The man's got style. Also his characters are usually smarter than the others in the old Westerns, as one can see in his portrayal of Mortimer. I could work with a man like this.

True, I did think of other characters that would work out. For instance, Inspector Harry Callahan. But that clearly wouldn't work. Oh, it'd work for a while, sure, as Callahan went around knocking out zombies with a frickin' hand cannon. But I think we all know where it would go. As Callahan's partner, I wouldn't make it two-thirds of the way through the adventure. So while Callahan takes a break to beat up Hal Holbrook or get some lady's phone number, I'd get conveniently massacred. No thank you.

Then, there's Jules Winnfield from "Pulp Fiction." This would work because Jules is handy with a weapon, and would use a particular twelve-letter obscenity at appropriate times. Also, we could use his 1974 Chevrolet Nova to escape from the mall. But this also might not work, because we know what happens to Jules' partner, and again, if I am fighting the zombie hordes, my goal is to, well, live. So he's out.

So I think Mortimer is my logical selection here. Plus, there's one other potential side benefit. Mortimer may find that after the zombie horde is defeated, he will run off and leave me with the cache of gold / diamonds / banknotes because I've earned it. Other potential partners would probably demand at least half.

What's that? Well, I don't care if you don't like it. Go get Snake Plissken to fight the zombies and see how well that works out.

The Game I Wish My Folks Had Seen in Cleveland

FOUR-and-SIX! FOUR-and-SIX!

Admittedly, the Manchester Wolves' four-and-six record may not seem a lot to cheer about. It is, however, something to cheer about when you consider the following:

* The Wolves have won three games in a row.
* Two of these victories have come against some of the af2's best teams: Wilkes-Barre/Scranton (which was 7-1 when we played them) and Florida (which was 8-1 prior to tonight's game).
* The Wolves' defensive play has contributed mightily to these victories.

The progress the Wolves, my city's minor-league arena football team, have made in the last few weeks is nothing short of stunning. I don't know what they did to bring it about, but they finally got things moving all ahead full. Tonight's game against the Florida Firecats was proof positive of how well the team is playing.

We beat Florida by the resounding score of 47-35 this evening. As Loyal Rant Readers know, when your arenaball team holds an opponent to under 40 points, your defense is playing awfully well, and when they hold them to under 30, it's usually a rout. Although tonight's game didn't turn into a rout, it certainly had the potential to have gone that way, given the play of our defense.

To be sure, things weren't perfect: two of Florida's touchdowns resulted from what can charitably be called "blown" pass coverage. I expect our coach will put the players through hell this week as a result, as it is difficult to defend pass plays when your nearest player is several yards from the opposing team's open receiver. But aside from that, the defensive play was brilliant, particularly that of our defensive line, which punished Florida's quarterback severely. The man had to throw the ball away several times under pressure, was sacked at crucial moments, and near the end, as Florida was trying to gain a score that would have put them back in the game, defensive lineman Joe Crear forced a fumble -- which we promptly scooped up. Beautiful. Also beautiful: two goal-line stands that kept Florida out of the endzone and resulted in turnovers on downs.

Then there's the offense, which performed amazingly well. Aside from one unfortunate turnover -- a fumble after a reception -- the offense was unstoppable. Although our 47 points may seem a bit low for an unstoppable performance, don't let it fool you -- that was simply a function of Florida's drives taking long, not Manchester failing to score. We scored right out of the gate and didn't look back, and some of the scoring plays were downright brilliant. My favorite play? Well, our quarterback, James Pinkney, threw a bullet at our star ironman* wide receiver/ linebacker, Bradly Chavez, and as Chavez went for the ball it touched off its fingertips. It flew into the endzone, where one of our other ironmen, wide receiver/defensive back Steven Savoy, caught it. The crowd went wild. Chavez was on the ground, lying on his back, bemoaning the lost catch -- and then he realized it was a touchdown. He too started clapping.

Chavez, who has fast become a fan favorite, made some impressive plays himself. The most impressive was a long touchdown pass which he caught in the endzone and managed to hang onto, despite ramming into the dasher boards and flying out of the endzone -- along with the defender. But he had possession in the field of play, and the touchdown stood.

Simply put, this is the type of game I wished my folks had seen in Cleveland last week, when the Cleveland Gladiators of the Arena Football League -- the big league -- played the Dallas Desperadoes. Tonight, the officiating was nearly impeccable (perhaps entirely so), there was plenty of defense, and the crowd was very much into it. Very very much into it. I also thought the announcers, as I've noted before, again handled the crowd brilliantly. It's amazing how the sight of the "Noisemeter" on the jumbotron can whip people into a frenzy.

In summary, although the Wolves are now 4-6 and are presently ranked ninth in the conference -- meaning they're one spot out of playoff contention -- this is a team I really feel good about. The best part is that the hard part of the schedule is now pretty much over.

We have six games left in the season. Two of these are against the pathetic Mahoning Valley Thunder, which at 2-8 are yet again proof that Youngstown, Ohio, can't get a break to save its life. Two of these games are against the Albany Conquest, which is not a bad squad, but one that has hit a rough patch and can be beaten. We have one game to play against Wilkes-Barre/Scranton -- which we know we can beat, although it won't be easy -- and our final game is against the Corpus Christi Sharks, which is an average squad.

It is likely we will win four of these games. It is certainly possible we could win all six. If we go 8-8 we have a good shot at the playoffs and at 10-6 we would almost certainly make it into the post-season. That would rule. It would especially rule because I'm feeling good things about this team. This is a team that is rising at the right time, and a team that seems to have that special spark about it. Whether they'll be like the glorious Pittsburgh Steelers of 2005 remains to be seen, but they certainly seem to have that potential.

There's even more reason for arenaball fans to be excited about next year. One does not want to get ahead of oneself, but it would appear we're due to get some new teams into the league in 2009. This would rule. If one looks at the Wikipedia page for the league -- gotta love the wiki -- and delves into the source material, it seems very likely we'll have teams in Buffalo and Milwaukee; quite likely we'll have a team in Alberquerque; somewhat likely we'll have a team playing in Mississippi (we'll see if they can find a venue for 2009) and potentially -- as in, there's an outside chance -- teams in Yakima, Wash., and Saskatoon, Sask.

Dude. Yakima? Saskatoon? I am so there -- so frickin' there. God, please let this happen.

In the meantime, though, hats off to the Wolves for another excellent performance.

-----------
* In arena football, an "ironman" plays both offense and defense.

In the Event of Rapture, I'm Stealing Your Car

SOME TIME BACK, I briefly noted -- thanks to the work of Mr David Malki ! -- that it would be nice if if I could get rich without hustling suckers and idiots. However, there are times I think there's something to be said for hustling people who are easily parted from their money, particularly when I see a good idea that someone else developed.

The latest good idea which I should have considered sooner may be seen at "You've Been Left Behind!" This site, the creation of Massachusetts-based You've Been Left Behind LLC, exists to provide evangelical Christians a way to alert their unsaved friends and family about Christ's saving grace in the event of the Rapture. Yes, that Rapture, where the LORD our God calls home all the God-fearing, right-thinking Christians of the world, while the rest of us (the Pointedly Non-Elect) are condemned to suffer through the Tribulation prior to the Last Day.

The Tribulation shall be terrible indeed: there shall be shortages and hyperinflation, and every mountain and island shall be removed from its place, and the Horsemen shall alight upon the withered globe, spreading pestilence and death and agony. Also the Oakland Raiders will win the Super Bowl year after year. However, the good people at You've Been Left Behind offer us hope. For just $40 per annum -- I mean, each year -- You've Been Left Behind LLC will save important documents and e-mail them out to family and friends when the Rapture comes. This is because anyone who would spend $40 each year on such a service is so gullible -- I mean, so pure in heart -- that the LORD will sweep them up to His presence without so much as a by-your-leave.

So the service is part estate-planning and part spiritual tool -- as we can see in the "Why?" section of You've Been Left Behind's Web site, which says:

We all have family and friends who have failed to receive the Good News of the Gospel. The unsaved will be 'left behind' on earth to go through the "tribulation period" after the "Rapture" ... Imagine how taken back they will be by the millions of missing Christians and devastation at the rapture. They will know it was true and that they have blown it. There will be a small window of time where they might be reached for the Kingdom of God. We have made it possible for you to send them a letter of love and a plea to receive Christ one last time.

You will also be able to give them some help in living out their remaining time. In the encrypted portion of your account you can give them access to your banking, brokerage, hidden valuables, and powers of attorneys' (you won't be needing them any more, and the gift will drive home the message of love). There won't be any bodies, so probate court will take 7 years to clear your assets to your next of Kin. 7 years of course is all the time that will be left. So, basically the Government of the AntiChrist gets your stuff, unless you make it available in another way. You can also send information based on scripture as to what will happen next. Each fulfilled prophecy will cause your letter and plea to be remembered and a decision to be made.

"WHY" is one last chance to bring them to Christ and snatch them from the flames!

I don't mean to rain on anyone's parade, but I live in the United States of America. The Government already gets my stuff and there is nothing I can do about it. So it's not exactly going to make a lot of difference if Randall Flagg suddenly shows up three weeks after the Big Surprise and starts forcing us all into work camps. Besides, let's face it -- if the Tribulation was really a Tribulation, one doubts that brokerage statements or other valuables would prove, well, valuable to anyone dealing with the End Times. You don't need to save money -- and you certainly won't invest it -- if in a scant few years Christ Himself is dividing us up into sheep and goats. That would take all the fun out of it.

Along those lines, while I am sure the nation's probate courts will be pleased to realize the End Timers have such faith in their workings, it seems unlikely one would need anything more than a codicil to his will to have his wishes carried out. If millions of people suddenly go poof, it is not much of a stretch to think a proper probate court would agree to let their survivors get the vanished folks' Ford F-150s.

For that matter, what's all this bit about flames? Who the hell says Hell is hot? Here at The Rant, which operates under Roman Catholic principles, we believe Hell is very much in line with Dante's vision of it. Thus, it could well be cold. Really cold. Or even temperate. It all depends.

Of course, as a Roman Catholic, I do not believe in the Rapture, which is an invention of the 1830s. However, for my evangelical brethren who do believe in it, I would suggest that one could keep the $40 per year and instead engage in some smart estate planning. After all, no man knoweth the day nor the hour.

Hell Hath No Fury Like an Arena Football Fan Scorned

CLEVELAND, Ohio, May 31 -- I CAN ASSURE READERS I am becoming more like my father with each passing day. As the latest proof of this, I would note my extreme disappointment with the Arena Football League, which on Saturday evening single-handedly destroyed months of work in which I've tried to convince my immediate family that arena football is a legitimate sport, worthy of their support and attention.

You see, my father -- Mr Kepple -- does not like it when his investments do not pan out. I don't like it when my investments fail either. I especially don't like it when Mr Kepple spends a considerable amount of money to get the family fabulous seats for an AFL game, all in honor of his eldest son returning home for a weekend, and the game turns into a complete fiasco because of the referees officiating the game. In fact, it was the worst officiating I've seen in more than a decade of being a very passionate football fan -- including the Jan. 15, 2006 playoff game between the Pittsburgh Steelers and Indianapolis Colts. In this case it not only cost the Cleveland Gladiators football team a victory over the hated Dallas Desperadoes, but perhaps a spot in the AFL's playoffs.

As Loyal Rant Readers know, I'm not even a fan of the team. My AFL loyalties lie with the Grand Rapids Rampage, which after a brief flash of glory earlier in the year is again in the league's basement. Furthermore, although I generally watch AFL games on television, my true loyalties are to the Manchester Wolves of the arenafootball2 development league. So it should be pretty clear that I don't have a dog in this particular hunt. However, as a Wolves season ticket holder, and someone who actually travels outside New England for the sole purpose of watching arena football, and someone who blogs about the sport, I do feel as if I have a vested interest in arena football and its future. Saturday's game did not provide a reasonable rate of return on that interest.

For readers unfamiliar with the particular fiasco I am discussing, I would direct you to The Plain Dealer's coverage of the game in question, which contains several enlightening quotes from the Gladiators' top brass, who rightfully blast the officiating. But here's the gist of it all.

Now you should know there were three arguably iffy calls in this game: one the officials were probably right about, one the officials' judgment could reasonably be questioned, and one in which the officials were flat out wrong -- to the point where everyone in the stadium knew it but them.

The first call happened immediately at the end of the first half, in which Dallas was leading 34-31 and had the ball in the waning seconds of the second quarter. Dallas QB Clint "Golden Boy" Dolezel -- whom even I must admit is a fine quarterback, even though I hate Dallas -- threw a deep ball on the last play. One of Cleveland's defensive backs managed to intercept it deep in Gladiator territory, and ran it back for a touchdown. The crowd was electrified. The players were charged. It was an amazing and beautiful play. Yet the zebras called a clipping penalty against the Gladiators, negating the play and ending the half.

That was a heartbreaker. It was not, however, much of a clip -- at least in my judgment. It wasn't even a block from behind; it was a front block, more like a dive, in which the intent of the player was to try and slow up the defender trying to stop Cleveland's man from making a touchdown. Now on this one, the officials may well have been right -- but to me it seemed a bit much.

However, the officials were certainly NOT right when in the second half, Dallas was driving for a touchdown and their running back clearly fumbled the ball on the three yard line. After a scrum, Cleveland recovered it -- but this was negated after the braindead officiating crew somehow ruled Dallas' player was down by contact. The man was no more down by contact than I was in the thirteenth row. Furthermore, I was on the opposite side of the field and even I could see it was a clear fumble -- so how the officials thought the man was down by contact amazes me. When the replay was broadcast on the jumbotron, the crowd erupted in a massive tirade of hate and fury, because the call was so obviously wrong.

Now I can certainly understand that human beings make mistakes -- and spectacularly bad ones at that. But the next play did not help matters. The play on which the fumble was made was a third down, and thus Dallas was now facing a fourth down on which to make a touchdown. Cleveland successfully sacked Dolezel and got the ball back on downs. Or Cleveland would have, had not the refs called a defensive back for holding in the endzone. At this point, my reaction was, "You have got to be kidding me."

As Gladiators president Bernie Kozar put it later -- Bernie Kozar, ladies and gentlemen -- "I can't wait to see the replay on that one." Neither could I -- but sadly, our attempt to record the game at home proved unsuccessful. Perhaps the referees were correct in making that holding call, but it certainly left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Anyway, as one might imagine, Cleveland lost and Dallas won. But the outcome of the game did not bother me. What really bothered me was the fact that I had spent months talking up the game of arena football to my skeptical family, and my family clearly left the game unimpressed with it, even if they were polite about the whole thing. The crappy officiating was the big reason why. I asked my younger brother -- who before the game had uncharitably described the sport as a "clusterfuck" -- whether he had enjoyed the game despite the officiating. His response was, essentially, that one could not separate the two. I can't blame him. And I am embarrassed. Greatly embarrassed.

OK, Ben. Deep -- breaths. Deep -- breaths. Bad air out, good air in.

I do have to give the Gladiators credit for putting on an excellent show regardless of the crappy officiating. I particularly liked the stunt where they blindfolded fans and gave them a chance to win a prize if the fans -- still blindfolded -- managed to stumble from the endzone to midfield, where they had to grab a helmet or something. Anyway, this proved exceptionally enjoyable when one of the excited fans took off like a shot from the endzone, only to run smack into the Gladiators special teams' unit heading out for a kickoff. Oops.

Also, I can assure the Gladiators their cheerleaders were a big hit. However, as a football purist, I am not a fan of having the cheerleaders cheer in the aisles. This is not to say I do not like the cheerleaders; I am a man, after all, and I am not going to complain too much if a pretty girl wearing very little is rallying the troops not fifteen feet from my seat. However, when the pretty girl obstructs my view of the football on the field, that's problematic. I am there to watch football, not dancing girls.

I do, however, have to give a demerit to the Gladiators' announcers, who did not manage the crowd as well as one might have hoped. True, the crowd itself was less interested in the game than one might have liked, but crowds can be massaged. The Manchester Wolves do an excellent job of this at their games and routinely get the crowd fired up on crucial third and fourth downs; but the Gladiators' man was off key in doing this. Improving this might help the team. I have been assured the Cleveland Cavaliers basketball team also does a good job of this, and routinely goads the crowd through flashing the Pittsburgh Steelers' and Michigan Wolverines' logos on the scoreboard; perhaps doing that might really tick off -- I mean, fire up -- the crowd. Just a thought.

Also, now that I've vented my spleen, I would be remiss if I didn't note the Manchester Wolves are now 3-6 after upsetting the Albany Conquest and Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Pioneers in back-to-back wins. Sadly, I have not been able to see the team carry out these wins. Like many football fans I am superstitious and now wonder if my presence at future games will jinx the team. Still, I do feel I should get out there and support my team, especially since it is now playing excellently and has learned some very important lessons. Plus, like all true sports fans, I don't let disappointments get me down. Here's to a victory against Florida on Friday night, and to the playoffs later this summer!

A Haunting Window Into the Soul

EVERYONE LOVES LOOKING at old photographs. When they date from the 19th century, they showcase success or aspirations to it; when they date from the early 20th century, they are a window onto a young republic on the rise. During the Wars and the Depression, the joys and agonies and victories and defeats seem to burn through the paper; and today, although our photos are largely electronic, they carry with them our own hopes and dreams.

Then there are all those old photos from the Sixties and Seventies, which cause relatively young people like myself much mirth and glee. You see, this is one of the few pleasures of being part of Generation X. We can collectively express our frustrations towards our immediate forebears through snickering at their silly fashions, odd ideas and general non-coolness. But at the same time, we can also use our knowledge of that era to lord it over Generation Y, which being young and foolish has no idea what it was like back in the day. Some of us remember a time without microwaves, personal computers, and cable television -- and these experiences allow us to make fun of the kids these days, whom we resent for their youth and fear for their weird and outlandish behaviors.

This brings us to Mango Falls -- the excellent site which a Portland, Maine, Web designer dreamed up after he discovered undeveloped film inside ancient cameras. He developed this film and has displayed the best of the photos on his Web site. It is SO COOL. Anyway, there are hundreds of different photos, but here are my favorites (with my own captions):

"Mom! Dad! I scored!" wrote the College Republican.

"You'd think Floyd would realize I think he's groovy," said the girl in pink.

"I told you we should have bought American-made signs."

"Oh my God, I have to go to Michigan State!"

"In today's lesson, we look at the events of Isaiah 38." (viz)

"Gee, everybody at the Woody Allen Film Fest will LOVE this!"

"I''ve been waiting for this Jets-Raiders game the entire year!" (viz)

"Guaaaaaaaan - taaaan - a - merrrrra!"

"This postwar prosperity thing would be great if the hippies didn't make fun of my cardigan."

"I didn't have the heart to tell them about the oil shocks and stagflation heading their way."

What's in a Name

IN THIS WEEK'S EDITION OF The Economist, the magazine printed a letter from a David Miller of Austin, Texas, in which Mr Miller discussed the social ramifications of naming one's children. Mr Miller was a bit uncharitable in his missive, but I do not think his point was entirely off the mark. Mr Miller wrote, in part:

I recently attended a ceremony at a university and was amazed at the recurrence of traditional first names; a plethora of Anns, Elizabeths, Johns and Stephens (many of them Asian-Americans) with nary a Staci, Crystal, Cody or Elvis in sight. Parents express their aspirations when they name their children, and usually get what they expect.

Even for a Staunch Traditionalist like myself, I think this is a bit harsh. People can and do succeed even if they were given an iffy name at birth, while those who received excellent names often turn out badly. Plus, even iffy names may be perfectly acceptable if they were given for family, ethnic or other connections that play a big role in one's life. Still, this is a big reason why I think giving one's offspring proper names is so important, and why naming one's child is a decision which must be treated with the highest gravity.

Thus, I was gratified to see the Social Security Administration recently hinted that it shared this view, and politely rapped the knuckles of America's more free-thinking parents on their name choices. In a rather extraordinary release, the agency highlighted one of the particularly odd trends taking shape in American life, that of strange names for male children:

For reasons likely to puzzle baby name experts around the world, American parents have become infatuated by names, particularly for their sons, that rhyme with the word “maiden.” These names for boys include: Jayden (No. 18); Aiden (No. 27); Aidan (No. 54); Jaden (No. 76); Caden (No. 92); Kaden (No. 98); Ayden (No.102); Braden (No.156); Cayden (No.175); Jaiden (No.191); Kaiden (No. 220); Aden (No. 264); Caiden (No. 286); Braeden (No. 325); Braydon (No. 361); Jaydon (No. 415); Jadon (No. 423); Braiden (No. 529); Zayden (No. 588); Jaeden (No. 593); Aydan (No. 598); Bradyn (No. 629); Kadin (No. 657); Jadyn (No. 696); Kaeden (No. 701); Jaydin (No. 757); Braedon (No. 805); Aidyn (No. 818); Haiden (No. 820); Jaidyn (No. 841); Kadyn (No. 878); Jaydan (No. 887); Raiden (No. 931); and Adin (No. 983). This startling trend was present, but less pronounced, with girls' names: Jayden (No. 172); Jadyn (No. 319); Jaden (No. 335); Jaiden (No. 429); Kayden (No. 507); and Jaidyn (No. 561). Social Security spokesman Mark Lassiter indicated that the agency would resist any legislative efforts to standardize the spelling of these names.

Now, looking closely at the list, one will notice that No. 54 (Aidan) is a perfectly fine Irish name, so one might suggest this particular name is not like the others. But the others -- oy. Some of these names are so amazingly awful it boggles the mind. Consider: in naming their boys Raiden, 210 American couples voluntarily named their children after the thunder god of the Mortal Kombat universe.

Here's the truth -- that's just wrong. I don't care if the couples met at the local video arcade and first made out after beating Mortal Kombat II -- you don't name your kid after the lame-o thunder god character. (The Rant, as one might suspect, played Sub-Zero).

But it doesn't stop there. Consider what the agency said about the necrotic, civilization-destroying influence of America's celebrities on baby name choices:

Although “American Idol’s” Sanjaya did not influence this year’s list, other young celebrities influenced the naming of American children. The 2007 success of popular race car driver Danica Patrick undoubtedly inspired her first name moving from number 352 to number 307. Similarly, the name of the first pick in the 2007 NFL draft, Oakland Raiders’ quarterback JaMarcus Russell, rose from number 914 to number 743 on the boys’ list.

Shiloh, the youngest daughter of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, debuted on the list at number 804. Maddox, the name of their oldest child, has seen steady gains since first appearing on the list in 2003 at number 583 and now ranking at number 226. Suri, the name of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes' daughter, did not make the list. But Britney Spears' second son is named Jayden, which ranked at number 18. Miley is new to the girls’ list this year, entering fairly high at number 278, attributable to the popularity of teen sensation Miley Cyrus.

Does anybody else find it patently disturbing that 297 American couples named their boys after an Oakland Raider? Well, I certainly do. But that's not the only worrying football-related statistic I discovered after plowing through the list of names. Even more alarming, 3,336 American couples named their boys Peyton, after -- well, you know. (1,221 couples named their boys Payton, which on one hand could be considered even worse because of the non-standard spelling, but on the other could be considered far better because Walter Payton would have approved). It is also worth noting that Peyton is a more popular girls' name than it is a boys' name, which opens an entirely different can of worms, but we'll get to that in a bit.

Now, I see nothing wrong with naming one's child after a football player. However, if one does this, there are plenty of perfectly fine football names one should choose instead of, say, Peyton. For instance, what about Terry? Or John? Or Lynn? Or Franco? For that matter, what about Jerome, Troy, Hines, Santonio, Marvel, LaMarr, Jack, Ernie or Mean Joe? Give your kid a good start in life -- don't doom him to a preening, smug existence in which he must boast about his so-called "rocket arm" even while his inability to deal with defensive pressure means his team sits at home -- again -- on Super Bowl Sunday.

Also, while I see nothing inherently wrong with naming one's son with an ambiguous name, one must take care to make sure the name works, as the choice can be fraught with peril. Peyton clearly does not work because one's son should not be typecast as a whining pansy who blames his failures on others. However, a name such as Lynn or Gale -- especially Gale -- would clearly work. After all, none of the kids would make fun of Gale, because his name would signify that he needed just 18 inches of daylight to kick their asses.

But there is good news amidst all this. The twenty most popular names for boys and girls only contains one that makes one wince and three that should have been tabled at their second reading. For the boys, the only truly miserable name is "Jayden," (No. 18) which brings to mind an unpleasant and hardscrabble existence somewhere in California's high desert.

For the girls -- where choosing a proper name is twice as important -- most of the names are also excellent, but I myself would instantly veto Madison (No. 5), Olivia (No. 7), and Addison (No. 11). Addison is a bit too masculine for my taste, Olivia is too old-fashioned (when I hear the name, I think of a Rhoda Henry-like character) and Madison -- well, that's what we named the dog when I was growing up. The way I see it, one wouldn't name one's kid Rover or Fala, so that's right out too.

At least, I hope.

A Style Note

SO I JUST SENT AN e-mail to some friends in which I used the long S character throughout it. No, really, I can aſſure you I did. I just had to mention it because it's ſimply the lateſt proof that I do, in fact, rule.

Well, that and it's the latest proof technology is amazing. I can't believe the long S would have an electronic code for it, but it does.

Recap: Celtics-Cavaliers Game 5

THIS PRETTY MUCH SUMS UP Game 5 between the Boston Celtics and Cleveland Cavaliers:

This, I might add, is a shame, because it didn't let me use the original video I had planned for the game recap. However, given the way the series is going, here's my prediction for the recap of Game 6 in Cleveland:

The Worst Sports Team Names of All Time

WHEN IT COMES TO SPORTS, the easiest part of the business -- as most folks in a front office would gladly tell you -- is actually playing the game. Success requires great sales and marketing work, smart personnel management, an eye for controlling costs while still producing an excellent product, and a hell of a lot of sweat equity. I am convinced that sports teams whose owners think the business is like running a bank won't do all that well, while sports teams whose owners realize their business involves competing for entertainment dollars will do quite well, and perhaps even great.

But let's get focus on one point -- the selling. If you want to succeed, your sales and marketing operation is key. Thus, it quite frankly stuns me just how many sports teams out there operate with names that can be charitably described as stupid. Yes, stupid.

I mean, we've all come across sports teams with stupid names. If you're like me, you wonder a few things upon hearing the names, such as, "What the hell were thinking?" and "How the hell do the fans root for the team without bursting into gales of laughter?" That's to say nothing of the opposing players. This might earn the home team a touchdown or goal or two, when the defense gets distracted at having to play the Local Yokels, but it sure won't earn them a bit of respect.

Before I get any further, though, I should note that all the teams I root for -- in order: the Pittsburgh Steelers, the Michigan Wolverines, the Manchester Wolves, the Grand Rapids Rampage, and the Saskatchewan Roughriders -- all have excellent names. As a fan, this boosts my loyalty to the team, something I could not have pulled off if I was rooting for, say, the Colorado Crush. (The Crush have such a bad name that it got mocked in The Onion).

Now, the worst offender when it comes to bad team names -- inexplicably, I might add -- is the Women's National Basketball Association. Why the WNBA's names are so amazingly bad, I don't know, but out of 14 teams in the league only ONE has a semi-decent name, that being the New York Liberty. Whatever one thinks of that name, one must agree that it is far superior to say, the Atlanta Dream, the Chicago Sky, and the Seattle Storm. I mean, come on. The Atlanta Dream? Even the "Lady Hawks" -- which I am not suggesting, I would note -- would be a better name than that.

I have to think the amazing prevalence of bad team names in the WNBA has hindered its success -- just as stupid team names hindered the success of the XFL. (The New York/New Jersey Hitmen? But what about Connecticut? And the Hitmen -- yeah, that's a team everyone can get behind). Now, obviously, a dumb team name isn't going to hinder a well-run organization, just as a great name (Minnesota Fighting Pike!) won't automatically lead to success. But in honor of team names That Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, here's my rundown of the Worst Sports Team Names of All-Time.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: There are so many bad team names out there that limiting my list to just, oh, let's say 15, will provoke cries of outrage from readers. So here are my list of honorable mentions, and their leagues:

New York/New Jersey Hitmen (XFL), Memphis Maniax (XFL), Atlanta Dream (WNBA), Chicago Sky (WNBA), Detroit Shock (WNBA), Staten Island Stapletons (NFL), Arkansas GlacierCats (WPHL), Cape Cod Freedoms (NEHL), Tampa Bay Strong Dogs (ABA), Roanoke Dazzle (NBA D-League), and the Toronto Ontarios (NHA).

Now that that's out of the way, let's get to the Grand List:

15. WISCONSIN BLAST
This professional basketball team, which competed in something called the International Basketball Association, was based in Appleton, Wisc. Despite this, the "Wisconsin Blast" was the best name they could come up with. I don't know about you, but when I think of the phrase "Wisconsin Blast," I think of the Sunday morning torture innumerable frat boys suffer through after downing far too much Milwaukee's Best the night before.

14. OHIO GLORY
A team that played for one year in the World League of American Football, the Ohio Glory finished their 1992 season 1-9. What was their team fight song? I imagine it went something like this:

We don't give a damn about the whole state of Michigan --
the whole state of Michigan, the whole state of Michigan --
we don't give a damn about the whole state of Michigan --
'cause we're from O-HI-O.

13. ROCHESTER SKEETERS
Another IBA team, the Rochester Skeeters were apparently named with the idea that even if the team didn't perform all that well, it would still be really annoying. Why the team was named after mosquitoes in a place where the ground is only free of snow for two months out of the year is beyond me, but there you go.

12. LANCASTER RED ROSES
Back in the days of the early 20th century, there was actually a baseball team called the Red Roses in Lancaster, Pa., that faced off against the nearby White Roses of York, Pa. Given the rivalry and the history behind the original War of the Roses, the team name was an inspired -- almost genius -- choice. Furthermore, given the state of education back in the day, most people would actually have gotten this -- unlike today, when people would think Dennis Miller had somehow been allowed to come up with the team's name.

But I'm not talking about the baseball team. I'm talking about the CBA team from the Forties, which clearly tried to piggyback on history with the name choice. It didn't work -- and without a rival in York, the team name instead made the players seem like a bunch of pansies.

11. LOUISVILLE ALUMNITES
What the hell is an Alumnite, you're asking? Beats me, but I daresay this was the first basketball team to ever get named after a shaving product. This may have been why the team -- and the NPBL in which it played -- folded before its season ended back in 1950-1951.

10. ANAHEIM AMIGOS
Ole! This ABA team was named in that fraught-with-danger sports tradition, the Name That Team Contest. Amazingly, the team ownership went along with this name, despite the fact that it would undoubtedly annoy a good portion of its fan base. Also not helping matters: the mascot was a stereotypical "Mexican bandit." The average attendance of their games was 1,293, according to Wikipedia.

9. (tie) ROANOKE STEAM/RICHMOND SPEED
These two af2 teams, now mercifully defunct, violated the Cardinal Rule of Sports Team Naming Conventions: don't name your team after some lame-o physical force, especially if that makes the team sound like an WNBA team. Why Roanoke has issues with naming teams -- see above -- is beyond me, but they might want to do a better job with their marketing in future.

8. HOUSTON THUNDERBEARS
I'm sorry, but ThunderBears reminds me too much of this.

7. DANBURY TRASHERS
Since the team was sponsored by a trash-hauling company, you can't exactly blame the marketing guys for this one. In fact, I'd venture to say the marketing guys tore their hair out at having to come up with a team name and appropriate mascot for the owners, who should have stuck to hauling waste. According to the team's Wikipedia page, the mascot was a trash can wielding a hockey stick.

6. LOS ANGELES XTREME
The winner and champeen of the XFL's only season. Sadly, nobody told the XFL guys that -- how to put this -- it's completely and incredibly lame to use the letter X in an attempt to impart coolness. Despite this, there are several sports teams that have done this. As for the Xtreme bit -- although "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle" didn't arrive until a few years after this, it should have been pretty clear that using the word "extreme" can only be used in a cynical or sarcastic sense, as in: "So -- not -- extreme!"

5. MINNESOTA FIGHTING SAINTS
I'm sorry, what? The Minnesota Fighting Saints? I don't care if they played hockey in the Seventies -- it's the sports equivalent of UHF's "Gandhi II" sketch serving as your team name for all time. ("No more Mr Passive Resistance!")

4. SOO MICHIGAN REALTORS
Someone please tell me the team's star player wasn't known as "Six Percent." Please. I'm begging you. I mean, can you think of any team name less likely to get your fans fired up about the squad? (I've got three, actually, but we'll get to those). What was the mascot for this Northern Ontario Junior Hockey League team? A guy in a suit with a bunch of paperwork? I guess we should be thankful they weren't a baseball team, because the jokes about closing would be too much to bear.

3. PEORIA PRANCERS
Nothing brings to mind Eddie Shore and Old Time Hockey like a team named ... the Peoria Prancers. Holy God! What were they thinking? Think about it -- it's minor-league hockey. Your natural audience is a blue-collar crowd who shows up to see grown men beat the hell out of each other, and you name the team the Prancers? What was the mascot, a rotating collection from My Little Pony?

To the team's credit, though, the Prancers nickname only stuck for two years in the early Eighties. Someone apparently got out the epsom salts and the owners changed the name to the "Peoria Rivermen." That's not a great name either, but at least it doesn't conjure up images of tea parties and Care Bears.

2. SACRAMENTO ATTACK/MIAMI HOOTERS
Now here's genius for you: not only did you have the team with the worst name in the Arena Football League, you moved the team and found an even worse name. Was there no one with an IQ of 80 in the ownership group that could have said, "Say, I don't mean to rain on anybody's parade, but couldn't this new name complicate matters in terms of attracting families with children to the games?" I don't care if it was a sponsorship agreement: as amazing as it might seem, there are times when not being stupid trumps a lot of money.

Miami Hooters. My God. It's worth noting, by the way, that average attendance fell from about 9,000 in the first year to about 6,250 in the third year, according to ArenaFan. Fortunately, after 1995, the team got an actual decent name and continued to play on for several years.

1. OMAHA BEEF
In South Park, the kids' football team is named the "South Park Cows," who famously play the Middle Park Cowboys. Tell me how this is different. You can't, because it ain't. I mean, if there's nothing that suggests an immobile offensive line, a slothful defense and a quarterback who spends more time flat on his back than Jimmy Clausen playing Michigan, I don't know what does. I don't care if beef's an Omaha specialty, this is ridiculous.

Even worse, the beef analogies exist throughout the whole bloody organization. The mascot is Sir Loin. Yes, Sir Loin. That's somewhat alarming. More alarming is that the cheerleaders are called the "Omaha Prime." God help them -- if somebody from the University of Nebraska's Women's Studies Department picks up the sports section, there's going to be trouble! Or at the very least, two or three doctoral dissertations. ("Patriarchy, Indoor Football and the Continued Sexist Objectification of Women in Minor-League Sports.")

That said, unlike many of the teams I've listed, the Beef are doing quite well and have spent several years in the United Indoor Football league. I just hope they've got a backup name just in case. How about the Berkshire Hathaways?

Hey! That's MY Career Path!

"I WAS HOPING to perhaps parlay my expertise in ennui into some sort of lucrative speaking profession."

Return of the Gunslingers

I MUST SAY I was rather pleased to see an article, in today's edition of The New York Times, which reports on the emerging popularity of the "steampunk" subculture. Living in the provinces as I do, I had not realized that steampunk -- which combines modern-day technology with the fashions and mannerisms of the late 19th century -- had made the move from science-fiction literature to an actual subculture. But that said, I approve of it.

I realize this may come as a surprise to Loyal Rant Readers. After all, I have settled well into my chosen lifestyle, that of a traditionalist, curmudgeonly Midwesterner, albeit one with certain decadent weaknesses (like sashimi) internalized during a period of high living in my twenties. Consequently, my idea of fashion involves buying a new power tie. But as a traditionalist, curmudgeonly Midwesterner -- one who often looks upon the foibles of this modern age with a mix of cynicism, shock and despair -- I find much to like about steampunk culture. For one thing, there's this quote from Mr Giovanni James, a devotee of the subculture:

"“I’m so sick of baggy pants hanging off your bottom,” he said. “This is more refined. It goes back to a time when people had some dignity. It’s a new day.”

I mean, I don't know about you, but in my book, any subculture which encourages stylish dress -- along with wearing neckties and bowties as a matter of course -- can't be a bad thing.

Also, on a related note, I understand that a certain subgroup of young people in New York are eschewing modern mores for the joys of family life -- to the point where one magazine has dubbed them "New Victorians." Why, there might just be hope for the kids yet.

Man Suffers 15 Months of Hiccups

SOMETHING HAS GOT TO BE DONE. I mean, no one should have to go through that in this day and age.

One Light Goes Out ... But Not This One

A QUICK QUESTION: if a four-watt glass light bulb in Livermore, Calif., can burn for 107 years straight, why can't we create other durable goods with the same staying power? I mean, really.

So perhaps that's wishful thinking. Still, it's amazing to think the thing just keeps burning -- it's been going strong for nearly a million hours now. That's roughly 100 times the life of a typical incandescent light bulb. Maybe there's something our engineers could learn from this.

Alarming corollary: the light bulb has its own Web site. Not only that, but the Web site has received so many visitors that it has crashed.

Notice: Catastrophic Hard Drive Failure

DUE TO A CATASTROPHIC FAILURE of my old computer -- it is dead, kaputski, an ex-parrot, etc. -- The Rant will be on a temporary hiatus while I restore my system. The good news is that true data loss associated with the failure was minimal, and I have somehow managed to restore not only my e-mail connection but also locally-based stuff associated with my blog in a surprisingly short amount of time. The bad news is I have a lot of stuff I need to set up again from scratch. So as a result, things here will be a bit quiet until I can bring everything back.

As for my new computer, it rules. Although I have learned a couple of lessons from this. The first is that paper records, although scorned in this day and age, remain invaluable. The second is that I should probably "upgrade" my computer more frequently -- my old one WAS six years old, after all. Anyway, that's the update.

Hail to the Victors (We Hope)

ANN ARBOR, Mich., Apr. 27 -- SINCE FOOTBALL will be the prime focus of this and several posts following, it's important to mention The Rant's football-related quote of the week, from none other than my good friend Geoff Brown:

Michigan State is like Scrappy Doo -- lemme at 'em! Lemme at 'em!"

This quote, admittedly, will make no sense to anyone over 40 years of age, nor anyone who does not follow college football or the Big Ten Conference. But if you are under 40 years old and do follow college football, you realize the beauty and majesty of this simple statement, which is clearly correct and just.

You see, like many second-rate agricultural schools, Michigan State is in a one-way rivalry with their more prestigious big brothers in Ann Arbor. Simply put, they can't stand us and would consider their annual football season a success if they beat us. We, on the other hand, find Michigan State an annoying irritant. For fans of the Michigan Wolverines, the idea of losing to the hapless Spartans is mortifying and a loss to them would prove hugely embarrassing. Fortunately, we have beaten the Spartans six years straight in our annual matchup. Unfortunately, as Mr Brown pointed out during our recent dinner togheter, they could pull it off this coming year.

After all, as Mr Brown noted, Michigan has a new coaching staff, a new offensive scheme, and a lot of relatively new players. Not only that, it's still somewhat unclear who our starting quarterback may be. All this, therefore, led Mr Brown to conclude Michigan will get beaten like the proverbial red-headed stepchild this season, and part of my worries he is right.

But I remain cautiously optimistic about the season. After all, college football is played in autumn, and autumn is the Season of Miracles. If a miracle doesn't happen, well, I'd settle for beating Ohio State. If we lose to both Ohio State and Michigan State, it will immensely suck, because wearing a paper bag over one's head to mask the shame isn't any fun.

Anyway, Geoff and I had dinner -- as we traditionally do -- at Good Time Charley's, a hangout on South University Street famed for its "count twists," which are a type of cheesy bread. I must say I've never seen Ann Arbor that quiet before -- but it was the day after graduation, and so the campus was quickly emptying out. Although this did not change some things -- the line at Blimpy Burger was still very long -- it did have its benefits, much to my surprise and amazement.

For instance, parking was free in the Maynard Street parking structure. This was downright amazing -- free parking? in Ann Arbor? As a former resident of the city, I concluded what any Michigan student would have concluded: that the rage virus had somehow gotten loose from the University's researchers and was rapidly turning Ann Arborites into zombies. But then I realized the tired, frustrated Baby Boomers I had come across were just ruminating about their kids' tuition bills. A degree in art history, even from a prestigious school like Michigan, is still a degree in art history.

But Ann Arbor was as nice as ever -- and both Geoff and I admitted it would be pretty cool to move back to the place. (Mr Brown lives on the outskirts of metropolitan Detroit). There's something to Ann Arbor that is incredibly pleasant. Perhaps that's just a combination of nostalgia and the grass being greener, but there are fewer places in the world I would rather live.

You Can't Go Home Again

KALAMAZOO, Mich., Apr. 26 -- SO ON MY DRIVE between Grand Rapids and Fort Wayne, I briefly stopped in my hometown to grab lunch and see the old neighborhood and the house where I grew up. A few brief points: although many houses seemed to be for sale, I saw some impressive new construction -- at least to me -- and a lot of the old landmarks that I knew grewing up were still there. The neighborhood in which I grew up was also much the same.

Now, the particular neighborhood in which I grew up -- and the residential streets to the east of it -- were nice places to live. Much of this had to do with the fact they were actual neighborhoods; you know, those mythical places where people who live in adjoining homes actually know each other and socialize. Plus, in the springtime and the fall, they were absolutely beautiful. When I drove along the tree-lined streets, it was an amazingly glorious sight -- the trees were in bloom and the leaves were coming out and the sun was shining. Beautiful.

Then I drove by my old house and said:

"Dear GOD -- what have they done?!"

To the new owners' credit, the house is not much changed from how it was when I grew up (at least from the outside) and given my nostalgia for the place, it is no surprise I would disapprove of any changes. After all, these things are matters of personal preference. Also, it was the end of April and I am sure it will look much better come summer.

But still. They've got this hideous plant -- I don't know what it is, but it looks like a goddamn truffula tree -- in the front yard. It's near the sidewalk leading to the front porch, from what I could tell from the street. Also, the entranceway from the side porch into the garage has been enclosed and it has these godawful octagonal windows -- I hate octagonal windows -- and if you ask me that takes away from the colonial-style architecture of the house. I was so stunned that I didn't even make the drive over to Simon From Jersey's old house to see how it stood up, and instead went to get lunch down on Stadium Drive.

I suppose the long and short of it comes down to this: they weren't kidding when they said you can't go home again.

Grand Rapids Victorious

GRAND RAPIDS, Mich., Apr. 25 -- WELL, THE DRAFT WEEKEND turned out to be a hell of a good time for a football weekend back in the Midwest. I did catch some of the draft commentary on the radio while driving about, but all-in-all I thought my trip made more sense. After all, what's more fun: going to actually watch football or listening to analysts drone on about drafted players, 95 pc of whom will be consigned to relative mediocrity over the span of their careers?

As readers may recall, my trip was financed through the Government's tax rebate scheme, which will soon arrive in my pocket. I can assure readers that I spent my tax rebate on goods and services that will directly help the economies of Michigan and northern Indiana. This included roughly $100 spent on tickets to two football games, sodas at the games, parking expenses and one $2 coaster emblazoned with the logo of the Fort Wayne Freedom. Additionally, I spent $144 on a rental car, $225 on hotel rooms and $99.75 on gasoline. Oh, and I spent $18.20 at Meijer for snacks and sodas for my road trip. Throw in meals and that adds up to $650 or so. So: mission accomplished. I spent my stimulus money and did it in a way that will help our most troubled states. I rule.

Oh, and the football was awesome. Not only did Grand Rapids win convincingly, so did Fort Wayne, so I went two-for-two in my football watching. Here, we'll discuss the Grand Rapids game, between the Grand Rapids Rampage and the Kansas City Brigade of the Arena Football League.

Grand Rapids is the one area of Michigan that is seemingly booming and full of economic vitality. There's plenty of activity going on, especially in terms of construction work, and the whole town seems to be doing all right for itself. The Van Andel Arena, its downtown venue, is a well-built and pleasant arena with convenient and inexpensive parking right across the street. I arrived at the arena about 5:45 p.m., about an hour and a quarter before the game got underway, and I was stunned at what I saw.

Outside the arena, a group of teenagers were painting their faces in the Rampage's colors, and chanting "Let's Go Rampage!" with an impressive fervor. A man noticed me standing outside the arena and asked if I had any extra tickets to the game, which stunned me -- either he was a scalper or thought I was one. Keep in mind this is arena football in Grand Rapids. When the doors opened at 6 p.m., the team cleverly had its cheerleaders at the doors passing out souvenirs -- which was a pretty clever idea, I thought. Also, the Rampage's cheerleading squad got a serious upgrade over the past year.

Fast forward to 7 p.m. and the arena was, if not full, pretty close to it. Attendance at the game was 8,102 and it certainly felt like it in the arena, where the crowd was boisterous and happy. My sixth-row seat at midfield gave me a great view of the action and I was in a section with some devoted football fans. Much to my surprise and amazement, there were two former Manchester Wolves players I noticed on the field. On Grand Rapids' side, defensive back William "Roc" Haith, a standout DB with the Wolves, was starting. On Kansas City's side, the starting quarterback was none other than D. Bryant, who was once a starting QB for the Manchester Wolves.

I couldn't believe it. Bryant apparently did quite well after leaving the Wolves and so got a boost up to the big league, but upon seeing him as starting QB, I was feeling pretty confident about Grand Rapids' chances. After all, Bryant was inconsistent in Manchester, so why should that change now that he's in the AFL? And I was right! Not only did he fumble the ball on the first snap -- resulting in Grand Rapids recovering the ball -- he threw two interceptions right after that, leading to Grand Rapids take a 13-0 lead. It was not Mr Bryant's night.

The best thing about the game? It was a true defensive battle -- at least on Grand Rapids' side of the ball -- and the team's defensive antics helped put the game away early. At halftime, Grand Rapids was up 41-17, and we would end the game up 72-38 -- with Kansas City's last touchdown coming in garbage time at the end. But the best part about the whole experience, I think, was the level of fan enthusiasm -- it was a fun time, and that added a lot to the game. So anyone in the greater Grand Rapids area who isn't presently attending the games should look into tickets -- it would make for a fun night out.

I am also glad to report that Grand Rapids now goes to 3-5 on the season, and with the win is actually getting itself into playoff position. Seeing the Rampage in the playoffs would be super cool, especially since the playoffs will be televised. As for Kansas City -- well, they're 1-7, so they have a lot of makeup work to do if they hope to make it to the postseason.

Highlights and the game recap are here.

Benjamin Kepple "A Joke to America," Commenter Claims

ONE OF THE THINGS I enjoy about The Rant is that I get to see, through my comments feature, what people think about my writing. Most people who write comments are civil and well-meaning. Then, there's the guy who took issue with my post on basketball, which I claimed (and continue to claim) is not a real sport. My favorite line in the whole screed? "You're a fucking joke to America you lazy faggot."

It may seem strange, but when you're a writer, you don't just live for responses like that -- you think about making them into T-shirts!

Anyway, scroll down on the above link to see the comment in full -- and my response. I will say this, though: I don't think I've gotten a reaction like that since my college days!

"Leatherheads" Actually an Enjoyable, Decent Movie

OK, I HAVE TO ADMIT IT: I went to see "Leatherheads" tonight not simply because I was bored, but because I thought it would make a good "Bad Cinema With Ben" post, and I haven't done one of those in a while. However, that Bad Cinema With Ben post is going to have to wait, because "Leatherheads" turned out -- wait for it -- to be an enjoyable movie. Silly in some ways, but a heck of a lot of fun.

That I enjoyed the movie quite a bit undoubtedly helps explain why financially, the film is facing a fourth-and-long and will probably turn the ball over on downs. This is a shame, because the movie really was fun. Not only was it fun, it was actually decent -- a movie that relies on wit and humor to score points, and clean humor at that. My God, what a concept. In short, it's a movie that you could take an eight-year-old to see and you wouldn't have to deal with any embarrassing questions afterwards. Also, if you ask me, there's something to be said for movies -- especially romantic comedies, which this was -- that actually have smart dialogue.

True, the marketing of the movie might not have been the best. I never got the sense it was marketed to couples or families, and it might not have been the best move to launch a football movie right when baseball season is opening up and basketball and hockey are headed to their playoffs. The multiplex where I watched the movie was deserted -- no doubt because a) everything else playing was shit and b) the Red Sox were playing the Yankees. In my own theatre, there were all of four people watching "Leatherheads," and I was the youngest one of them. Not good signs, if you ask me.

But that didn't take away from the goodness and beauty of the film, which really was quite well done, and managed to capture the feel of the Roaring Twenties. I always like movies about the Roaring Twenties. For one thing, I like seeing everyone having a good time, because God knows the Thirties and Forties weren't a picnic. For another, the mid-Twenties seemed like a pretty good time -- one full of optimism and full of hope. Of course, as we know, it's easy to be full of hope and optimism when the stock market is booming thanks to a margin-fueled bubble, but hey. Good times were had, and it's nice to see that on film these days; it's a nice escape.

Anyway, the plot takes some explaining, so here goes. Of course, before I do that, I should deliver a quick primer on the history of professional football in America.

As I think we all know, American football was the brainchild of none other than George Washington, and the first football game was played at Valley Forge in 1778. The first epic battle, between Col. Henry Purvis' Fighting Wolverines and Maj. Enoch Tarleton's Redcoat-Buckeyes, resulted in the Wolverines defeating the Buckeyes by the amazing score of 42-3. But in the years to come, football went dormant, as the victorious Americans became soft and decadent and started playing baseball.

However, in the late 19th century, thanks to the efforts of various American heroes, football started to develop into the great sport we know today. By the early 20th century, college football was wildly popular -- extremely dangerous, but still wildly popular. Eventually, massive crowds would turn out to watch college football games -- but professional football, which was formally established in 1920 with the creation of what is now the National Football League, struggled in its infancy. However, it started to pick up speed when the league started hiring football stars out of college -- such as Jim Thorpe, who was paid $250 a game when the Canton Bulldogs signed him in 1915. (When you consider a bricklayer at the time made $33 a week for 44 hours on the job, that made Mr Thorpe kind of a big deal).

Anyway, this is the period in which "Leatherheads" is set -- as professional football is first starting to make its way from an also-ran of a sport to an actual professional phenomenon. (There are some parts in the film where the historical aspects of football's development are completely laughable, but by that point you're having too much fun to really mind). George Clooney's character, Dodge Connolly, is the team captain of the woeful Duluth Bulldogs, who play to pitiful crowds and are lucky if they can get to the next town for their next game. Teams in their league are folding left and right, and Duluth itself finds itself in big trouble. Enter clean-cut Princeton College football star and war hero Carter Rutherford (John Krasinski), whom Clooney convinces to play for Duluth and provides the spark to relight football's pilot light. Enter Lexie Littleton (Renee Zellweger), who is investigating whether Rutherford's tales of heroism are all they're cracked up to be. With two guys and one girl, you can see where this is going.

All in all, though, "Leatherheads" was a fun movie and thoroughly enjoyable to watch -- and Mr Clooney got the classic "big football game" at the end just right. (Football fans who watch it will understand why). As I said, it's a shame the movie hasn't done well at the box office, but I'll probably pick it up on DVD when it comes out. Good movies about football -- that also happen to be good movies in and of themselves -- are precious hard to find.

The Silent Killer: Death by Blogging

THE NEW YORK TIMES has published an article that suggests all is not well in the blogging world. According to the Paper of Record, some professional bloggers are working under sweatshop style conditions, being forced to toil for the modern equivalent of piece work, and suffering accordingly. Even worse, a couple bloggers have actually died -- a result, the paper suggests, of their blog-centered lives.

I would be more sympathetic to the Times story if I did not happen to know professional conditions for young journalists just starting out are not particularly lucrative. For instance, I was talking with a relative some time ago when she told me a young man she knew had just started out working on a weekly newspaper, located back in the Midwest. She told me all about his job and what he was supposed to do, and etc., and my reaction to this was: "Eighteen thousand?" Although the young man made more than that per year, it was not much more than that, and he was certainly expected to work hard for that money. (My relative, however, was appalled at how close I was to guessing the kid's pay).

Of course, once you get into the higher echelons of the field, you can and do make more -- in many cases, considerably more. For instance, at the New York Times, reporters' top minimum salaries are about $87,000 per annum. But starting out at the very bottom rung -- challenging in many fields -- is particularly challenging in journalism. It's simply a supply and demand function. A lot of people want to write, and there aren't that many jobs, so the pay is lower. This dynamic continues as you go higher in the field, but since the skills and experience required for those higher-level jobs are more demanding, it reduces the supply of available workers, who can thus demand higher wages for their services. Somehow, I'm guessing things are the same in the professional blogging world.

So for the Times to suggest that bloggers are working in some sweatshop-style environment is a bit much, because neither bloggers nor journalists do so. When you're a professional, you work hard, and when you're just starting out, you work hard for not that much money. It is the way of things.

Also, to be perfectly blunt about it, a journalist's life (or a professional blogger's life) is not equivalent to that of, you know, a hod carrier, or a breakfast waitress, or those of myriad other people who work very hard in physically demanding jobs for not all that much money. A journalist gets to talk with people and write about it. A professional blogger does much the same, and due to the nature of blogging gets to have more fun with his work. It's not like they're putting up drywall for a living. This helps explain why lots of people want to write for a living -- it is fun work and they enjoy it. It's not as if the professional bloggers -- or the professional journalists, for that matter -- are slaving away cooking bricks in an oven.

I would argue that for the vast majority of bloggers, blogging is -- dare I say it -- fun. For me, at any rate, blogging is a great stress reliever -- I get to write about things in which I'm interested, crack a few jokes here and there, and talk with other people about them. I don't make any money at it, and in fact, lose $71.40 per year to engage in my hobby. For me, it also carries the benefit of being able to improve my skill set -- the faster I can write and the better I can write, the better it is for me.

Could I make money at this? Well, perhaps. Certainly one of the reasons I blog is to have something I could monetize in the very unlikely event I find myself made redundant. But since at this point blogging for cash would require me to turn over about 40 percent of my profits to the Government, and could also open up a can of worms I don't want to open, I've elected to keep the non-profit model. I'm perfectly fine with that.

But I would imagine that nearly all the bloggers who are paid for their work don't rely on it for their full-time income -- and most of the top bloggers out there still keep their day jobs. Rather, they find themselves in the enviable position of being able to make money through a hobby -- and so I doubt the circumstances described in the Times' story would apply to them.

Man of the People Bowls a 37

LIKE NEARLY ALL Midwesterners, your humble correspondent grew up bowling. Although I was never any good at it -- save one brilliant exception* -- I did manage to gain a measure of competence at the game in my day. I was typically good for a score in the low 100s using my patented "throw the ball really hard" system.

Now that I am older, I haven't been bowling in years, and I daresay I've gotten a bit rusty. Plus, up here in New England, most places you go have "candlepin bowling," which is a regional variant of bowling unique to New England and the Maritime provinces of Canada. The pins are a bit different, and you get three shots per frame instead of two, and the balls are tiny. Under the rules, they can't weigh more than about 2 1/2 pounds, and they can't be more than 4.5 inches wide. Basically, it's bowling for wimps.

Well, it is, I'm sorry. Gad. Anyway, the last time I went bowling -- real, ten-pin bowling -- I scored in the low 100s and I daresay I could do it again. So what I want to know is how Senator Barack Obama, D-Ill., scored a 37 when bowling in Altoona, Pa., recently. No, really. How the hell do you score a 37 at ten-pin?

I mean, think about it for a second. That's an average of 1.85 pins per throw -- or 1.76 pins if Sen Obama somehow picked up a spare on the tenth frame -- and works out to 3.7 pins per frame. I mean, that's bad. There's no polite way to put it.

From the news reports, one couldn't tell why the senator had performed so badly, other than the fact he hadn't bowled in about 30 years. But fortunately, in this day and age, we have video of Sen Obama graciously bowling badly:

Could you tell the problem in that video? I think I picked it up, and if I'm right, the senator's throwing style was once like my own. Look how Sen Obama follows through. It looks as if his "swing" is a bit slanted. He's bowling with his left arm, but it looks as if when he releases the ball, his release sends the ball to the right due to his follow-through motion. I had the exact same problem -- as a right-handed bowler, I would send the ball left into the gutter because my follow-through wasn't straight. Once I learned how to deliver a straight follow-through -- something that took repeated lessons to learn -- my game markedly improved.

As a result, I am confident Sen Obama's game will improve once he changes his throwing style, and embarks on a consistent practice regimen. As it happens, the White House has a bowling alley of its very own. Should the senator win the election in November, he'll have plenty of opportunity to practice. True, one could argue the next president will have many more important things to worry about during his tenure. But I always found bowling rather relaxing, and perhaps he would as well.

-------
* This brilliant exception took place during my high school years, in which I went bowling at the old-school bowling alley at Western Michigan University with friends, including Simon From Jersey, who can thus vouch for this story. During one game, yours truly managed to bowl a downright amazing game -- a 227, or a 231, or something like that. For some reason, everyone had an outstanding game.

This was especially amazing since my average at the time was in the 120 to 130 range. It was also especially amazing because near the end of our play -- I can't remember if it was the same game -- one of my throws went astray. It tipped over into the gutter near the end of the lane, hit a loose metal part of the gutter, flew up out of the gutter and struck the pin display over the lane, then crashed back down onto the lane and knocked over a bunch of pins. It ruled. Understandably, we soon left afterwards, as the pin display looked a little worse for wear. And I'm not kidding -- Simon can vouch for this. Unfortunately, Simon can also vouch for the time I was shooting pool and managed to break all the lightbulbs in the lamp hanging over the table. (Don't ask).

Oddly, the pool hall is a bank now.

For God's Sake, It's Almost April!

THE WEATHER FORECAST calls for four to six inches of snow to hit on Friday. You have got to be kidding me. It's almost April. We're supposed to be done with all this winter crap.

Yeah! We're No. 24!

JANE'S INFORMATION GROUP, the British intelligence firm, has released a study ranking the world's nations in order of their relative stability and prosperity. This will come as a shock to many readers, but the United States of America is ranked ... 24th. Yes, 24th, out of 235. Although many of the top 50 nations aren't far apart -- the top nations earn a score of 99, compared to America's 93 -- this is a troubling state of affairs.

I mean, depending on how once looks at it, one can argue America's rank should be far different. Some might argue America should be ranked No. 1, because we rule. Others -- like me -- would put America at No. 6 or No. 7, behind super-stable and super-tiny states like Luxembourg. Still others would look at the No. 24 ranking and say, we should be down in the forties or fifties. No matter what one's view, everyone can stand up and say, "Hey! We're America, goddammit! We're a hell of a lot more prosperous / stable / mercenary / dangerous than 24th! What the hell's up with that?!"

I myself wonder how the ranking came about. Did the guy from Jane's get stuck on I-94 near Detroit, or the Cross-Bronx Expressway? Did he get heartburn in Phoenix? Did he get lost in East St. Louis? Did he turn into the wrong alley in New York, and find himself accosted by the criminal element?

MUGGER: Gimme your wallet!
JANE'S MAN: What!
MUGGER: You deaf or something? Gimme your wallet!
JANE'S MAN: No!
MUGGER: That's it!
(a struggle ensues)
JANE'S MAN: Of all the antisocial things I've ever --
MUGGER: What the hell's this? Don't you have any euros in here?
SECOND MUGGER: No, man, those are pounds! They're better than euros!
MUGGER: Yeah, but there's like ₤45 in here.
JANE'S MAN: Ah, but those are worth $900 in American dollars.
MUGGER: Who asked you?
SECOND MUGGER: Dude, you're right. Let's see if he has any euros on him.

In any event, let's look at the nations Jane's ranked, most of which inexplicably ranked higher than the United States. This might be alarming for some of us Yankees, so remember -- if you come across something you think is crap, start chanting U-S-A! U-S-A! loudly. It freaks out the foreigners.

--------

1. VATICAN CITY
As a Roman Catholic, I can only take pride and joy in this ranking. I mean, of course the Vatican is No. 1. Apostolic succession, baby! Besides, just because only 800 people actually live there is beside the point: this is a country with 1.1 billion people around the world obeying (well, kinda sorta) its commands. Also, the Papacy has its legions -- well, legion -- well, battalion -- OK, company -- of Swiss Guards, who have swords and fancy uniforms. Of course, as every Catholic knows, the Vatican has plans in place to seize Naval Base San Diego for its own -- but only if push comes to shove.

2. SWEDEN
One fails to understand how a nation with an expensive social-welfare scheme -- to say nothing of the fact it produced ABBA -- ranks second on a list ranking stable and prosperous nations.

3. LUXEMBOURG
Ah, Luxembourg! It's like Liechtenstein's older brother. Actually, this one makes sense.

4. MONACO
Yay Monaco! Would love to visit this charming place. No income tax! The Grand Prix! Wonderful!

5. GIBRALTAR
Eh? Gibraltar? But don't the Spanish want it back? Isn't that a bit problematic?

6. SAN MARINO
Yeah, that would make sense too -- after all, everybody from Rome on down pretty much ignored the place until now, and you know, it doesn't seem like that will change.

7. LICHTENSTEIN
This was 3rd prior to the LGT scandal!

8. GREAT BRITAIN
Dear God! What an idea! Britain? Eighth? They must be mad; or, if not mad, have forgotten the old Biblical admonition that one ought not point out the mote in someone else's eye whilst ignoring the beam in one's own. I mean, my God. It's Britain. The Government is taxing everyone to death, the politicians have crippled the military, the criminals run rampant throughout the streets causing strife and mischief, and the middle classes are oppressed. Britain! Eighth! What an idea!

9. THE NETHERLANDS
Give it time. Something will happen here. After all, it was pretty prosperous and stable before the panzers zoomed through back in 1940.

10. IRELAND
If the Jane's folks had stayed a week longer, they might have given it a better ranking!

11. NEW ZEALAND
Gained 30 places once Jane's realized New Zealand would be the only place left standing in the event of a thermonuclear war, and simply because the bad guys forgot about it.

12. DENMARK
Placed 12th, at least until they publish some more cartoons.

13. AUSTRIA
Still hasn't fully recovered from the 30 places it lost when Falco gained international fame in 1985.

14. ANDORRA
This makes sense too. I mean, this is a country that declared war on Germany in World War I -- and didn't settle things officially until 1957, primarily because Wilson forgot to invite them to Versailles.

15. GERMANY
Fünfzehntes! Ach du lieben! Ach, Warten Sie eine Minute! Ihre Papiere, bitte! Ihre Papiere!

16. ICELAND
This was published before the Icelandic krona fell through the floor and landed on its head in the basement.

17. SWITZERLAND
Damn the European Union and its money-laundering laws!

18. PORTUGAL
A nice country that is known for its enjoyable and pleasant beaches, scenery, and so on. This may explain its 18th ranking.

19. AUSTRALIA
Tentative ranking. Permanent ranking 42nd, after Jane's men subjected to hours-long rendition of "Waltzing Matilda."

20. NORWAY
20th place obtained after accounting for oil money (+37), herring (-18).

21. MALTA
Originally ranked 53rd, but score improved after offering second passports to Jane's men.

22. FRANCE
Feh! We spit on your Jane's Information Group and your filthy rating scheme! Why, everyone knows Jean's Information Group has ranked France first, no? Qu'est-ce que c'est? Les banlieues? Les no-go areas? Minor irritations, we can assure you! Vive le France!

23. CANADA
Oh, for crying out loud, we're never going to hear the end of this from the Canadians, are we?

24. THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!
All right! 24th! Yeah! ... uh ... wait a minute. We're 24th?! WTF? Who came up with this stupid list anyway? Who? Never heard of them ... well, there's got to be some mistake. I mean, 24th ... there's no mistake? Uh ... U-S-A! U-S-A! Sorry, I can't hear you. U-S-A! U-S-A!

25. BELGIUM
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold the phone a minute. Belgium's 25th? Their whole stupid country's coming apart at the seams and they're 25th, and we're 24th? What the hell?

26. SPAIN
Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead!

27. ITALY
Italy would care about this, except it is too busy enjoying a nice lunch with some great wine. Also, it won the World Cup, so it does not have to care what the English think.

28. JAPAN
Japan got screwed. Second largest economy, no crime whatsoever, pretty country -- and it's 28th.

29. FINLAND
The Finns are reserving judgment.

30. CZECH REPUBLIC
This sounds about right, actually. Not that I have any basis for saying that, it just feels right.

....

42. ST. PIERRE and MIQUELOT
An idyllic French overseas territory that oddly exists just a few miles from North America. This unfortunate geographic happenstance accounts for most of its low ranking, as either the Canadians or Americans will get fed up with this someday and invade it.

....

229. ZIMBABWE
Do you think a dollar should be worth a dollar? Well, thanks to 100,000 pc inflation -- that is not a typo -- one dollar is worth Z$70 million (or, alternatively, Z$70 billion if one discounts the revaluation of Aug. 1, 2006). A quarter-century ago, the ZWD and USD were at parity. Of course, these figures were relevant as of Mar. 19. It is now Mar. 25, meaning six days have passed ... and God only knows how far the ZWD has fallen since.

You know, for once, even I'd agree that it would be a good idea to buy gold.

....

234. SOMALIA
Well, yes, the whole "no functioning Government" bit might cloud things.

235. GAZA/WEST BANK
Just for the record, it's really bad when your country -- or territory, I guess -- ends up being ranked below a place with no functioning Government. Of course, I suppose the problem here is that Gaza and the West Bank have two functioning Governments -- both of which hate each other, and one of which has apparently no problem with angering its much larger neighbor by lobbing missiles at it. This is not exactly what one would call a recipe for success.

----

BASED ON THE ABOVE, I'm starting to think America's 24th place ranking might not be so bad, after all -- even if it is a little annoying. I mean, come on -- did we have to get ranked lower than the Canadians? It's bad enough their dollar is worth as much as ours is -- now we have yet another indignity with which to deal. As for Britain, I remain convinced that its 8th-place ranking (technically, tied for seventh) is a bit rich. But then, beauty is in the eye of the beholder ...

Basketball Haikus (Part II)

No. 10 DAVIDSON, 82; No. 7 GONZAGA, 76

What! Gonzaga lost?!
Once again, my dreams are dashed
as the Zags are crushed

After all, without
Michigan, just who am I
supposed to root for?

No. 12 WESTERN KENTUCKY, 101; No. 5 DRAKE, 99 (OT)
No. 13 SAN DIEGO, 70; No. 4 CONNECTICUT, 69 (OT)

Overtime glory
propelled underdogs to win
intense victories

Cinderella teams
could meet in the Sweet Sixteen
oh, how that would rule.

No. 7 WEST VIRGINIA, 73; No. 2 DUKE, 67

HA! HA HA HA HA!
Oh, praise the Lord's sweet mercy!
For Duke has gone down!

One could only hope
Duke's football team can improve;
they're not gauche at all.

It's That Time of Year Again: Basketball Haikus!

ONCE AGAIN, THE RANT shall look at one of America's truly great sporting events, the NCAA Division I men's basketball tournament, and record the glory and the heartbreak, the suspense and the excitement, the victories and defeats -- in haiku. The first day of this year's tournament was an interesting one, so let us begin with an introductory poem:

March to the trenches
the autumn wind, a pirate
-- oops, that's the wrong sport

Sorry. My brain is tired; very tired; for I can assure you I got home from work at like 10:15. Let's try again, shall we?

Alas, Michigan
Basketball is not your game
and Threet's your QB

Well, two out of three lines isn't bad, anyway. Anyway, now that I'm in a basketball frame of mind, now let's commence:

No. 3 WASHINGTON STATE, 71; No. 14 WINTHROP, 40

A project beating
was delivered on Winthrop;
not pretty to watch.

After all, Winthrop
used to be an all right team;
what the hell happened?

No. 2 DUKE, 71; No. 15 BELMONT, 70

You rotten bastards!
Escaping by just one point!
Damn your wretched luck!

May you fall broken
in the second round of play;
that would be enough!

No. 11 KANSAS STATE, 80; No. 6 USC, 67

Song Girls' beauty
will not mask your grim failure;
nor soothe gaping wounds.

Remember -- palmam
qui meruit ferat -- aye,
recall, and shudder.

No. 3 XAVIER, 73; No. 14 GEORGIA, 61

Our brackets are saved!
cried the people 'cross the land;
Xavier came back!

Well, no, one doubts that --
for it is just basketball;
but God is cryptic.

That's it for this edition of NCAA Basketball Haikus. But we've got plenty of basketball to go, too, so let's make the most of it!

This Would Be My Future in the Service

A WHILE BACK, I decided that if war or other national emergency compelled me to join the armed forces, I'd sign up for the U.S. Navy. There's a few reasons for that. One, family history. Two, Pug Henry was in the Navy, and Pug Henry kicks ass. Three, you don't need a reason three with Pug Henry as reason two. Oh, and four, Navy has a better football team.

However, I have a feeling the Navy would look at me and figure I would ... well, fit the profile of this recruitment video.

I mean, hey. I've been on ship, OK? It's embarrassing when you try to climb all those ladders -- which are straight up, dammit -- and after four or five of them you're starting to flag and you start wondering if all the sailors are covertly rolling their eyes and snickering at you, Mr Out of Shape Civilian. Especially the hot girl sailors. Crikey, that was almost enough to start making me think about getting into shape.

But Nothing Tops These Guys ...

ON A MORE SERIOUS NOTE, NO ONE does commercials like the Marines. No one.

Quote of the Day

If the French had invented baseball, we'd call it a lazy, pointless, nagging game with an inept strategy and 162 game marathon of a season, full of seemingly meaningless small victories of style over substance. Instead, the US of A did, so it's our pastime, a glorious ode to all things American.

-- Simon from Jersey

All-Star Game Focus: Basketball Is Not a Sport

WITH THE NBA All-Star Game on tap for Sunday evening, this seems like as good a time as any to declare a theory I've been mulling for some time now. Although it may infuriate some of my readers and appall others, I am going to throw down my gauntlet and openly declare: basketball is not a sport.

Now, I understand many Loyal Rant Readers may be shaking their heads and saying, "But Bennnnnnnnnn. Basketball is one of the nation's most popular ... uh, competitive activities! How could you say such a thing? Besides, look at the athleticism it requires!" As a result, allow me to address this point before I lay out my case against the game of basketball.

There is no denying basketball requires considerable athleticism. After all, most of the game involves running down a 92 foot court, stopping for a bit, and then running back up the court. This continues for 48 minutes and is not fun. Also, one must be adept at throwing the ball into the hoop, which is not easy. I know it is not easy because I played basketball for one year as a boy, and during this time managed to score all of one basket. So I do not mean to disparage the athleticism of those playing the game.

That said, basketball's still not a frickin' sport. Here's why:

Item. It was invented by a Canadian. As such, its claim of being a real sport is suspect. True, this Canadian invented the game while in Massachusetts, but the way the Canadians talk up Naismith's accomplishment, you would think he walked over the Detroit River with a halo and glowing basketball. Thus, if we all got together and declared basketball wasn't a sport, it could deflate Canada's giant smugness reserve -- at least until the loonie becomes worth more than the dollar again.

Item. One of basketball's major influences, Amos Alonzo Stagg -- yes, that Amos Alonzo Stagg -- decided to focus most of his life's energies upon American football, the greatest sport in the history of man. This, I would suggest, says a lot about the respective games of football and basketball, as well as for my theory. It is one thing to argue with me, but arguing with Amos Alonzo Stagg? Good luck with that.

Item. Unlike football, which has clear and concise rules for everyone that are easily understood and uniformly enforced, basketball's rules are murky, opaque, and byzantine. The rules are also enforced in an arbitrary and capricious manner, said manner depending on factors such as whether the referee is in a bad mood, has selective vision, or is trying to throw the game for syndicate men.

Item. Along these lines, consider the frequent occurrence in basketball of rule violations, known as "fouls." There are approximately 625,000 fouls that everyone -- ranging from players to coaches to hot-dog vendors -- can commit. However, unlike in football -- where a false start is a false start -- fouls in basketball are apparently a subjective thing. Major stars can break certain rules (e.g. travelling), while other players can get fouled for having the audacity to get run over by a charging forward. Also, there are apparently times when it's OK to call fouls, and not OK to call them.

As an example of this, I would note a recent college basketball game I watched between Georgetown University and Villanova University, two long-time powerhouses of the game. At the close of this game, which was remarkable due to both sides' ineptitude at actually playing basketball, the score was tied at 53-53. Villanova had the ball in the final seconds and tried to score, but failed. Georgetown recovered the ball with just a couple of seconds to go and was turning down the court when a Villanova player brushed a Georgetown player. A foul was called with one-tenth of a second remaining. Georgetown took two foul shots, made them, and won, 55-53.

This pathetic call, which decided the game instead of forcing the matter to an overtime period, was upheld despite several instances earlier in the game where clear misconduct went unpunished. This, and innumerable instances like it, does not aid basketball's reputation as a sport.

Item. The commission of fouls, something which is avoided in real sports, is actively encouraged during the waning moments of a basketball game as a strategic ploy and time-management tool. Aside from unnecessarily dragging the game out, this tactic allows bad teams to scheme their way towards victory, as opposed to actually beating their opponents like men.

Item. The National Basketball Association's season is 82 games long. As a result, no one really cares about the NBA until its playoffs commence, some six months after the regular season has begun.

Item. 16 NBA teams make it to the playoffs each year. There are only 30 teams in the league. This works out to a playoff acceptance rate of 53 pc. Compare this to baseball, where eight out of 30 teams (27 pc) make it into the playoffs, and football, where 12 out of 32 teams (37 pc) make it into the playoffs.

Finally, the proof that basketball isn't a real sport is borne out in public opinion surveys, which show basketball's popularity is on the wane. No less an authority than the Harris Poll -- whose unimpeachable authority I note here -- notes that just 8 pc of the American public consider basketball (either professional or collegiate) as their favorite sport. (That's down from 19 pc ten years ago).

This compares to 42 pc for pro and college football, 15 pc for baseball, and 10 pc for auto racing. AUTO RACING. Auto racing may be competitive, but it sure as hell isn't a sport. And perhaps an even more damning finding is that, when one breaks apart pro and college basketball, each sub-group is less popular than ice hockey. Ice hockey -- the red-headed stepchild of American sport! What does it say about the NBA that the NHL -- which kicked its fans in the teeth for an entire year and then laughed in their faces -- has a more enthusiastic following?

In conclusion, I think I've made a powerful case that basketball is not a real sport, and that Loyal Rant Readers should instead follow real sports, like American football, or baseball, or even ice hockey. Unless, of course, basketball is the only thing on television. Or it's March Madness and you can root for the underdogs in the tourney. I'm rooting again for Gonzaga this year.

AFSCME: The ^%#^@%! Union that Works for YOU!

The above video is an extremely profane parody, apparently made in the late Seventies, of a public-relations advertisement for AFSCME, the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees. It is also riotously funny. If you watch it -- and you should -- do watch it at home, or with headphones at the office. Did I mention it was extremely profane and riotously funny? OK, you've been warned. Especially if you're a mid-to-senior level executive who still has a thing for Seventies-era fashion.

Crikey, What A Week

SORRY ABOUT THE ABSENCE. Between an emergency room visit on Saturday night, and the recuperating from the issue that sent me to the emergency room, I haven't exactly been in a blogging mode. You know, because I've been weak and in pain and what not. But I will be back soon. For those of you unfamiliar with what sent me to hospital, here's a helpful video to show what I've been through. Well, except the "falling from a tall building bit." Oh, and it didn't involve my knees. But still, it's a good approximation:

Long story short: it was serious, but not too serious, and I'll be fine. Happy landings, everybody!

Well, I Didn't See THAT Coming

UH, SO IT TURNS OUT a former Congressman -- who once represented Michigan's 6th Congressional District, where I grew up -- has been charged with helping an "Islamic charity" funnel money to al-Qaeda in Pakistan. No, really. That's what the Detroit Free Press says:

A former Republican congressman from west Michigan was indicted today on federal charges of money laundering, conspiracy and obstruction of justice in a scheme to assist a U.S.-based Islamic charity organization funnel money to Al Qaeda and Taliban-linked terrorists in Pakistan.

Mark Siljander, 56, also a former state legislator from St. Joseph County, was hired by the Islamic American Relief Agency in 2004 to assist in having the group removed from a U.S. Senate list of terrorist-linked charities, according to a statement released by the Department of Justice, then helping the group launder stolen federal funds with which to pay for his services. ...

Siljander served five years in Congress beginning in 1981 when he was elected to replace David Stockman, who had been hired as President Ronald Reagan’s budget chief. He was defeated in a re-election bid in 1986 by U.S. Rep. Fred Upton, R-Kalamazoo, following a well-publicized incident in which Siljander sent an audio tape to church pastors in the district urging them to fast and pray for his re-election to “break the back of Satan.” Today’s indictment describes Siljander as the owner of a company called Global Strategies Inc., based in the Washington D.C., area.

OK, the whole "re-elect me and I can carry out my delusional messianic ambitions" bit? As someone who grew up in western Michigan during the Eighties, this does not surprise me. The "help fund America's enemies for one's own tawdry personal gain" bit -- well, that does.

It's Not Just a Job, It's an Adventure!

HEY, MUSICIANS! Uncle Sam wants YOU -- yes, YOU -- to provide Our Boys serving abroad with Musical-Themed Entertainment! Not only will you get to meet interesting people, visit new and exciting places, and generally rock out with the enlisted men, you'll actually get paid -- in actual U.S. dollars!

Professional Celebrity Rock Music Band, group not to exceed seven people for tour of FOB's in Kuwait and Afghanistan for February 4-13 2008. The band should be an active rock band, with a music genre consisting of Southern Rock, Pop Rock, Post-Grunge and Hard Rock. At least one member of the band should be recognizable as a professional celebrity. Protective military equipment, such as kevlar, body armour, eye and ear protection will be provided when the group is travelling on military rotary or fixed wing aircraft.

Interested bands should remember to pepper their applications with plenty of military lingo: for instance, note how their MTE, as part of an MST, will result in a non-SFUS even if everything gets FUBARed. But remember to use Army acronyms! If you screw up and assure the Army there is no way BUPERS will have to deal with the ONI as a result of your visit, they will wad up your application, stomp on it, and then throw it in the trash. So be vigilant!

Also: note that Today's Army is Not the Army of the Seventies, when you could get away with all sorts of wacky shit.

So the Gallup People Wanted to Know My Opinion ...

SO THIS EVENING I got a call from the nice people at the Gallup Poll wanting to know who I was supporting in the New Hampshire Presidential Primary. Normally, I would not have answered the call -- I don't answer the phone if I don't recognize the telephone number -- but I did this evening just because I wanted to hear the pitch I'd get.

As it happened, a nice lady from Nebraska was on the other end of the line and wanted -- oddly -- to speak with the person 18 years or older who had most recently celebrated his birthday. After looking around, I realized this person was me. However, before my questioner could get any farther, I interjected and said that my line of work prevented me from taking part in any polls. Given my line of work, this generally results in the pollster saying, "Thank you," and me saying, "Good night."

Not tonight, though. Much to my surprise, my questioner said this didn't matter at all -- which kind of floored me. I mean, I'm sorry, but there are 400,000 people expected to vote in the primary. Surely the Gallup people would want a "civilian" taking part in their survey. But it was the next line of questioning which really made me chuckle -- don't you, the pollster asked, want to voice YOUR OPINION about the race? Well, not really, no.

At that point, I realized New Hampshire's really starting to rub off on me. Not only did I not want to give my opinion to some pollster, I wanted my opinion to be a goddamn surprise on primary day. (At least to the world at large). That said, I daresay the best reporting on the presidential primary so far comes from none other than Dave Barry, who writes:

And so the eyeballs of the world turn to New Hampshire, a tiny, flinty, gritty, Dunkin' Donuts-intensive state located mostly inside the Arctic Circle. On Tuesday, the voters here will troop to the polls, where -- as they have done every four years since 1952 -- they will turn around and troop back home, because the polls, like virtually everything else here, are under 23 feet of snow.

But a few people, the truly flinty ones, will manage to actually vote, and they will determine the course of this presidential race -- and, yes, America's future -- for approximately two news cycles. Then the eyeballs of the world will turn to either North or South Carolina (nobody is sure which) and the people of New Hampshire will go back to their traditional flinty New England lifestyle of sitting around eating doughnuts and waiting for the August thaw.

"Dunkin' Donuts-intensive." Heh. YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I mean, they have locations in HOSPITALS up here.

Perhaps it's warranted, actually. Although the company does sell donuts, few people around here really seem to go for them. It's the coffee, made with the finest arabica beans and a healthy dose of stimutax, that people demand -- to the point where if the world ends anytime soon, Dunkin' Donuts coffee will prove more valuable than gold, more sought after than penicillin, and more fought over than canned goods.

Fortunately, as a transplanted Midwesterner, I am immune to these temptations. This is good, because in the event of a disaster, I'll be able to stock up on the stuff and make a mint. Admittedly, the whole "world-ending" disaster thing might put a crimp in my scheme to profit from any shortage, but I'd still be able to do all right with my idea -- after all, I'd need to have something to barter for my Diet Cherry Coke. I may even start stocking up now. With the way the market's been, buying Dunkin' Donuts coffee beans would probably deliver a better return than any of my other investments.

I Am So There on Opening Day

STEVE CARELL? As Maxwell Smart? I am so there. I just hope they haven't screwed things up too much in making the Updated Adaption From an Old Television Show, which is always Fraught With Peril. I mean, the show was so great because it was so silly. Maxwell Smart heading up the secret agents' union? KAOS establishing the secret POW camp in South Jersey? Approximately eight million running gags? Genius. So I hope they've kept to that somewhat in making the new film.

The Rose Bowl Parade Ought Not Be Televised

I KNOW WHAT I'm about to say may seem a bit curmudgeonly, but does anyone else find the Rose Bowl parade spectacularly boring television? I mean, it's a parade. You have floats and marching bands and balloons and a beauty queen here and there and people lined along the streets. That's all well and good, but the broadcast is ... two hours long. It would be one thing if it was a movie, but it's a parade. Thus, it's about as interesting as "Festival of Patriotic Songs" or some other television show from the old Eastern Bloc.

Now they're showing the float for the 2008 Olympics in Beijing. Say, I knew this broadcast reminded me of something:

I Have Been Called Out As a Jingoistic Nationalist

FOR THE RECORD, I LOVE TECHNORATI. It allows me to find out blog posts that reference The Rant, which is very handy considering I might well overlook people responding to my posts, or holding my work up as examples of things wrong with our culture, polity, etc.

Anyway, thanks to Technorati, I noticed that a post I wrote a while back has been held up as prima facie evidence that Americans boorishly and arrogantly claim we are the greatest nation in the world.

I would be more sympathetic to this argument had the writer not used my "In 'N' Out Burger Served Up a 100-Decker Cheeseburger" post as his prima facie evidence. I mean, come on: how could anyone not be proud of America in such a situation, where our grand system of free enterprise allows people to get a 100x100 from In 'N' Out? Besides, this post was notably free of the petty regionalism to which I'm admittedly prone, and was composed with nothing but love and admiration for the nation I call home.

Anyway, our writer, Mr Michael J Gonda, argues as follows:

Of all the pressing matters in front of the people, the starkest is the fact that many Americans do not really understand or know what the meaning of freedom really actually is.

This can be attributed to a number of factors, including our lack of knowledge about our own history, our mental amnesia in connection with any world events preceding 9/11/2001, and our stubborn (arrogant) claim that we are the greatest nation in the world - not arrogant, just the greatest - and think the rest of the world should follow and be replicas of our government and system.

Well, since I've been called out as indicative of this problem -- rather insulting, n'est ce pas? -- I'm going to defend my stance accordingly. For America is the greatest nation in the world: not because of our military might or our geopolitical power, but because we value freedom. This freedom is necessarily entrenched in private property rights, the rule of law, our capitalist system and our openness towards allowing people to create wealth and find personal fulfillment. That doesn't mean the rest of the world should replicate our Government and system -- but it does mean we do a lot of things right. Other nations here on God's green earth could improve the lives of their citizens if they embraced the freedoms which we in America enjoy.

And I'm not going to apologize for making an entirely positive case on behalf of the United States -- especially when so many people from abroad would give their right arms to move here, and when people in the most wretched corners of the earth look to us for help and inspiration. I'm not suggesting there isn't room for us to improve -- that would be a bit much -- but sometimes it seems those who run down the United States are like parents who criticize their kid for getting a 95 on a test instead of 100. Let's keep things in perspective here, shall we?

My Favorite Restaurant in Manchester Has Burned Down

SO I HAD a great Christmas with my family back in Ohio -- spent some time with my parents, got to hang out with my little brother, and had an all-around great time. Then I got back to New Hampshire and discovered ...

MY FAVORITE RESTAURANT BURNED DOWN.

GODDAMMIT.

For months on end, I went about once a week to TR Brennan's on Hanover Street for breakfast. This was because they had a downright excellent spread and the best omelettes in all of Manchester, at least in my judgment. Also you could get real hash browns as opposed to these pre-cut flash-frozen home fries a lot of places in New England serve. As if that wasn't enough, their lunch and dinner menu was excellent also -- it was a good place to go for a casual evening meal, and my parents and I frequently went there when they were in town.

But now that's kaputski, at least for a few months -- the owners, God bless them, say they hope to rebuild. But what an absolute disaster! Now I really feel guilty for having taken a break over the holidays from the place; because now I'm going to have to wait MONTHS to get a great omelette again. Plus, they had just repainted the outside and it was really a nice place and -- ugh.

This completely and utterly sucks.

The Pros and Cons of the Celebrity Culture

RECENTLY, IN AN INTERVIEW with Time magazine, the writer Stephen King heaped much scorn and ridicule upon what Mr King termed America's "celebrity culture." It was a rather fascinating interview, and during it, Mr King said:

I think there ought to be some serious discussion by smart people, really smart people, about whether or not proliferation of things like The Smoking Gun and TMZ and YouTube and the whole celebrity culture is healthy. We've switched from a culture that was interested in manufacturing, economics, politics — trying to play a serious part in the world — to a culture that's really entertainment-based. I mean, I know people who can tell you who won the last four seasons on American Idol and they don't know who their fucking representatives are.

OK, Mr King, here ya go.

Of course it's not healthy -- but not for the reasons one might think.

We can start off the discussion looking at the celebrity culture of which Mr King speaks. The people, Mr King laments, pay an inordinate amount of attention to the zany antics of movie actors, pop singers and -- to a lesser extent -- sports figures. The news media and other media outlets, who have figured out that people will pay for information about these zany antics, thus focus an inordinate amount of attention on these shenanigans. The movie actors, pop singers and sports figures, who have figured out the news media and other media outlets are quite interested in them, thus indulge in more zany antics. This gives them free publicity, which translates into paid subscriptions and bunches of advertising for the media, which allows them to try to satisfy the people's insatiable lust for information about their heroes. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat.

Meanwhile, as the people argue incessantly about whether Britney Spears is a horrible mother, the Important Issues of the Day go unnoticed. The weak dollar and the federal deficit and efforts to reconcile the AMT and disputes over resource extraction -- to say nothing of things happening outside America's borders -- are brushed aside with the argument that only the elites care about such things, and if they are really interested in them they can buy the goddam New York Times. Meanwhile, boatloads of ink are spent disseminating the latest news about Paris Hilton, who is a celebrity yet no one can understand why.

Given this, one could argue that Americans are thus devolving into two separate camps: a technocratic elite that cares deeply about things like Federal Reserve policy and the environmental concerns surrounding extracting oil from the Rocky Mountains, and the easily-distracted commons, who care deeply about things like whether they can find naughty pictures of movie starlets on the Internet.

But I would argue this is not the case. After all, even "smart people" need a bit of brain candy once in a while, while "average Joes" often care about matters like the environment and trade issues, even if they do not take part in the political process or hold just rank-and-file jobs in the economy. There is no reason why one cannot be interested in both subjects, even if the interest in one or the other may seem mystifying to an observer. Furthermore, American culture has long been interested in celebrities -- arguably, ever since the Roaring Twenties, when the entertainment industry and an increasingly well-off public really discovered each other. And even before that, most people were not interested in the weighty subjects of the day, as H.L Mencken observed so wittily.

So why are things different now? I would argue the inordinate focus on celebrities we see today is the direct result of alienation among the American people -- alienation that exists among all economic classes and people of all social backgrounds. To borrow from Kissinger, it is much easier to focus on trivial matters because the stakes are so small. After all, one's life is not going to change tomorrow if one's favorite actress dyes her hair green, or one's favorite quarterback gets caught fighting dogs. Thus it is much easier to be interested in such things.

It is also worth noting this inordinate focus comes as people move away from the traditional support structures this society has offered its people -- the Church, the family, the Government. When people turn away from those support structures, they inevitably look for something to fill the void and the celebrity culture fits the bill. We can see how the celebrity culture has risen even as religiosity, family bonds and trust in Government have waned.

This trend is also apparent in certain aspects of our celebrity culture, which is much different than the culture extant in the pre-war and post-war periods in terms of the aspirations people have.

Back in the Fifties and early Sixties, as various scholars have noted, people aspired to act like the rich, who were well-regarded in society. Thus, people read literature and took an interest in classical music and generally worked to get on board with what society deemed proper. Today, on the other hand, popular culture is very much a reflection of the various troubles affecting the poor: glorification of the street life, glorification of violence and criminality, glorification of consumption and petty decadence. Back in the day, stars were rich and they acted like it. Today, stars are rich, but you'd be hard-pressed to find one who knew the meaning of, or would even flinch at, the age-old insult of parvenu. Thus the only aspiration for regular folks is economic -- they want a bathroom they can play baseball in, as the popular song puts it, and hang everything else.

That, I think, also ties in directly with the economic uncertainty many Americans face: something I would argue reaches well into the upper-middle class. After all, how many people out there actually feel secure in this day and age? I certainly do not, and I daresay I am in a much better position than most (the whole bachelor/no kids thing helps). This, I would submit, is a further level of alienation that separates people from their society. They don't trust the Government, they worry about their jobs and their employment, and their financial situation is -- if not precarious -- at least not where they want it to be.

So if people don't have faith in their own situation, don't have faith in themselves, don't have faith in God, don't have faith in their jobs, and don't have faith in the Government, they turn to the one place where they can have faith, or something that does a fair enough job of approximating it: their favorite stars. They feel they can depend on them because they have nothing else on which to depend. I would also argue people with an inordinate interest in celebrities also probably are lacking in conviction about themselves.

And this is a tragedy. It really is. As such, I find it tough to blame the "celebrity culture" for our problems when its ascendancy is a direct result of society's other institutions dropping the ball.

The way I see it, any solution to this problem -- if one considers it a problem -- must be two-fold. The first, and more important part, must involve Americans getting themselves on a better footing. If Americans rediscovered the values of living frugally, and religiosity, and a strong family, I think people would generally be better off -- or at least have a lot less to worry about. The second part involves society's institutions doing a better job at reaching out to a populace that clearly is in a lot of need. Religious groups need to be more effective, Government needs to be more competent, and businesses need to be more in tune with the communities in which they do business.

OK, thus endeth today's lesson. Which is good, because now I'm depressed. To cheer myself up, I'm going to get work started on another search-engine query post. Yeah.

Winter: A Musical Interlude

----------------

SNOW EVIL 9

Sung to the tune of "Karn Evil 9"
(with apologies to Emerson, Lake & Palmer)

----------------

WELCOME BACK MY FRIENDS,
to the snow that never ends
We're so glad you could attend,
stay inside, stay inside!
Look outside the glass and see the icy cold morass;
see all the drivers crash, move along, move along!

Get inside, the snow's about to start
It'll blow your sinuses apart!
Rest assured there's no reason to delay
though the snow's staying until late May
You've got to see the snow, it'll make you throw
You've got to see the snow, it's damp and cold, oh --

Right before your eyes, see the cursing from the guys;
and they laugh until they cry, and they cry, and they cry.

Get inside, the snow's about to start
It'll blow your sinuses apart!
You've got to see the snow, it'll make you throw
You've got to see the snow, it's damp and cold, oh --

Soon the driving teens in giant SUVs
will around the streets careen, what a scene, what a scene;
Next upon the roads -- you'll want to lay real low --
are the speeding maniacs, foot on gas, foot on gas

Roll up! Roll up! Roll up!
See the snow!

Driving 'round like tools are these imbecilic fools
cut you off on the freeway, lose your cool, lose your cool;
We would it like to be known the idiots who were mocked
make life a living hell -- yes, just hell -- yes, just hell.

Come and see the snow! Come and see the snow!
Come and see the snow!
See the snow!

Report: Networks to Shovel More Crap Onto Airwaves

IT'S TIMES LIKE THIS I'm really glad my television viewing is limited to football and the occasional dose of CNBC. No less a personage than Nikki Finke reports that due to the television and movie writers' strike, the television networks are working on developing a host of crappy game shows to fill airtime.

If this isn't proof the networks are cutting off their nose to spite their face, I don't know what is. As Ms Finke's descriptions of the "game shows" in question show they're all, well, amazingly stupid, I suppose I'm just going to have to hope for a lot of good pro football over the next few months, plus a lot of good football methadone during the horrible seven-month NFL off-season -- arena football and spring football and Canadian football.

You know, Direct TV is starting to look a HELL of a lot more attractive.

Chicago! (Whoa-oh!)

CHICAGO, Nov. 9 -- SO THERE I AM in Chicago with my friends Mark and Norm and we're standing in the lobby of the Chicago Board of Trade on Friday afternoon, trying to wheedle our way into the glorious temple of capitalism. Alas, it was not to be: not only had the exchange closed before we arrived, it was no longer open to the public, and like many of our nation's grand institutions it now required Knowing Someone on the Inside to visit. You know, for security reasons.

Gee, was that disappointing. I mean, it's the CBOT -- where commodities of all kinds are traded, in the name of God and profit, by crazy people wearing funny looking jackets. After being denied at the security desk, I had thought to myself that perhaps we could harass one of these traders to let us in, as a few of them were rushing about. But that didn't seem to be much of an option, because those traders had looks on their faces that seemed to say, "Christ! I'm down-limit on pork bellies!"

So we were disappointed and left without seeing the floor of the exchange. That said, I have to think this whole matter of "security" seems a bit much. I mean, it's the CBOT. If there's any group of people capable of ripping apart limb from limb those who would disrupt their work, it's the people on the CBOT floor.

So yeah, I was in Chicago this weekend on a business trip. Fun stuff and enjoyable all the way around. Got in Friday afternoon and went into the city for much of the day. After dark, we saw the cityscape from the top of the Sears Tower, and it was starkly beautiful; it looked like something out of a science-fiction movie. Then, we made our way back out to O'Hare, where our conference was being held, with a side trip to procure beer.

READER: So where was your conference held exactly?

Shoeless Joe's Sports Bar in Rosemont.

READER: Wait, what?

OK, it was actually held in the Sheraton on the other corner, but much of the scant free time we had was spent in Shoeless Joe's. This was a great sports bar, and especially good for anyone who likes Big Ten football, like I do. Another advantage: Midwestern portions. On Saturday night, whilst watching the Boston College-Maryland game with my friend Norm, my friend Norm got an entire chicken coop's worth of wings, while I can say my order of fried calamari represented the first time I've been presented with a whole squid.

It was a crazy weekend for college football and I am actually glad I didn't get to see most of it. Amazingly, all three college teams of my crew lost this weekend -- Michigan, Ohio State and Boston College. It was downright bizarre. First, Michigan fell to Wisconsin, and then the Fighting Zooks of Illinois stomped Ohio State, and then Maryland beat the Eagles. I did, however, get to watch the Pittsburgh Steelers make an amazing comeback against the Cleveland Browns in NFL action. True, I had to watch at a cramped bar in Concourse B of the United terminal at O'Hare, but I still got to see most of it. I would have preferred, though, to see the game at Billy's Sports Bar back here in Manchester, if only because I think Hapless Browns Fan Rick's head may have exploded.

I'd like to say Pittsburgh, which is now 7-2, is the No. 2 team in the AFC. However, I can't. Such a statement, you see, relies heavily on the idea that one actually knows which Pittsburgh team is going to show up in any given week. There are some Sundays when we look like a Super Bowl team and others when we look, well, like we did last year. Ugh. Still, I think all can agree that Pittsburgh remains the No. 3 team in the AFC, and that ain't all bad.

But back to Chicago, whose football team stinks this year. I like Chicago. I was duly impressed with its mass transit system, which actually works. A good mass transit system is invaluable if one lives in a big city and Chicago's seemed to fit the bill. My only regret is that I wasn't able to get some Chicago-style pizza while in town -- but hey. If I ever truly have the yen for it, I can order it on-line!

If Time Equals Money, Then Washington Owes Me Interest

ONE NICE THING ABOUT this weekend is that it marked a return to Standard Time -- or, as it is known here at The Rant, God's Time. Like all right-thinking people, I am glad to have my hour back but not so glad to have had it stolen from me in the first place. This was made even worse by the fact the Government, always eager to perniciously meddle with the lives of its citizens, decided to push back the return to Standard Time a week, thus extending the agony of Daylight Saving Time even longer than before.

Now, if one operates under the assumption that time equals money -- and I do -- then Washington owes me and everyone else in America roughly one minute and 34.5 seconds for borrowing the hour in question, at least based on the going interest rate for Treasuries. But do we get anything in return for our slaving away under the Government's diabolical time scheme these past months? No, of course not. So now my sleep schedule is all screwed up and I'll have to spend a good week adjusting to this new time scheme. By the time I do adjust, of course, we'll be back on Daylight Saving Time and I'll be in a fog then too. It's enough to make one wonder why we go through this annual charade every year.

But oh well. I guess I should be happy I get my hour back. Oh, and I guess I should be happy I didn't live during the 16th century, when the God-fearing people of Europe had ten entire days stolen from them as part of the switch from the Julian to Gregorian calendar. (It was even worse for countries that switched later on).

However, I realize all this is quibbling. Particularly when one considers that with winter's approach, I am now about to fall into an unpleasant and agonizing seasonal depression which should last until about April or so. The days are growing shorter and colder and more desolate, and the next thing I know, I'm going to be moping around in the gloom. Winters here aren't fun, especially when one considers the overall atmosphere is somewhat akin to the movie "Blade Runner," except not as cheerful.

I mean, for God's sake, the sun set at 4:30 today. 4:30! And in December it will set around 4:10 or so. That's just wrong. True, the sun WILL rise at about 7:15 or so even during the shortest days, but it's still ridiculous. As we get into mid-December, we'll receive all of nine hours of sunlight a day. Nine hours! Even back home in Michigan, we got nine-and-a-half. And in California we got ten hours.

It could be worse, I suppose -- I could live in some place subjected to horrible polar darkness, which would drive me into hibernation or complete and utter insanity. But still -- it is bad enough so that I'm going to take a winter vacation this year, to someplace warm. Warm and dry. Yeah. That's the ticket.

Poison Ivy

AS I UNDERSTAND IT, it is apparently fashionable again to Not Like the Ivy League, at least based on a couple of articles and blog posts I've read recently. The Chronicle of Higher Education recently had a story which looked at a tongue-in-cheek debate on whether society ought dismantle the top Ivy League schools, and Meg McArdle took a look at the issue with a post about why it is so fun to hate Ivy Leaguers. (Ms McArdle herself, as she notes, is an Ivy alumna; she went to Penn).

Now, as strange as it may seem for someone who regularly insults institutions of higher education based on their football prowess, and who gleefully mocks and taunts their graduates accordingly, I do not hold any animus against Ivy graduates. This is because I went to Michigan, and as such I am supremely confident in the academic reputation of my school. Furthermore, were anyone so foolish as to disparage Michigan's academic reputation, I could point out this:

Yes, that's right. Space, dammit! Space! And if that doesn't do the trick, I can point out that Michigan is the only institution of higher learning with an alumni chapter -- and a flag -- on the moon. (Some people say the flag story is a myth, but I can assure you that stories to the contrary are all lies, spread by Communists, anarchists, and scoundrels of the highest order).

But I digress. I myself have never had a bad experience with a graduate of Harvard, Princeton, Brown, Dartmouth, Cornell or Pennsylvania, so I have no reason to dislike the Ivy League. Indeed, I have found graduates of these institutions to be smart, charming and likable people. Yale, on the other hand, is a different story. But I'm open to changing my mind about Yalies -- it's just the two I've met personally were disagreeable.

On a deeper level, though, I am surprised the Ivies as institutions have not taken more pains to publicly emphasize the value of attending their institutions. From a business perspective, they seem content to rest on their reputations, and while that does count for a lot, it doesn't seem like the most proactive strategy.

One can argue that education, as a service, has diminishing returns. If a student can spend $50,000 attending Public School A to get an education, compared to spending $200,000 for an Ivy League education, why would he willingly spend the extra $150,000 to receive an undergraduate degree from an Ivy League school? In both cases, he'll have a quality degree.

While I fully admit going to a top school might improve one's chances of getting hired out of college, after that first job recruiters will care only about one's job performance -- not where one went to school. Furthermore, since graduates from lesser institutions can easily parlay their work or school experiences for admission into fine professional schools, it seems to me that low-cost schools really bring a lot of value to the table, while the Ivies are comparatively disadvantaged.

Besides, the lower-cost schools have better football programs, and there's something to be said for the joyous intangibles associated with watching one's alma mater play on Saturdays.

Fire Season

A SHORT TIME AGO I sent my good friend Chris a note about something he had sent me, with the post-script: "Uh, what's up with fire season this year?" I tend not to read the news much on my weekends, so the news I heard Monday night about the massive wildfires in Southern California caught me by surprise. Had I known they were THIS bad, though, I would have been less flippant.

Especially since they're, you know, tearing through my old stomping grounds. Son-of-a-gun! This might well affect me at work tomorrow but I've been up for the last hour or so just reading about the fires. It's actually a little alarming, although I think this is due to the peculiar geographic bearings I have as a former resident of Southern California.

For instance, my good friend Chris and his family are roughly 17 miles away from the Ranch Fire, which has burned at least 29,000 acres around the town of Piru. (The fire was apparently starting to surround Piru and in the immediate area I understand it is an extremely acute situation.) Now, 17 miles is a long way -- it is roughly the distance between Manchester and Nashua, New Hampshire's two largest cities -- but I'm not thinking about the distance. I'm thinking, "Uh, that's only two towns away," and, "Wait a minute. Didn't I drive through Piru when I was back in California the last time? Yeah, I did. Jesus Christ!"

Just as worrisome to me was news of a small fire between Thousand Oaks and Moorpark, a bit to the south. Fortunately, it only burned 35 acres and didn't cause much damage. But I had an ex-girlfriend whose home was in Thousand Oaks and for several minutes I was frantically searching on Yahoo Maps trying to find out where this fire was, and racking my brains trying to remember what street my ex-girlfriend lived on, and where it was in relation to this fire. I may not have talked to her in years but that doesn't mean you're not concerned, you know? The good news, though, was that the fire was again several miles distant.

The number of fires and the devastation they have wrought have amazed me. The worst of it, of course, has been around San Diego but even around Los Angeles I recognize places I've been and roads I've traveled that are being consumed by the blazes.

Given the strength of the Santa Ana winds, and the unpredictable nature of how the fires are starting and spreading, I would urge people near fire-affected areas to take basic steps to prepare for evacuation if need be: get your papers in order, pack a suitcase, that kind of basic stuff that doesn't take a lot of time but could really come in handy if you have to move quickly.

Also, I am stunned at reports coming out that firefighters aren't able to fight fires because they're stuck rescuing people who defied evacuation orders. It is understandable people don't want to leave their homes -- but for the love of God, the fire crews aren't kidding around here. When they tell you to go, for the love of God, GO. GET THE HELL OUT. There's a reason they're telling you to do this: it's because bad things will happen otherwise. Trust me on this one.

That said, I hope all my readers in the Southland are OK and that these fires aren't affecting you. Take care and be careful out there.

Depressing Fortune Cookies Sweeping Nation

WELL, IT'S ABOUT BLOODY TIME. The nation's largest fortune cookie company has apparently told its writers to turn out new slogans. Being writers, they've apparently produced a whole line of depressing, soul-crushing fortunes that have diners shaking their heads and looking at each other in alarm.

Good. There are few things more annoying in life than getting Chinese food and then discovering the fortune in the fortune cookie is stupid. (One of these things is getting Chinese food and finding out the chefs used MSG, but that's a whole other story entirely). The worst of it comes when you crack open a fortune cookie and discover some aggravating message such as, "You are wise and harmonious." Of course I am, dammit; give me a fortune. The last thing I need from a fortune cookie is silly self-help balderdash or useless platitudes telling me to better serve my fellow man. What am I, some kind of Communist? Give me a fortune. Is the market going to go up? Is the price of pork bellies going to crash on Thursday? That's the type of stuff I want and need to know.

Along those lines, if the fortune cookie tells me I'm about to get hit by a bus, or my portfolio is going to crash, that's good stuff. I may not want to hear these things, but at least it's a fortune and not some damnfool nonsense about my surprising optimism. If the writing team can't figure this out, I would ask the good people at Wonton Food Inc. to actually go out and hire a fortune teller, who should be adept at offering actual fortunes -- no matter how silly or ridiculous -- for $5 a shot. For the people have spoken, and we demand real fortunes.

They can keep the cookie recipe the same, though. I don't think anyone actually eats the fortune cookies. They're kind of like those shrimp chip things -- you know they're edible, but even still, you don't really want to go there, if you know what I'm saying.

Baseball is More Interesting With Attacking Hordes of Mayflies

SO I WAS WATCHING the Utah-Louisville game tonight when I noticed the score in the Yankees-Indians game was tied at one run apiece in the top of the 9th inning. I am not much of a baseball fan, but even I am a sucker for a tied playoff game. I turned on the game and noticed, much to my surprise, that Jacobs Field in Cleveland was simply swarming with mayflies. The players were swatting at them. The pitchers were covered with them. They were readily apparent to the eye -- and it was a sight, I am assured, that was even more amazing in high-definition.

This was even more incredible than watching the Utah Utes light up the scoreboard in Louisville every time I checked back there. Apparently, I didn't see the worst of it, either. The mayflies were reportedly so bad in the 8th inning that one of the Yankees pitchers got hugely distracted as a result, eventually allowing Cleveland to tie the game -- which they then won in the 11th inning, putting the Indians up 2-0 in the series.

The reason for the invasion was apparently due to the warm weather, which tricked the nasty little bugs into waking up and climbing out of Lake Erie long before they were supposed to do so. If global warming is responsible, then I think it's important to note that global warming meant the Yankees lost, and as such can't be all that bad.

That aside, though, I have to say the baseball was a lot more interesting with the attacking hordes of mayflies. One of the glorious things about football, of course, is that it is played in pretty much every type of weather -- and bad weather is actually welcomed, as it will make the game more interesting and will heighten the excitement of the fans. I don't see why baseball can't do the same thing. Teams don't necessarily have to play amidst a swarm of locusts, of course, but some sort of additional elements out of the teams' control would really make things interesting. Especially because the games ... just ... drag ... on ... regardless of whether they actually go into extra innings or not. We saw how that happened in the Yankees-Indians game tonight. I swear, it took a good five or six minutes just to get through one at-bat.

Report: Parallel Universes Actually Do Exist

A TEAM OF OXFORD SCIENTISTS has mathematically proven parallel universes actually do exist, according to a Press Association report. Apparently, the scientists' findings -- which one observer called "one of the most important developments in the history of science" -- explain formerly unknown elements of quantum physics. Under the "branching out" model the scientists have proposed, each event in the universe causes a split between our universe and a newly-created parallel universe in which the outcome came out differently. The Press Association reports:

The parallel universe theory, first proposed in 1950 by the US physicist Hugh Everett, helps explain mysteries of quantum mechanics that have baffled scientists for decades, it is claimed.

In Everett's "many worlds" universe, every time a new physical possibility is explored, the universe splits. Given a number of possible alternative outcomes, each one is played out - in its own universe.

A motorist who has a near miss, for instance, might feel relieved at his lucky escape. But in a parallel universe, another version of the same driver will have been killed. Yet another universe will see the motorist recover after treatment in hospital. The number of alternative scenarios is endless.

It is a bizarre idea which has been dismissed as fanciful by many experts. But the new research from Oxford shows that it offers a mathematical answer to quantum conundrums that cannot be dismissed lightly - and suggests that Dr Everett, who was a Phd student at Princeton University when he came up with the theory, was on the right track.

It should be worth noting, however, that these discoveries didn't come as a surprise to many observers.

"Science fiction writers have been talking about this for years," said Benjamin Kepple, a millionaire investor from Ventura, Calif., as he exited his Mercedes after work one evening. "But I have to admit, I can't imagine a world where I didn't act on that hot stock tip from a friend of mine just before the height of the Internet boom. I mean, that was the basis for my entire fortune."

"It's taken me a while to get to this point, but think how long I'd have to wait if I hadn't made that investment," said Kepple, as he prepared to take his hot blonde wife out to dinner.

"That's an interesting idea," said Benjamin Kepple, an accountant living in Rochester, N.Y. "But I have to say I've been pretty happy with my life so far. Attending Grove City was a great decision and put me on the road to being a pretty damned good accountant, if I do say so myself. Plus, based on our forecasts for 3Q and 4Q 2007, I should be getting a pretty sweet raise."

"Well, at least I can take comfort in this -- given my life's circumstances, there's almost no way a parallel version of me exists in a universe where the Nazis won World War II," said Benjamin Kepple, an unemployed copywriter in Ann Arbor, Mich. "But I sure wish I lived in a world where I had steady employment. I mean, the unemployment rate here is skyrocketing -- it's past 11 pc now, they said -- and the inflation is just murder."

"My God, that's wonderful news," said Capt. Benjamin Kepple, an officer in the Kalamazoo County Self Defense Forces, located in what used to be the state of Michigan. "I mean, that means there's hope -- hope that other versions of me live in worlds where the Soviets didn't bomb us to hell back in 1985. Maybe they'll devise ways to get to these other worlds."

"In the meantime, I just want a steak and a beer. It's been so long. But under Gen. Mulcahy's glorious leadership, we will all have steak and beer soon enough. We've already captured Battle Creek and our forces are spreading out into the countryside, and they'll offer us tribute or pay," said Capt. Kepple, shouldering his rifle. "And if the Empire of Lansing starts acting up, we'll deal with them too."

"Of course, you have to admit these other universes might be a bit strange, or even ridiculous," Capt. Kepple said. "I mean, can you imagine it if I ended up in some place like New Hampshire? God, there's a thought!"

Labor Day Celebrated Through Not Working

SO FOR THE FIRST TIME in six years, I'm celebrating Labor Day by ... not working.

At first, this seemed pretty bloody cool. Since I now have Mondays off at the office, I'd get to put the holiday "in the bank" while still getting to do all the things I normally do on a Monday. This Monday, I had plenty of things planned -- I was going to take down all these boxes of books down to the library, take care of some financial transactions I needed to do, and so on.

Then I realized everyone else had the day off.

All the Government institutions will be closed. All the banks will be closed. The national financial markets will be closed. Plus, a lot of private businesses will be closed, or have reduced hours. As Loyal Rant Readers might expect, this realization was accompanied by a particular nine-letter profanity.

I mean, crikey. I'm not gaining a holiday, I'm losing a good productive day. Even worse, there's no football. So what the hell am I supposed to do, anyway? Go fishing? Have a barbecue? Enjoy the bounty and goodness of a late summer day? Please. You think I'm back home in Michigan? I don't have a canoe or fishing gear, I don't have a grill or a patio, and if I go outside I'll end up wheezing due to the hay fever, and --

What's that? Fried clams? Chowder? A coffee frappe? Say, that's a pretty good idea. OK, so I'll spend my labor day chilling out after I go out and have a high-quality, old-fashioned New England lunch. Yeah, that's the ticket. Also I will -- eh, I'll vacuum the apartment or something. It may be a holiday, but it's still Monday.

Spirit Willing, Flesh Weak

SO I HAVE had quite a week here. I made a marathon drive down to Washington for an old friend's wedding, had fun at the wedding and drank a lot, made the drive back up to New Hampshire, had a very productive week at the office, and completed a bunch of chores around the house while still managing to blog up a storm.

Naturally, this was the perfect time for my fibromyalgia, which had been dormant for YEARS, to make a surprise return and leave me in constant physical pain.

Fibromyalgia, for those of you unfamiliar with the syndrome, is what they now call muscular rheumatism, which I personally think is a much better name for the wretched condition. For that matter, most of the old names for disease are better. Nobody's going to think twice if they're told they have "Hansen's disease," but tell 'em they have leprosy, and they'll sit up straight at hearing that. Similarly, tuberculosis is inferior to consumption, pertussis is inferior to whooping cough, and so on. But I digress.

The good news here is that the pain is so far tolerable. In some, the syndrome can result in excruciating and disabling pain, but for me it is neither. However, I do feel as if I just got in a car accident the day before, as my entire body just aches. My shoulders ache; my legs ache; my ankles and feet ache; and my hands really ache. That last part is the most annoying thing about this. Dammit, I type with these hands, and it's no fun typing when my wrists and fingers are constantly aching.

At this point, I feel about all I can do is take bunches of over-the-counter pain relievers to help mitigate the situation, and take rational steps to address the underlying causes of the pain. This basically means that I need to sleep more, eat right and generally relax. So blogging will be a little lighter over the next few days as I try to get my body back in the swing of things. However, as I've worked hard to get back into the swing of things with my blogging, and my readership numbers have gone up as a result, I still plan to keep at it. I've beat a lot of things in my day and I'm sure as hell not letting this lay me up.

My Kingdom for a Working Comments System

AS LOYAL RANT READERS KNOW -- all too well, I am afraid -- The Rant's technological capabilities are a bit limited. Let us compare The Rant to a car and you'll see what I mean. The engine might run flawlessly, and its horses might plow through any and all obstacles placed before it, but there's no denying the body is a little rusted, and has chipped paint, and a huge scratch some wretched little hellion dug into the side of it with his skate key.

Perhaps the most obvious outward sign of wear and tear is The Rant's comment system. Like a smashed passenger-side mirror, it is not essential to the machine's overall operation, but it leaves people who see it wondering why the hell the owner doesn't get it fixed.

My friends, I can assure you I have no idea how to fix it; the programming skills required to do so are far beyond me. But its present state is not my fault. The comment spammers -- God damn them! -- forced my hosting provider to impose some strange technical requirements that would supposedly allow me to have comments whilst keeping the spammers at bay. But I can't figure them out and so I must go without.

This state of affairs has not gone unnoticed. Loyal Rant Reader Matt (REDACTED) recently wrote me an e-mail to complain about the situation. By the way, Mr (REDACTED) has an interesting blog of his own -- for instance, you know that guy who rants about free money* on late-night infomercials? No, not Jim Cramer -- this guy. Anyway, it turns out That Guy Who Screams About the Free Money has had some Strange Cosmic Role in Mr (REDACTED's) long-running relationship with his girlfriend.

But anyway. As I was saying, Mr (REDACTED) recently wrote me an e-mail to complain about the lack of comments on The Rant. He writes:

----------------

FROM: Matthew (REDACTED)
TO: Ben Kepple
RE: The techonological disgrace that continues to be your Web site

Ben, if you are going to continue to put a "comments" link on your
blog entry - every blog entry - then you have a legal obligation to
make sure that that comments link works! I am sick and tired of not
being able to leave a witty comment on your latest witty post!

Matt

------------

Well, Matt, if you have any ideas as to how to reprogram my Movable Type comments scripts to make the comments work again, I'd love to hear them -- because I'll need step-by-step directions. I would, however, take issue with your statement that I have a "legal obligation" to provide comments.

I have consulted with my legal team and they have assured me that, although my continued failure to fix them could be considered "arbitrary and capricious" in certain jurisdictions, I can't be held liable for this state of affairs, except in southern Illinois. And under The Rant's articles of incorporation, I don't have to take Illlinois seriously until they beat Michigan in football. So until the Fighting Zooks measure up, I think I'm safe.

While I certainly think getting the comments working again would be a net good for the site, I have to admit that I have found minor advantages in not having them. These advantages are spelled out in a naughty and profane educational video from collegehumor.com, viz. and to wit:

So, in summary, if I can restore the comments, I will -- even if there might be something to the relative peace and quiet of a comments-free blog.

------------------
* Oh, and last time I checked, "free money" is only "free" when it is voluntarily lent out at zero percent interest. This would seem to preclude the idea that money is "free" when the Government redistributes it.

A Note of Thanks

WHILE I'M CERTAINLY GLAD to be back and blogging again, I should note that a technical snafu nearly prevented all this swell blogging from taking place tonight. The log-in script somehow got fouled up and I couldn't sign into my blog, even though all my files were still there. I reacted like any blogger would do in such a situation -- I completely panicked and called Dean Esmay, my technical guru and all-around good guy -- to get his take on the situation.

Dean graciously took time out of his Sunday night to assist me through the process. This despite the fact that it was a) Sunday night, b) he is recovering from breaking two ribs, c) it was something that was easily solved with a note to the technical assistance people at my hosting service and d) I am a notorious technofeeb. So on behalf of everyone here at The Rant, I'd like to thank Dean for his gracious help and understanding. It was greatly appreciated.

And Just What Trickery is This?

FULLY 94 PERCENT OF AMERICANS are either very satisfied or somewhat satisfied with how things are going in their lives, according to a recent edition of The Harris Poll, while 92 percent of Americans believe their own lives will stay about the same or get even better in the next five years.

The poll also found that young people and people in my age bracket were even happier and more optimistic about their lives and the future than the population at large. As one might expect, I found these results surprising to say the least. Actually, to be perfectly blunt, I was stunned to hear about them.

Utterly gobsmacked. Completely dumbfounded. Totally amazed.

I mean, I don't know about you, but I only know a few people who are very satisfied with how things are going in their lives, and not all that many who are somewhat satisfied. Certainly I'm not, and I think I have a pretty good existence compared to most people. I mean, if I really wanted to dwell on things, I think I could come up with a good list of things I'm not happy about, even though my doing so would be unmanly and tiresome. (I wouldn't say I'm really unsatisfied with how things are going, but I'm kind of in this middle ground where I'm annoyed and alienated and full of vinegar and in a bad mood a lot. This makes for good blogging, so let's not upset the apple cart too much).

And I'm not the only one either. I mean, I think most people I know are feeling kind of blahed out right now for whatever reason(s) and are vaguely hoping or looking for improved circumstances, but they're certainly not expecting them to come down the pike anytime soon.

But a big reason I don't understand these results is that they come from The Harris Poll, which is conducted by one of America's best and most well-respected polling outfits. Normally, the company's data are beyond reproach, its methodologies are sound, and its questions are so thought-provoking and lively that no one would ever think to question their results.

We know this because The Harris Poll from Sept. 26 proved conclusively that the Pittsburgh Steelers are America's favorite football team. Fully one out of six football fans root for the black-and-gold, a ratio I would note beats out those of the goddamned Dallas Cowboys and the wretched Indianapolis Colts. The poll also found only four percent of the American football public are fans of the Cincinnati Bengals and even fewer like the Baltimore Ravens.

Sure, I know what you're thinking: "But how could it be otherwise?" Well, I agree this poll wasn't really necessary, as everyone knows the Pittsburgh Steelers are America's Team and the Baltimore Ravens are evil. But the fact the poll results squared so well with the reality on the ground speaks volumes about the polling company's inherent soundness, professionalism and commitment to the truth.

This was again shown in a separate Harris Poll on Jan. 9 that found football was America's most popular sport. Fully 42 percent of Americans selected professional or college football as their No. 1 Sport, while baseball was the favorite sport of just 14 percent of Americans. Professional or college basketball ranked third with a combined 12 percent, while auto racing was America's No. 4 Sport. (Hockey was tied for fifth, along with men's golf). The poll also found football fans were better educated, made more money, and were generally much more fun to be around than fans of other sports. (Despite what I wrote above, I am fun to be around during football games).

So I'm faced with the disturbing dilemma that faces all non-believers. For, as Graham Greene might have put it, could what these men say possibly be true? Could it be possible that nearly everyone in America is happy and I am but an outlier on the graph, stewing in relative solitude along with the few other angry and embittered souls out there? My God, what a disturbing circumstance that would turn out to be.

But until I can be convinced otherwise, I must believe that some sort of inadvertent error -- perhaps some results were counted twice, or Harris did its polling at Disneyland -- contributed to these wacky and strange findings. For although Tertullian's old maxim is ringing in my mind -- it is certain because it is impossible -- I just have to think there's a perfectly rational explanation for all of this. And once I figure out what that is, I'll be able to enjoy some peace of mind. Ahhhh, peace of mind ...

A Victory So Sweet

SIXTY TWO YEARS AGO today, the Allied Powers, led by the United States, threw down the cruel Empire of Japan, putting an end to that nation's decades-long reign of terror over much of eastern Asia. It took nearly four years and cost untold lives and required incredible sacrifice, but we did it.

I was pleased to learn today that Rhode Island -- who knew? -- actually had a state holiday commemorating the day when Japan finally surrendered, but less pleased to learn some in the Ocean State would rather not celebrate it at all. Opponents argue that Japan later became an ally of the United States and surely it is time to bury the hatchet. Besides, they argue there's no holiday for beating the Nazis, something we accomplished a few months earlier.

There is no denying that Japan -- like Germany -- has markedly changed for the better over the past several decades, and there is something to be said for not burdening sons with the sins of their fathers. But unlike Germany, which has wholeheartedly repudiated its Nazi past, Japan has not fully apologized for the crimes it committed during the war. (Here's a list of the major atrocities -- you won't find a dull sentence in it). Until the Japanese can muster the courage to fully put their wartime atrocities behind them, and make full apologies to the people who deserve them, Americans should continue to politely remind Japan that these things happened, and that there are some accounts which still need settled.

(Photo credit: U.S. Navy, from the surrender ceremony of Sept. 2, 1945)

Dear GOD

I-35W BRIDGE COLLAPSES in Minneapolis during rush hour.

The Culling of the Books, Part II

Of the pleasant and mighty inquisition held by the journalist and the writer on the library of our imaginative correspondent, Benjamin Kepple ....

THE WRITER, holding up a volume: Behold the beauty of the literary franchise, for it brings great wealth to writers near and far, and lets them pay their kids' college tuitions! Truly this book, "Foundation's Fear," with its blatant attempts to capitalize on a masterwork, should be kept among the elect!

THE JOURNALIST: It's worth 25 cents.

THE WRITER: Vile cur! Surely even you cannot dispute the beauty of this fine work that only seeks to continue the wonderful stories of Isaac Asimov. Why, you can see right here it is authorized by the estate and that alone suggests it is worth keeping.

THE JOURNALIST: I can't believe this cost $7.50. What was he thinking when he paid $7.50 for this?

THE WRITER: Fool! How you can dispute the thoughts of our master, for whom money was no object when given the chance to buy books? Why, clearly his devotion was on par with Kung I-chi, except he held to basic principles like "fair exchange" and "property rights."

THE JOURNALIST: Out it goes!

THE WRITER: Fair enough. What's next?

THE JOURNALIST: "Freehold," by Michael Z. Williamson. Oh, yes, I remember this one. It looked like a good adventure story at first but ended up being this politically-minded screed where the United Nations got control of Earth --

THE WRITER: No!

THE JOURNALIST: -- and then went and attacked a peaceful society that was kinda set up -- well, imagine if Ron Paul was President. IN SPACE.

THE WRITER: But that doesn't make any sense. I mean, the United Nations can't even police Haiti, much less manage to create a giant superstate. And even if they did, why would they attack the one place in the galaxy where they would have put all the money they ... uh, received as gifts? Yeah. Gifts. And consulting fees. I mean, a place like that is going to have bank secrecy laws like you wouldn't believe.

THE JOURNALIST: Yeah, I'm the High Commissioner of Graft and Unpaid Parking Tickets, reporting for duty! Well, that'll make a good one for the library to sell. OK, what's next?

THE WRITER: Hey, wait a minute! You know politics is off limits. Why are you mentioning Ron Paul here? Is this some kind of trick to get your page rankings up, like all those other bloggers have been openly and blatantly doing, even to the point of writing joke posts about it?

THE JOURNALIST: No.

THE WRITER: Oh, well, that's all right then. Let's see what's next -- ah, "Invasion" by Eric Harry. Oh, this one clearly got picked up in LAX. It's anti-Communist like James Clavell was anti-Communist, except Clavell was clever and witty and saved his disgust for the Russians.

THE JOURNALIST: I like Clavell but he depicts all the reporters in his books ... accurately. Um. Never mind. Let's move on.

THE WRITER: OK, John le Carre's "The Honourable Schoolboy." Uh, this was published in October 1978. How exactly did he get a hold of this?

THE JOURNALIST: He probably got it from his father, who was clearing out his OWN books at the time and is much better at clearing stuff out than his son.

THE WRITER: Wow! Isn't that ironic?

THE JOURNALIST: Actually, in this case, it kind of is. Plus, I don't think Mr Kepple would mind if this went out. So out it goes! Hey, look here -- "Gotti: Rise and Fall" from Capeci and Mustain.

THE WRITER: I wonder if they ever updated the book with all the stuff about the family's reality show. Boy, and here the Mob thought RICO was bad for their recruiting prospects.

THE JOURNALIST: Heh heh heh. Oh, here's a short story anthology -- "Armageddon." Short science-fiction stories about the end of the world. Not on Amazon for some reason, but computers aren't perfect.

THE WRITER: Oh! This was the one where one of the stories had the end of the world taking place in Delmont, Pa. Now that was a weird coincidence, wasn't it?

THE JOURNALIST: Yeah. I mean, talk about unexpected. I mean, you would normally think that Delmont wouldn't realize the world had ended until folks couldn't get the Steelers on television. It's a nice place, but it only has -- what -- 2,000 people or so?

THE WRITER: Something like that. Boy, I'm beat. Let's just send out the rest in this box along with the ones we've already looked at.

THE JOURNALIST: Sounds like a plan. Well ... let's see. At 10 paperbacks to a column and four columns to the box ... hey, that makes like 40 paperbacks we've managed to purge. And they said it couldn't be done! Amazing!

(with deep and sincere apologies to the late Miguel de Cervantes)

The Stupidest Idea in Years

SO APPARENTLY political commentator Larry Sabato will release a book this fall arguing for more than a score of fundamental changes to the U.S. Constitution. Since the document has worked well for more than two hundred years, the idea that it suddenly needs changing seems a bit much, but Dr Sabato apparently thinks otherwise. However, although such rhetoric tends to sell books, it's pretty clear many of his ideas are non-starters. Particularly his idea regarding fundamental changes to the U.S. Senate, which I do think is the stupidest idea I've heard in years.

The idea, according to Joseph Knippenberg of the Ashbrook Center for Public Affairs, is this:

---------

Because each state, regardless of population, elects two of the 100 senators, just 17 percent of the nation’s population elects a majority of the Senate. Sabato would expand the Senate by giving the 10 most populous states two additional senators, the next 15 most populous states one new senator and the District of Columbia its first senator.

---------

Speaking as a resident of a Small State, I believe I speak for all my fellow Small State friends and colleagues when I say: Oh, hell no. The whole idea the Founders had for creating Congress as they did was to prevent Small States (like, say, New Hampshire) from getting picked on by Large States (like, say, New York). Conversely, Large States get bunches of representatives in the House while Small States like New Hampshire get hardly any. This balance is unequivocably fair and just, and just because Large States aren't content with the power they hold doesn't mean they should try taking more from Small States.

Besides, let's look at the states that would get FOUR Senators under Dr Sabato's plan. They are, in order of population: California, Texas, New York, Florida, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Georgia and New Jersey. I think everyone can agree our system of Government would not be greatly improved through giving these states even more power. I mean, my God. Can you imagine Ohio having FOUR Senators? (If you listen carefully, you can hear my father spewing his morning coffee all over his computer screen).

All that aside, I must say the peculiar case of Texas has always fascinated me. I've never understood why the Texans don't take advantage of their right to form five separate states and thus gain eight net senators as a result. (See the Joint Resolution for Annexing Texas to the United States, approved March 1, 1845, which explicitly gives them the right to do this). I mean, for God's sake, it couldn't be that hard to work out the arrangements between the five separate entities, and they could jointly run certain commonly-owned properties, such as the University of Texas system. Plus, you think anyone else would mess with Texas in the Senate if all 10 Senators got together as a bloc? Heck no.

(via Meg McArdle)

Sometimes, A Picture Says a Thousand Words ...

... AND SOMETIMES, IT SAYS but a few. In the case of the following image, I would submit the picture says just 84 words, which are these:

Professional football in America is a special game -- a unique game. Played nowhere else on Earth, it is a rare game. The men who play it make it so. Pro football is a mirror of early America -- reflecting toughness, courage and self-denial. That's in stark contrast to Major League Baseball, which couldn't muster up toughness, courage and self-denial among its players even if the stadium hawkers were selling them at a discount. Gawd. Ooooooooh, it's sprinkling -- quick, go get the tarp!

Yes, the Boys of Summer have decided to make Dane Cook -- the alleged comedian and general societal irritant -- as their post-season pitchman for 2007. Were this a campaign for breakfast cereal or something, I'd blame McCann Erickson, the ad agency behind this boondoggle. But MLB should have known better and so I must lay the blame solely at their feet. What the hell were they thinking?

I mean, look at the guy. As many have already noted, Dane-o looks like a complete douchebag. Not only that, Don Cheadle has more gravitas in his pinky finger than Dane Cook has in his entire body. So if MLB's goal was to highlight the great stories of baseball's past, why use this lump to do it? I mean, I don't know about you guys, but Cook doesn't inspire me to think about past glories and champions of years past; rather, he inspires me to think about how cool it would be if someone hit him repeatedly with a two-by-four.

But don't just take my word for it. Go have a look at the comments at Deadspin, which are decidedly against MLB's decision in the matter. There's the aggrieved fan who wrote: "Major League Baseball: Trying really hard to make its most die hard fans hate it since 1995." There's the clever copywriter who quipped: "I think MLB is up for a Clio in the category of Marketing Douchebaggery." There's the cynical observer who wrote: "Hell, this might even make Red Sox Nation hate itself." And perhaps the unkindest cut came from a fellow in the mid-Atlantic who wrote: "As a Yankees fan, I love this."

Ouch.

Well, let's look at the bright side -- it's only 26 days until the Hall of Fame Game. 26 little days ...

(via Steve Silver, who says simply, "Please. No.")

(with apologies to John Facenda and the rest of the NFL Films gang).

The Jefferson City of Presidents

HERE'S A NEAT LITTLE QUIZ to get your brain awake prior to your morning coffee: name all the Presidents of the United States within ten minutes. It's an easy enough quiz until you start getting into the obscure guys from the 19th century. After two minutes of cruising along and two minutes of dragging up information from the obscure reaches of my brain, I finally gave up after getting 42 out of 43 correct. As for No. 43, I can assure readers that he is to Presidents what Jefferson City, Mo., is to state capitals. Not much happened during his tenure and the only time he's ever remembered is on quizzes like this!

(via D. M. Darlington)

The Location of This Should Surprise No One

A MICHIGAN MAN faces drug charges after police said he was selling marijuana from his ice-cream truck, authorities said yesterday. According to the Associated Press, police arrested the man in Benton Township after stopping the truck in a mobile home park and discovering -- well, they sure as hell weren't push-ups:

After authorities got tips about the alleged pot-peddler, a deputy "heard jingling bells" about 2 p.m. Thursday and saw the ice cream truck entering a mobile home park, Berrien County sheriff's Lt. Keith Hafer said in a written statement.

Deputy John Hopkins stopped the truck, spoke with the driver and "detected the odor of marijuana coming from the truck (along with tutti-frutti and a couple other flavors) ," Hafer wrote.

Authorities searched the van and found several packages of marijuana under the dashboard, the statement said.

The 36-year-old suspect was jailed while awaiting arraignment on charges of marijuana possession with intent to deliver and maintaining a drug vehicle. He also faces an outstanding warrant for skipping child support, Hafer said.

Authorities released the vehicle to the vending company "in spite of an effort by Narcotics Officers to devise a way to forfeit the vehicle and its icy cold treats," Hafer said. He said police would seek revocation of the company's license to operate in Benton Township.

For the record, The Rant would like to commend Lt Hafer for having fun with this one. Heh. It sounds as if releasing the ice cream truck back to the company was the right thing to do, but when it's summer, and it's hot outside, you can't blame the guys for trying.

Well, Somebody's Really in Trouble Now

SO I WAS WATCHING the Copa America soccer tourney tonight and I fell asleep in the midst of the game between Colombia and Paraguay. It started out great for the Paraguayans, who quickly established a 2-0 lead, and somewhere along the line I drifted off. Then, I awoke to a shout of "GOOOOOOOOOOOOL!" from the television and woke up to discover it was the 80th minute and lo! Paraguay had scored again.

The amazing thing was that Paraguay went on and scored two additional goals in the next eight minutes, which put the final score at 5-0. I can assure readers this was not just a defeat for Colombia, but rather a humiliating project beating of a game in which New Granada was humbled before all the other nations of South America. I mean, Christ, who would have expected Paraguay -- Paraguay, for God's sake -- to not only beat Colombia, but do so in such a stellar fashion?

Well, I certainly didn't. This is based on Kepple's Theory of International Soccer Matches, in which the projected winner of a given match between two nations is calculated based on the value of its currency unit vis-a-vis the U.S. dollar. To work, the theory requires that both nations are outside what used to be called the First World, primarily because the U.S. stinks at soccer, England always manages to screw up and lose, Europe has the euro, and over the decades inflation has crushed the Japanese yen and South Korean won. But for developing and newly-industrialized nations, this scheme actually isn't all bad, as you can see from this clever example:

For the record, the Brazilian real is worth about 50 U.S. cents and the Argentine peso is worth about 33 U.S. cents, which I would suggest bolsters the credibility of my theory significantly.

Anyway, as one might imagine, I was shocked to see Colombia go down to such an ignomious defeat at the hands of the Paraguayans. Besides, look what happened the last time Colombia really screwed up in a game. While one would hope that no one would receive a permanent red card as a result of tonight's game, there's no denying a lot of people are undoubtedly rather upset about Colombia's performance. Let's just hope that if heads roll as a result, they'll only roll figuratively.

Speaking of ass-kickings, could someone kindly explain how the U.S. team managed to give up four goals against Argentina? I mean, I can understand losing the game, because Argentina clearly outplayed the U.S. squad from the moment the game began. But we just fell apart at the end of the game and turned what should have been a 2-1 loss into a 4-1 loss. If there's any consolation to this, we get to play Colombia on July 5.

Are You Ready, Weaver?

OK, SO LAST NIGHT I went out and saw the New Hampshire Fisher Cats, Manchester's very own AA baseball team, play against the Erie Somethings-or-Other. I never did find out what Erie's nickname was, but it was Erie. For someone with Pennsylvanian roots, that's kind of all you needed to know.

Anyway, we won 5-1 after a killer 8th inning, but that's not really why I'm writing. Oh, no. The real reason I'm writing about the game is because it reached a new high (or low) in terms of meeting Kepple's Minor League Sports Promotion Yardstick, in which various in-game promotions are compared to the fake television shows in "UHF," Weird Al Yankovic's comedic masterpiece from 1989. The Yardstick's Gold Standard is none other than the infamous "Wheel of Fish" segment, viz.:

So you can imagine my shock when, during the first inning's intermission, some poor teenager was dragged out onto the field to play -- wait for it -- "Wheel of Groceries." Friends, I shit you not. There was a wheel, and they spun it, and said teenager won one of those pound-sized plastic containers filled with cookies. Yes, cookies. At this point, I was expecting Hiro-san to walk down the aisle of Section 101 carrying a box -- but instead, that was the end of the promotion, which I think all can agree was incredibly lame.

Switching gears, I may as well recap recent developments for the Manchester Wolves, Manchester's very own minor-league arena football team for which I have season tickets. I haven't blogged about this lately, due to scheduling reasons, but the long and short of it is that we're now 5-6. We won our last home game against Albany 47-35, but got beaten like a drum in last night's game against Florida. It was so bad that we got shut out in the second half. That's bad enough for regular football, but it's a special type of low for arena football.

Speaking of arenaball, I had the good fortune on my recent vacation to take in a big-league Arena Football League game. It was perhaps the best arenaball game I've ever seen. The Grand Rapids Rampage (Mich.) scored a last-second field goal to beat the Colorado Crush, 58-56. Not only was the game exciting the whole way through -- several kickoffs off the crossbar, a kickoff return for a touchdown, and so on -- I had a fourth-row seat and it was right at mid-field.

The quality of play in the AFL is noticeably better than in the af2, the development league in which the Wolves play. There were virtually no dropped passes, the kickers were more on-target and the players were more in tune with their routes and coverage. However, in terms of the experience of attending a game, the af2 is able to hang in with the teams in the senior league. Perhaps the best example of this may be found in comparing mascots.

As it happens, both Grand Rapids and Manchester have mascots named "Blitz." But as you can see, Manchester's Blitz is notably more friendly and pleasant than Grand Rapids' Blitz, a sadistic and demented-looking rhinoceros who looks as if he suffered a traumatic brain injury:

Plus, Manchester's dance team is better-looking and more accomplished than Grand Rapids' dance team, even though Grand Rapids' dancing squad wears naughtier outfits. (What's that? Yes, I know I should feel guilty for blogging that on a Sunday morning. I don't care).

However, Grand Rapids' involvement in the AFL does give it more resources. At the Rampage's next home game, according to the stadium announcer, the team was going to give away a new Ford Fusion sedan to one lucky fan. Now that's a promotion. Interestingly, that didn't have too much of an impact on the next game's attendance -- only about 5,000 fans showed up, compared to the 4,900 or so that were at the game I attended -- but I have to think that type of incentive would cause a lot of folks to show up if really marketed well. I mean, crikey, it's a new car.

One thing I wasn't too impressed with at the Rampage's game was the heavy use of indoor pyrotechnics at the beginning. As the home team took the field, each player was introduced with blasts of fire so fierce that I could feel the heat -- and I was more than 30 yards away! The home team crowd responded with plenty of cheers, but all I could think about was The Station nightclub fire and where exactly the nearest exits were. Perhaps my reaction was due to me living in New England, but I've long had the mindset that fire's not something to screw around with, even if controlled.

Seen But Not Heard

WRITING IN The Telegraph of London, Janine di Giovanni has penned a sharp essay on the peculiar way in which the French raise their children -- it is, one learns, rather heavy on the rod -- and how this rather despotic parenting surprisingly pays off in the form of well-mannered children. The result, Mrs di Giovanni writes, is that French children are far more agreeable than their English and especially American counterparts, the latter group being spoiled and rotten.

While one is loathe to embrace the crueler aspects of French parenting Mrs di Giovanni recounts, I do think there's something to be said for the old adage that in public company, children are to be seen but not heard. This is made especially clear when Mrs di Giovanni recounts how a dinner party she threw was ruined when two of her guests brought along their wretched nine-year-old son, who had manners almost as appalling as his parents. Bringing a child to a dinner party uninvited -- there surely must be a special place in hell for such people! (And indeed there is! 8th circle, ninth chasm: instigators of scandal and schism).

As one might expect with such an essay, the general wretchedness of American children is accepted as if one were to state the sky is blue. I would note, however, that I myself have known several children who act contrary to that stereotype, and would like to reassure Mrs di Giovanni that proper manners are still instilled among some minors in the Colossus.

For instance, when I recently visited some dear friends of mine in California, we attended Mass at their local parish. I was stunned to see that, although their children were still but toddlers, the kids behaved impeccably throughout the entire service. They were attentive, respectful, and did not raise so much as a peep during the entire service, which lasted more than an hour.

As readers might imagine, I was -- to use the English phrase -- utterly gobsmacked at this turn of events. After all, think of all the adults who don't even try to conceal their rush to get out of Mass after receiving Communion. Plus, religion, being an adult matter at its core, can often prove incredibly dull to children. So I inquired of my friends how exactly they got their children, particularly the younger one, to behave so well. As it turned out, the boy's father had noticed that his son had been a bit restless during Sunday Mass. So he took him to morning Mass every single day until his son was trained to attend service quietly and respectfully.

There's something to be said for such discipline. Looking back on my own life, I like to think -- like to think -- that I was a reasonably well-behaved boy growing up, and I don't recall any instances where I was severely punished for misbehaving. But I do know this -- the two times when I did embarrass my parents out in public, justice was swift, relentless, and comparatively harsh. Mr and Mrs Kepple were willing to forgive minor offenses, and even quietly support me on those occasions when the stupid and clumsy hand of grade-school discipline was unfairly applied. But if I committed the ultimate sin of causing them embarrassment, I was -- to use the technical phrase -- shit out of luck. (Lesson learned: do NOT talk back to your piano teacher, because you'll be grounded for what, to a sixth-grader, seems like forever).

I can assure readers, though, that Mr and Mrs Kepple Most Certainly Did Not take me along to adult dinner parties, and on the few occasions when they entertained at home, I was generally confined to my quarters upstairs, except for that one time when I was assigned the task of operating the VCR.

I daresay that, if (when? if?) I do have children of my own, I shall endeavor to instill the same sense of discipline in them. Children, after all, are children. There are yet still places in this world where they do not belong and myriad matters about which their ears ought not hear. Plus, even in this day and age, they must still learn proper manners; it will serve them well down the road. Far better for them to learn about the adult world as time goes on than to be thrust out upon a stage where they are neither welcome nor ready.

Isn't She Lovely? Isn't She Wonderful?

Oh No!
It's Time for Yet Another Edition of ...
YOUR SEARCH ENGINE QUERIES ANSWERED!

An occasional Rant feature

AH, SUMMER. A time for romance, a time for lovers, and a time for people who really don't have a goddamn clue to perform silly searches on the Internet. Most of these people, one suspects, are men -- men lost in the wilderness of the modern American dating scene, men stumbling and fumbling for the right thing to say, men who truly and desperately want to believe that their woman truly wants and needs a set of power tools for her birthday.

Unfortunately, they've turned to The Rant for advice, which we shall designate Mistake Number One. After all, I am not exactly Casanova, and my views on these types of things are so traditional that I am useless as a dispenser of advice in this modern age. However, I am feeling a bit wistful tonight about an old relationship (it's my own damn fault) and I'm listening to Stevie Wonder, so I'm feeling -- rather rare for me -- a bit romantic tonight. Thus, I'll endeavor to impart what wisdom I can to my questioners -- the wretched, pathetic downtrodden souls who seem even more incompetent in this field than I am. Should be fun!

QUERY: my milkshake brings all the boys...what is a milkshake

ANSWER: Son, The Rant is intended for readers over 21 years of age. When you attain majority, and are able to do cool things like rent a car and buy stock, kindly return then. In the meantime, you could ask your father about this.

QUERY: i had a romantic birthday dinner

ANSWER: I spent my birthday drinking tequila. This was also fun, although I think I've had preferred the romantic birthday dinner bit, as the romantic dinner undoubtedly included, um, dessert.

QUERY: if you take the red pill pickup line ...

ANSWER: ... the girl you're trying to ask out will spend the rest of the night ignoring you. If you pursue the matter, she will give you a fake name, and eventually give you a number that, upon your call the next day, will connect you with a bad Chinese restaurant. Mentioning a "pill" in a pick-up line, you see, will undoubtedly send a signal that you're planning to slip her a Mickey Finn.

QUERY: you ll discover soon enough that karma is a bitch

ANSWER: No, I won't. Behold -- I stand like Capaneus against karma and all its works! Neither fate nor joss nor Murphy's Law will derail me from my position. (The Franchise Tax Board, maybe. Damn you, Sacramento! Damn you to hell!).

QUERY: cute people doing nothing

ANSWER: Well, I guess that sums up this fall's television lineup! Looks like I'll be watching football yet again.

QUERY: attraction of subordinate women for overachieving men

ANSWER: I can only assume this state of affairs results from the early days of evolutionary biology, when it made sense. If one assumes that women are looking for stable and successful mates who will do well in terms of providing for them and their offspring, then it stands to reason that overachieving men will have an advantage over their competition. However, I would argue the Overachievement Factor is often outweighed by more recently-developed considerations, such as the Boy, This Guy's Really a Douchebag Factor.

QUERY: usa dating relating to eharmony

ANSWER: I am skeptical of the whole "eharmony" business, primarily because I can't believe that any dating site with such annoying commercials can really be all that splendiferous.

QUERY: dating bullshit from women

ANSWER: Yeah, women can be so difficult, what with all that, "When are you going to get a job? When are you going to clean the garage? When are you going to get off your broke ass and do something with yourself?" stuff they've been sending your direction. Now get back to work!

QUERY: men who cut women down

ANSWER: This has ALWAYS aggravated me to no end, if only because it is so cruel and churlish and wretched. A real man does not cut down his woman. This is because a real man possesses minor character traits such as "self-confidence" and "ambition" and "a healthy sense of perspective." A real man does not cut down his wife or his girlfriend if he is annoyed. Instead, he does the traditional, tried-and-true thing: he works harder.

QUERY: warning signs of a unhealthy relationship when your mate doesn t accept your children

ANSWER: Well, that's a warning sign right there, isn't it? Maybe counseling would work.

QUERY: what keynes mean by in the long run we are all dead

ANSWER: (Sigh). Well, it's a bit self-explanatory, isn't it? Of course, it also refers to Keynes' argument for state intervention in the economy and the use of short-term stimuli to artificially boost an economy as opposed to long-term measures which may take too long to satisfactorily resolve a present problem.

QUERY: ex wife revenge stolen pension

ANSWER: A QDRO is not prima facie evidence of revenge, but rather an indication of your ex-spouse's contributions to family life when you were married. As such, she gets a cut of your pension. Deal with it.

QUERY: is the girl all the bad guys want qed

ANSWER: Yes.

QUERY: per the maryland state law does an engagement ring need to be returned if the engagement is broken

ANSWER: Never mind the law, it's just proper decency to give back the ring if an engagement is broken. Keeping the ring is gauche, honorless, and wretched. It is also a sign the one-time groom may have really dodged a bullet, but that's small consolation when a man is out several thousand bucks.

QUERY: why do guys disappear and reappear?

ANSWER: As Woody Allen put it, "We need the eggs."

QUERY: the answer is yes but what i mean is no. what was the question?

ANSWER: Do you like this pastel blue leisure suit I'm going to wear to the Johnsons' dinner party, dear?

QUERY: i m going to tell you a secret madonna location

ANSWER: Oh, please don't. She bores me.

QUERY: i don t want to be your valentine

ANSWER: Well, you wouldn't be the first. But se la vie.

QUERY: stesichorus homer

ANSWER: Ah, Stesichorus! A pity more of his work hasn't survived. But you've got to love a guy who, more than two thousand years ago, wrote angry and cynical poems like this:

The story is not true.
You never sailed in the benched ships.
You never went to Troy.

QUERY: its called love sweet love its the only thing that theres just to little of

ANSWER: Well, that all depends on your point of view, doesn't it? If you ask me, there are plenty of other things of which there are too little, such as "refining capacity" and "ready cash" and "those canteen trucks with a skilled cooking staff who serve cheap Mexican food."

QUERY: men hardwired to not do the dishes

ANSWER: That's what we want you to believe.

QUERY: cleveland browns

ANSWER: Being a fan of this team definitely involves true love. Given the way they play, how could it not?

QUERY: women love assholes

ANSWER: This statement should be rendered, "Women don't love men with inferiority complexes and enough issues to clog the Hoover Dam." Get over it already.

QUERY: lauriol plaza vegetable fajita recipe

ANSWER: Aphrodisiac.

QUERY: song love sweet love is the answer in a world that is greedy

ANSWER: Actually, the answer in a world that is greedy would really be "speculation on the Hang Seng Index."

QUERY: bitter poem

ANSWER:

Oh! The Spurs rolled on
to win against The LeBrons;
could the brooms be next?

How sad for Cleveland
suffering in its malaise;
could they win just one?

QUERY: why so many celebrities are dangerously thin?

ANSWER: They're not like normal people. No, really, they're not like normal people -- they're manufactured in a Van Nuys warehouse and programmed to only take in calories through drink and narcotics. At least, that's how I figure it.

QUERY: what does the term cherry vanilla mean?

ANSWER: "Cherry vanilla" is a marketing term which means, "The marketing people decided they had to screw up a soda which already had a distinctive flavor of its own, and instead of focusing on the core competentcy of their brand, throw out something entirely new for no apparent reason."

QUERY: kate winslet weighs

ANSWER: One hundred-and-I-don't-care. Oh, God! Kate Winslet.

QUERY: engagement ring two months salary reasonable

ANSWER: As I understand it from knowledgeable sources, the standard these days for an engagement ring is a one carat diamond; less is seen as cheap and more is seen as gaudy. Still, I don't think you could go wrong if you spent two months' salary, provided you held to that tenet. You could undoubtedly have a very nice ring designed.

QUERY: unlucky date

ANSWER: Having an unlucky date isn't as bad as one might think; after all, it means that unlucky happenstances will almost certainly overshadow your own mistakes.

QUERY: plan hippie wedding

ANSWER: You have so come to the wrong site.

QUERY: reasons to date a journalist

ANSWER: We're fun at house parties! Also, we know where the good bars are.

QUERY: she said shed like to score some reefer and a forty shell never know that im the best that shell never have

ANSWER: If you listen carefully you can hear the world's smallest violin playing JUST FOR YOU right now!

QUERY: casa carino weddings san miguel de allende

ANSWER: This is a great idea, particularly if you're not the one paying for it. After all, the place runs ten grand a week. But I've seen pictures and it definitely seems like a great place for a wedding.

QUERY: college students and young people tend to use the tu form

ANSWER: Yes, and it's appalling. Never, ever, ever use the tu form unless you're absolutely sure you may do so. About the only people I would use the tu form with are my brother and my close friends -- certainly not my parents and certainly not anyone I had just met.

QUERY: is beauty manufactured?

ANSWER: To the tune of billions upon billions of dollars each year, my friend.

QUERY: reduce man breasts

ANSWER: It's called the gym. You might want to consider this.

QUERY: statistic on money involved on plastic surgery on adolscents

ANSWER: Why any doctor would perform plastic surgery on an adolescent is beyond me. After all, they're adolescents. It stands to reason that they're not fully grown and as such the surgery carries far more risk than with an adult.

QUERY: call me later

ANSWER: I approve! You can call me in New Hampshire at HAmilton 530 ^#^@%^ -- ah, stupid keyboard!

QUERY: i hate peyton manning

ANSWER: You'll make an excellent spouse and parent someday.

QUERY: she tells him she must to go out for the evening he knows where shes going shes heading for the cheating side of town

ANSWER: I've written about this before, but I must again ask: what exactly defines the "cheating side of town?" Anyone? I mean, last time I checked, marital perfidy was not restricted to a particular social class or geographic area within a municipality.

QUERY: popular rappers seventies

ANSWER: Hotel! Motel! Hol-i-day Inn!

QUERY: women love brooding men

ANSWER: Uh, not in my experience. I mean, last time I checked the whole down-on-the-world, angry and embittered, suffering from terminal ennui bit didn't make for a fun date. My God, just imagine it:

WOMAN: Gee, this Thai place really looks good, don't you think?
MAN: Oh, what's the use! Everything is transitory and fleeting! And where's my goddamn vodka?

QUERY: puritan kill the spider

ANSWER: The proper and well-bred man must be prepared to kill the spider, even at three in the morning.

QUERY: do clothes make the man or woman

ANSWER: Not generally. If you're like me, the right woman looks sexy in anything she's wearing. But that said, it's important to look good if you're going out on a nice date.

QUERY: ways to impress a female friend

ANSWER: Oh, just be yourself. If she's your friend you don't have to go out of your way to be flashy and impressive.

QUERY: britney spears a good role model?

ANSWER: FOR THE LAST TIME, NO.

QUERY: why do men loosen their ties

ANSWER: Say, it's getting hot in here, isn't it? Yes, yes it is. Very hot indeed.

QUERY: what type of woman is a biker attracted to

ANSWER: How the hell should I know? Not only am I not a biker -- as if one couldn't tell -- I've never even ridden a motorcycle, machines which I consider dangerous and annoying. Trust me, when you're in a hospital intensive care unit, and the guy next to you has road rash and is screaming because asphalt has burned into his legs, this impression tends to stick.

QUERY: pecunia non olet means

ANSWER: "Money doesn't stink." Which it doesn't, even if the person with it happens to give off a foul stench.

QUERY: the moneychanger and his wife is located

ANSWER: I have no idea, but God! Quentin Metsys was a fabulous painter, wasn't he?

QUERY: bathing in custard

ANSWER: Barry and LeVon, where did you get two hundred and forty dollars?

QUERY: spendthrift engagement ring can t make girlfriend happy

ANSWER: Well, that's not a good thing, and it suggests your girlfriend has issues that run deeper than those related to the ring in question. I wish you the best of luck in dealing with those in your relationship.

QUERY: wedding registry and upper middle class

ANSWER: You'll want to choose places that put an emphasis on words like "premium" and "hand-crafted" and "imported from Europe." I suggest Pier One, Restoration Hardware, and Williams-Sonoma. Make sure you include all sorts of upper-middle-class items on the registry, too -- things like a bread machine and a special coffee maker and a cookery set doomed to infrequent use. After all, you want to send a message to your guests: that you're upper-middle-class and you've arrived, dammit. So don't ask for a functional cookery set -- ask for things like a clay tagine dish that will be used all of three times and later consigned to a moving box labeled "SUPPLIES" that stays forever in the basement.

Well, that's it for this edition of Your Search Engine Queries Answered! Tune in next time when we deal with various Mysteries of Life, such as why it's apparently impossible to hire decent customer service help these days and why otherwise intelligent people keep buying gold in outrageous proportion to their overall portfolio. Until then, take it easy!

Quote of the Day

"I WAS REALLY expecting the series to conclude with Tony waking up next to Bob Newhart."

-- commenter YL Hollander
"Solving the Sopranos"
The New York Times

UPDATE: Mr Hollander wasn't alone!

"I still think it will end with Tony waking up next to Susanne Pleshette. And then he goes into his real job, which is psychiatry."

-- James Lileks

Now that was a finale.

"What the Hell is an Aluminum Falcon?!"

VIA ROBOT CHICKEN -- here's what REALLY happened after the Rebels destroyed the Death Star in "Star Wars" ...

It's Sonic Good

WHITEVILLE, N.C., June 1 -- Well, for the first time, I was able to stop in at a Sonic drive-through restaurant on my trip through the South. I have to say I was impressed with the service, the food, and pretty much everything else about the place. For a fast-food restaurant, it wasn't bad. My only complaint is that I was alone when I ate there. It would have been a lot more fun if, say, Simon From Jersey had been along for the ride:

ME: It's so filling it's like a feast for breakfast. A break-feast!
SIMON FROM JERSEY: ...
ME: Yeah! A break-FEAST!

As it turns out, some of the commercials are on-line -- but for some reason one can't embed them in one's blog, which is weird. Plus, they don't have some of the best ones up, like the "break-feast" commercial. But still, here are several of them for your viewing pleasure.

1942

MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER was issued this draft card on April 27, 1942, as part of the fourth wave of draft registrations during World War II. While he was not liable for military service -- that was restricted to those under 45 years of age -- the Government required all men aged between 18 and 65 to register for the draft.

These days, of course, there is no draft. In the unlikely event conscription would resume, only those men under the age of 27 would even be considered for military service. So one can deduce, therefore, that things were looking rather bleak in April of 1942 -- when Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan were at the height of their cruel power. I do wonder whether people living during those dark days could have imagined that, just a couple of years later -- and 63 years ago today -- the Allies would launch the greatest military operation of all time.

Elvis Has Left the Building

MEMPHIS, Tenn., May 28 -- As Loyal Rant Readers know, The Last of the Petty Cash Tour ran through a good portion of the Southland, an area of the country which I had never before visited. As I had already made it to the Midwest on my trip, it only made sense the first stop of my southern leg would be Memphis -- home to blues music and Beale Street and most impressive of all, Graceland Mansion -- the one-time home of none other than Elvis! Presley. Well, Memphis also has this giant weird pyramid building down near the riverfront, and that was damned impressive too. But I wanted to visit Graceland for a few key reasons.

For one thing, I wanted to see who all these people were who made pilgrimages to Memphis, and thus made Graceland a huge tourist attraction. For another, I knew that Graceland had been largely preserved as it was in the mid-Seventies, when the King died on his Throne. As such, I knew Graceland could be a key link in my Grand Theory of Modern American Power, in which I argue the Seventies were a low point in modern American history, with the low point coming on July 12, 1979, the day of the Disco Sucks Riot at Comiskey Park in Chicago.

Plus, to be honest, I didn't know all that much about Elvis!

You see, in my family, the life and music of Elvis! was entirely skipped over due to generational factors. I never heard my grandparents mention Elvis!, and my parents were fans of the Beatles and the Stones. As a result, Elvis! basically got no play in the Kepple household growing up. As a result, I've never understood the rapt fascination people have with the King -- even decades after his demise.

After visiting Graceland, I still don't get it.

Oh, sure, he was a great musician and entertainer, and he made an alarming number of really bad movies. But he was just a man after all. Not that I mentioned this to the German tourist in front of me in line, who was sporting a giant Elvis! tattoo on her arm and carrying a rose to lay on Elvis!'s grave. Nor did I say anything to any of the other Elvis! fans present, who flocked to Graceland in the hundreds on this cloudless, hot day. Many of these fans -- who, in the aggregate, made New Hampshire's demography seem like the United Nations in comparison -- seemed really quite into the King and undoubtedly better appreciated the whole Elvis! experience better than me.

Graceland, you see, is all about the Elvis! experience. Not only can one tour the mansion itself, one can also experience tours of Elvis!'s classic car collection, private airplanes, and myriad other exhibits. One can also experience the myriad gift stores and souveneir shops located in the Grand Graceland Tourist Bottling Complex. In this complex, one can also experience getting nickled and dimed at every turn.

But wait, you say. Surely, Kepple, you must have expected something like that would be de rigeur at Graceland, which is after all a tourist trap of epic proportions. And indeed I did. What really got my inner cynic going, though, was the fact that at the pseudo-Fifties eatery in the Grand Graceland Waiting Area/Tourist-Dollar-Harvesting Scheme, there was a sign proclaiming NO FREE REFILLS on the soda fountain. After paying $6 to park and $9.49 for a bacon cheeseburger meal that would have appalled even the most well-dispositioned elementary schooler, this just rubbed me the wrong way.

Thus, I resolved not to buy any of the overpriced souveneirs -- did $7.99 get a visitor one or two Elvis!-themed salt-and-pepper shakers? -- available at the Graceland plaza's gift stores. After all, I had already spent $45.49 -- the ticket itself was $30 -- and I hadn't even made it into the shuttle line for the Graceland tour.

Oh, the tour. Dear. God. In. Heaven.

I should preface my remarks by saying that words cannot do justice to a tour of Graceland and its grounds. Trust me on this. There are some things that must be seen to be believed. Nevertheless, I shall endeavor to do so as best I can.

First off, Graceland is a small mansion by modern standards, or even those of the late 19th century. It was originally built as a home for a well-to-do professional and it still has that feel even now. The entryway into the home might even be considered stately and elegant in this day and age, and had a well-designed feel about it. Once one steps inside, one can see the main living room and dining room of Graceland. These rooms were actually pretty nice. The decor was certainly dated, with a late-Fifties/early-Sixties feel to it, but if one scrapped some of the awful light fixtures and the more gaudy drapes, the rooms would arguably still work well today. That says something about the power of nice neutral tones, I think.

Then, there's the rest of the house.

One of the amazing things about the Graceland tour was that, generally speaking, each room in the house got progressively more hideous as one went on. Behold the horrible kitchen, with its awful dark paneling and grim above-the-waist oven. Behold the awful Seventies-era light fixtures and wretched carpeting. Behold Elvis!'s TV room, which was reportedly done up by a professional decorator in 1974. Bedecked in yellow and blue, the TV room had an atmosphere which reminded me of the multi-purpose rooms at the YMCA when I was growing up. The dated equipment also showed that no matter how cool technology may seem at the time, something far better will supplant it a matter of years.

Then, there was the pool room.

Good God.

At least that was my reaction upon entering this foul, campy, wretched testament to Seventies-era excess. Even the other tourists remarked on how gaudy the room was. It was -- well, let's describe it like this. Let's say you took seven or eight of those Wagner power painter things, filled them up with different colors of paint, set them into the middle of the room, and then contrived things so they exploded simultaneously. The result might approximate the appalling riot of color in the decorations. But it would only be a pale imitation of the King's pool room. For just as true genius inspires great works of art, staggering badness also has the hand of man behind it.

How I wish I could explain the impact that room had on me. After that, I kind of stumbled around in a daze, mumbling, through the rest of the tour. I mean, in the room itself, the decorating overpowered everything else in it -- including the pool table. The audio recording I had with me -- recorded in a cheerfully sedate Southern voice -- told me to focus on a corner of the pool table, where a trick shot gone bad had gouged a chunk out of the felt. "Pool table?" I thought to myself. "Where the hell's a pool table in this whole mess? Oh, there it is!"

As for the famed Jungle Room -- well, as it turns out, it's not an Animal House-style love den but rather a sort of especially hideous living room. Complete with shag carpeting on the floors. And on the ceilings. Pea green shag carpeting. Plus, there's a whole bunch of godawful animal-themed furniture that Elvis! apparently picked out himself. I'd have suggested the King use a professional decorator, but look how the TV Room turned out. My God.

Generally speaking, that's about all there is to the tour of the house. Oh, there's an office room and several other rooms one tours, but for the most part, the rest of the manse is given over to Elvis! hagiography. Look, kids! Here's Elvis!'s army uniform! Here's his gold records! Here's all the checks he wrote to charity! Here's a half-eaten BLT the King ate when he played at Saugatuck in 1963! OK, well, so I made that last one up. But you get the idea.

Sadly, one does not get to see any of the upstairs on the tour. Supposedly, this is out of respect for the King's family, although I have my suspicions about this stated reason. After all, they're fine with people charging at least $25 per head to see the rest of the house. After touring Graceland, I think they can't show the upstairs because the public health authorities warned the decorations would cause blindness and insanity among the general public.

For in another exhibit at Graceland, the grand bed which Elvis! slept in during the mid-Seventies is shown off for display. It's covered in some sort of awful beige fur, while inside its Clockwork Orange-type canopy are mirrors and a dated stereo system. While staring at this, it hit me where I thought I had seen something like this before -- inside the pages of James Lileks' Interior Descecrations.

There are some sleeping hound dogs, I suspect, which are better left to lie.

I'm the Guy with the Weird Voice

THERE'S NO BETTER WAY to reminisce about one's great vacation than by watching mildly embarrassing video footage of oneself. At least that's what I think, anyway. If you visit my friend Matt's site, you can see the full 27 minute video of our dinner at Lauriol Plaza, one of Washington's best Mexican restaurants. You can also see the 13 minute video of 2006's dinner at Lauriol Plaza, which was conducted along similar lines. The '06 dinner was the genesis for many of the jokes in this year's get-together.

You Know, Because My Day Couldn't POSSIBLY Get Worse ...

... IT GOT WORSE. I went over to The Bleat tonight and saw James Lileks' description of his new job at the Minneapolis Star-Tribune:

-----------------

In short, it’s everything I’ve been looking for. All these worlds are mine, except Europa! There are union rules about that, I gather.

Really.

---------------

You know, I may just break out that bottle of Patron Anejo I've been saving. Well, no, that's for happy occasions, isn't it? Entonces, traigame alugno gin, por favor. !Que sabor amargo!

Hook, Then a Slice

SO ON MONDAY the Boston Red Sox stomped all over the Los Angeles Angels at Fenway Park, with the final score being 7-2. I must admit that as a football fan, such a victory is not something that would make me joyous and gleeful. Sure, I was glad to see the Sox win, of course, but not to the point where I would really care passionately about the victory.

However, this game was also the scene of an Infamous Sporting Incident, in which a fan attempting to catch a foul ball was assaulted with a slice of Fenway Park pizza. The Boston Herald has the full story, but what really made it memorable was the reaction from the broadcast booth.

This story becomes even better when one realizes, according to the Herald, that the pizza incident stemmed from smack-talking between the assailant and his victim. The victim had been harrassing the assailant over the pizza, and when the foul ball came down, the assailant snarled, "You want some pizza now?" as he let the slice fly.

Of course, as a Michigander, I can take pride knowing that nothing like this ever happens Back Home, where fans act with all the ... what's that? Yeah, but that was a long time ago.

Well, 2004 was a long time ago. I mean ... oh, all right. Here's the tape.

Weather Report

When consciousness returned, after the darkening
Caused by my pity for the two kinsfolk
Which made me so sad that I was stunned

Great hailstones, muddy water, mixed with snow,
Fall through the darkened air without respite;
They rot the ground they fall on, and it stinks.

THESE ARE lines 1 through 12 of Canto VI in Dante's Inferno -- and a reasonable observation of how the weather was today here in Manchester, New Hampshire. Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

April Showers Bring May Vacation Plans

BOY, I LOVE APRIL. It's the first true month of spring, of course, and it brings with it so many wonderful things. For instance, April brings its attendant rush of allergen-induced sinus headaches, clogged nasal passages and general wheezing. If I seem out of it for the next six weeks or so, it's not my fault -- I've simply taken enough antihistamines to knock out a herd of cattle. But I can assure you this is far better than the alternative, in which I lumber zombie-like throughout the day and intermittently groan in agony.

Anyway, that's one reason I've been away from the blog as of late. But I've also been busy with other fun stuff, such as vacation planning. I'm taking a major road trip in May and as a result, I've been spending a good deal of my limited free time planning. One key component of the trip, aside from hitting my usual destinations such as New Jersey and Michigan, will be a swing down south.

I've never really been to the South*, so I figure I should go. There's a lot of history there and it's pretty country. Plus, as a dyed-in-the-wool Northerner, it probably would do me some good to spend a week down South. With the influence the South has on American life and culture, it makes sense for me to see the place and experience it at least a little.

Besides, I've never had decent barbecue. Ever. My Southern readers may be a bit puzzled at the idea one can go through 31 years in life without experiencing at least one honest-to-God great barbecue, but it's true. It's not like you can just get good barbecue up here -- that's as ridiculous as the idea of getting decent clam chowder in Tulsa, or getting good Maine lobster in Arkansas. It is fundamentally impossible.

So, as I said, I'm planning a trip down to Dixie, confident in the knowledge that I'll be welcomed with the traditional Southern hospitality we have so often heard about up north. That's because it will be obvious to everyone that I'm a bloody tourist. I mean, crikey. I can't even say "y'all" without it sounding forced, much less some folksy saying such as, "All y'all are dancin' on my last damn nerve with the Trace Adkins marathon." But despite that, I'm confident that I'll have a great time and plenty of memories to share in the months ahead.

---------------

* The Rant considers Florida an Eastern state -- at least those parts of Florida where I have traveled. However, I've had no desire to return to the Sunshine State since. For one thing, the place is awful humid. For another, any state with a town named "Yeehaw Junction" must have a few jokers to hide.

Cricket, Schmicket

MY FELLOW AMERICANS, Shashi Tharoor thinks we have a problem. Simply put, we don't care much for cricket, a state of affairs which horrifies the United Nations' outgoing Undersecretary-General for Communications. As a result, Undersecretary Tharoor did what any UN chief flack would do -- he sent an op-ed to The New York Times, in which he condemned this state of affairs. Also, as he is an outgoing undersecretary, the man made plenty of nasty asides at the United States in his essay.

While Undersecretary Tharoor's unfortunate remarks about America have been condemned elsewhere, The Rant would take the high road in this instance.

As Loyal Rant Readers know, I am a great supporter of American football, the greatest sport in all of human history. Like Undersecretary Tharoor with cricket, I have tried to spread this football gospel to those who don't yet realize the beauty and majesty of the sport. Sometimes, this falls on deaf ears.

As amazing as it may seem to Americans, many foreigners want to stick with their own sports, like soccer. But the proper response is simply to allow them time to understand American football's sublime spirit, as well as those of its close variants, Canadian and arena football. They'll discover it eventually, because American football has so many great human qualities which transcend politics and nationality. When they do, they will become as passionate and devoted fans as any Midwesterner. We're already achieving some small measure of success in Germany and I am confident the rest of the world will eventually come 'round.

Sadly, Undersecretary Tharoor has given up on his mission and instead reverted to angrily bashing the nation which has hosted him for so many years. He writes:

In any event, nothing about cricket seems suited to the American national character: its rich complexity, the infinite possibilities that could occur with each delivery of the ball, the dozen different ways of getting out, are all patterned for a society of endless forms and varieties, not of a homogenized McWorld. They are rather like Indian classical music, in which the basic laws are laid down but the performer then improvises gloriously, unshackled by anything so mundane as a written score.

Cricket is better suited to a country like India, where a majority of the population still consults astrologers and believes in the capricious influence of the planets — so they can well appreciate a sport in which, even more than in baseball, an ill-timed cloudburst, a badly prepared pitch, a lost toss of the coin at the start of a match or the sun in the eyes of a fielder can transform the outcome of a game. Even the possibility that five tense, hotly contested, occasionally meandering days of cricketing could still end in a draw seems derived from ancient Indian philosophy, which accepts profoundly that in life the journey is as important as the destination. Not exactly the American Dream.

So here’s the message, America: don’t pay any attention to us, and we won’t pay any to you. If you wonder, over the coming weeks, why your Indian co-worker is stealing distracted glances at his computer screen every few minutes or why the South African in the next cubicle is taking frequent and furtive bathroom breaks during the working day, don’t even try to understand. You probably wouldn’t get it. You may as well learn to accept that there are some things too special for the rest of us to want to waste them on you.

Okay.

We love you too.

Basketball Haikus (Sweet Sixteen Version)

No. 1 Kansas 61, No. 4 S. Illinois 58

Oh, wretched Kansas
You live despite all efforts
to send you back home

Your run will end soon
for if Bucknell could beat you
UCLA can.

No. 1 Ohio State 85, No. 4 Tennessee 84

Crikey, not again
Why won't Ohio State lose?
Does fate demand this?

Maybe we should blame
the wretched squad from Knoxville
that failed on TV

No. 2 UCLA 64, No. 3 Pittsburgh 55

We saw it coming
just like everyone else did;
UCLA won

Not much to say here;
Pitt got outplayed, as usual
but that's how it goes

No. 2 Memphis 65, No. 3 Texas A&M 64

Oh, those two free throws
put Memphis over the top
in the last seconds

Please, beat them soundly;
let the Buckeyes reap defeat;
let the clock strike twelve.

Basketball Haikus (Sweet Sixteen Version)

No. 1 Kansas 61, No. 4 S. Illinois 58

Oh, wretched Kansas
You live despite all efforts
to send you back home

Your run will end soon
for if Bucknell could beat you
UCLA can.

No. 1 Ohio State 85, No. 4 Tennessee 84

Crikey, not again
Why won't Ohio State lose?
Does fate demand this?

Maybe we should blame
the wretched squad from Knoxville
that failed on TV

No. 2 UCLA 64, No. 3 Pittsburgh 55

We saw it coming
just like everyone else did;
UCLA won

Not much to say here;
Pitt got outplayed, as usual
but that's how it goes

No. 2 Memphis 65, No. 3 Texas A&M 64

Oh, those two free throws
put Memphis over the top
in the last seconds

Please, beat them soundly;
let the Buckeyes reap defeat;
let the clock strike twelve.

Scots Wha Geall a Holiday

AH, ST. PATRICK'S DAY -- a day for Americans to celebrate their Irish heritage, enjoy Irish culture and cuisine, and have a drink or two even before the clock strikes noon. It is such a fun time, in fact, that even people without any Irish heritage join in the fun, and celebrate through wearing green, holding wild parties, and what not. Why, even I -- noted curmudgeon and raconteur that I am -- will celebrate with a beer or two around 11 a.m.

I must admit, though, that as someone with no Irish ancestry whatsoever, I don't get into the holiday nearly as much as other people. On one level, this is understandable: as I'm not Irish, I can't understand what the day means to those with that ancestry. But on another, it suggests that I'm looking for someway to celebrate my own ethnic heritage, which has always been a bit problematic.

After all, my ancestors made a point of leaving the generally Godforsaken places from whence they came, primarily because they knew that if they stayed, their descendants would have to deal with bad harvests and rampaging bureaucrats and panzertruppen. Even where it was nice, there was little in the way of jobs or opportunity. So that makes me a bit hesitant about openly celebrating my Continental heritage.

But I do think I've come up with a solution. As a Scot -- well, part Scots anyway -- I too can get into the celebratory spirit. I'll keep celebrating St. Patrick's Day, but I'll also celebrate St. Andrew's Day. St. Andrew's Day is the national day of Scotland, and as such it should be a big deal here in America. Yet practically no one celebrates it, and I don't understand why that's the case.

After all, St. Andrew's Day falls on Nov. 30. If you ask me, that's a perfect day for getting blitzed. I mean, it's Nov. 30. People are done with Thanksgiving, but it really doesn't feel like Christmas yet, and it's the end of November and it's gloomy and cold outside. If that's not enough reason to get out The Glenlivet, then nothing is. Plus, as Scots, there are plenty of ways we can celebrate our national heritage, with celebrations of national sports, cuisine and ...

READERS: Uh, dude, that's during Christmas. We're supposed to spend more money on --

Oh, quit. OK, I'm proclaiming this the first rule of St. Andrew's Day: the Bein' Thrifty with the Celebrations, even though that's a national Scottish pastime, will be restricted from between 7 a.m. until 8 a.m., or whenever one has one's first shot of whisky, whichever comes first.

Besides, many of the festivities on St. Andrew's Day will be free. Why, just think how much free fun a Scot can have during an extended session of Rooting Against the English. Och, the English, with their caste system and arrogance and drunken braggadocio. Damn their soccer players and their unionism and their seizin' of the North Sea oil, which as everyone knows is rightfully Scotland's and Scotland's alone.

So the second integral part of St. Andrew's Day will be the Rooting Against the English, whether that means hoping all their soccer teams lose or actively supporting the Scottish National Party. The Rant would, however, encourage this rooting to be all in good fun, as all the Trident missiles are in England.

There will be plenty of good fun on St. Andrew's Day, especially when the people indulge in the Drinking Before Noontime. While revelers probably ought wait until after noon to commence seriously heavy drinking, folks should break out the good whisky as soon as they feel ready, and continue imbibing. Alternatively, one could drink plenty of India Pale Ale throughout the day, although the Morning Celebratory Whiskey and the Wee Nightcap would almost certainly be mandatory.

I'm sure there are plenty of other things Scots in America and elsewhere could do for St. Andrew's Day, such as playing the bagpipes, golfing, and eating bagels and lox for breakfast. But here in New Hampshire, another ritual of St. Andrew's Day -- and this St. Patrick's Day -- is going out to Clean Off the Car so the Landlord Can Plow the Parking Lot. This post, however, should get everyone thinking ahead for the big day in November.

Basketball Haikus

No. 11 VCU 79, No. 6 Duke 77.

One point eight seconds
made all the difference for
the VCU Rams

And through the Southland,
there rose a great, mocking cry:
"Go back to Jersey!"

No. 7 Boston College 84, No. 10 Texas Tech 75

Oh, Boston College
you have done a great service
for basketball fans

We're glad you lost, Coach;
now sink back into the muck,
you son of a bitch.

No. 5 Butler 57, No. 12 Old Dominion 46

"Old Dominion" sounds
like a bad aftershave brand
for sale on the cheap

But the second half
soon showed they were no match for
commonplace Butler.

No. 7 Indiana 70, No. 10 Gonzaga 57

Alas, Gonzaga!
How bright your future once seemed,
how lofty your dreams

Do better next time,
for Michigan makes me weep
in the NIT.

Madness in March (or, Go, Gonzaga, Go!)

AS A FOOTBALL FAN above all else, I must admit I don’t share the passion for college basketball which energizes so many of my fellow sports fans. Basketball has always struck me as a second-tier sport, on par with ice hockey and auto racing, and a sport one generally watches because there’s no football or baseball on television.

Furthermore, compared to the order and strategy one finds in football and baseball, basketball is a generally chaotic affair in which all decisions are tactical and style is too often valued more than substance. Every missed dunk, every technical foul, every bit of showboating and every bit of faux controversy stands as testament to that argument.

I mean, really. Think about how many times one has watched a basketball game and seen the following scenario take place:

----------

Teams A and B are playing in a game in which the score is tied. Team A has the ball and is passing it around in an attempt to find an open shot, when a player for Team B intercepts a poorly-thrown ball. The squad from Team B then rushes down the court only to miss an easy lay-up. Team A then recovers the ball as it rebounds from the basket, and rushes back down the court with it. One player for Team A then drives towards the basket with the ball, and a scrum of players for Team B attempt to stop him.

In so doing, a vague foul of dubious import is called against a player for Team B, while the player for Team A – despite running with the ball in hand for six or seven paces – is not called for traveling. This prompts Team B’s coach to jump up from the bench and start screaming at the officials, which results in a technical foul. Suddenly, Team B finds itself down several points. With little time left, long-established tactics call for Team B’s players to repeatedly foul players on Team A. Anticlimactic denouement follows, along with extensive commentary from Dick Vitale and Kraft Foods Inc.

----------

What’s that? My scenario isn’t realistic? Yes it is, and you know it, baby! Especially regarding the fouling bit. I’m certainly not the only one to have asked: what the hell kind of sport not only encourages fouling, but makes it an accepted tactical maneuver during the final minutes of the game?

Here’s the truth – that’s just wrong, OK? In football, penalties result in scorn and derision all sixty minutes of the game, and that’s pretty much the case in baseball and ice hockey as well, although in the latter sports, there are exceptions (e.g. Ozzie Guillen, Ogie Oglethorpe). But in basketball, hell – go ahead, foul away.